#your man doesn’t have the dick i described in the fic
Text
Drippin’ [Dream ‘00 line]
“It's too late to run away, you started this game first.”
It was a joke, you swear. Sharing something like that with your group of horny man-friends was definitely a recipe for disaster. That one little tweet sets off a string of events that prevents you from pretending that you wouldn’t fuck your friends. Because you would, and they know it.
or the one where you’re considered a tease with the shit you share privately online, and they’re just about fed up with the way you act innocent and uninterested in what they’re packing.
― this fic is based around this tweet.
ao3 | m.list | leave feedback and reblog to give ‘00 line a boner.
minors do not interact.
WORDCOUNT― 16.2k
PAIRING― ‘00 line x afab reader
CONTENT― birthday sex, orgy (?), comedy, use of a camera
WARNING ― mild dub-con, jaemin kinda fruity, full bladder/squirting ―this fic is not entirely inclusive like my others because it’s written for someone specific. reader can be lifted up by the members, when she blushes it is visible to them but colors still aren’t used to describe it, she has huge tits too. don’t like it, don’t read it.
NOTE― this is my birthday gift to @neopuppy! I hope it scratches somewhere in your brain but I also hope this means you’re aware of how much I love and appreciate you!! I am happy to have met you and i just need you to know that you’re definitely stuck with me at this point ♡ so, happy birthday to jeno’s real life gf!!! he’s a lucky dude fr. ― not proof read tho lmao
smut tags under cut::
smut tags :: pussy eating, eager haechan, neglected renjun, confident jeno, (un)solicited dick pics, huge cock jeno and renjun, recording of sexual acts, masturbation, tongue fucking, dirty talk, finger fucking, overstimulation, tit fondling, actual fucking, (forced) full bladder, squirting, blowjob, handjob, unprotected sex, cum eating, cum stuffing, cum dump reader, bunch of horny guys + one competitive horny guy
~
Scrolling on twitter is a normal part of your night especially when you’re bored. Your birthday is coming up and there’s not really anything planned. Aside from the spamming of messages from family and friends demanding to know what you want, or what you’d like to do, it feels like it’s just going to be a normal day rather than a celebration of your life.
No plans. You kind of just want to enjoy the day alone, relaxing, watching stupid videos, and maybe going for a coffee.
Unknowing to you though, your future plan is slightly skewed when you run across a specific tweet. You share it as a joke, just like any other thing you’ve shared. Straight into the circle it goes, side eye emoji and all as if to imply something yet again, because you’re good at that apparently. Teasing, as Haechan would call it.
To you, retweeting it with the side-eye emoji directly into the circle is normal and not asking for it to be considered by your friends. As much as you’d love to lie to yourself and believe that they’re down to earth, they’re really really not.
It’s not like you actively want to fuck your friends, but it’s also not like you wouldn’t. With all of the sexuality you all share online, it’s kind of difficult to not think about them inappropriately on some days. There was once a tweet that Jeno shared with absolutely no context involving some manga panel drawing of a man on a leash with his cute, unassuming girl standing in front of him.
You hate to say that sometimes the images they share makes you think pretty hard. Learning their kinks, their sexual interests, and wondering if they’ve ever gotten to actually partake in them before. It’s a strange kind of feeling to think about your friends when these types of images pop up. The feeling is definitely arousal, but it’s kind of like a guilty arousal?
After all, your friends may be constantly sharing their sex lives and blatantly liking all of the porn on twitter that they get off to, but it doesn’t mean they’d want to get you off.
The funniest part about it is that you truly do view the circle tweets far differently compared to your group of friends. You, thinking they share stuff to show off, to be funny, or just to be a typical horny man. Then you have your friends and how they view it.
Some of the tweets are intentionally for you to see, for you to get off to. Some are blatantly shared in the heat of the moment as one of them imagines you performing in the content. It’s a game to them really, to see which one will break you first. They love it for the most part, how you pretend you don’t notice. How you play dumb, even when they’re sharing images and videos of two people that could resemble you and said friend if you squint. It’s been this way for years.
The entire friend group has spoken about you in their own group chat before. They’ve fantasized together about you through text and they’ve even discussed how there’s no way you don’t know what they’re doing. Time and time again you prove them wrong. So fucking aloof even when one of them blatantly makes a suggestion straight to your face.
Jokes can only be funny for so long before it starts to be serious.
To Jeno, it’s flooring to see you just a day after you liked one of his nastiest tweets, knowing you saw it, you probably watched the video too all while parading around like it didn’t get you wet or something. For Renjun, he finds it cute that you’re so different online. He almost feels lucky to be able to see that side of you.
Haechan and Jaemin are the two in the group who will blatantly try to fluster you face to face. You both love and hate it, because sometimes you can’t tell if they’re being serious or not with you. The constant sarcastic and cocky smirks tend to make you lean more towards the fact that they must be joking.
Either way, that tweet is nothing more than a funny joke to you. Since it was referring to a birthday it really is probably a crime to like, not share it. So, you did.
Haechan was the first to read it, instantly screenshotting it and sending it in the secret group chat with a question mark.
Haechan: ??
Haechan: she’s doing it again
Jeno: she’s too dumb to actually follow through with it though
Jaemin: me first :)
Haechan: shut the fuck up jaemin
Renjun: it’s just a meme
Haechan: a meme about eating her out for her birthday
Haechan: that she specifically shared to her circle
Haechan: with. the. eyeball. emoji.
Jeno: he’s got a point.
Renjun: well
Jaemin: it would be rude if she declined a birthday gift too y’know
Haechan: do you guys think she would let us?
Renjun: um
Jeno: at some point she’s gonna have to learn that sharing all of this stuff with us is going to end in her getting fucked.
Haechan: yeah, by me specifically
Jeno: you’d be lucky if she even thought of you when she shared that tweet
Haechan: It's gonna be so funny when you hear her moan my name, you gonna get mad?
Jeno: fuck around and find out.
Jaemin: really though
Jaemin: we should just go for it this time…….
Jaemin: bet she would love it
Renjun: lol…count me in too
~
The last thing you expected to be waking up to on your birthday was a fucking birthday party.
You wake to the sound of your front door opening, frantic footsteps, and then your bedroom door swinging open. Before you can even scream out of the assumption that it’s a fucking break in, Haechan is quite literally pouncing on you, shoving his face into the crook of your neck with muffled words of “wake up, baby.”
You’re definitely awake.
“How the fuck did you guys get into my house?!” You shout with a raspy, sleep filled voice, trying to focus on the four faces staring back at you and landing a glare at Renjun specifically, standing meekly at your bedroom door.
He shoots an uncharacteristic smirk at you before raising his keys and dangling them at you. Of course you forgot that he had a key. He’s the only person outside of your family who has a key and it was strictly from when he helped you move in. You forgot to get it back from him all those years ago.
“Might want to change your locks.” Haechan laughs against your neck, lying his body weight against you.
“What time is it?” You say, relieved now that your place isn’t being broken into, but still trying to shove Haechan off of you.
He fights to stay in place, grabbing you in a bear hug, holding your arms down at your side, and not letting you go.
“It’s noon.” Jeno calls out from the other side of your room in a nonchalant voice, letting his eyes search around before he opens one of your drawers. “What’s in here?”
You, again, try to shake Haechan from you as you go into panic mode. What kind of joke is this? Fucking room raiders?
“Stop looking through my stuff!” You shout, glaring at Jeno, who definitely goes through your drawers now that he knows you have something to hide.
“Haechan, hold her down,” Jeno laughs, opening another drawer, and then another, before coming to your bedside and looking at you. “What’s in this one?”
Actual panic now.
Before you can even get the words out, Jeno is opening the drawer and letting out a breathy chuckle.
“Guys, look.” He laughs, glancing over at you before pulling one of the toys out. “You get off with this?”
Jaemin comes over, looking into the drawer with two other toys that Jeno hasn’t yet pulled from their place. Renjun continues to watch, or stalk, really.
“Did you wash them?” Jeno asks, waving the dildo in front of your face before bopping you on the nose with it.
“Of course I fucking washed them!” You continue to glare, feeling Haechan squeeze you tighter to prevent you from moving.
“Shame,” Haechan laughs at you, and then he very slowly lightens his grip on you. “Wanted to know what you smell like.” He says in a single breath, looking between you and the dildo, in deep thought. You stare at him before taking advantage of his loosening grip and rolling him off of you in one swift motion.
You ignore the “oomf” sound Haechan makes when his head hits your headboard, and instantly rip the dildo from Jeno’s hands before throwing it back into the drawer and nearly slamming Jaemin’s fingers shut in it.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?” You narrow your eyes as you look at each of them. You feel annoyed, and quite frankly, a little pissed because this is kind of crossing a line you didn’t even know you had.
“It’s your birthday,” Renjun smiles, moving himself from the door and finally coming into your room. “You’re not seriously planning to just, like, stay home all day are you?”
“Yeah, actually. I am.” You grouch, rolling your eyes as you sit up and against your headboard with crossed arms.
“That’s too bad, we’ve got a whole day planned for you.” Jeno says, seating himself next to you and softening his voice. “So get up and go get dressed.”
If it weren’t for the fact that all four men are practically holding you hostage right now, you’d kick them out and enjoy your birthday as you planned it. Why is this year so fucking different? Why are they all over you like this? Poking fun at your toys, Haechan being weird and gross about it?
As you get dressed, they make it incredibly obvious that there’s a shift in the air. You feel like prey, four pairs of eyes struggling to allow you to dress yourself without them in the room. You do eventually get them out though, so you can at least do as they say.
When you open the door for them again, they’re all right there. Jeno, front and fucking center with his dopey smile that seems more menacing today than the usual, soft smile.
You feel cornered in your own home, by the only people you trust, and you hate to say that it’s kind of getting to you in an uncomfortable way. It’s surprising to admit that you kind of like the uncomfortable feeling they’re giving to you right now.
The sheer amount of attention on you is overwhelming, and you wonder when they’ll let you in on this joke.
~
The second you step into Jeno’s car, then tension dies down a little bit and the excitement rises. You haven’t done anything for your birthday in years so it’s kind of nice to think that your friends would plan something for you, and not being alone in your apartment with them solidified that they’re not about to eat you alive with a side of A1 steak sauce like you originally thought.
As the drive starts and continues, you think about the dynamic between you and your friends. From how you met to how you became the group you are now. You realize that for the past few years, most interactions with them have felt more intense than they used to. Still, you’re a believer that women can be friends with men without the weird sexual tension ruining it.
Until you keep thinking. Piling up all of the sexual jokes and implications they’ve made at you up until this morning.
One time, Jaemin took a photo with you, sent it in the group chat and said “she’s giving out blowjobs for $5 if anyone wants one.” and you’d be lying if you didn’t receive three cash app notifications of five dollars.
Another time Jeno blatantly gave you a popsicle and told you to show him how deep you can take it in your mouth before laughing and shoving the popsicle deeper when you reached your limit. And god, don’t even get started on Haechan, that motherfucker has blatantly adjusted his length in front of you after staring at your chest for an entire conversation.
Renjun is another story. The shy one who does a shit job at hiding that he absolutely has whore thoughts. You see it. That $5 donation for a blowjob didn’t go unnoticed, nor did his approval of you accidentally liking one of the porn videos deep in his retweets.
Still, you prefer to think that you wave off the jokes face to face despite how difficult it’s become to dodge said jokes.
You turn to look at Jeno for a moment, noting his calm face as he drives, then you turn slightly to see the three in the back seat on their phones. Jeno’s phone is buzzing at lightning speed, and the boys in the back are typing miles per minute.
You narrow your eyes.
“What are you guys planning?”
Jeno flashes a smile at you.
“It’s a surprise, don’t try and ruin it for yourself.” He smiles wider at the implication that you really do always ruin this type of thing by pretending you don’t want it. That you don’t want him.
You continue to glare at them, one at a time, and each of them just beams at you before you cross your arms and slump yourself back against the seat.
“Better not be anything weird.” You grumble.
“Define weird.” Jeno comments before moving his hand from the steering wheel and lying it against your leg. When you stiffen up against him, he rubs a gentle circle against the flesh of your thigh before continuing. “Relax, we already know you’re a freak.”
You whip your head around at the laughter, feeling flustered at how they’re not keeping the circle in the circle. Except, they are. It’s just being voiced now, and your leg is being caressed at the same damn time.
“My favorite was when she shared that video of the girl getting her head pulled back by the hair, and dude spit in her face,” Jaemin says with a shrug, eyes still glued to his phone. “Went straight to the bookmarks.”
You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and when you go to protest, Haechan jumps in.
“What about the video where the girl took it in every hole? She even had a dildo because apparently she just wasn’t full enough.” He ticks his tongue when he says it, examining the way you shift in your seat.
“Oh god, I remember that one. I didn’t think you’d be into that–” Renjun laughs, leaning forward between the front and passenger seat. “But you are into that, aren’t you?” He lowers his voice when he asks you.
You shift again, and note only slightly the way Jeno also shifts similar to the way you do at those words.
“It’s just a video–” You try to defend, but Jeno speaks up and cuts you off.
“Did you get off to it?” He asks blatantly, turning the car onto a wide street and seemingly keeping his eyes on the road.
There’s nothing but silence in the car and all four of them wait for your answer, but it never comes.
“So you did.” Renjun chuckles, leaning himself back to the seat and unlocking his phone again.
You’re kind of at a loss for words at this moment as you stare directly out of your window and try to avoid continuing the conversation. You hate the way your body is reacting to the way they’re talking to you. Of course you got off to the video. Of course you’re into that. It just looks bad when you’re sitting in a car full of men with cocks that seemingly want to talk about how much you’re into it.
Implications.
And god, the implication gets worse when you realize where Jeno has been driving this whole time. You can’t even protest either.
“Let’s get our girl some better toys to have fun with.” Jeno comments as he stops the car in the parking lot, turning to look at you and then at his friends as if this is the most normal birthday outing in the world.
“Your girl?” You ask, side eyeing Jeno and then turning your entire body to look at the other three men in the car.
Suddenly, it feels like an intro to some porn video. Where the poor lonely woman is being eaten alive with eyes in a public space before it pans to her quite literally drowning in a bukakke scene.
“Just for today, relax.” Jaemin smiles his stupid smile, shoving Haechan at the door of the car as if to force him to open it, and he does. “Besides, the toys you had seemed boring.” He laughs again, before sliding out of the car as well.
So, here you are now, walking into an adult store with four very attractive men, unsure as to why you’re even agreeing to let them bring you here. You don’t know what to do with yourself seeing as you’ve only ever bought toys online.
Jeno is the first to drag you away with him as the others disperse around the store. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel awkward, or like today isn’t entirely charged by sexual energy. Unfortunately, Jeno amplifies it with a casual voice and a slouched, relaxed posture as he snakes an arm around your waist and lifts your chin with his thumb so that you look directly at what he’s looking at.
He barely lets you react to the way he’s being somewhat intimate with you, ushering any protest you could possibly have into a little insecure space in your brain. One that tells you that, based on how he’s acting, he would probably call you stupid if you said he was acting weird.
Jeno knows damn well though, that he’s touching you right now more than he ever has. Brief hugs and brushes of the body are normal and expected, but this? This is intentionally not normal. He knows you’re picking up on the differences, and actively chooses to let you stew over it. He can see the confusion in your eyes and plays it off as if, yeah, this is normal and you’d make it weird if you decided to say it’s not. You’d be the one making it awkward, not him.
“How do you feel about that?” He asks, eyes staring straight at an item hanging on the wall and pretending he doesn’t feel the way you let him touch you in the way a boyfriend should.
“What? The vibrating panties?” You ask, looking at the item directly next to it.
“Oh,” He chuckles at you, releasing your chin and pulling down the product with ease. “You’re looking at these?” He adds, keeping his other arm around your waist and pulling you right up against his side as he flips the box over and reads it.
“Eight settings. Three pairs of panties are included–” He nods with a pleased face. “What are you looking at these for?”
You looked at them because it’s what you thought he was looking at too.
“You gonna wear them to work? Staying wet all day in them?” He smiles, saying these words as if it’s not sexual at all. “I bet you’d wear them in front of me too. Wouldn’t even tell me how you’re getting off, would you?”
He loves the way you react when you’re flustered, looking away from him but not quite denying it or pulling from his grasp.
“Dirty. I’ll buy them for you. ” He says, keeping hold of the box and reaching for the actual item he was originally looking at. “What about this?”
You feel like your body is on fire with this one sided conversation. Honestly, your mind is still thinking about what would happen if you wore these panties to work. What would happen if you did wear them when hanging out with him? Surely he’d know, it’s not like you’re capable of hiding your pleasure.
Still, you try to remain calm. Rubbing your legs together briefly, you stare at the way he tangles a leash in his fingers all while still holding the box with the vibrating panties. His hands are big, and his fingers are long. The material of the leash appears to be flimsy but the collar he grabs just next to it appears to be much stiffer.
“A leash?” You ask, still not making eye contact but keeping your eyes on his hand and the way he holds all three items with ease.
“And a collar.” He adds, encouraging you to think about both items together, being used with him.
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
Jeno smirks, knowing damn well you know what he’s into.
“You know exactly what you’re supposed to do with it.” He teases you, keeping hold of the toys and letting his eyes devour the way you buckle under every implication. He tunes in to the way your legs rub together, right here in front of him. God, you’re so cute with the way even the slightest implication seems to have you suffering.
In your head, you do know what to do with these items for him, but the confirmation of Jeno’s words have reality hitting you like a bag of bricks. Is he really implying that these toys are to be used with him?
And just as you try to mutter up a response, you can feel your arm being tugged at.
“Stop hogging her, dick.” Jaemin seethes through his teeth and narrowed eyes at Jeno, prying you away from him.
You look back at Jeno and his confident glare at you as you’re being pulled away. He seems slightly annoyed with Jaemin for taking you away just as the conversation was getting good but, overall proud of himself for making you think too hard. You practically see the confirmation in his hooded eyes when they trail down your body as you’re being pulled around the corner, up until he’s out of your view and you are forced to look at whatever the fuck Jaemin is trying to show you.
“Look at this.” Jaemin says in a much sweeter voice to you, grabbing a box and presenting it to you. “There’s a sample thing too, hold on–” He continues, reaching up and grabbing the presumed sample that states “FINGERS ONLY.”
“Go on, try it.” He smiles, eyes staring straight at your hands.
“You want me to test out a uh–”
“Pocket pussy.” He finishes for you, nodding his head and encouraging you to do it.
Reluctantly you do, sliding your fingers into the silicone hole. Weirdly enough, you’ve always wondered what the inside of a pocket pussy felt like and well, it’s about what you expected.
Jaemin’s intense eye contact on watching your fingers slide into that toy did not go unnoticed though. You can see the way they darken at the act in an instant. A once bright looking pervert now matching the word far too much to be comfortable doing this in front of him. If only you knew how he was imagining that this is how you touch yourself. Reluctantly at first and then sliding your fingers in deeper to feel everything it offers.
“Well?” He asks, feeling his length twitch in his pants at the image. Wondering how much prettier your fingers would look glistening in the arousal that would spill out of you while doing this. “Do you think yours feels better?”
“Wha–” You go to ask, pulling your fingers from the sample and shoving it back into his hands.
“You heard me,” He laughs as he drops the sample onto the floor and quickly picks it up before tossing it back onto the wrong shelf like an asshole. “Compare it. Give me something to work with here.”
You dead-pan stare at him, processing the fact that he’s literally asking you what your pussy feels like.
“It’s, um–” You stop yourself again, not avoiding Jaemin’s eye contact this time as his smile fades into something a bit more serious.
“Not as warm, right?” He asks, “not as wet?”
Then he leans in to the point that you feel his breath below your ear, blowing gently as he continues his string of questions.
“Not as tight–” He pulls back to look at you. “Hm?”
It’s insane how fast your little friend group seems to have switched on you. When you compare yesterday to today, the last thing you could imagine was Jaemin saying such a thing against your skin before pulling back, and looking at you with a face that seems to expect a genuine answer to his dirty questions.
You’ve never felt so….shy before yet, into it entirely. You just don’t know how to process it all happening at once, with multiple people. Jeno, now Jaemin?
You stare forward at him, cheeks warming up beyond belief as your fingers tingle from the recent silicone hole they fucked into. You think hard for a moment about all of the times you’ve plunged your fingers into yourself, comparing the feeling to the toy. You almost want to tell him that you’re definitely warmer, you’d definitely be wetter, and perhaps even tighter than that toy could ever offer him.
And just as you were about to become the pick me girl of his dreams, an angel wearing a dick-head costume (Haechan), appears much like Jaemin did before. He prevents you from furthering the conversation, but he does little to nothing to help the warmth you’re feeling between your legs.
“Stop being a freak,” Haechan stares at Jaemin, having heard the entire conversation and definitely liking where it was going, but also not wanting Jaemin to be the one to get you to break. “Come on, I have something a lot less weird to show you.”
Haechan drags you across the entire store before you can even protest, nearing the entrance. You almost want to get on your knees and thank him, assuming he’s walking you straight out the doors to safety before you realize he’s definitely not.
“Lace or latex?” He asks, grabbing two skimpy outfits he presumably placed on the end of a rack for easy finding when he wanted to show you.
“Lace.” You say without issue, still reeling from all of the other questions you’ve been asked within the past twenty minutes. Plus, clothing is much easier to discuss compared to things that fuck your friends, and things that fuck you.
“Hm,” He stares down the lace outfit on the hanger, knowing for a fact that your tits would look fucking immaculate in it. Surely they’d be bulging out of the top, plush and bouncing with each movement. “If we got this for you, would you actually wear it?”
At this point, the feeling in your gut may or may not be matching the energy they’re giving you. There’s a hint of flirtiness coming to your mind now as you think of how to respond. You’ve flirted with them plenty, so it comes easy this time when you manage to actually answer him.
“I guess,” You start, noting how his eyes light up. “I don’t see why not, because I do like lace.”
“Would you wear it for me though?” He corrects his question, proud of the way you look a bit confident now, not at all as flustered as you seemed when Jaemin had you back there finger fucking a sample toy.
“In front of you?” You ask, staring down the outfit and reaching out to feel the soft texture of the lace, trying to ignore the hefty price on the tag.
“Yeah? I expect to be the one to take it off of you.”
There goes your confidence. He’s so forward and you’re not sure if you can ever get used to such jarring comments toward you by the people you seem to be the closest to. They could talk to you like this all fucking day, and while you’d like it, your first instinct is to buckle, to hide.
“So quiet now. Why? Because I want to see you in this?” He smirks, rubbing his fingers in circles against the lace before hardening his expression.
“You can pretend that this isn’t happening all you want,” He narrows his eyes at you and the way you avoid his eye contact, taking a step forward and brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I think you’ve gotten your fair share of teasing me online. I think it’s time you finally give it up.” He finishes his train of thought with a frustrated whisper when you pull away from him slightly.
It’s a lot of information to take in all at once. Jeno implying things, Jaemin asking about what’s between your legs, and now Haechan stating that he wants to see you in lace before sliding it off of you. It’s not entirely insane to be drawn in and then push yourself back. Really, it’s not. You can’t just let them in on the fact that you’re into it though. All of this, you’re so fucking into it.
“You thought I was teasing you?” You ask, finally making eye contact as you look him up and down, taking another step back. “Haechan, it’s just porn. None of it was because of you.”
He tics his tongue at your words, smirking and shaking his head.
“You’re going to stand there and pretend like you don’t think about it?” He tilts his head knowingly before shaking the lace outfit in front of you. “If we leave here today with this, you’re going to wear it for me.” he continues with a cheeky voice, “and i’ll make you feel so good when I take it off of you.”
And for some reason, you find yourself turning away from him and walking away. You can hear him mutter something at you as you create a bigger distance, and can’t help the smile on your face. Your cheeks are tingling, your body is tingling and there’s a type of confirmation happening right now, that all of those thoughts you’ve had about them before aren’t entirely one sided.
You find yourself in search of Renjun, the only normal motherfucker in this group. He hasn’t hunted you down within the aisles of toys, sex movies, or lube. He hasn’t pulled you away as if he’s a savior before forcing you to realize you fell into the grasp of another hunter. No, he’s normal. And he fills that role so well too, as you find him near the back of the store standing alone, looking at the most mundane and boring sex toys in the world. Dildos, just like what he saw being pulled out of your drawer this morning.
“Do you think this one is a good size?” He asks you offhandedly as you stand next to him with a sigh of relief. Almost like he could sense it was you without even checking for himself.
“Yeah, it’s a little big but–” You go to say, comfortably and confidently because he’s not being a weirdo.
“Have you ever taken something this big before?” He looks at you, glancing down to your thighs before smiling.
“Um, well-” You start, but he interrupts you again.
“It’s the same size as mine, you know.”
Anyway, fuck Renjun.
He’s just like the rest of them, except apparently he doesn’t hunt. He prefers to be hunted himself, he prefers you come to him. A wolf in sheep's clothing, perhaps.
The sexual innuendos and jokes are a bit overwhelming considering you’ve never been fucking attacked with them before. You really can’t lie to yourself though. As much as you pretend to be unnerved, you love the attention they’re giving you. Years worth of sexual things shared online seems to be making today feel like it was going to happen now or never. All of those stray thoughts you’ve had about each of them as you watched their shared porn and read their dirty words? They’re in the front of your mind right now.
Perhaps staying home all day today was a bad idea, because you find yourself genuinely enjoying the overwhelming tension in the air. You’re quite literally in a sex shop surrounded by friends who are implying they want sex from you.
Even if it’s all just a prank-birthday thing. You know, like how friends get each other dildos and sex merchandise for a laugh. You can’t help but stare down the bulk of items all four of them begin to pile onto the counter.
The vibrating panties, leashes, collars, lingerie, dildos, more vibrators, and lube. Not a single condom in sight, not a single pocket pussy either, implying that it can't be purchased because, well, you very well may be the pocket pussy.
The price goes from fifty dollars to a sum of over six hundred, and none other than Jeno himself pulls out his wallet and slides his card into the machine. Signing his name on the device smoothly, almost prettily, before watching the cashier bag each item carefully and curiously.
You hate to say how attractive it is to see Jeno pay for things specifically meant to be used behind a locked door. He’s paid for your coffee plenty of times, but the act right now is seriously just so…..cocky? With the way his posture is perfect, his confidence is exuding when he presses the buttons, god. Is it the money or is it him doing this to your mind?
You can’t make eye contact with the woman bagging your gifts, and for some reason find yourself reluctantly making that eye contact with Jeno instead. He gives you that droopy eyed smile, the one he usually gives on a normal, non-sex-fueled day to something endearing you said. Like he didn’t just drop hundreds on things to fuck yourself with, or wear while being fucked. He can tell you’re thanking him though, appreciating him.
After leaving the store, four big bags being carried by four men, you realize that it’s really not a joke this time. There’s a clock in your head counting down to where Jeno will drive all of you to next.
“Why’re you being so quiet?” Haechan pokes you from the back seat, pulling some of your hair and forcing your head back against the headrest.
“What the fuck?” You ask in a panic, turning your entire body to look behind you at him. You can tell he can see the way that little tug had you release a hint of a moan before you started asking him the question so aggressively. “I’m just enjoying the drive, what? I can’t have a moment of silence to myself?”
You ignore the chuckle coming from Jeno, driving smoothly and keeping his eyes on the road. Then you glance at Jaemin, who is looking at you much the same way Haechan is.
“Are you not enjoying yourself?” Renjun asks, leaning up to the center console again. “You’ve been acting kind of weird all day.”
“I’ve been acting weird?!” You huff. The audacity he has to say that you’re the one being weird.
“You’re just trying to pretend that we don’t want to fuck you like always.” Haechan blurts out while rolling his eyes before Jaemin elbows him in the side.
You stare at them wide eyed as Renjun slowly leans himself back defensively, as far into the seat as possible.
“Relax, you act like you weren’t picking up on the hints,” Jeno glances at you as he pulls into another lot. “Secrets out now though.” He shrugs, searching for a parking space.
“We weren’t even trying to make it a secret, damn.” Haechan rolls his eyes again. “She just likes to play dumb.”
“Or maybe she’s actually dumb.” Jaemin plays off of Haechan’s words.
“Were you guys not planning on letting me have any say in this?!” You ask, voice raised a bit from feeling incredibly flustered.
“What, you don’t want to?” Jaemin asks, narrowing his eyes at you and trying to search for a hint of a lie when you answer.
“I–” You stop yourself.
Any normal person would say no, right? Or would a normal person absolutely be down for this? Are you even a normal person?
“Hm?” Jeno encourages you to finish what you were about to say as he parks and turns off the car. “You don’t want it?” He continues, glancing down and between his legs as if to imply he’s talking more about himself than the group.
Your eyes follow his and you struggle to swallow around the lump in your throat, averting your eyes to the building that this parking lot belongs to. The fucking mall?
“I don’t know what you guys are wanting me to say but, this is all a bit too much.”
The three in the back nod happily at your half-assed rejection, messy hair waving with each nod, and then you look at Jeno as he responds.
“With all things considered, we know you like it when things are ‘a bit too much’.” He says to you, shutting down any form of rejection you could possibly give.
You stare at him as he unbuckles and opens the door to get out of the car. Your body is tingling just a little bit at his words. Goddamn that fucking tweet. Goddamn those fucking twitter circles. Goddamn you for having a bunch of horny burn out friends who suddenly feel the need to jump at the opportunity to fuck you that you would have given ages ago had they tried.
“Always acting like you don’t want it, it’s kind of cute, you know?” Haechan says, pulling himself out of the car now. Jaemin continues his string of thoughts as he gets out of the car after him, “and fucking annoying.”
There goes any ounce of self respect you could imagine having. Your brain is flooding with everything they said to you in the sex shop and, well, you’re well aware that it’s about to be a birthday to remember.
~
Walking through the mall with your friends should be normal, and it is. But the air is different now, knowing now a hint of the plans they seem to have for your birthday. If they hadn't said all of that in the car, surely you’d know now what the plan was.
You’re sitting in front of Jeno with your drink, Renjun beside him, Jaemin beside you. Haechan ran off to the bathroom and was in there for a while. You’d make a joke, honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that your phone buzzes and the notification states it’s from him.
Jaemin silently and curiously watches you open it from the side.
Silence. Unnerving silence from the entire food court as you glance at your screen for a split second before slamming your phone face down on the table and refusing to look at any of them.
You feel seen, and you know for a fact that Haechan is probably laughing his ass off in that fucking bathroom stall with the way you leave that image on read.
“You’re blushing–” Jeno says, watching the way your eyes shift and you suck down your drink like there’s no tomorrow. “Why?”
You pretend you don’t hear him before Jaemin laughs.
“Haechan showed her his dick,” He smiles, leaning down onto the table and scooting close to you. “I think you liked it.”
“I barely saw it!” You defend in a tone louder than expected, continuously sipping your drink until it’s nearly empty.
You can’t bear to make eye contact with any of them right now, not after seeing a raging cock like the one Haechan is sporting. He’s a menace, truly, and it’s not that you wouldn’t have wanted to see it or anything but like maybe sending it to you in such a public space was a dick move on his part.
Sensing the eyes of three men on you right now, judging to see what you really think of Haechan’s junk, you refuse to look up from the table.
Jeno definitely takes advantage of your blind spots. Wanting so badly to see those cheeks blush the same way they’re doing for Haechan. If anything, for his own ego boost. He wants you to break for him, not for that slut Haechan who is obvious in his attempts to make you want him the most.
Your phone buzzes again.
“Go on,” Jeno smiles. “Open it.” He encourages you, noting the way you still won’t look up at them. Loving how you’re somehow both entirely shameless and entirely cautious about this situation.
You realize only now that these men are taking advantage of every single situation.
Of course you didn’t notice Jeno skewing his phone down and under the table. How could you notice? You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that Haechan is in a bathroom right now raging hard and proud of it.
You don’t even know why you listen to him, opening the text from none other than Jeno himself and seeing a photo of his hand gripping himself. You can see the outline of his length and the way his fingers grip against the sheer size of it. Right fucking here, under this very table. You can see your shoes at the corner of the photo briefly as you stare at the photo a bit longer than you truly meant to. Kind of wishing he had just sent you a raw photo of it.
Now he can fucking see you imagine what’s under these pants. The lump he’s gripping only offers so much to your imagination and it leaves you wanting more. He knows it’s doing something for you with the way you stare at it, eyes no longer darting over the screen of your phone but pointed at one specific place.
Your eyes shift up to him on instinct now.
Buzz.
You whip your head over to Renjun when you see his name pop up on your screen. He does not look at you nor your reaction to the text but is smirking devilishly just like the rest of them.
You’re a little thankful that his photo must’ve been a picture he took on some other day. You feel relief that at least he’s maybe not entirely hard like Jeno and Haechan are right now. (He is.)
“You guys are pussies,” Jaemin comments, shaming his friends for simply sending photos when you’re right here, looking all shy and reserved as if you haven’t been rubbing your legs together all day. “Come here.” He says quickly and quietly, grabbing your hand as if it’s to warm it up before blatantly pressing it between his legs and flexing his length under your palm.
He’s hard. Like, incredibly hard and it takes everything in you not to grab it.
Then you hear him chuckle, looking at you and the way you haven’t even removed your hand from him yet.
“So shameless,” Jeno side-eyes, annoyed. “We’re in public, at least act like you’re not enjoying this right now.”
You’re quick to retract your hand, feeling Jaemin’s hips shift up and against it until he can no longer chase the feeling of your fingers.
There, you’re left feeling a mess. The worst part is that they’re not even alone in being turned on right now in the middle of a food court. You regret wearing these shorts, the arousal is easily seeping through your panties and offering a very, very, uncomfortable sensation against you. Each shift of your legs feels like a jolt of pleasure and also a raw and rashed feeling of the denim being too harsh against an extremely sensitive area on your body.
Many times over the years, you’ve thought of each of these men at least once or twice. With all that porn they share on twitter, it really really is hard not to. Never did you expect them all to act this way toward you while together though. It was always a one on one thing in your head, but now? You’ve seen Haechan and Renjun’s cocks, you’ve gotten an idea of how big Jeno’s is, and you’ve blatantly felt Jaemin’s.
The body tingles are worse now. There’s a burning in your stomach, and it travels straight between your legs. The arousal is there, but a release isn’t. At least not yet.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” You jump up.
Not only is this bathroom break there for like, actual bathroom purposes seeing as how you’ve had a coffee, an entire bottle of water, and now that tasty tea that you just downed within the span of three seconds, but, also because you need to breathe. You need to gather your thoughts desperately, and maybe get a better look at those photos.
“No,” Jeno laughs, standing up after you. “You’re just trying to avoid it.” He looms over you as he stands, looking down at you with a smirk. “You don’t need to use the bathroom.”
“No, I actually do need to. I just drank that entire tea in less than five minutes thanks to you guys.”
“That’s too bad,” He says in a mocking tone. “We have places to be.”
And you just look at him, seeing Haechan appear in your peripheral vision as he talks in an animated way with Jaemin and Renjun.
~
Store after store, you can feel the atmosphere become heavier and heavier between you and your group of friends. They’re entirely shameless in how they’re interacting with you and at this point, you can barely remember how the dynamic used to be.
There used to be flirting, but it was all based on a joke. At least that’s what you thought back then. Now, after seeing specific parts of them as they were sitting right in front of and next to you, save for Haechan, all of this flirting seems more like fucking foreplay.
It feels like torture, watching Jeno spend and spend his money on anything you so much as glance at. Haechan’s hands constantly stay on you in some way. Jaemin? Fucking Jaemin, cornering you alone every chance he gets, whispering things, pressing his dick against your ass when he’s behind you, asking you to touch him again.
You feel like you’re going insane with the amount of nervous arousal shaking within you. Your body loves it, your mind loves it. Every suggestion bursts vividly in your head, to the point that you very nearly feel like all of this could be a dream.
Then, the very not normal Renjun shocks you when he tries to lace his fingers in yours as you walk. You did find comfort with his warm hands in yours, despite having a photo of his hard cock sitting in a text message. It was kind of grounding, maybe? Reminding you that this isn’t a dream at all. All four of your friends are trying to fuck you.
Renjun kept fiddling with your fingers as you walked which, arguably, is a bit detrimental seeing as how you’re just a group of five people wandering around a mall with a desperate need to like, fuck something.
Safe to say you’re the one who may have shocked him. Thinking too hard about the way his fingers move and play against you. You focus on his birthmark, the way it contrasts with his skin tone and appears to be more like a bruise than anything else. The way his veins pulse languidly when he squeezes your fingers in his, you wonder if he moves his hands the same way when he’s using them for pleasure.
Renjun looks down at your fingers intertwined through the silence, loving the way you allow him to do this. He knows it’s not forward like everyone else even if he’s chasing the same thing. He likes to study the way you react, testing his own methods and noting how he’s somehow got you not even watching where you’re walking because you’re too busy staring at his fingers laced with yours.
“What’re you thinking about?” He whispers right up against you as you walk behind the others, shifting his eyes to check and see that they’re not paying attention to this little moment.
When you look back up at him, your attraction burns in your eyes and he sees that shit instantly.
“About my fingers?” He smirks.
You look away and relax your hand in his, as if to remove it from his grasp, but he takes this opportunity to show you the strength he has in his hands alone, squeezing tighter.
“You were imagining what they could do to you, weren’t you?” He says it so proudly, like he could possibly be the first of the four to get you to actually incriminate yourself in wanting him just as badly as he wants you.
“And if I was?” You glare before glancing down again. “What then?”
“We could slip away right now, into that bathroom over there and I could show you–”
Bathroom.
You still need to go to the bathroom, but the arousal of fucking everything right now is taking high priority when it comes to how your body feels. The burn is…interesting when you think about it. You feel heavy between your legs, entirely turned on, and honestly, if he hadn't said that word you likely would have continued to pretend you don’t need to go.
“Speaking of,” You announce so that the three walking in front turn to listen. “Bathroom break?”
Jeno doesn’t stop walking, shaking his head.
“No, this is the last stop and the bathroom is like, across the mall.” He offers a genuine excuse, causing you to huff and completely miss the way he smirks at the small win.
“There was a bathroom just back there.” You protest, halting where you are before turning to look at the door.
“Employees only.” Jeno continues, now turning himself around and walking backwards. “What? Gonna throw a tantrum? Just hold it, stop whining.”
You huff again, looking at Renjun and rolling your eyes.
“Was that for me, or do you actually need to go?” He asks as you try to speed up and walk with Jaemin instead.
“I actually need to go, but I guess I’ll just deal for now.” Another eye roll.
Damn, rejected. Still, you admitted to possibly thinking about what his fingers could do for you, and that’s a win in his book.
~
There’s a specific type of effort in the way you pretend you don’t care for what’s going on. You know they don’t believe your act, and they know you know. It feels like a game, and at some point all games come to an end.
The car ride back to your apartment felt like hell. Your body is far more aroused with the need to be filled compared to the need to be emptied. Thoughts of going to the bathroom are so far out of your mind with the way the silence in the car feels heavy and sex fueled.
Every sound feels like it’s implied to be sexual. Haechan stretched for a moment and every single head turned to him for the sound he made. On any other day, that’s just a stretch. Today though, that’s probably what he would sound like if he were plunging into you.
Jeno’s hand remains on your leg in a somewhat possessive way. Rubbing his thumb in circles and moving that touch higher and higher as he drives. The warmth you feel under his fingertips are forcing images to bleed into your mind. You wonder if he wants to move them higher, if he wants to tuck his fingers under the fabric and feel around the skin that’s not shown. You wonder if these simple touches would feel just as warm caressing other places on your body. Slipping under your shirt or down your shorts. Running through your hair, holding your chin up to look at him–
You’re thankful they can’t read minds. You’d blow your whole cover at this moment, as you finally let your mind truly think about what’s happened today, and what will likely happen soon. If you were in your right mind, you think you would be able to understand where all of this is coming from. It truly was sudden with the way they’re acting, but it’s a natural instinct for you to not care why it’s happening, and only care about the fact that it should happen.
There’s no telling what will take place when you get back into your apartment. You can picture it so clearly but then again, you also can’t. There’s so many things you can do with four men at the same time but, the issue is that you want to do all of the things.
“So, you want us all to eat you out.” Jaemin deadpans through the silence. What he says should be a question, but it comes out more like a statement.
In all fairness, he’s so hard that being quiet right now? Waiting like he has been all day? It’s too much. He needs to talk about it.
Only now do you tear your eyes away from Jeno’s hand on your leg.
“What?” You ask, searching your brain for any sober thought that would indicate you ever invited them to do such a thing with your own words.
“You said you want us to eat you out on your couch.” He dead pans, sucking in a breath and adjusting himself in the seat to offer his length optimal comfort.
“No? I didn’t?”
“Bullshit!” Haechan argues, already pulling up the receipts on his phone and leaning forward to put it directly in your line of sight. “Eyeball emoji and all.”
You stare at the tweet you shared with the implications it gave to your friends. Now, you’re in a car with said friends, on your birthday, after an entire day of sex fueled conversations and acts.
It definitely was an implication at its finest but it’s not like you knew this would come out of it. This specific tweet seems to have been the final straw for them and you can’t help but feel fucking proud of it.
“Technically, I didn’t say that.” You still try to keep the energy you’ve had all day, but Jeno’s hand offers you a squeeze against your thigh and instantly you’re turning your head to look at him.
“But you do want it,” Jeno says, pulling into the lot of your apartment building. “And we’re going to give it to you.”
You stare at him much like you have tried to avoid all day.
“But–”
“Stop.” He warns, cutting you off from any argument you try to form. “You want it.” He repeats again, this time letting his eyes scan you for a moment.
He’s not wrong. If anything, you want it more now than you did three seconds ago based on that tone of voice alone. That cold, scolding, deep voice that would make you agree to anything he says anyway.
You don’t even turn to look at the nods of approval as Jeno shuts you down. Instead, you wait for him to park.
~
First things first, bathroom. Except that’s not anyone else��s priority. You wouldn’t be able to go even if you started running for the door.
Why? Because the way Jaemin closes in on you before the front door is even closed. Shamefully, his eagerness does manage to push that need for a release into the back of your mind for just a little longer.
After a full day of fantasizing, wanting, and needing, Jaemin made damn sure he was the first. Kicking his shoes off and helping you to get yours off before blatantly ignoring his friends and swooping you up in his arms.
You briefly glance back at the others, offering a pleading look of “save me please” but, there is no saving to be had here. All three of them have a dark look in their eyes, leaving the bags of gifts bought for you right there at the door as they watch Jaemin give in to his fantasy first.
That, he does. There is no room to protest, to play games, or pretend like you’d push him away. Because you won’t, and he fucking knows it.
He carries you to the couch with such ease, tossing you down onto it and adjusting you before you can do it yourself.
You can’t look away from him. For a moment it feels like this instance with him is entirely hidden. Like there aren't three other guys watching the way he pushes you back against the couch, falls to his knees, and spreads your legs with a strong grip.
“Oh fuck,” He comments to himself, noting the way you smell from the day of their hard work on arousing you. He stares directly between your legs and loves the way your shorts have ridden up to the point it must have been uncomfortable. “Look at you.”
You can’t bear to admit the blatant truth of what he’s seeing. These shorts have been dampened over and over again today. You’d be shocked if they were dry. You can imagine how pathetic you look right now too, pussy nearly on display already while still being fully covered.
On instinct you shoot your arms up to cover your face as if to avoid this embarrassment. The confirmation of wanting this all day, just like them, is shameful. Even as Jaemin unbuttons your shorts and starts to tug at them, you can’t help the way you feel like you’re spiraling.
You want this so badly, and now Jaemin has the dirty, messy, wet proof.
“So shy,” You hear from behind you, now feeling another pair of hands pull your arms from your face and hold them at your side, as he dips down to your neck from behind the couch. “You tried to hide it but,” He continues, blowing softly at the spot at the dip of your neck. “You were squeezing those legs together all day wanting someone between them, weren’t you?”
Goddamn Jeno for being a talker. Fuck Jeno for having these strong hands and holding you down for Jaemin to toy around between your legs. Curse that man for having such a sensual voice as he talks to you, dumbing you down to the point that all you can do is fucking agree with him.
Jaemin listens intently to the way Jeno talks to you as he continues to bask in the scent. Your shorts are now crumpled to the floor and your blatant arousal was evident in all forms of the word. Your panties leave nothing to the imagination, soaked to the point of not being able to hold any more of that dripping heat. They rode up much like your shorts did, exposing both lips and folds to envelope the fabric tightly as if you were intending to gain some sort of friction from them throughout the day. He thinks that you were, quite literally, fucking yourself against these flimsy panties for the majority of the time you spent with them, pretending that they weren’t rubbing against your clit the entire time.
He hums from between your legs, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs to spread your legs out more. Haechan comes over now, wanting to see what it is that has Jaemin entirely speechless and holy fuck, anyone would be.
Your folds are glistening in wet, unsticking and settling around your tightly stretched panties in a different way now. Haechan makes no attempt to pretend it’s not a beautiful sight.
He’s the first to moan at the image of how pathetically horny you got for them. All while trying to hide it, parading around all fucking day with your panties hugging that clit in a way you wished he was– for sure. Him. You want him the most, and he’s going to fucking give it to you.
“Aww,” Haechan coos, his eyes scanning you entirely. “You really do want me to eat it, don’t you?”
The heat that runs down your body at those words is more telling than the small sigh that forces itself out of your throat. Your entire body jerks at the feeling of goosebumps reacting to his words, and for some reason, you shoot your eyes to Renjun as if seeing him right now will calm your embarrassment. It doesn’t though. Renjun is looming near the entry of your living room, staring blankly at what’s been revealed with the heavy length in his pants twitching and making itself known to you. He appears to be waiting for your response.
You don’t respond. How could you? There are no words in your head right now. Not with all of the sensations you’re feeling, not with all of the eyes on you. You try to offer a nod, feeling pathetic, but your hips answer for him.
Haechan watches the way they buck up at his words and instantly he’s shoving Jaemin over with a confident chuckle, slotting himself between your legs alongside him. He shows no shame in the way he hooks his fingers under the panties, digging in deep just to get a hold of them. You can feel his knuckle bump your hole and you clench at the feeling. Then, as if he’s making a show of it, he groans as he stretches your panties out of your folds and away from your body.
“Damn,” Haechan says nearly in unison with Jaemin, both entirely too eager to be in a shared space between your legs right now. They barely even acknowledge the other, but there is a silent form of encouragement between the two.
Never did you think you’d find your eyes glued to the way Haechan slips the panties off of you, or the way Jaemin pockets them instantly. Like they’re working together, even if not on the same team.
You breathe in audibly at the air that hits you. It’s cold, sending a shiver down your entire body. Jeno feels those goosebumps under his hold on you, his cock twitching wildly in his pants at seeing how you’re just letting this happen.
“So, so, dirty,” He starts in a whisper against your neck, so silent that it almost feels like he doesn’t want the others to hear. “I knew you’d get off to this.”
You release the smallest of groans and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s calling you out or if it’s because someone down there just slid their fingers up your slit.
Holy fuck, whose fingers are down there doing this right now?
Haechan is beaming up at you, giving himself the title of public enemy number one because he definitely centered himself between your legs and shoved Jaemin out of the way entirely. He wants to be the first one to taste you, and he fucking means it.
He shows no shame in how desperate he is, which kind of makes you feel a little better as you watch him and his head of messy hair nearly lose sight of the goal while he spreads your pussy apart repeatedly just to see you clench around nothing.
God, he adores seeing your body reacting to what he’s not yet giving. The way you clench, the way your legs tense with each slide of his fingers. He’s inspecting the damage of your untouched and utterly soaked pussy as if it was entirely his fault that you’re in this state.
The other’s let him have this one though, because they know for a fact that when they get between those thighs, they’ll humble him with confident ease.
Jaemin, specifically, believes this. Taking defeat in being shoved from between your legs and losing his chance at being the first to fuck his tongue into you. The image of Haechan doing his thing is enough to give him the confidence to do twice as well when it’s his turn anyway.
He busies himself instead.
There, as Haechan slides his fingers up your slit before landing right on your clit and pressing harshly against it, Jaemin unlocks his phone and opens his camera without a single hint of hesitation. His other hand goes straight to his jeans, skewing them down to let his cock spring free. Then, he’s reaching for your soaked panties and simply…hanging them off the head of his length as he records the scene in front of him with an eager glint in his eye.
“Mm, look–” Jeno says as he nudges your cheek, holding you down more now in case you make an attempt to lunge forward and knock that phone out of his hands. “You must look so good down there for him to wanna record you like this.”
You don’t even protest, because the clench of your pussy that’s being recorded in 4k would tell on you. Jaemin’s eyes are glued to the screen of his phone as Haechan continues to spread you open, exploring, feeling. Your eyes are tuned in to the only bare cock in the room now, seeing your panties shield the majority of it but loving the imagine of how tall his length stands, and then, finally–
“Oh? What was that?” Jeno perks up at the now, louder, sigh you release from your shamed lips. “Do you like what he’s doing?” He adds, trailing his eyes down to see exactly what caused you to make such a pretty sound.
You moan a confirmation, feeling a warm pair of lips wrap around your clit and suck harshly. The sounds of Haechan’s pleased hum at the taste only amplifies the touch beyond belief. Your entire body tingles at how insane all of this feels. Lips on you, Jeno’s voice in your ear, Jaemin recording it for later use, and Renjun slowly inviting himself to join?
Your legs immediately try to close around Haechan’s head when he continues to assault your clit with small grazes of his teeth, and wouldn’t you know it, Renjun finally approaches. Taking the struggle of your legs as a fucking invitation. He holds your legs with a stronger grip than you ever imagined he could have, spreading them wide enough that your ass nearly lifts from the couch.
The stretch of how wide he spreads them burns, and you try to look up at him in a pleading way but he's too busy pressing his surprisingly large cock against the side of your leg as he watches Haechan lick against you.
Haechan is appreciative of what Renjun offers to the scenario, feeling your pussy spread out across his lips and chin. It’s enticing when he doesn’t have to spread it open with his fingers, and it’s hard not to lick the entirety of it as he abandons your clit. Tongue slipping through each fold, licking flat right against your hole, then pressing in slightly before returning back to your clit and skewing his head to really get at it.
So, this is actually a thing that is happening. All four of your friends are entirely tuned into you and you’re being held down as if you’d run away. As if you’re not enjoying it. Goddamn, you are though.
In a split second decision, you prove that by overpowering Jeno and his weaker hold against you now. Seeing as how he was entirely lost in watching the way your legs and stomach tense at whatever Haechan’s tongue was doing. You rip your arms from his grasp and instantly grab Haechan’s hair, holding his face down and against your clit. Rubbing his nose in it, bucking your hips up against the pressure of his lips and tongue, wildly chasing what his lazy tongue struggles to offer.
There’s the desperate need to fuck all of your friends that you’ve been hiding, and it’s showing.
Jeno chuckles, nodding against your neck, still not touching and waiting for you to just fucking moan louder. More than Haechan, just overpower his sounds so he doesn’t have to hear how fucking good you taste, or how good you smell, or how good your pussy must look down there.
Still, you don’t give them everything they want. You stay reserved in the sounds you make in terms of reactions, even as you use Haechan’s face like a toy. Even as Jaemin audibly gasps at what you’re doing, even as Renjun releases one of your legs out of a desperate need to hold the other one against him so that he can feel some type of release.
Haechan knows his friends are jealous of him at this moment though. He’s lucky to feel your fingers tugging against his hair, he’s blessed to have your clit bumping his lips. He can feel your pussy drip against his chin the more you ride his face, and goddamn he must be doing a good job at being used.
That, he is. You only struggle more and more to not moan at the feeling of the way he just…lets you. If you knew he was always this submissive when it comes to eating pussy, you would have jumped on his tongue years ago.
Jaemin continues his recording, trying to zoom in and out to get a good angle that doesn’t involve the boners of his own friends, eventually deciding that he simply doesn’t care if Renjun is in the frame fucking that monster he’s got in his jeans against your leg. You’re the center of the world right now, and he’s a part of this just like his friends.
He tries not to focus on the image of Haechan gripping your couch for dear life either.
Slowly though, he begins to realize there’s a strange type of arousal in this room, one that isn’t entirely burning just for you. There’s something about seeing Haechan being used, seeing Jeno try to remain in control, whispering cocky little words into your ear, like he’s not pressing his cock against the back of that couch, seeing Renjun blatantly lose his composure against you when he’s never so much as hinted to the others that he was into this sort of thing.
Jaemin really feels like he’s going insane over the realization of how alluring this situation is, how alluring his friends are, how alluring he must be.
The speed of which he tosses the panties from his cock and shoves Haechan out of his way is not to be discussed. He feels a fire behind his thoughts at this moment that surely, Haechan won’t mind. Surely, you’ll not feel that split second of abandonment that’ll take place in the time span it takes for him to replace Haechan’s lips.
He forces his phone into a dazed Haechan’s hands who lazily raises the camera up to see Jaemin take his place. The way you barely even take a breath, the way you don’t even react to the change of mouth against you– goddamn, Haechan may very well fall into obsession with you at this moment.
Replacing him with Jaemin like he’s trash? Why does he love it? The way you grab Jaemin’s hair the same way you did to his own? Is that what he looked like when you did that? Spreading your legs and fucking against his face? Seeing it from a different angle, with a different person to Haechan, makes him believe you may be the sexiest woman he’s ever had the pleasure of licking.
And if you knew of the crisis happening below, perhaps you’d be able to focus on that more than the sound of Jeno’s deep sighs against your neck. Really, maybe you would have realized that the hair tangled in your fingers is now Jaemin’s.
Your brain focuses solely on the way Jeno’s lips brush against your skin, the wet feeling of his tongue darting out every few minutes, whispering deep mutterings of the things he loves about what’s happening. Words like “I can hear how wet you are, is it for me or for them?” and “You want more, don’t you? I could bury myself so deep for you–”
It’s kind of crazy how Jeno’s words somehow feel more intense than Jaemin’s tongue on you. There’s something within his words that feel damning. Like he’s belittling his friends despite blatantly seeing how they pleasure you. Like there’s a promise sprinkled in that after all of this, he would be the one you’d think about the most. He would be the one to leave the lasting impression.
Arguably, he already has. Spending his money on you without question, calling you out in a way that shows he knows exactly what game you’re playing. You think that if you let Jeno have at you, it may very well be a lasting impression on everyone, not just you.
Still, you try to focus on Jaemin’s lips through Jeno’s muttering.
You can feel the way he uses more tongue than Haechan and you know your hips are chasing his mouth right now. You can also feel the vibrations of his moans against you and while that is a heavenly feeling, Jeno’s small grunts penetrate straight through that pleasure and center itself once again. Briefly, you almost imagine it’s Jeno between your legs.
You’re moaning softly right next to him, hips chasing a feeling that he’s not even offering to you but god these sounds are for him. You’d never tell Jaemin that the moans aren’t directed at the beautiful work he’s giving to you though. Never.
These moans are for Jeno to react to, to take in, to use as encouragement. And he eats it up, tensing himself against your couch and finally using his hands for something other than helping you hold Jaemin’s head in place.
He runs them up, now moving his head to the other side of your neck and leaving small kisses there as he lifts your shirt up, up, up until it’s bunched up under your arms. There, he cups the flesh of your chest and uses his pointer finger on both hands to tease your already hardened nipples through the fabric of your bra.
He’s thought about playing with your tits so often, now that he can do it? He’d be damned not to savor it while his friends are busy fucking themselves and being used by you.
He teases, and teases, and fucking teases.
“Sensitive?” He whispers against you at the way you arch your back into his touch more than the way your hips fuck up.
You nod mindlessly, throwing your head back against the couch. Then, finally, he pulls your bra up too. An uncomfortable fit against your collar bone but his warm hands overpower the feeling of fabric that you’d rather have removed completely.
At first, he just holds them in his hands, feeling the weight of them, bouncing them, and then caressing them.
“Could drive me insane with these.” He whispers against your neck in a pleased sigh, pinching one of your nipples before mindlessly playing with them. “I’d like to slide my dick between them and feel how fucking soft they are,” He continues, losing his train of thought as he stares down, imagining how the slide would feel. “Fuck, so pretty.”
At that moment, you think he might have lost composure. The sound of his voice indicates that he was really thinking about it. You can feel the couch budge at the way he tenses up against it, and that paired with his teeth biting against your neck, you feel like the most desired person in the room. Which is true.
The more Jeno talks, the more you find yourself willing to give him just about anything he asks for. His big hands grope your chest in such a firm way, blatantly showing interest in the way he touches and plays with them. Every fleshy expanse of skin there is warmed up by his hands and it’s not strange at all to feel incredibly turned on by it.
Haechan audibly moans at seeing your tits jiggle in Jeno’s hands, probably ruining the video he’s recording but god damn. He knew they were huge but they’re pretty too and that’s just the ultimate combination when it comes to tits for him.
Just as Haechan goes to make his mouth useful again against a different part of you, Renjun takes what he needs. Which is fair, Haechan thinks, knowing that he’s already gotten to taste you, the least he can do is let Renjun suck some titties.
Jaemin, is still below enjoying himself and shockingly, Haechan is keeping to himself as he records, slipping his hand down his pants just to edge himself every few minutes as he watches the situation unfold. Almost in a daze at how insane it is that finally, you’re letting them see and touch you like this.
Feeling Renjun finally put his mouth on you though? Damn. Feeling three of the four touching you is a lot to take in but you still manage to do it. Jolts of pleasure are sent straight to where Jaemin continuously grinds his lips against your clit. Renjun shows no shame in inviting himself onto the couch next to you, swatting one of Jeno’s hands away and laying claim on one of your tits, immediately sucking against it and feeling himself spiral at the way you arch into it.
Jeno can’t say he’s too pleased with that though, staring straight at the way everyone has had their lips on part of you, but all he’s gotten was your fucking neck? All he’s gotten was to hump up against this couch to satiate his needs, and feel your nipples?
Renjun doesn’t notice the dark look on Jeno’s face, but Haechan sure does as he double takes at both the image on the phone screen and Jeno.
He recognizes that look and knows for a fact that Renjun better open his eyes and pay attention, or–
“Jaemin, get her off or move–” Jeno says, halting his fingers on your nipple as he backs away from the couch and now comes around in full view.
You stare, feeling Renjun continuously suck against your nipple, sending ripples down to your belly. Jeno’s pants are much tighter than before, and you can see the outline of his cock much like when you saw the photo he sent you.
It looks even bigger than before and your mouth nearly waters for it. The eye contact he’s keeping with you doesn’t do anything to help the situation either because he loves the way you struggle to decide on if you want to meet his eye or stare at his length.
There, he grabs himself, thrusting his hips playfully toward you with a quirk of his brow, as if to suggest you could have more than just his tongue if you ask.
You take in the implied suggestion, releasing Jaemin’s hair and struggling not to shove him clear across the room just to see what Jeno has to offer to you. It’s honestly like no one else in the room exists when he stands between your legs, looming over you and not at all falling to his knees.
You, Haechan, and Jaemin watch as he stands there, making a show of unbuttoning his pants to get his cock out. Renjun remains in his own little world though, sucking your nipple as if his life depends on it while shoving his pants down and shamelessly fucking into his fist.
Then, Jeno makes his move. It’s not exactly unwanted but damn, he really fucking goes for it. Dropping his pants to the floor and gripping Renjun by the hair, pulling him away from you as well.
“You got what you wanted while I had to watch,” Jeno comments harshly at his friends, grabbing your legs and pulling you down to wrap them around his waist. “Now, you watch me.”
Instantly, your pussy is throbbing at the image of how huge he is. His cock lays easily against you, heavy and leaking as it twitches to be inside of something. He’s going to fuck you. Jeno is going to fuck the life out of you. This wasn’t at all in the plan, then again, was any of this in your plan for the day?
Do you want Jeno to fuck you? Your eyes scan the room, all three men and a camera pointing their eyes at you. There seems to be a bit of a hopeful glint in each eye.
You nod weakly, watching Jeno take a good look at your pussy before smirking.
“So wet for this, no wonder they were moaning more than you were,” Jeno smiles, staring down at your hole before licking the tips of his fingers and dipping them into you without so much as a warning. “Feels good to finally have something to fuck, right Birthday girl?”
You’re speechless, wincing at how deep he buries his fingers. Never realizing just how perfect they’d reach inside of you. He bumps areas inside that you desperately need with so much ease.
Oh, oh fucking no.
There’s that burn. The reminder of a different release, pressure building up at lightning speed as your wet walls squeeze his fingers.
“How long have you wanted this?” Jeno comments at how tight you’re squeezing his fingers. “How long have you wanted me?” He continues, ignoring the other three in the room and paying no mind to them.
You can barely answer, your body reacting in all sorts of ways that it never has when it comes to a pair of fingers and dirty words. Perhaps it’s the sudden burn of needing to get to the bathroom, or perhaps it’s just Jeno. He leaves no room for any of that though, as he continues to chase what he wants.
“You want me?” He asks, urging you to nod, leaning over you and gripping your cheeks with one hand to look directly into his eyes.
His other hand pulls from your pussy and he coats his length in that wet that soaks his fingers. There, he tugs, leaking just like you are for it.
You blink up at him, sparing a single glance at the others and hoping that they don’t protest when you ultimately nod your head innocently.
“Take it then.” He seethes the words through his teeth before instantly adjusting his length and sliding into you in one go. Bottoming out entirely and holding himself there.
The sound you let out is embarrassing and slightly choked. The stretch of him inside of you makes you shake, your legs falling open from around him at the weakness in your muscles trying to adjust to the intrusion.
His two fingers were not enough to prepare for how thick he is inside of you. Every twitch he offers hurts, every breath he takes feels like he’s already fucking you senseless and you genuinely couldn’t muster up a single word of “wait,” if you wanted to.
Because you don’t want him to wait. You like the searing pain of fullness both inside of your pussy and bladder. It’s overwhelming and almost blinding to feel so utterly out of control of your body.
“Oh, my god.” Jaemin whispers out, experiencing first hand how huge Jeno’s cock is and the way he makes it fit into you.
He can see how tight you are around him, knowing for a fact that if Jeno were to jerk his hips back, your pussy would resist it. He shifts his eyes to the other’s in the room, seeing how Haechan has blatantly abandoned his phone and propped it up on the table to get his pants off, probably because he wants to see if he can fuck you after Jeno.
Renjun is just fucking gone, already having a fair share of cum on his shirt and breathing hard as he stares directly at the point of entry in a dazed and hopeful way.
Then there’s himself. Jaemin wants to fuck something so goddamn bad that he’s actually a little upset that he left that store without a pocket pussy. If Jeno gets to do what he wants, why the fuck can’t he?
So, he not so reluctantly finds him moving to his feet and over to you– avoiding eye contact with Jeno as he kicks his pants off followed by his shirt and lounges next to you on the couch.
He’s reluctant to reach for you at first, but when Jeno relieves that pressure inside of you for a moment and slams back in, he finds himself immediately reaching for your hand and lying it directly against his cock simply because of the sound you make.
You can barely think straight through the stars of Jeno’s cock spreading you open so slowly like this. He barely pulls out before pushing back in when you feel Jaemin grab your hand. You do your best, honestly, with all things considered. Opting to simply hold his cock tightly so that he can at least fuck into it. And that he does, especially when he hears the continuous string of whimpered moans spilling from your lips.
Jeno really does pay no mind to Jaemin because the point is, he’s the one who has his cock in you. They can take what they can get but he’s going to take exactly what he wants.
You’re incredibly tight around him, strangling his cock in such a beautiful way despite still dripping around it. The slide is harsh when he pulls back again. He looks down, watching the way your pussy grips him before pushing back in a bit harder this time.
“God, fuck,” He groans, gripping your legs and now pushing you back and fully onto the couch. He crawls over you, somehow managing to plant his cock even deeper when he thrusts this time. “You can barely take it–”
The way he moans breathlessly makes you feel proud despite your body feeling as if it’s on fire. Not a single mouth on your clit has gotten you close to orgasm because of his words overshadowing it. Now, though? With his cock bumping repeatedly against the softest spot in your pussy? You’re fucking shaking.
His moans do little to help the situation as you clench tightly, panicking slightly at the familiar feeling in your gut. You shoot up, nearly knocking heads with Jeno and abandoning Jaemin’s pathetically needy cock all together when you continue to push Jeno away.
He barely budges, forcing his cock in and out of you, smiling at your panic. This is what he was waiting for, he can see exactly what you’re trying to do.
“Just take it,” He laughs slowly, picking up the pace of his hips and watching that panic in your eyes. “Let it go.”
You can’t bring yourself to do it. That burning sensation in your bladder making itself far too known when his cock bumps that spot inside of you. You aggressively shake your head.
“Come on, let it go.” He encourages, now snaking his hand down and rubbing your clit at such speed that really, it’s not intentional.
Your body tenses and you let out that breath you’ve been holding through this. On instinct your body pushes, it shakes, and you let go. Jeno knew exactly what he was doing throughout the day too, so he’s fucking beaming when your pussy forces him out along with the gushing liquid of your long awaited release.
“God, so messy.” He compliments you, trying to force his cock back into place to feel that release in its full intensity. “Let it go, drench me–” He continues to talk, losing his goddamn mind at how soaked he’s getting. Fucking so harshly past your clenching walls, burying himself as deep as he can go just to feel the way your pussy jerks him off in an attempt to push him out.
He rumbles out a pleased sound, side eyeing Jaemin and the way he sits there fisting his own cock at a speed that is likely very painful. He can’t bear to turn to see the other’s though, but hopefully they know now who is calling the shots here after this.
It goes on for so long that you can barely even open your eyes by the time your body stops releasing. You choose not to comment on what just happened, knowing full well that you’ve never squirted in your life and feeling embarrassed that Jeno fucked you for a total of four minutes to force that out of you.
The relief you feel inside of you right now is…interesting to say the least. Still, you choose not to focus on the fact that Jeno is fucking beaming at you, still fucking into you, and the wet sounds below are far more telling than any porn you’ve ever watched.
The room falls into silence save for the slapping of Jeno taking you for all you’re worth and the sounds of palms hitting the base of their assigned cocks, and– oh?
“You’re just taking it–” He groans out, short of breath as he drives himself deeper, harder, and then suddenly emptying you completely.
“Renjun,” Jeno says, lazily pumping his cock as if he didn’t just go fucking feral on top of you, and then abandon you.
You’re shocked at how fucking fast Renjun jumps up though, following orders as if he was born to do it.
No words are spoken after that, all Jeno does is nod his head to the space between your legs and immediately you feel Renjun’s hands gripping your thighs and his tongue lapping away at the mess.
Your legs start to shake again, feeling sensitive to the point that your hips try and fight to get away from his relentless probes of the tongue. He won’t let you go, holding you down and letting his lips follow wherever your hips go.
You can’t get away, all you can feel is Renjun’s mouth cleaning up every single drop of that embarrassing mess that Jeno created, and the desperate whines that are coming from your lips only drive Renjun to eat harder. Making out with your clit in the way he’s wanted to do all fucking day, stiffening his tongue and tasting the insides of you, fingernails digging into your flesh just to prove how badly he needed this.
It all happens so fast, a second orgasm approaching at the speed of light when Jeno coos out at the both of you. You both look pathetic, and it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.
Renjun goes, and goes, and fucking goes until– you realize how close he is.
So close that, despite already having gotten off once without so much as letting anyone know, he’s standing to his feet and instantly fisting his cock. The speed of which he does it allows your clit to swell even more at the image despite your orgasm trickling back down.
You focus on his face and the way his brows knit together, his mouth falls open, and then– a breathy moan. You can feel it spill, dripping down your slit and onto the couch. You’re shocked he has so much to offer as you lay there shaking, watching him empty himself entirely onto you.
And then, the fucking whiplash you feel when Jeno moves him out of the way and, quite literally, drags you onto the floor before spreading you out wide for ultimate use.
As long as he gets his cock in you again, they can do whatever they want for their release.
You’re so silent, never feeling more like prey than you do now when you feel Jeno tuck a cushion up under your ass and fuck Renjun’s cum right into you in one slow and languid thrust. It’s animalistic in the way this turned from them trying to pleasure you into now, them trying to pleasure themselves.
You can barely comprehend the way Jeno forces you to take his size again. Your mouth is left hanging open and Haechan uses that as a damn invitation, pressing his length past your lips and bumping the back of your throat. He holds your head there, feeling your throat constrict around him and releasing a long awaited moan that he’s been needing since he originally got to taste you.
Relief is what they’re getting right now, and for some reason, you don’t feel ashamed at all with the way you let them. You’re a fucking mess despite Renjun cleaning you up and then promptly dirtying you twice as much. You open your eyes through your gagging at Haechan.
He pauses at that. Staring down at the way the tears start to run down your cheek, but you’re implying with your slow blinks that you feel good.
“Fuck, it’s just like the video–” Haechan chokes out, fucking his hips into your mouth at a rapid speed, reminding himself of that video you shared with the girl needing to be filled in every form of the word.
And you know, Jaemin would totally take you up on that offer, forcing all of you to stop just so he can get under you and fuck into that same hole Jeno has claimed, but, well, listen.
He’s so fucking close. He’s been edging himself this entire time and he will be damned to spill anywhere near someone else’s cock. Why? Because he’s way too attracted to everyone right now and he’s a bit concerned about getting off to someone other than you right now.
Which, that’s a hurdle he can deal with when he gets to it. He, instead, takes this opportunity to go for your hand again. Obsessing over the way your weak fingers grip him in an instant, dragging up and down his length with the help of Jeno’s insistent and harsh thrusts.
He watches the way you moan with stretched lips, the way your legs lift to wrap around Jeno’s waist to try and hold him in place and then– Oh? You gain your composure back and grip his cock like you’re hell bent on milking him dry.
He groans with a smile, sinking down on his knees next to you and letting you work him up just like you’re doing for the others.
You’re going with your hands, with your mouth, and with that tight little pussy of yours apparently because everything else happens in a blur.
To Renjun, he takes it upon himself to grab that phone and be sure to capture every messy second of what happens.
First one down is Haechan. Once again, he grips your head and holds your face flat against his abdomen when he releases deep into your throat. His hands shake as he struggles not to suffocate you like this. He could feel you swallow around each spurt of his cum, utterly spending him of all energy before he releases you and lazily throws himself back against your floor in a huff.
Then, Jaemin. Despite being in his head, promising himself that your hand was good enough for him to finish, he couldn’t resist the absence of a cock in your mouth at that point. He immediately replaces Haechan, being far more gentle with the way he fucks himself against your tongue. Didn’t take long at all to have his hips stutter. He was more particular about his release though, snapping his hips back when his orgasm approached and jerking himself off right there against your face. He intentionally misses your mouth, wanting to see it drip down your cheeks and chin and onto those tits that have been long abandoned by now.
Which is a shame because he really likes those.
Then, Jeno, pulling the power moves he always does.
He waits, and he waits, changing his pace time and time again to prevent you both from releasing. He does this until you’re practically gone. Your eyes roll back, your mouth is slack, and he can tell you have no thoughts at all in your head when you start babbling. Finally, he rubs your clit.
There, he holds himself off as your orgasm sends you straight into another dimension. You tremble through it as your entire body falls limp and out of breath and only then does he pull out and release the most pornographic, deep, moan you’ve ever heard in your life.
The amount of cum he releases on you is fucking obscene. To be fair, you drenched him first but holy fuck does he lay claim to as much of you as he can.
It spurts up to your tits, some lands on your belly, a majority of it spills directly onto your clit and thighs.
You can’t help it when your fingers move to trace some of it around even more, feeling entirely sticky both inside and out. You help him lay his claim on every other part of you, even going as far as smearing that cum on your clit and gently dipping it inside of you with the tips of your fingers.
Jeno, out of breath and fucking watching you do that takes in a pained breath.
“Don’t” He warns, amazed by you. “Don’t do shit like that.”
You tilt your head with a dazed smile, pushing your fingers in deeper as if to ask “why not?”
He shakes his head, a smile creeping up on his face.
“Always such a damn tease.”
~
a/n: there was a lot more i wanted to add to this, such as jeno getting his chance to eat and stuff, but i was writing too much so I hope you liked it anyway!
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My Personal Hashira 🍆 Size Ranking
Warning: if it ain’t obvious, this contains smut lmao — therefore Muichiro is 100% not included in this. We’re talking about 🍆, length, girth, all the fun stuff. So if PPs make you uncomfortable keep on scrolling babes </3
A/N: these low key stress me out cause I feel like people can get pretty defensive over these types of Headcanons. Especially if my own thought differs from yours. Regardless, these are just my personal takes/HCs. My word is not law so do not be upset if my HC does not match yours / don’t feel the need to change how you HC these things to fit my POV. This is why I refrain from describing size in my fics, I want y’all to imagine it in a way that you like lololol
Lastly, idgaf if you see some of this as unrealistic, these are fake, fictional drawings of men, if I wanna give Gyomei a 44ft long 🍆, I can and will (I didn’t but you get the point.) Anyways enjoy my personal thoughts on this matter
1. Himejima Gyomei
Is anyone fucking shocked that this 7’2 (220cm) man is packing the biggest schlong among the male Hashira?
I mean let’s be logical real quick, his dick is as big as the rest of him. This man’s dick is dragging on the floor.
Soft: 11.2
Hard: 12.3
Call it unrealistic idgaf this man is LONG
Girthy too, he’s fucking beefy all over
This man’s dick will feel like he’s shoving his wrist up in there ong bro
It curves downward slightly when hard, I mean shit that thing is heavy, it stands no chance against gravity
2. Uzui Tengen
Again, the man is 6’6 (198cm).
Height comes into play when it comes to our two tank Hashira
Therefore none of you should be surprised that they are the top two
Soft: 9
Hard: 10.3
Your guts are getting rearranged, he knows the length he has but often underestimates how far he can go…
He’s long but doesn’t have a crazy girth to him, which thank fuck it doesn’t take as much prep to take him
He’s pretty straight when hard and manages to flex it and keep it up (he totally does dick tricks & you can’t convince me otherwise)
3. Tomioka Giyu
I’m standing by my “big dick Giyu” head canon. I just know this man is packing a weapon down there
What’s crazy is he wasn’t even aware of how good he had it until he overheard other corps members chatting
Soft: 6.3
Hard: 7.4
He’s got a decent girth and as weird as it may sound, it’s pretty, like really pretty to look at
When hard, it curves upwards and stands at attention which makes him a bit embarrassed
He knows how to use it, because of that he’s pretty confident in that aspect which is wild for him
He will also rearrange your guts unintentionally (or intentionally hehe)
4. Shinazugawa Sanemi
I don’t wanna hear one PEEP from any of you that Sanemi should be above Giyu.
My man is forth on the list but that ain’t mean shit, he’s still got a lot going on down there
Soft: 6
Hard: 7
He’s girthy, will tear you up girth, needs thirty minutes of prep minimum because of how wildly he fucks girth
He sticks straight out, no curve in sight and honestly looks like he defies gravity.
He’s like Tengen, can do dick tricks. But unlike Tengen he doesn’t make that known / show you lmao.
He’ll break your back, he may even hurt you (fully unintentional) if he gets too into it. That thing is fr a weapon
5. Rengoku Kyojuro
He’s fifth on the list but trust me he’s not lacking
He’s second smallest, but he’s not small, if you get what I mean. It’s kinda like how we rank the Hashira weakest to strongest but regardless they are still the strongest in the corps… that make sense?
Soft: 5.8
Hard: 6.8
He curves upwards, very prominent veins running along his shaft (heh, shaft)
Girth wise, he’s about normal. Not too intimidating but def offers you a good stretch, forgoing prep is real bold tbh
He’s a quick learner so he quickly masters how to fuck you
He will strive to go as far as your body will let him, so expect to be bruised / sore
6. Iguro Obanai
My king. He may be “smallest” among the Hashira men, but that doesn’t mean shit.
He’s not self conscious of his dick, he knows how to use it. He’s also pretty content with it’s size
Soft: 5.6
Hard: 6.5
See? You can’t come for me cause he ain’t even SMALL
Obanai’s dick is pretty, too. It curves upwards slightly, since he’s pretty pale, his veins are prominent
He’s got an average girth, he doesn’t need to prep you forever to get you ready. Which works in his favor cause he likes to “punish” you with no prep & going in raw
He can and will abuse your cunt, he’s not satisfied until you genuinely can’t walk without limping for a few days
#kny#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer imagines#demon slayer fanfic#demon slayer headcanons#demon slayer smut#hashira#kny smut#kny headcanons#hashira smut#kny hashira#hashira headcanons#hashira imagines#tomioka giyuu#kyojuro rengoku#tengen uzui#sanemi shinazugawa#iguro obanai#himejima gyomei
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❝ You better lock your door and look at me a little more (we both know I'm worth waitin' for) ❞
Vander x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW, slight angst | there's some plot at the end | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | versatile. bottom. reader | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5k
warnings: r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used)
masterlist;
authors note: you guys have @strayjester to thank for this because of the thirst we had for this fine-ass single dad...
*song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish
*YN is described as being shorter than Vander in this fic.
He’s getting that itch under his skin again. Muscles aching and throat begging for the soothing burn of addictive smoke. Vander tosses a rag on his shoulder, scratching at his beard as he fixes his posture. His skin feels stretched thin, aching for a salve to fill the crevices and drought; his ears muffle the bar, and the song playing floats into his ears.
The playful percussions, the whispering tone of the singer, and the sighs of the adlibs remind him of the fairytales of fairies, sirens, and boys in masks in nothing but a see-through robe.
Vander straightens up, briefly glancing over at the doors of the bar. The underground doesn’t get sunlight, but like a dog, he knows when people are starting to head back home. The crowd in here was mostly gone, some were passed out in the booths and some intently eating sunflower seeds in their corner. He’d have to clean it up and make sure the tables weren’t sticky, and the floor needed a good sweep too.
Impatientness grows in him. Vander sighs, pouring himself a shot of something to reinvigorate him, and slams the glass down. It startles the man at the bar enough to have him reach for his coins, the rest get the same hint.
“You look like you need a nightcap," Spider mutters. Vander thinks it’s ridiculous for people to call the seamstress such an intimidating name when she vehemently despises the arachnids, but it stuck and she has no choice but to embrace it. She has the courtesy of bringing her bowl of opened sunflower seeds and an empty glass to him instead of just stumbling off.
But Vander knows it isn’t exactly out of the kindness of her heart.
It flatters him that she finds him attractive. Really, it does. She was a beautiful woman and a capable one too. But Vander is tired and truly, he doesn’t want his rendezvous to be chattered on about everywhere. His kids didn’t need to hear about any of it.
“Aye’, that I do. Thankfully, I own a bar,” she chuckles and reaches forward to swat at his shoulder. Vander just smiles, taking her dishes and placing them elsewhere so his back is turned to her.
“It’s not good practice to drink your own stock,” Spider places her elbows on the table and Vander doesn’t need to spare a glance to know her breasts are on display too. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, and most likely won’t be the last.
The song ends with a soothing croon from the singer and Vander’s cock twitches in his pants as he spots the business card stuck between the frame of the mirror.
“Ya’ sober enough to make your way back safe?” Spider’s brows pinch and she mutters, gluing her gaze on Vander’s face as he pulls the rag down to wipe the table. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
Vander nodded, bidding her a good night she simply replied with a wave. She was the last to leave through the front door and Vander manages to not groan in relief at the click he hears.
‘ Hurry! ‘ A voice tells him.
It’s early in the morning now, the window is closing but he can’t possibly leave the bar in this state. He’ll be the one regretting it when he opens tonight. Vander imagines he must’ve looked a bit dumb as he stares at the state of the bar when Vi appears at the top of the stairs.
“What?” Vi tilts her head at him but gestures loosely to the tables and chairs.
“I said I can clean it, you look...tired.”
He sighs, squeezing the back of his neck. “What’re you doing up so early, Vi?” she shrugs which is a non-answer but pushes through the doorway and meanders behind the bar. Her head pops out and she places the iron bucket of cleaning supplies. Vander walks to her, handing her the rag as he reaches for a broom.
“Vander, I can clean the place just fine,” she huffs. “All by yer’self? S’gonna take ya’ forever,” he’s jesting but she finds no humor in it. The girl crosses her arms as she glares up at him. A part of him wants nothing more than to dash out of here, to find that salve he desperately is aching for, but there was no way he could leave his daughter to clean up by herself just because he wanted to get his dick wet.
“Dude, just go,” Vi grabs the bucket and rag and marches to the tables. He frowns a bit, crossing his arms as he contemplates it.
“Ya’ couldn’t sleep?” Vi shakes her head. “Nope! Milo was snoring and Claggor kept moving in his sleep. Powder must be tired because she’s sleeping through it with no problem.” Vi’s always been a light sleeper. Most of the people in the underground were.
But Vander just needs to ask; “Ya’ sure it wasn’t the nightmares?” Vi pauses in her wiping and Vander watches her face as she sends him a pouty expression.
“Yes, I’m sure. I haven’t had one of those in forever anyway — just go rest, old man. I can wipe down tables and sweep floors by myself.”
“Are you sure — “
“Dude!”
The path he takes is always quiet. Hidden between tight alleyways and old wires hung too low — he rarely saw characters here other than the occasional cat or shady hooded figure but that was a normal sight anywhere.
The back of the building is less glamorous than the front but not out of neglect. It was purposefully made that way — fewer lights, fewer signs, and fewer girls spilling from the door. But he peeks up from the hood of his jacket and he sees the voyeuristicly lit windows. The shadows of bodies behind the thin curtains, the seductive glow and thrum of the others. The back door is not locked, it's just made to look that way so people feel dirtier pushing the heavy door open.
He hears a whistle and his cock honestly to god jumps at the sight of your naked shoulders. Your mask was askew, your hair messed up, and smears of lipstick on your lips, and your skin; Vander is envious of the cigarette holder you have in your grip.
When your lips wrap around it he feels the exhaustion melt away. Plumes of purple smoke pour out from your mouth; “Had a feeling you’d be comin’ over."
Vander laughs, moving to the door with his eyes still on you. “Yeah? Just knew, did ya’?”
You nod, placing your chin in your palm as he opens the door.
“Yeah. My ass has been wanting a good stretch the whole day, only gets that way when you’re comin’ over.”
' Coming over ', you make it sound like he’s a teenage boy sneaking through your window. Vander says nothing as he walks in and you grin at it. His silence was good — it meant he was going to give it to you just how you wanted. You finish the cigarette and slip the curtains close.
Vander liked his privacy after all.
The hallways are familiar, but he still thinks the wallpaper is a bit too busy and the creak in the floorboards should have been fixed. Saying it out loud feels a bit shameful. After all, how often would he have to come over to recognize these things?
He passes by a doorway guarded with beaded curtains and he ignores the moans of the woman who is being devoured by another. The doorway next to it has the sounds of leather rubbing against leather so he peeks as he passes by to see it shines under the low lights.
Reaching the stairs, Vander is greeted by Sevika lip-locked with another woman. He lowered his head, hoping she was too busy fingering her to notice. At the landing, there’s a wall of hooks, and on each of them held a mask of an animal. They differed in all sorts of sizes, and materials, each handcrafted by different artists. Customers wear them if they’d like but it was a must for employees.
The allure, the secrecy, the seductive notion of masked strangers sucking your cock, blah blah blah.
He grabs the wolf mask, slipping it on with ease, as he climbs the rest of the stairs. He misses Sevika staring at his back with squinted eyes.
“D’you know him?” she asks. The girl in the doe mask pants but eyes Vander’s frame through the wooden bars of the stairs.
“Him? Oh, he’s a regular. Secretive, and never lets anyone else see his face other than the Fantastic Mr. Fox.”
That makes Sevika snort.
“(Y/N)? He only comes here for him?” She can’t exactly blame the man. You were a talented little beast. Hands, mouth, feet, cunt, ass — every part of you was made with pleasure in mind. She enjoys having you in a headlock as she pounds into your asshole, enjoys your tongue inside of her and your filthy little words.
But just for you?
This pleasure house had a gaggle of beasts for him to lay with. Hairy beasts with cocks just as big as their arms who enjoy plowing and being plowed. Demure little nymphs with a talent to make people beg for their cocks to be stepped on or to cry in pleasure. Tall beasts, short beasts, catering to every need and fetish a man could have.
“There’s a betting pool,” the Doe says. Sevika turns to face her as the masked man enters the hallway leading to your room.
“About?” Sevika pulls her fingers out to pull away the negligee and kneads at her small breast. She shudders, arching her back into her but continues;
“The Wolf and The Fox. That he’s smitten, maybe even a bit obsessed.” Sevika scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pinches Doe's perk nipple between her fingers,
"Poor bastard."
"I think it's — ah — cute," Doe retorts as she squeezes Sevika's biceps. "To you maybe, a smitten customer gets you more coin," Sevika grunts out, her tone light despite it.
"Falling in love with a whore is just stupid."
"You saying you don't love me, Daddy?" Doe pouts her lips. Sevika chuckles as she lowers her head to nibble on it. "I'll love you tonight, baby. Think that'll be enough?"
The door has the symbol of your mask, painted in gold. It's ajar, a sliver of light lighting the carpeted floors and Vander rolls his shoulders as he pushes the door open.
Your room is heavy with the smell of incense. There's thudding against the walls, moans of pleasure echoing despite it being muffled. Vander's shoes make no noise. The carpets on the floor provide more than just comfort. Discretion. This room and the others on this floor are all for high-paying customers.
He closes and locks the door behind him. He reaches for his mask but your voice stops him.
"Keep it on," you push yourself off the door frame, the beads clattering softly, and Vander tits his head at your sashay. Your mask was left on the bed, leaving your face bare, and Vander cocks a brow as he looks down at you.
"One of those nights?" His hands settle on your waist. The size of them, the roughness that's felt through the silk of your robe, it makes your grin stretch wider.
"You got other ideas, Vander?" you muse.
"Was hopin' to kiss ya'," he huffs.
The grip on your ass lurches you forward further into his broad chest. Vander's eyes are heavy, the shadows attempt to hide the desire but it's futile. He's kneading, hitching you up higher until you're barely on your toes.
Head tilting, he leans in. Your head floats away, hands still gripped onto his shirt as he chases and you don't give in.
"(Y/N)," his tone suggests a warning. But it's amusing. Here you are, in his arms. His strength keeps you in place and in the air; the mask is akin to a muzzle. Except he's fully capable of taking it off if he wishes.
The fact that you asked for him to keep it on is not lost to you. Your words alone held so much power over him. You place his neck between the gap of your thumb and pointer finger, barely there pressure keeping him still despite the yearning in his eyes.
"You're exhausted, big guy. Long day, yeah?" Vander nods at your words.
"Lay down on the bed. I'll make you feel good."
He hesitates for a moment. But your feet find the floor again and he begrudgingly parts. When he walks past you, you follow behind him. He pauses when you reach for the front of his pants, looking at you from over his shoulder.
"Take off your clothes for me, baby."
Your bed is shaped in a semi-circle. The curtain around it was drawn all the way back. There's a mountain of pillows and bolsters that welcome Vander's naked frame as he settles on it.
The trail of his clothes on the floor has your silk robes accompanying you as you stand at the end of the bed.
Vander tilts his head, widening his legs and stroking his hairy thighs. Leading your eyes to the thick dick that's already at full mast.
"Damn," you whistle. The bed dipped under the weight of your knee. "I know I'm good looking but you can't be that hard from just 5 seconds of laying your eyes on me."
He can't tear his gaze from you. From the marks on your face to the state of your hair; the bare skin that he loves to bruise and mark up — despite being told by you it's not exactly encouraged — Vander is convinced you're not real sometimes.
The arcane has been long gone now. Yet, here you are. Living, breathing, proof that its remnants linger in pumping hearts and honey-sweet skin. With just your voice, you make his knees buckle and his cock strain through the material of his pants.
Just the whisper of your name has his entire day derailed as he thinks and thinks and thinks of you.
Oh, (Y/N).
You're his undoing.
Gooseflesh spread at your touch and Vander groans as you settle yourself between his legs. That haunting touch makes its way to his crotch, ghosting along his aching rod, up his soft stomach, and towards his chest. It rests there and his heart threatens to escape his ribcage. The heat from your cunt has him sighing and settling his hands on the arch of your back. It makes you chuckle.
"Please, darlin'," he begs, "I been needing you so badly. All day."
There's no way you can deny him. Not when your cock jumps at the airy tone he has, that gravelly husk that comes with it. It peeks up, just as hard as his. He can feel it drag along his own and he tightens his grip on you.
"Yeah?" You nose at his neck, trailing your painted lips down. The hairs on his chest tickle your cheek when you place your face there, breathing against his perk nipples.
"Shit, yeah. Can't you feel me?" He grows a bit bolder in his next move. Urging your hips forward so he can feel your wet folds, forcing your stiff cock to rub up. The motion makes your eyes flutter close, sighing against his pebbling nub.
"For such a big man, you're such a teddy bear," you lift your hips, lining his thick head with your needy cunt. He laughs, his masked face tilting downwards as his blue-grey eyes all but glow in excitement.
"I've been told I am a bear," his words end a moan when you slip him inside. The bowl of condoms littered just about everywhere outside this room wasn’t there for decoration. They were there for the John’s and Jane’s who needed them.
But you know Vander. You’ve been the only thing he’s been hitting and you make sure the rest of your clients are always wrapped up.
Everything about him is thick so it’s no surprise you feel the twinge of discomfort as you accommodate to his size. It lingers briefly but once the mushroom tip of his dick is inside pleasure runs up your spine.
“Oh fuck yes,” you wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest together. He instantly embraces you, adjusting his grip to your ass again so he can help you straddle his legs.
“Fuck, baby. Your dick is so big,” and for once you’re not lying about it.
Vander’s a big boy. His thick arms, square jaw, the delicious shape of his nose; his wide chest and sturdy shoulders, and his soft but firm stomach. Fuck, everything about Vander makes your head fill warm.
His dick twitches inside you as you slide down. The snout of the wooden mask bumps into your forehead and you laugh as he leans in.
“S’fuckin’ needy,” he has no protests. You reach for the bottom of the mask and push it up, blinding him but rewarding him with your lips. His beard is soft. As you feel through it, you cup his jaw and he groans into the kiss.
More of him inches inside of you and halfway down, you’re pulling away to breathe. His fingers are going to leave handprints with how roughly he holds you; flesh spilling from the gaps of his greedy digits.
“Fuck, (Y/N).”
“Yeah, say my name, baby.”
Vander grunts when you fix the mask into place. When you lean back, he takes in the sight of the bump on your stomach.
“Perv.” His dick twitches again. So you laugh.
“Absolutely rotten.”
Your eyes slip close as you let gravity take over. Fuck, the way your hips buck up and twitch as he fills you up has his toes curling. You’re dripping wet, the thick and clear liquid travelling down his balls.
“You’re so fuckin’ hard,” he thumbs at your cock. When he uses his knuckles to stroke it, his mouth goes dry at the way it twitches and righteously stands tall.
“All ‘cus of you,” you purr. Vander groans, now idly touching the bump of his dick and you sigh as he presses down on it.
“Ooooh fuck, Vander.”
He rolls your hips, moving to ground his heels into the bed but you beat him to it. Your hands brace his knees and you lift up and up and up — his tip bumping into yours in the brief time it’s out of you — then slipping him all the way inside again.
Vander curses, his accent thickening as you throw his head back.
You chew on your bottom lips, savouring the explosion of pleasure behind your eyelids. As you look at his heaving chest, you cannot stop the sharp grin that crawls onto your face.
Placing one hand on his shoulder, you put your thighs to work. Vander is at your mercy. Panting and moaning behind the mask as he watches your work on his cock. Riding him, grinding down on him, using his thick dick for your pleasure.
Your other hand leads his own to a surprise.
Between your ass that he adores so much, he bucks up when he feels the base of a plug inside of your ass.
“Oh, you liked that,” you moan. All high and airy as you slow down into grinding, thighs burning. Vander is tugging onto the plug and your rim stretches as he teases it in and out.
“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he growls out.
“You’ll die happy, don’t — mngh — duh-don’t...Shit, Vander. Baby. Oh fuuuck.”
The exhaustion of the day has seeped out from him it seems. He’s leaning forward, caging you between his raised knees and firm front.
In one smooth movement, your back bounces on the bed and he’s on top of you. The acoustic of the wooden mask makes him sound like an animal as he growls above you, he huffs and pants like a proper wolf.
You share a long look, even as he rocks in and out of you and you feel your heavy eyelids threaten to squeeze shut. He braces onto his elbows, his weight on you making you whine and keen.
He takes the reigns and smiles when you reach to take his mask off. It thuds onto the carpet, mere inches away from your own mask.
“Hey, handsome.” You stroke over his cheekbones, gasping into his mouth as he kisses you. A particularly deep thrust makes you arch off the bed and it distracts you from his deft hands pulling out your plug.
“Your cunts got me all nice and wet,” he growls into your ear. “Perfect for fucking your ass then,” you whisper back.
“You always know what to say, don’t you?” He slips out and you whimper at the loss. You’re not empty for long. He taps his tip onto your winking hole and you chew on the insides of your cheeks in anticipation.
“C’mon, baby. Fuck me.”
“Yes, sir,” he purrs with a devillishly handsome smile.
He rights his posture, holding your ankles in one grip and folding your legs so your knees are nearly at your chest.
The stretch makes you toss your head to the side, cunt gaping as he fixates on the sight of your greedy holes.
Vander spits onto your hole and pushes in deeper. It makes you sing like a proper whore. Clutching onto the sheets while your chest heaves.
God, when he takes over like this — it makes you fantasize about how good it’d feel to wake up in his bed for once — but fantasies like that are dangerous. Vander is smarter than that, he’d know better than to bring a whore back home. Especially a whore like you.
His heavy balls slap against your ass. It knocks the breath out of you. You cry out, tears pricking your eyes when he strokes your dick. Vander splits your thighs and he holds your face with so much care you feel your heart pound our of your chest.
“(Y/N),” when he moans your name you want nothing more than to keep him here with you forever.
When he fucks up into your ass, you inch forward with every strong thrust. So he holds you down, keeping you in place as he stretches out your ass. The friction on your dick makes you even wetter. But you still hiss in discomfort as your rim clenches around him. Vander pants above you, slowing to a stop.
“Lube, darlin’?”
You nod, gesturing to the nightstand. Vander kisses you, pulling out as he turns and grabs the strawberry-scented bottle. You lay out on the bed, breathing heavily as you recompose yourself.
Vander lubes his dick up, eyeing your cunt a little too hungrily for your liking. So you knock your knees together, staring at him pointedly when he blinks innocently at you. “No double dipping,” you warn. Vander scoffs, grinning loosely.
“I know that, boy.”
“D’you?”
Your expression makes him snort. He parts your legs again, smearing some lube on your hole before he presses his heavy cock inside of you again.
“‘Course I do. Your cunt’s just so sexy, can’t help but stare.”
“Yeah? Should I call another client and make him fuck my pussy while you fuck my ass?” You’re goading him. He realizes that. But the flash of jealousy that comes across his face is not something he can control.
Vander doesn’t respond. Merely grunting as he fucks into you. You yelp at the strength he’s using, cursing as you’re dragged onto his dick. Helpless as he uses you.
“Yuh - You pissed?” he glares at you but shakes his head.
“No.”
“Yer' a shitty liar.” You moan out his name as he turns you over onto your stomach, barely having time to process his movements as he pulls you onto your knees. He’s bruising you with his grip and when he spanks your ass, you know it’ll be sore till the next day. Every spank makes you tighten up around him. He presses between your shoulder blades and you are keen as he reaches deeper than before.
“M’just joking, Vander,” you pant out. “It’s all yours, all of it — all of me.“
Vander vengeance is in his hips. An unrelenting force that turns your body into nothing but a conduit of pleasure. Your gummy walls are torn between pushing him out and keeping him in — it doesn't matter, in the end, the one with power over you was him. There's bliss in relinquishing control. It's a whisper of voices, serenading you to a high that even the strongest drugs could barely scratch.
Or maybe you were just an addict for sex — or just Vander.
No seasoned whore lets their guard down with a client. There's a degree of trust needed. It's surface level. The bond between you and Vander — there's something oddly binding about it. You've heard of the religions scattered around the world. Of monks who abstain from worldly pleasures, those who worship an entire militia of gods, and those who only believed in one Maker; they spoke with such certainty of their beliefs. The punishment and euphoria waiting for them at the end of the line.
Fucking Vander feels like religion. When he makes your body burn from the inside out with a lust only he can quench — you're doomed and there's no one to blame but yourself.
That's a lie, you bite down on the bedsheets as you feel his balls slap against your cunt and dick. There's someone to blame for putting Vander in your way, (Y/N).
"Shit, sweetheart. I'm close," Vander groans. You moan, forcing yourself to reach back so you can kiss him. Vander feels his heart hammering, reaching to pinch your cock between his fingers to distract himself from these bubbling emotions.
Loving you was a freedom he had long forgotten about. Hearing you moan out his name, digging your nails into his skin and kissing him so deeply. He aches for you — his veins burn when he even thinks he sees you in the crowd.
He loves you.
Vander murmurs something on your lips that you don't catch. But you're too far gone to acknowledge your senses. You're so close to unraveling. Teetering on that edge of bliss as Vander holds you like he wants your bodies to become moulded together like clay.
"Vander, Vander — "
He slips his fingers inside your cunt. You gasp, feeling yourself clench around him like a vice as you squirt onto his fingers and cum around his dick. Vander is close behind, growling out your name as he thrusts in balls deep and floods your ass with his thick ropes of cum.
The both of you ride off the orgasm. His hips still fucking in and out of you in shallow motions that have your breath hitching with every drag and poke. Vander slips his fingers out and brings it to your lips — you chuckle softly, letting them inside as you clean his talented digits.
"How much did you pay the madame?" You nuzzle into his neck, relying on him to hold you up. He kisses your shoulders, his beard tickling your skin as his hands roam your front.
"Long enough. You sick of me already, darling?"
Don't think that's possible, you thought with a loose grin. Vander groans into your mouth as you grab his chin and kiss him.
"Don't flatter yourself, baby."
Vander looks younger when he rests. Not like a boy again, just younger. The lines on his face were less prominent and the softness of his body was more inviting. You're tracing mindless shapes into his chest, chastising the city of Zaun for beginning its morning cycle. The noises from beyond the window are beginning to shift from the noisy nightlife of hookers calling for Johns and booming music from clubs to the food stalls opening and wagons being pulled along the worn-down roads.
You can hear the thudding of Vander's heart under your ear. It squeezes your own so you lift your head and gaze down at him, just taking him in from a new angle. The door clicks and Vander's brows pinch but he does not stir. He trusts you enough to rest. For you to keep vigil over him.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" his voice drawls like a thick caramel. A seductive purr with a certain husk that tingles your senses. The tall, lanky, man enters the room and he is shameless as he takes the both of you in.
"He paid for the whole night, not the day." Silco comments. "He gets a pass on good behavior. What do you need?" Vander's hand is carefully guided to hold one of the pillows and you carefully move to stand.
Silco takes in the sight of you. Moving forward, he grasps your chin in his hand and tilts your head back; "He's always been such a possessive man."
"Yeah? He marked you up like this too?" He regards you with a tepid glance. "Sir," you add smoothly. Giving him a half-hearted grin.
It works. Silco's eyes soften, just slightly but it's a crutch you're leaning on. He likes you more than he'd like to admit and you're beginning to feel guilty for all these emotions brewing inside of you for these two brothers-in-arms.
"Did you learn anything from tonight, (Y/N)?" Silco looks past you to Vander. Turning his voice into a whispering tone that feels more romantic than he probably intended it to.
You contemplate telling him. Pursing your lips for a second before you lean in and embrace Silco, pressing your lips up his jaw and whispering in his ear.
"He's friends with the Sheriff. Grayson. But he worries."
"About?" Silco's hands wrap around your waist, shadowing Vander's marks with his own.
"He worries about the fresh meat she has on her team. Piltover's steady now but one incident and he doubts he'll be able to keep the peace, no matter how hard Grayson tries. The children," you pause and he turns his head to look at you. You gulp thickly, then continue: "The eldest daughter, Vi, she's getting restless. Dangle bait and she'll bite."
Silco stares for a moment. You take him in, unable to stop the grin that crawls on your face as he presses a long kiss to your lips.
"Well done, (Y/N)." His praise had once been something akin to a drug to you, a high you desperately needed to keep your doubts at bay. A soothing coolness that'll keep this rage inside of you to a lukewarm temperature; the promise that Piltover will soon fall to its knees to Zaun had been your motivation to live for years now.
Yet, your chest tightens and your stomach twists as his words wash over you.
"Of course, sir."
#s3thwrit3sstuff#reader insert#male reader#male reader insert#male!reader#ftm re#ftm reader#transmale reader#vander x reader#vander x yn#vander x male reader#arcane x reader#arcane x yn#arcane x male reader
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i’m so sorry for your loss. i hope you’ve received a lot of requests though and are managing to stay distracted 💛
could i please request some soft period sex with din djarin? i’ve been loving your din fics lately and there really aren’t enough people out there writing for him, so thank you for doing god’s work!!
𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍
» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x f! Reader
» CONTENTS : established fwb relationship, feeeelinggggs, period sex (duh), p in v sex, he talks you through it, cream pie (must I say it again, *wrap it kids*). He removes the helmet but you don’t see his face. Romantic as Mando can get. 18+, kiddos.
» AUTHORS NOTE : thank you for your condolences sweet pea. I’m doing much better with all these asks to work through!
» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here
“You’re in pain.”
For a man that doesn’t like droids, the voice that floats through The Mandalorians modulator sure sounds droid-esque. His tone is flat, devoid of emotion as he tries to ascertain the reason for your scrunched-up brows.
“I’m fine,” you dismiss awkwardly. The Mandalorian would have to set you alight with his flamethrower vambrace if he wanted to pry the information out of you.
Your period has started, settling a creeping pain across your lower back that kicks into what you can only describe as cramp-hyperspace. You’re both irritable and needy simultaneously, desperate for his attention yet frustrated by his presence all at once. Besides, you couldn’t call what you and The Mandalorian had a ‘relationship’. Sharing a cot every once in a while to ease the frustration built in a tin can in hyperspace wasn’t exactly marriage, was it?
A leather-clad hand gently finds its way onto the small of your back, rubbing slowly against the tight muscles there and soothing the ache that’s so intense it feels like it may pull away the flesh from your spine.
“I heard…” The Mandalorian hesitates for a moment, a twang of nervousness sounding from the tip of his tongue. “I heard that release is… is good for the pain.”
Your heart plummets into your stomach when his visor tilts to you, taking in your expression. His hand slides along the curve of your ass ever so gently, a ghost of a touch that feels more likely to be a figment of the force than something the big, burly Mandalorian could muster.
“Mando-“
He’s on you in a second, grabbing underneath your ass and hoisting you upwards in a strong lift that makes your head spin. You push your forehead to the smooth, cold metal of his helmet as he struggles to pull your pants down. He doesn’t get them past your knees, pushing your back against the wall and groaning as he works at his flight suit.
“I-I’m bleeding, Man-“
“I don’t care,” he rasps, voice dripping with arousal as he pulls his cock out from his pants. You can hear him work at it for a moment, his breath picking up as you whimper. “If you want me to fuck you- if that’s what you need- stars- I’ll give it to you, pretty baby, give you anything you need.”
He’s babbling, pushing your panties to the side and swiping his gloved fingers through your folds until the leather catches on your clit. You gasp loudly, the slight friction enough for your hips to jump off the wall.
Mando doesn’t hesitate, lining the head of his cock against your entrance before pushing into you with such ease. You take him so well, your body desperate to be filled by him that it offers no resistance at all. A groan tears from his throat like someone had punched him straight in the gut, wheezing slightly when he feels the head of his dick bitch against your cervix.
It should hurt, and it does, but stars, it feels so good, too. Your back is arching against the cool durasteel, tears welling in your eyes as he rolls his hips impossibly deeper. The coarse hair on his pubic bone grinds just right against your clit, and your walls clamp around his cock while you whine out his name.
“I know, Baby Girl, I know,” he breathes, his hips starting a languid, steady pace that has you digging your fingernails into the pauldrons on his shoulders. It stretches you out just right, your hips raising to meet each thrust as you sigh out his name in what could only be described as some kind of prayer.
“MmmMando,” you moan, head tilting back until your crown hits the wall behind you. Eyes cast to the heavens, they tear up as tendrils of pleasure work their way up your spine, Mando’s hips already working you towards bliss in a way only he could.
“Close your eyes, Pretty Baby,” you hear him groan, his voice gravelly. You do so without question, eyelids heavy already with the intensity of the pleasure building between your thighs.
There’s a shift, a mumble of ‘keep ‘em closed’ that sounds too loud to be him, and then his lips are on your neck. Nando’s lips are on your neck, kissing and sucking at your skin as he ruts into you at a blinding pace.
“Ohmy- Mando-“ you choke out, tears streaming down your cheeks at the overwhelming rush of adrenaline, of emotions. The coarse hair of a trimmed beard you didn’t know he had bristles your skin, and he whispers a moan against the junction of your shoulder.
“Fuck, Baby,” he chokes out, his hand gripping at the flesh just beneath the curve of your ass where he holds you up. “So fucking wet, so tight for me, Baby. That’s it, I know, I know, I can feel it-“
You’re arching into him, moaning louder. The sound of your keens bounces off the walls of the hanger, ricocheting back into your ears as you feel your orgasm work its claws into your abdomen.
“I’ve got you,” Mando soothes you, even with the strain in his voice, “I’ve got you, m’here.”
It sends you dropping through space, plummeting past the stars and the planets as he hits something vital inside you. You’re cumming, bliss spilling through your body and momentarily blinding you as everything blurs before your eyes. It roils through you, tears you apart at the seams like you’ve been stretched and ripped open in the best way.
You must be screaming, must be wailing and sobbing his name, because Mando is offering you a chorus of ‘I know I know I know’. You’re so tight around him, gushing on his cock and his hips stutter, spitting out your name against the column of your throat in a voice that’s unmodulated and crystal clear as he cums, filling you up when he spills inside of you.
You’re both panting heavily, legs like jelly and bodies buzzing with a burning afterglow that could compete with the twin suns of Tatooine.
“M-Must have made a mess,” you whimper, voice cracking. Your eyes stay firmly shut, even when you hear him chuckle and feel him press a kiss to your jaw.
“That’s what a shower is for, isn’t it?”
You share the shower, share a cot in your moments of frustration on this tin can in hyperspace. Mando takes his helmet off for you, kissing and whispering utter bantha-shite while he smoothes your discomfort… Maybe it is a marriage proposal, after all.
#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚📁 ─ my works ˚₊· ꒱꒱#꒰ ‧₊˚ din 🥫 ˚₊· ꒱#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚ 1k+ notes club ˚₊· ꒱꒱#din djarin#din djarin x you#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin one shot#din djarin x reader#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x y/n#din djarin smut#din djarin imagine#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x y/n#the mandalorian fanfiction#the mandalorian smut#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian oneshot#the mandalorian imagine#the mandalorian drabble#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal smut#star wars smut#star wars#star wars fanfiction#જ⁀➴ mail: received
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The Menu | Part 4
“splinters in his knuckles bangin’ on your door”
A/N: remember that meme I posted earlier about how this was supposed to just be a silly little smut fic? Yeahhh about that..🥴
~word count: 6.3k~
Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader
Summary: Joel goes a little berserk after he doesn’t see you for almost an entire day.
Warnings: SA (not by Joel, not described in detail) implied prostitution, abuse of power/abuse by law enforcement, (FEDRA) unhealthy trauma response, degrading language, mentions of guns, threats, injures from punching a door, mentions of blood, removing splinters, dark!joel, mean!joel, protective!joel, is shit at communicating his feelings!joel, asshole!joel, FEDRA SUCKS, no smut, denial of feelings, stalking, possession, morally gray relationship to the reader, (they’re kinda toxic but it’s complicated) hurt feelings, angst, some fluff, age gap, (Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her late 20’s) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!
Joel Miller cracked under the pressure when almost an entire day went by without a lick of your presence. Cracking under the pressure was..a severe misjudgment. All rationale was thrown out the door; he had gone completely balls to the wall insane.
It started in the morning when you didn’t show up to your ‘job’ where you and Joel would spend grueling hours dumping deceased infected. Of course, everyone around him could give less of a shit about your absence. And why should they care? It was a dog eat dog world in the QZ. Every man for himself. To Joel? This was a real problem. A thorn in his side because, well, frankly? You might have meant more to him than just a vice to fill a void. Or a warm body to stick his dick in. Maybe he had reluctantly grown to care for you in his own Joel way.
So, when he found himself in line for his ration cards, his eyes zoned in on the FEDRA officer you fucked out of spite. The same one who did business at Joel’s table while Joel’s fingers fucked you to ruin. He had to start somewhere, right?
“Y’got a minute?” Joel asked casually as he shoved his ration cards into the pocket of his jeans.
“Shoot.” Benjamin, better known as Benji, what the fuck kinda name is that.
“Y’seen Angel around this mornin?’ She’s usually out here with me. Didn’t show up.”
“Nope.” Benji responded smoothly.
Joel’s brow raised as he studied the other man’s face intently. He was looking for any clues, any indication that maybe this Benji fellow had something to do with your bizarre absence.
“Right. Well, if ya see her, tell ‘er Joel’s lookin’ for her.” He shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets.
If Benji was good for anything, it was ratting QZ folks out. So, maybe he did know where you were. He had no viable reason to tell Joel shit. In fact, he was the main reason for your absence. Not only did he catch you out past curfew, but with a handful of contraband that could have easily gotten you a week in lockup. He showed you just a smidge of mercy simply for the fact that you offered him a blowjob just to keep your ass off the line, and only in lockup for one single day.
Joel had no business knowing that, of course.
“Well, well, well. Whad’we have here?” Benji stepped out from the shadows of the darkly lit alleyway as a FEDRA patrol vehicle drove by.
“One hour past curfew, Angel. That’s a deduction of cards, and a night in lockup.” He tsked.
Your face scrunched inwards, as if you had tasted something pungent and sour. “Benji? Fuck. C’mon, man. Just let me pass on through. It’ll be like I was never here.” You thought you were being fairly reasonable especially since he did a lot of business with Joel. You thought that maybe you could get yourself off the hook easily.
“Can’t do that, Angel.” He sighed.
“My name is not Angel. And yes, you can. Just pretend that you never saw me.”
“Oh.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his concealed handgun. “So, I guess buddy boy can call you Angel, but I can’t?”
For fuck sakes.
“Christ, is that what this is about? Who has the bigger dick? What, are you jealous or somethin?’” You egged him on as you reached for your own concealed gun before an unpleasant chill ran down your spine from the familiar clicking sound of the revolver.
“Jealous? Now, why would I be jealous, Angel? Ain’t you just a common street whore? You’ll let anyone stick their dick in ya if they pay well. Ah, but you got that Joel Miller wrapped around your pretty little finger. Everyone ‘round here knows he’s your guard dog. Where is he now, hm?” He cocked his head to the side.
“Look, Benji, you’re a good lookin’ guy and all that, but I fucked you out of spite. I’ll stroke your ego or whatever, but can I please just fuckin’ go home now?” You were exhausted from the grueling day. Your feet ached, your whole body felt like a bunch of pins and needles were stabbing it all at once. All you wanted was to go home, pour yourself a stiff glass, and have a smoke. Was it really too much to ask?
“Turn around. Hands against the wall. No sudden movements.” He ignored every word that left your mouth as if it meant nothing as if you truly were just a whore. For the first time in a long time, you felt dirty. Like something that was disposable. A toy that was no longer shiny and new, but dull and tattered. It made your blood boil.
“Benji—is that really necessary?” You tried to reason with him, but your attempts were fruitless.
“I said turn the fuck around and put your hands against the goddamn wall. Don’t make me ask you a third time, Angel. I ain’t have all night.” His jaw ticked impatiently.
“Okay. Okay. You don’t have to ask me again.” You reluctantly turned around with your hands above your head before placing your palms flat against the brick wall. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, slicing the skin open from the pressure as you tasted copper along your tongue when he yanked you back by the hips as if he owned them.
“That’s right. Because that Joel Miller sure turned you into an obedient little cockslut, didn’t he?” Benji chuckled deeply against the shell of your ear. His hot breath on your skin sent a wave of nausea crawling up your throat.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, Benji.” You hissed through your gritted teeth as he began to forcefully pat you down. You thought about trying to escape, but decided that would have been fucking reckless to even try.
“Oh, now what do we have here?” He said rather gleefully as he pulled out a baggy of pills. The same baggy of pills that Joel gave to you the night before to deliver to a client.
“Those aren’t mine.” Well, that was dumb.
“No? Hmm. You’re not good at this whole lyin’ game, Angel. Let’s see what else we got here.” He pulled out your gun from the belt loop of your jeans along with tinfoil wrapped cigarettes; fresh ones that Joel had rolled you.
“Well, my dear, you’re lookin’ at about a week in lockup just from this alone. Unless..” he trailed off knowing exactly what you’d offer him in return.
“You’re sick, y’know that?” You scoffed under your breath. Men really did only ever think with their dicks.
“Jus’ doin’ my job, Angel. So, what’re you gonna offer me, hmm? Make it good and I’ll only throw you in there for a day. Sounds fair?”
“Right. Your job at bein’ a fuckin’ rat? I’ll give you a blowie, right here, right now. I think that seems pretty fair, don’t you?” The sooner this is over, the sooner I get to go home.
“Hm.” He pondered it for a moment, as if he really had to think hard on your offer. “Deal. But I want you to act enthusiastic this time, and take your tits out. I’m gonna paint them and your face in my come, and you’re gonna sit there and fuckin’ take it, and if you don’t?” He flipped you around swiftly, caging you against the wall as he brought the barrel of the gun right against your temple, “I’ll spray your brains out right against this fuckin’ wall.”
This wasn’t the first time you had been threatened by a man in the QZ, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the all too real gun being pressed against your forehead was alarming, and your brain went into compliance mode in an instant. Truthfully, you didn’t want to die, and certainly not in a manner such as this.
All you could think about as you slowly sank down to your knees, and as the pavement nipped at your exposed skin, was that Joel would never do something like this to you.
“Sure, you’ll be the first to know if I’ve seen her, Miller.” He nodded.
Something about Benji, and his stupid face, sent Joel’s hackles rising. But before he could even mutter a reply, Benji was walking away towards the other FEDRA officers.
Joel shook his head while he flipped through his ration cards for the day. He was doing his best to block out all the possible scenarios of your disappearance, but he failed miserably when he realized there was a high possibility that you were either dead, or infected. It happened more often than people would think.
The real start of his manhunt began after he confided in Tess in the utmost Joel fashion. He found himself pacing the length of his apartment while all she could do was watch from the entryway in the kitchen. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she leaned back against the countertop. Her eyes trailed after his frantic movements.
“Look, before you go thinkin’ about doin’ somethin’ reckless, did you ever stop to think that maybe she’s just in her apartment? She could have slept in—”
He cut her off sharply with a quick shake of his head. “Sleepin’ in? Really, is that all Y’got for me, Tess? I knew she should have just fuckin’ spent the night. She’s so goddamn stubborn. I would have even slept on the couch and she could have taken the bed if it was such a big deal. She’s so hot’n cold!” He growled frustratingly. His hands moved upwards towards his head as his fingers tangled through his hair, yanking at the roots till he was feeling a splice of pain. “Or, better yet, I should have just walked her home myself!”
“Texas, you’re actin’ fuckin’ insane right now! Pacin’ the goddamn apartment like a dog. Ripping your hair out?!” Just calm the fuck down for a second. Take some deep breaths, have a smoke or somethin’ and then let’s both think rationally.” She tried to reason with him. All this got her in return was a narrowed glare, a scoff and an eye roll.
“She could be fuckin’ dead, Tess! What if somethin’ happened between her leavin’ here last night and walkin’ back to her place?”
“I highly doubt she’s dead. And if she was, we would have heard about it by now, Joel. Do you want me to help you look for her? Cause I can start askin’ around.” She pushed herself off the side of the counter just as his pacing came to a complete standstill.
“Sure, yeah. Go ahead and ask around. But, before you do that, I need ya to tell me where Angel lives. I’m aware that you know, and that she doesn’t want me to know, but you’re gonna tell me either way.” He stated as a matter of factly.
“Joel, she doesn’t want you knowing where she lives for obvious reasons. How about you stay here, and I’ll go to her apartment. Like I said, I’m sure she’s just fine.”
“Yeah? Well, those reasons are irrelevant as of right now. So, quit your little girl code you got goin’ on with her or whatever, and tell me where the fuck her apartment is.”
Tess didn’t even bother to argue. She knew Joel long enough to know that he wasn’t going to stop until he found that you were safe. Otherwise, the unknown and the ‘what ifs’ would eat him alive, literally.
“You’re fuckin’ relentless, Texas. Y’know that?” She pulled out her own personal map of the QZ before laying it out on the worn down kitchen table. She pointed to your exact apartment building. “She’s on the third floor at the very end of the hall.”
“Yep. You damn right I am, Tess. You know me too well.” He merely glanced down at the spot on the map where Tess was pointing at before he snatched up the parchment, folding it neatly and tucked it into his back pocket.
“I’ll be needing that back, Texas.” Tess reminded him.
“And I’ll be bringin’ it right back as soon as I find her.” Joel responded smoothly, dripping in confidence to mask his true nature. Just like those women he used to sleep with, he could put up a facade with just a snap of his fingers.
“Yeah, well, you’re losin’ daylight. Better go find that Angel of yours.”
“Better me than anyone else.” Joel added with a curt nod. He left the apartment in a rush, skipping a few steps down the stairs. He never handled change of any kind all that well. Especially when you had become a constant in his life while living in this shit hole place. If something had happened to you, Joel would force himself to take all the blame. He felt responsible for you in some capacity.
“Swear to god when I find this girl..” he muttered to himself, shaking his head while slipping past the front door of the apartment building. Evening was steadfast on the horizon; he needed to move fast.
Was it something I said last night?
Was it because I asked her to stay?
Was it the goddamn strap on??
Is she avoiding me on purpose?
Is she dead?
Did she fuckin’ get infected?
Did..she find someone else?
These thoughts and more were swirling through his frantic brain. He fucking hated the fear of the unknown. Absolutely despised the whole entire notion of its existence. He’d much prefer when things were yanked off like a bandaid. Quick and mostly painless.
He triple checked Tess’s map the entire trek to your apartment building. He had no time to fuck this up, and to the passerby he probably looked like a crazed man; which would be an accurate statement given the circumstances.
Your apartment building was nearly an exact replica of his own. Same shitty staircase, peeling wallpaper, the occasional cry of an infant, or scream of a child. Just the day-to-day sounds of the QZ that we’re all white noise to Joel.
When he found himself standing outside your door, he scoffed at the faded “Welcome :)” mat outside of your door beneath his boots. The smiley face had nearly rubbed off entirely, and he wondered if the mat had been there by your doing, or the previous inhabitants.
Focus, Joel.
He pressed the side of his head against the outside of the door, falling silent as he listened with his good ear for any movements on the other side.
Nothing.
“Angel? Y’in there, doll?” He asked through the thin wood.
Silence.
“Look, I’m sorry if I said somethin’ to upset you last night, but I haven’t seen you all fuckin’ day, and I’m real worried that somethin’ bad happened to ya. So, if you’re in there, can you please say something?”
Nothing.
“Okay. Okay, so maybe I do deserve the silent treatment after I made you hold my cock in your mouth like a cum bucket whore, but it was uh—out of affection? And if you’re upset that I asked ya to stay the night, then I’m sorry. It was just late and I wanted to—”
This is fucking stupid.
“Can you fuckin’ answer me, please? Just fuckin’ say something!” He growled, throwing his fists against the door once for good measure. “I’m about five seconds away from lookin’ like a complete and utter psychopath if you don’t open this goddamn door!” His frustration was on the cusp of boiling over, like a kettle on the stove.
“Okay, so we’re gonna play the silent game, huh?! I swear to god, Angel. If you’re behind this goddamn door and you’re ignoring me on purpose?! Good god, girl. You got another thing comin’ for ya!” He laughed, one of those unfriendly, chills down the spine, oh shit! I’m fucked kinda laughs.
Joel Miller had completely lost all remaining shreds of rationale.
“I’m gonna give you to the count of five to open this fuckin’ door, y’hear me?!” He snarled threateningly.
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
He didn’t even get to two before his fists absolutely began to rain down on your doorframe. The cord had snapped and he was fully spiraling without giving a damn of who could see or hear him.
With adrenaline, rage, and fear pumping through his veins, he couldn’t even feel the skin along his knuckles being absolutely torn to shreds from how hard he was laying his fists into the wood.
It's like he had completely blacked out and all he could see was red. Red. Red. Red. Red.
Benji was ‘generous’ enough to let you out of being in lockup early and sent you right back out onto the streets. Ridden with exhaustion, you practically dragged yourself back to your apartment with only the thought of a stiff drink and your bed bringing you some form of motivation to keep going.
Your keys jingled in your grasp while you trudged up the stairs. You were oh so close to just plopping down in the hallway, but your apartment was only just down the hall. You could make it.
You passed by one of your neighbors on your way. And when you went to wave, they completely avoided making eye contact with you at all costs. Somehow you just knew that Joel was involved in this behavior, but how the hell did he know where you lived?
Then, you heard the sounds of banshee yelling intensifying the closer you drew to your door.
Jesus fucking Christ. Can’t a girl catch a break?
When you turned the corner, you were met with a grizzly bear of a man. Joel Miller had nearly beaten your door in with just his bare fists. You weren’t even all that shocked to see him outside of your apartment, but, nonetheless, you were pissed.
You leaned against the corner of the hallway, arms crossed against your chest and a displeased, yet mildly amused look plastered on your face.
“Joel?”
He whipped around in an instant at the familiar sound of your voice. His eyes were wide, nostrils flared, blood dripping down between the ridges of his knuckles, staining the already faded carpet crimson beneath his boots.
He looked crazy.
“Where in the fuck have you been? Do you know how fuckin’ worried I’ve been all goddamn day?! Huh, sweet girl? Do you have any idea—”
“You’re bleeding, sweet boy.” You mumble softly. You had hoped that you could advert his attention, but he was already stalking towards you, something indescribable flashes in his eyes when you call him, ‘sweet boy.’
“Yeah, baby.” He huffs out a raspy laugh. “I’ve got splinters in my knuckles bangin’ on your door. Tore ‘em all up.”
He’s so close now that you can taste his breath and see that flicker of fear in his eyes. His hands encaged around your face. Soft, wet from the blood, but gentle.
Droplets of blood trail down your neck and down the clavicle between your covered breasts. You shouldn’t be turned on—but that cunt of yours has a mind of her own, sometimes.
“Joel, you didn’t have to show up here like a crazy man and nearly go and break down my door.”
He glares, bloodstained thumb swiping across your lower lip. “Don’t tell me what I did and didn’t have to do, Angel. Haven’t seen you all day. Thought you were fuckin’ dead or somethin.’”
“Yeah, well, I’m not dead. I’m right here. Why the hell did you even care in the first place, huh? Can’t even go one day without losing your cool?” It’s your turn to challenge him now. You place your palms flat on his chest, giving him a firm shove.
He glared, eyes narrowing into slits. His head cocked to the side in a condescending manner. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He dropped his hands from your face only to then encage your wrists above your head. He used his sheer mass to press your back directly against the hallway wall. He loomed over you to appear more menacing, like a predator going in for the kill. “Who said anythin’ about me caring, huh? Is that why you think I’m here, Angel? Cus’ I care?” He questioned, pushing you further into the wall. His chest was pressed right against yours, leaving you no room to escape, let alone breathe.
“Why would I give a damn where my whore on stilts wandered off to? Y’think you mean anythin’ to me other than a hole to fuck? Don’t be so naive.” He scoffed.
“You have got to be the worst fuckin’ liar, Joel. Right. You don’t care. You just happened to track down where I live, proceeded to bust down my door, just because I’m a hole for you to fuck? Right. Keep on telling yourself that, buddy boy. Keep livin’ in your delusions. See how far that gets ya.” You held in your laugh from slipping past. Could he not see that you were exhausted? You had been beaten down enough as it was, you didn’t need Joel fucking Miller pushing you down further.
“That’s it? That’s all y’can say to me? No bite back? No fuck you Joel? What the hell happened to you, huh?” He pressed further, tightening his hold around your wrists. “What happened after you left my place last night, Angel?” His tone was much softer now, gentle, laced with concern.
You couldn’t keep up with his mood swings if you tried. Joel Miller was one hot and cold man.
“No. We are not about to do this again. Not when in one breath you’re a complete asshole, and the next?!” You laughed bitterly. “Joel, I’m fuckin’ exhausted, okay? I had a shit night, and I just want to go and have a stiff drink. If you want to join, then be my guest, but I won’t take another minute of your bitching. Y’got that?”
Joel found himself studying your face. He thought that maybe he could read between the lines and figure out exactly why you were so exhausted, but you weren’t budging, not even for him. What was that bit about him fucking hating the fear of the unknown? Oh, yeah.
“Angel, look..I’m—”
“Oh, fuck no. You are not about to apologize for that. No. You meant every word, Joel. You don’t get to take that back.” You shook your head in disappointment, breaking your wrists free from his gradually loosening grip before you pulled away entirely.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
You didn’t even wait to see if he would follow you, you could care less if he did, or didn’t. With your keys in hand you unlocked your door, muttering about how it probably wouldn’t lock properly anymore from the damage Joel inflicted on it.
Joel’s fingers twitched at his side. He was silently debating his options. It was pointly obvious that something had happened to you, but he had no right to pry. His footsteps followed yours like a shadow.
“You should probably get your knuckles patched up.” You muttered under your breath while carelessly tossing your keys onto the kitchen counter.
“They’ll be alright. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He replied smoothly and shoved his hands into the deep caverns of the pockets on the front of his worn jeans.
“I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” You stated plainly. Your back was facing him behind the counter while you grabbed your stashed bottle of whiskey, and two glasses.
He was observing you with a careful eye when you turned around to face him. “Are you offering to patch up my self-inflicted wounds, baby?” He asked in a crackling rasp, like logs on a fire.
“Sure. If that’s how you want to phrase it.” You shrugged before popping the cap off the bottle with your teeth. You poured a generous splash of the amber colored liquor into both glasses. You opted to take a quick swig from the bottle, needing that little bit of relief to kick in sooner, rather than later.
“Why?” He questioned. He reached for the glass, guiding it towards him before he snatched it up in his hand. He took a hefty sip, letting the warmth from the liquor spread through his system like a warm hug.
“Are you really that fuckin’ stupid, Joel?” You wanted to laugh, but it came out more like a strained scoff if anything.
“‘Fraid so, my Angel.” He smirked over the rim of the cloudy glass.
“Guess the apocalypse shrunk men’s already pea sized brains even more.” You muttered with a shake of your head before downing the liquor from your glass in one swift gulp. Your hand wrapped around his thick wrist, and before he could protest, you were dragging him to your bathroom.
“Sit” you commanded with a gesture to the closed toilet seat.
“Look, you really don’t have to do all this, it’s justa—”
You interjected swiftly, giving him a stern glare before grabbing the first aid kit from behind the cabinet door that was barely holding on by the hinges. “Okay, so then leave, Joel.”
His brows furrowed at your response, and his lips pursed tightly. He ultimately decided to plop down on the toilet seat with a huff. “Are you going to tell me where the hell you’ve been all day? Or are you just gonna keep avoidin’ my question?”
“If you’re good, then I’ll tell you. Cause frankly, right now? I’m sick of your shit, Joel. But somehow, some way, my cold cold heart has a shred of kindness left for you.”
He scoffed, resting his head back against the peeling wallpaper. “You’re sick of my shit?”
“Yes. Because you’re a fuckin’ asshole, Joel. How many times am I going to repeat myself? Normal people don’t stalk someone, attempt to break down their door, and then demand to know where they’ve been all day!”
“Oh boy, we’re still on that topic?” He placed his bloodstained hands on his knees and shook his head before he sat back. “So, what would you rather me have done, hmm? Sweetheart, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he gestured with his hands, “it wasn’t like I could fuckin’ call you up! Do you see a phone in sight anywhere? No? Wow, I wonder why! It’s almost like we’re in a fuckin’ apocalypse!” He said with sarcasm dripping with every breath.
And then you threw Joel Miller for a loop when you whipped out a fucking spray bottle and sprayed his snarky ass right in the face!
It didn’t even matter where the hell you found the damn spray bottle in the first place, it was the fact that you had the balls to spray him in the face, not once, but twice when he went to open his mouth. You swore you could see the steam rising from the water droplets on his skin. Like he was an animated bull from those old animated movies. Nostrils flaring red hot flames, smoke billowing from his ears. The tea kettle had reached its boiling point.
On the opposite end of the spray bottle, you saw that very bull with steam spewing. He was flabbergasted, bewildered at your rash decision. “Did you just fuckin’ spray me like I’m a goddamn cat or somethin?!’” His voice boomed like an overhead crack of thunder unleashing its rage in a crescendo.
“I did.”
“And why the hell did you think that you could jus—go’n spray me in the face like that?!”
“You say an awful lot of stupid and hurtful shit to me, Joel Miller. You hurt my feelings, pissed me off, and I’ve just about had it. So, everytime you open that big fuckin’ mouth of yours and say somethin’ mean and stupid, I’m gonna spray you in the face with this.” You waved the spray bottle around for a moment to get your point across.
Displeased, drenched like a damn cat, Joel sent daggers your way with one harsh glare. “Oh, I didn’t realize we were throwin’ a fuckin’ pity party ontop of all of this.” He scoffed.
“Did you not—” you laughed incredulously, “hear a goddamn word I just said? Fine. Well, let me remind you what happens when you’re fuckin’ stupid!” You sprayed him again.
This time he shut up..for now.
“Refreshing.” He mumbled very much like a dog with its tail between its legs.
You set the spray bottle down along the edge of the counter where it was in arm's reach, before you sank down between his spread knees with the first aid kit tucked under your armpit. “Let me see just what kinda damage you’ve done to your beautiful hands, Joel.” Your voice was much softer now compared to moments earlier. At least now you had him tamed and compliant.
“I didn’t break ‘em. Although, if you hadn’t shown up, I probably would have. And they ain’t beautiful, Angel. They’re ugly.” He gruffed out.
“They’re beautiful to me, Joel.” You reached for his hands once they were presented in front of you. The blood had already begun to congeal and dry in some places. “Yeah, you definitely have some splinters in there that are gonna have to come out.”
“Fuck no. Just leave ‘em.” He shook his head.
For the first time in over 24 hours, you smiled. It was really just a slight tug of your lips, but it was there. “Are you afraid of tweezers or somethin?’” You mused.
He scowled at your question and picked a spot on the wall to stare at so he didn’t have to make eye contact. “No.” He grumbled, jaw ticking under the dangling bathroom light.
“You sure about that?” You asked while placing the first aid kit alongside you on the floor. You popped it open, rifling through the different aids before pulling out disinfectant spray and tweezers.
“Crystal.” He confirmed.
“Ookay.” You did your best to hide your little grin while you held the disinfectant spray a few inches above his hands. “This might sting a little.” You softly warned him.
He barely flinched when he felt the sudden coolness from the spray adhering to his open wounds. His nose did twitch the slightest when the stinging sensation settled in.
“You’re being an excellent patient for me, Mr. Miller. Maybe if you’re a good boy for the next part, I’ll reward you with a lollipop.”
He finally looked at you, tearing his gaze from the wallpaper to meet your eyes. His lips curved upwards into a small smirk. “Sounds wonderful, Doctor. Do you promise to be gentle?” He played along.
“Always, Joel.” You replied.
His eyes stayed locked on your own for what felt like hours, neither of you quite ready to break the contact just yet. He cleared his throat, shifting along the closed toilet seat. “Uh, will..you hold my hand? I lied about the tweezer thing. Splinters hurt like a bitch, and uh—yeah.” He muttered under his breath while the heat began to rise rapidly to his cheeks. Even the tips of his ears turned beet red.
“If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, Joel.” You nodded reassuringly. Your left hand reached for his own when he had pulled back slightly in a jerking movement. You could sense his palpable hesitation radiating off of him before he finally relaxed.
“This is stupid.” He said suddenly, feeling more bashful as the seconds ticked by.
“It’s not stupid at all, Joel. Splinters are no fun at all.”
I mean, This. Me and you. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be blushing like a schoolgirl right now. And over what? Holding hands? He thought to himself.
He’s kinda sweet..in his own Joel way. You thought silently to yourself.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Sweet. Sweet. Sweet.
“Get on with it, please.” He nearly whispered when his left hand finally reached towards your own. He was the one to thread his fingers through yours and let your entwined hands rest along his left thigh comfortably.
It took all of twenty minutes for you to successfully remove every splinter from his hands. Some fragmented pieces of wood were a bit deeper than others. He was a real champ, and you surprised him with a kiss. A soft reward that he felt he was undeserving of.
“I think you should let them breathe a bit longer and then we’ll bandage up.” You said while moving to stand back up. Your left hand was still engulfed in his own when he stopped you from standing up.
“Aren’t you gonna kiss them all better, doctor?” He asked with a tilt of his head. He looked like a puppy with his tousled, wild hair, and big brown eyes staring at you.
You found your lips kissing his broken skin before you even had a chance to respond. A kiss was pressed to each knuckle in an affectionate manner.
He broke the silence when your hand departed from his and you busied yourself with putting away the first aid kit.
“Are you going to tell me what happened to you out there, or are we gonna keep dancin’ around the subject?” He asked rather softly. Almost as if he was concerned.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Joel.”
Please don’t ask me again.
“Angel..”
“Let’s go finish our drinks.” You interjected with a hidden fake smile.
His eyes follow your silhouette when you swiftly remove yourself from the small bathroom. He shakes his head with a sigh before he finally stands up. He eyes the spray bottle still resting along the bathroom counter, and in an extremely cat-like fashion, he swiftly knocks it over into the trash bin below.
Good riddance.
When Joel left your bathroom, he soon found you with your feet tucked under your thighs on the far end of the couch. You appeared to be staring off into space while you nursed your glass of whiskey in silence. He really wasn’t quite sure what to think of your behavior, let alone how he should approach you.
Nonetheless he grabbed his own glass and joined you on the couch. Your eyes stayed focused on the wall even when you felt the old cushions dip down from Joel’s weight pressing down on them gradually.
He swirled the contents around in his glass absentmindedly before he took a small sip. You could feel his eyes along the side of your head when he moved the glass to rest between his knees.
“I really wish you would jus’..talk to me, sweetheart.” He rasped softly while he twiddled with his fingers that weren’t wrapped around the glass. He was never really good at having these types of conversations, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try one last time.
You shifted uncomfortably from his words. You didn’t want to tell him what happened to you in that disgusting alley. Or the way that Benji’s touch made you feel nauseous. You didn’t want to tell Joel that you were made to feel like literal human trash. Pond scum, gum beneath men’s shoes. You didn’t want to confess that you spent a night in lockup, crying against the cold concrete till your body could no longer produce tears while Benji, and a few of his FEDRA friends proceeded to violate you further, stripping you of your autonomy and dignity with grime stained fingernails, and cruel laughter. Nothin’ but a common street whore, that one. Make her gag on it. I wanna see tears streaming down those pretty fuckin’ cheeks, boys. Miller ain’t here to save you now, Angel. You belong to us.
You didn’t want Joel to believe that you were this broken, damaged person. You didn’t want him to take pity on you. That was quite literally the last thing you wanted from him. But, you were only human, after all, and pain had a sneaky way of revealing itself even when you had done everything possible to cloak it.
He watched as you drained the contents of your glass wordlessly before you slipped down from the couch, falling to your knees between his thighs.
She loves it, don’t be fooled boys. She loves to be fucked like a dirty little whore. Ain’t that right, Angel? Joel Miller got her all obedient, just for us. She’ll do anythin’ you ask of her.
“Angel.” He started, words lodging in his throat. Something about this felt wrong.
You ignored him, reaching for his belt with trembling fingers as you worked it open.
Cus’ a whore is all you’ll ever be, sweetheart. The best pussy in all of the fuckin’ QZ. Bet he’ll smell me all over ya, Angel. I hope he does. I hope that guard dog can fuckin’ taste my come inside of ya next time he takes you.
Joel finds himself frozen in time when he sees the way your fingers tremble. He’s stunned and unsure what he should do in this situation. He’s never seen you like this before. He’s used to your brashness. Your confidence. Your swift, snarky, sarcastic remarks. The woman on her knees between his thighs is not you. He knows then that he has to stop this. He has to say something.
“Angel, baby. I don’t think we—” he struggles to find the right words to say. To be delicate, but firm. This had nothing to do with his own feelings, and had everything to do with yours. “This doesn’t feel right, sweetheart.”
Your heart sinks to the pits. He knows. He fucking knows. He knows, and thinks you to be worthless, just like the rest of them.
You sink back along your thighs, tears pooling in your eyes. “You don’t..want me anymore, Joel?” You ask above a whisper, holding on by a mangled thread.
He shakes his head slowly, his heart breaking in the process.
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Hostile Territory - Chapter 24
Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)
Word count: 4.2K
Warnings: Angst
Catch up: Series Masterlist
Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @athenepromachos @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019 @rosecentury
Day 215
Meetings were undoubtedly the worst invention in the history of humanity. Okay, there were some worse inventions but Sy couldn’t think of any, what with having used up all his brain power justifying every decision he’d made in the past year.
“What about the girl?”
Sy clenched his jaw to keep from barking the wrong thing. “Corporal Coleman? What about her?”
He hated the detached tone of his own voice. It was not a tone a man should ever use when talking about the woman he loved.
“The only reason she’s made it this far is because she had excellent marksmanship scores and had the best performance out of all the women during the physical fitness tests but she was completely untested in the field. Seeing now that she was injured within her first week tells me she isn’t cut out for this.”
“With all due respect Sir, she suffered minor injuries where many of my other men would have gone home in a bag. She more than proved herself to be field ready during her time at Warhorse and it would be foolish to exclude her from this next mission and separate her from her squad. Sergeant Fuller’s entire team is thrivin’ under his command.”
Some of the men around the table nodded in understanding but the man at the head of the table pursed his lips. “We’ll take that into consideration.”
Luckily the man to his left didn’t seem to share the same backwards opinion about women in the military and intervened on Leah’s behalf.
“Whatever group is selected will be performin’ a month long trainin' exercise before their mission. I suggest that we allow Corporal Coleman to participate and re-evaluate at a later date.”
“Yes,” the old fucker eventually agreed, “I suppose that would be acceptable.” It was obvious those words tasted terrible coming out of his mouth. “Are there any pain points we need to watch out for? How is she taking orders?”
Sy shifted in his seat, working hard to keep his mind from going to inappropriate places. This was not the time for his dick to go half-mast.
“She obeys them if that’s the question.” It was a half truth but there was no way Sy would give them any ammunition against Leah. She obeyed orders when it mattered, that was the most important thing. There wouldn’t be a repeat of the Niki incident so there was no point in bringing it up.
“Right. That brings us to our next point of attention.”
Sy may or may not have partially checked out after that. The rest of the meeting was marginally better with the knowledge that Leah was going to be given a shot. It didn’t sound like they were giving her a fair shot but at least she would have the chance to prove herself. And the memory of Leah being very good at taking orders.
Day 216
Leah startled as a heavy bag was dropped at her feet, nearly spilling her overpriced latte.
“Damn, Coleman, what’s got you looking like someone just kicked your puppy?”
BJ fell into the seat across from her, causing the chair to creak under his weight. His comment fell short of making her smile but she made an effort to show she was pleased to see him..
“I’m sorry, are you lost, kiddo? Do you need me to help you find your mommy?”
“Ha ha. Very funny, Princess.”
Leaning back, Leah pulled her hair over her shoulder, running it through her fingers. Even beardless, one could not describe BJ as having a baby face but it would definitely take some getting used to.
“I guess it doesn’t look so good if you don’t follow the grooming standards on your first day back from R&R.”
“No it does not.”
It hadn’t even occurred to her that Sy would have to do the same. He’d still been sporting his full beard when he’d left the night before.
“So… Any particular reason you’re just hanging out at the airport like a weirdo?”
That did succeed in making Leah crack a smile. Rolling her eyes, she kicked BJ under the table.
“I was savoring one last decent cup of coffee.”
BJ stole said cup, taking a sip. “You know that thing is stone cold right?”
“Maybe that’s what I ordered,” she grumbled, knowing very well that the cardboard sleeve on her cup was meant to protect you from the heat, not the cold.
She didn’t try to get her drink back. She’d only ordered it to have an excuse to sit on the comfortable bench in the cafe’s dining area rather than out by the doors.
“Do anything interesting while you were home?” BJ asked, taking a large gulp of the coffee, not at all bothered that it was no longer warm.
Leah knew he was fishing for juicy details about her and Sy but she wasn’t in the right headspace to talk about that.
“I got some new ink,” she said instead.
BJ perked up anyway. “No shit? Can I see?”
Leah grabbed her phone, finding the picture and handing it over.
“Looks fucking great, Coleman,” he said after a few moments of close inspection, zooming in and out. “Did you post this anywhere?”
“Uh, no. I just took it for me, why?”
“Oh, you know… your secret relationship might not stay secret for long if anyone spots what’s hanging over the back of that chair.”
Leah snatched the phone out of BJ’s hand, zooming in to see what the hell he was talking about. Sure enough, draped over the back of her desk chair was a very familiar red t-shirt.
“Fuck. BJ you can’t—”
“I know,” he assured, cutting her off. “I know what this could mean for the both of you.”
He raised his hand to his chin only to drop it as he remembered there was no beard left to stroke. After glancing behind him to make sure they were still alone in the back corner, BJ leaned forward on the table.
“This is gonna sound cold as fuck but I’m more worried about Sy than I am you. Sy’s already thirteen years in. Seven more and he gets his retirement which he really fucking deserves after the shit we’ve been through.”
Leah hadn’t considered that. A lot could happen in seven years but BJ was right that Sy losing his benefits after already serving so much time would suck.
“I don’t know what to do, BJ. The rules are clear about officer/enlisted relationships.”
At the very least, BJ looked genuinely sympathetic. “How long do you have left?”
He meant how long before her minimum commitment was up.
“About twenty-six months but I was planning to stay on afterwards.” If she didn’t get herself blown up first.
“Have you thought about becoming an officer? Then in a couple of years you guys could say you just started dating.”
She had and she’d already mentally crossed it out.
“I have less than half of an art degree, there’s no way I can possibly get the rest of my credits online from Warhorse.”
“Then you better make sure you get that shit locked up tight because you’ll both be fucked if word gets out.”
When they arrived at the base, the room was filled with the sound of soldiers greeting each other. Man hugs and pats on the back were exchanged all around. Leah’s boys enthusiastically lifted her in the air while the others mostly stuck to fist bumps.
Their reunion was interrupted by a shrill whistle and every head turned towards Sy. Leah’s breath hitched as she spotted her man standing in the doorway with arms crossed over his chest. His beardless face was no less attractive and just as stern. She didn’t like the way all the tension that had faded from his features over the last two weeks had returned. Leah continued to study him, appreciating how handsome he was in his full uniform, until her eyes fixed on his chest.
“I need team leaders with me.”
As the men followed Sy, a round of whispers erupted around the room.
“What is that all about?”
“Why do they need a briefing? I thought we were all going back to Baqubah.”
“It’s probably nothing. He’s probably just updating them on what has been going on at Warhorse since we’ve been gone.”
Leah continued to stare at the space Sy had occupied moments before.
“Coleman?” Ethan waved a hand in front of Leah’s face. “Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”
Leah turned her head, finding three worried faces looking back at her.
“Cap’s uniform,” she said on an exhale.
Jer shook his head, not understanding what she was saying. “What about it?”
“Seriously?” When her voice came out as a panicked squeak, she cleared her throat. “Have you guys forgotten what it’s supposed to look like?”
Ethan’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit. Guys, she’s right.”
“About what?” Jer asked.
It was Rohan who responded for them. “We can’t call him ‘Cap’ anymore.”
The team leaders returned, Sy and his newly earned Major’s rank following close behind.
They gathered around Benjie, eager to hear what their orders were.
“We’re flying out but we aren’t going East. Don’t bother unpacking. We’re lifting off at fourteen hundred hours.”
As Leah ran around the base, she grew more and more worried she wouldn’t find Sy in time. She’d called five times with no answer and was down to only ten minutes before she absolutely had to be gone. He wasn’t in his room, the mess hall or the gym.
As it turned out, he’d been looking for her too.
“Coleman, finally.”
Relief swept over her at the sound of his voice. Though she wanted to run into his arms, she knew that there were eyes on them even if no one was around. She made her way to him at a very normal, not at all inappropriate, speed.
“What’s this?” she asked as Sy handed her a folded piece of paper.
“My parents' address down in Georgia. If ya ever feel like writin’, send it there and my parents will make sure I get it.”
Leah frowned as she took it.
“Why can’t I just send it straight to you?”
The muscles ticked in Sy’s jaw, fully visible now that he was clean shaven. His non-answer as he looked down at the ground was enough.
“Because you don’t want anyone to realize I’m writing to you,” she concluded, feeling like an utter fool.
A month ago she would never have even considered starting anything with Sy for that exact reason. In the safety of her hometown, surrounded by her friends and family, she’d forgotten all about how he could be the end of her career. The reminder that she could only ever be Sy’s dirty little secret was like a bucket of ice water being dumped over her head.
“There’s a reason this shit is forbidden, Leah. I had to sit in front of my superiors and defend why ya should be allowed to follow the rest of the team on this trainin’ exercise. If it came out that we were in a relationship, they would automatically assume it was all bullshit even if every word I spoke about your skills was true. If we get found out, they can’t ever know how far back it started. If they look into your history under my command there can’t be any signs of impropriety or favoritism.”
Leah couldn’t help but wonder if he was just saying that to make her feel better. It felt like a cruel twist on the classic ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. I’m not protecting my own ass, I’m protecting yours.
“You said that when our two weeks were over we wouldn’t be apart.”
Sy had to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. Leah’s face was a blank mask but he could see the tears forming in her eyes and could hear the way her voice broke.
“I know. This isn’t what I was expectin’ either. Hopefully we’ll both be somewhere where we can use our cellphones.”
He knew damn well that was unlikely, hence the slip of paper with his parents’ address. He was going back to Warhorse for a few weeks before moving to a still undetermined location. Neither of them knew where they would be a month from then, let alone a year.
“Did you conveniently forget to tell me you were up for a promotion? Even if they hadn’t taken us out of Baqubah, you being promoted would still have meant leaving Warhorse.”
Shaking his head, Sy looked down at the insignia on his chest. “I thought we’d have more time. Those things aren’t automatic at my grade.”
“Right.”
He was losing her. Every wall and defense he’d worked so hard to knock down was slowly being rebuilt right before his eyes and he felt powerless to stop it.
“Darlin’,” he murmured, making sure no one could possibly overhear. “This doesn’t change anything between us. The timin’ is shit, I’ll give ya that, but don’t think for a fuckin’ second that this changes us.”
“How can it not?”
The defeat in her voice broke his heart.
“I won’t lie and say I know how this is all gonna work. Fuck, the truth is I ain’t got a damn clue what to do here. Please, just give us a chance to figure this out.”
Leah blinked back the tears threatening to fall. Sy could tell she was battling the urge to push him away and spare herself further heartache. If she did, there was nothing he could do to stop her.
She shut her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her arms up and down like she was cold. They were silent for so long, Sy almost thought she wouldn’t say anything at all.
Then, in the greatest demonstration of her trust he could ever witness, she looked back up and spoke a whispered ‘okay’.
There was so much more that needed to be said but their time had run out.
“Coleman, Jesus, we’ve been looking all over for you, girl. We’re moving out.”
Leah quickly took two steps back. Luckily for them, Sy stood between her and Jer as he approached so he didn’t see how close the two had been standing.
“Thanks again, Major. Take care of Aika for me.”
Those shouldn’t have been their parting words. He should have told her he loved her. He should have made it clear that that wouldn’t change even with the distance. Instead, he’d lectured her about why their relationship was wrong when he’d been the one to push for it in the first place.
As he watched her walk away, Leah peaked over her shoulder. Not wasting his opportunity, he mouthed those oh so important words just as she turned the corner.
Moving on auto-pilot, Sy made his way back to his room. After unlocking the door and stepping inside, his foot suddenly slid out from under him. He narrowly avoided falling on his ass by catching hold of the doorframe.
“The fuck?”
He looked down at the large manila envelope which was blank save for his bootprint. Shutting the door, Sy leaned down to pick up the offending item. There was no way it was an official communication of any sort and there was only one person who would bother sliding something under his door.
Sy found a knife, cutting open the top of the envelope and carefully pulling out the contents. The yellow paper had gotten wrinkled from being stepped on but it seemed Leah had had the forethought to protect whatever was inside by putting it between two sheets of rigid cardboard.
Between them, Sy found an expensive looking piece of paper on which Leah had drawn in ink. It was a snarling wolf, the lines of its body bold and sharp unlike the matching pattern on his back which had faded from his shower and the friction of his clothing. She’d signed the image with her initials and added yesterday’s date.
That was when Sy lost it. Though he was tempted to hold the drawing close to his chest, he had just enough presence of mind to put it back in the envelope and set it on the table before sitting on the edge of the bed. There, with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands, Sy wept.
Day 214
Golden rays of sunlight filtering into the bedroom roused Sy from his deep slumber. Laying on his stomach with his face buried in a fluffy pillow, he almost let himself drift back to sleep but a strange tickling sensation running across his back forced his mind to slowly come back into awareness.
He kept his eyes closed as he took note of his surroundings—the cool air of the room on his naked back, the pitter patter of rain hitting the window, the lingering scent of cedar on her sheets. When he finally remembered where he’d fallen asleep the night before, he was easily able to identify the now familiar sensation of Leah’s marker gliding across his skin.
“What am I gettin’ this time?” he asked, his voice still rough with sleep.
She hadn’t done much drawing in the past ten days, preferring to enjoy the time they had together, but she’d pulled her sketchbook out once or twice. The day Sy stayed in one place long enough to buy his own couch he was going to get a couch that pulled out like Leah’s. It was perfect for lazy evenings spent cuddling together.
It had been raining almost non-stop for the past three days, forcing them to stay indoors. Not that Sy was complaining. Any time he could spend with Leah next to him was time well spent.
“I’m drawing Fenrir, it’s a creature from Norse mythology.”
Thinking back to his conversation with Niki about Leah’s drawings being her diary, he couldn’t help but be curious if this particular drawing had a hidden meaning behind it.
“I feel like I’ve seen the name before but I don’t remember what it looks like.”
“It’s basically a big angry wolf. The short version of the story is that there was a prophecy saying Fenrir would be involved in the demise of the Gods during Ragnarok. They tried preventing this by tricking Fenrir into allowing himself to be bound by requesting that he test the strength of the bindings. Fenrir obviously didn’t want to stay trapped so he requested a sign of good faith by holding the hand of a god in his jaws as they tested the ties. When he realized he wouldn’t be released, he bit the hand clean off. In the end he still broke free, unleashing chaos and devouring Odin before meeting his own end.”
Maybe it was best if Sy didn’t try to read too far into this one. They had enough death, chaos and destruction in their line of work.
“Is the wolf on your thigh supposed to be Fenrir?”
“No, mine is just a normal earth-roaming wolf. They are gorgeous creatures.”
Sy opened one eye, peeking at Leah over his shoulder. “You were team Jacob weren’t ya?”
Once again, Leah was surprised by his knowledge of such a female oriented piece of pop culture.
“Only in the books. He’s kind of a whiny bitch in the movies.”
Sy attempted to keep his body still as he chuckled, praying he wasn’t messing up the lines of Leah’s drawing.
“How many sisters have you got again?”
“I’ve got two older sisters and twin younger brothers.”
Leah paused what she was doing, shifting to straddle one of Sy’s thighs now that he was awake.
“Wow. That must have been chaotic. We outnumbered dad two to one, I can’t imagine if it had been five to two.”
“It was mostly calm until the twins came along. Olivia and Abigail are eleven months apart and were both quiet, studious types. I’m three years younger than Abi and five and a half years older than Jackson and Austin.”
“Are you guys close?”
Seeing as this was the first time she heard all of their names, she could already guess the answer to that question.
“Not really. I mean, the girls and the twins are inseparable pairs but I never got along with the girls growin’ up and the twins were only twelve when I left.”
Maybe his sister had had a point after all. He’d been absent more than he’d been present in his brothers’ lives. He knew shockingly little of who they had grown up to be.
“I guess it’s kind of my own fault in a way. I was so desperate to leave because of how out of place I felt that I never really gave them the chance to show me things could be different now.”
It had been jarring to see the twins with babies the first time. In his mind, he still pictured them both as scrawny, shaggy-haired pre-teens.
“Why did you feel out of place?”
“I was always the odd one out. Even before the twins came along, the girls were always off doin’ their own thing.”
Too often he saw himself as a burden on the family. Like he was the extra mouth to feed and not much more.
“Is the relationship as strained with your parents as it is with your siblings?”
“No, my mama is the sweetest woman. A homemaker through and through. She stayed with us until the twins started school and even then she only went back part-time until I graduated. My dad worked a lot growin’ up but he had this rule that he always had to be home for dinner so sometimes he would come all the way home to eat with us before goin’ back to work for a double shift. The only time he was more present was right after the twins were born. My mama had had a C-section so she needed the extra help while she recovered.”
Leah was pretty sure extra help was appreciated at any point after having a kid, but good for mama Syverson if she could handle the first three babies all on her own. Growing up, people had sometimes told her father that she and Caleb would be happier with a motherly figure in their lives—especially after it became obvious that their dad wasn’t making any effort to date. Sy was proof that having two parents around didn’t magically make a family closer or happier.
Putting the cap back on her marker, Leah moved to lay down beside her boyfriend. Yes, their two weeks were up and Sy was most definitely her boyfriend. It was also their last lazy morning together. That evening, Sy was getting on the red-eye back to North Carolina and Leah was taking the one the following day. He had to be back earlier for various meetings with their superiors and Leah had already booked her ticket which cost too much to change at the last minute.
Sy rolled onto his side, pulling Leah flush against him.
“No picture?”
Leah shrugged. “Maybe next time.”
She had done her best to keep her concerns at bay but they were becoming harder to ignore as what felt like the end-date on their relationship crept nearer.
Now it was D-day and every fiber of her being screamed at her not to let Sy go.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
Sy placed a soft kiss to the space between her brows. “Worryin’. We’ll be okay.”
“You can’t know that.”
Leah pressed her forehead to the crook of Sy’s neck, stealing more of his warmth. They’d decided to stay at the cabin for their last evening together. Unfortunately, the only heat source was the fireplace in the living room and the temperature had dropped overnight.
Sy was only wearing his briefs while Leah was in her panties and a thin camisole. He was absolutely unbothered but Leah was getting to the point where her nipples were so hard she was sure Sy could feel them poking his chest.
“Darlin’, you’re shiverin’.”
He pulled the blanket back over the both of them, rubbing Leah’s arms and back. She could still pick up on the faint almond scent of the beard oil he’d used after his shower the night before. It was a smell that she now fully associated with Sy’s comforting embrace.
Suddenly she was shaking for a whole different reason. There was no way she could risk sneaking moments like this while at Warhorse. Her only cuddles or kisses would come from Aika. If she had a rough day she would need to take out her frustrations in the gym. When Sy addressed her it would be by her rank or her last name.
If either of them so much as slipped once, it was all over for them.
“Oh, baby girl.” Sy recognized the stiffness in Leah’s body. When Leah became stressed she became tense or jittery and working out was her way of expelling that excess energy. “I’m all in, Leah. No matter what happens, I’m gonna do whatever it takes to make this work.”
#captain syverson#captain syverson fic#captain syverson fanfiction#captain syverson fanfic#cpt syverson#cpt syverson fic#henry cavill#cpt syverson fanfic#cpt syverson x ofc#cpt syverson fanfiction#captainsyverson#captain syverson x ofc
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I’m seeing a lovely trend of recommending DPxDC fics going around so here I am throwing my hat into the ring lol
+++
Beauty lays behind the hills by Library_of_Chronos
Danny loses everything. He runs fast and he runs far, somehow ending up in a back alley known as Park Row, where a strange man with flowers in his hands changes his life.
While Danny does end up staying with Bruce and a much younger Dick, the story focuses more on giving Danny a good support system both within Wayne Manor and with the Justice League, as they all come together to help Danny fight against Vlad. Status: Incomplete
Law of Retribution by Michaelisunderatted
“The ghosts like you.”
Danny watched as Red Hood reeled. Now that he thought about it, that was probably a creepy thing to say. Danny hadn’t talked to living people in years though, so Jason really should cut him some slack. He was trying his best. It wasn’t his fault living people had such weird hang ups about things.
“Okay,” Jason said, taking a deep breath. “Okay kid, what the fuck.”
...
Jason starts seeing ghosts. Danny comes back to the Living Realm for the first time since the Incident. He has a job offer for Red Hood
I have not caught up with this one myself, but so far I’m really enjoying the darker/more serious tone of the story. Jason sees ghosts, Danny fumbles the “how to human” ball, and Duke takes no shit. It’s great! Status: Incomplete
Sundials by AkelaNakamura
Damian Wayne is nearing sixteen and it's finally feeling like a future is something he might get to choose. He has a Soulmate, somewhere, who is no longer subject to Grandfather's judgement. He wonders though, how he's going to find him when he's unmarked. There's a thousand ways to find a Soulmate, he knows, but Damian has nothing physical to guide him.
Tucker Foley has always worried that Amity Park will be too much for his Soulmate, whoever they are. Soulmates are supposed to match each other, to walk with each other, but there's not many places that are as wild as Amity Park. The only mark he carries though, is the one that links him to Sam and Danny, so he's left to wonder how they might meet.
Damian turns sixteen and everything changes.
A really sweet Tucker/Damian soulmate au with wonderful lore and mechanics and just overall oozing with tender softness. 100% adore this one. Status: Complete
Bruised by DizzlyPuzzled
The Guys in White are preparing for war.
The Justice League doesn't believe in Ghosts and wrote Amity Park off.
And Danny just wants things to chill for a moment so he can enjoy his life.
But now he is the only thing standing between complete reality collapse and peace.
Ghost King au + political drama + taking down the GIW and Vlad? Amazing, stunning, I’ve re-read this at least five times now. Status: Complete
Ouroboros by Rhapsody_in_Pink
In the end, it was Jack and Maddie that caused Phantom.
It was Phantom that caused the downfall of Jack and Maddie.
It was Jack and Maddie that destroyed Danny Fenton.
It was Danny Fenton who accepted Phantom.
And so Ouroboros swallowed himself.
An alternate take on how Danny acquired his powers and interacts with the ghosts around him as well as well as dimensional travel. I genuinely don’t have the words to describe how much I love this one, it’s just so good! Status: Incomplete
Your City Loves You (And Your Home Was Always Here) by bongo_balderdash
After a meeting between the Reigning Monarch of the Infinite Realms and the Justice League, King Phantom asks Superman to stay behind for a moment. Superman is a little hesitant, but they’ve just agreed to a peace treaty between the lands of the living and the dead, and apparently someone on the king’s council has something they’ve been waiting to say.
Not just a message for Superman. A message for Clark Kent.
This one was so sweet and it made me cry. Status: Complete
A Vigilante A Day Keeps the Government Away by DeathlySilent13
Lucius Fox gets a phone call he'd never expected from a source even more unexpected. Now, he's got to figure out what to do with a betrayed child, a traumatized nephew, a protective son, and an adoption-prone Bat.
Very interesting choice in using Lucius as the main POV, and it provides a fresh look at the beginnings of coordinating a take down of the GIW. This is only the first part of the series, and while it is Complete, there is still more to come!
What’s a Spleen Between Friends? by Cielle_Noire
Tim gets Isekai'd a few times, which is really inconvenient. The guy (meta? ghost? half-ghost?) who keeps helping him is cute though, so it's okay. Well, it's not okay, but it could be worse. Probably.
OR
Five Times Tim Fell Through a Portal and One Time He Didn't
A very witty 5+1 Tim/Danny fic. Great lore, great plot, great jokes. 10/10. Status: Incomplete
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The Princess and The Duke
Chapter 1 - Homecoming
This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.
Specific Warnings: Daddy Kink, Sex Work, Cam work, Infidelity, Step-Cest, Dave York(he always needs his own warning), Men being sexist dicks on the internet, masturbation (m and f), mutual masturbation(unknowing). Let me know if I missed anything!
Graphic made by me, does not convey shape, race, or hair colour of reader, the panties just looked so good, no use of Y/N.
Thank you to @pastelnap and @wannab-urs for beta-ing for me, ilu so much.
Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me.
Masterlist | Next Chapter ->
She’s late.
You’re hardly surprised, your mom has never been what anyone could ever describe as punctual, but you are annoyed. Is this punishment for quitting your lucrative position at the law firm? For not telling her, only so she could find out on the rumour mill? No, your mom is petty, but this would be low even for her. She’s probably just drunk and forgot. Even if it is only two in the afternoon.
You sigh as you open the Uber app on your phone, the estimated wait is another twenty minutes. You sigh as you book one anyway, looking around for somewhere to sit. You look up to see a vaguely familiar man exit a flashy looking Mustang, the dark textured racing stripes on cherry red catching your attention as he races into the arrivals short-stay bay.
He’s dressed in dark grey slacks and a pale dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looks like an investment banker, or some other scummy Wall Street type. The handsome man scans the crowd with purpose. His broad, tense, shoulders flex as he moves, his brow is deeply furrowed as he turns to you. His eyes are impossibly dark, deep amber bleeding into black. You blink rapidly as you hear your name roll from his plush lips and you cock your head to the side with a confused grimace on your face.
“Do I know you?”
The near-stranger’s face contorts as he hurries over to you.
“I’m Dave, your mom’s husband? Weren’t you at the wedding?”
“Oh shit. Yeah hi, sorry I’m really jetlagged and some kid was kicking my seat the whole flight.” You scramble, horrified that you clearly forgot what your new stepdad was called, let alone what he looks like. It feels weird, using such a term at your age, surely the idea of stepparents was well beyond you, but here you are.
“It’s no problem, let me take your bags.”
He doesn’t wait for you to answer, grabbing your two enormous suitcases before you can move, leaving you with your carryon and rucksack. You follow Dave, intrigued by the strangely friendly nature of your mother’s current husband.
“I could have got those.”
You say as you round the vehicle, dumping your bags in the oddly spacious trunk. Dave looks at you with a grimace as he runs his hand through his short hair. You don’t know why but he’s tense. You try not to let it get to you as you brush past him to reach the passenger side door. You slide in without a word as you watch Dave manoeuvre into his seat.
“It’s nothing, least I could do seeing as I’m late.”
You try and ignore the way your eyes rove over his body, he’s way too hot for your mom, and fuck, he can’t be a day over forty, ten years older than you at best. The engine roars to life and you hear the distortion from the exhaust, telling you the car has been modded.
“What exhaust did you get added in?”
Dave doesn’t take his eyes off the road but you note the twitch of his plush lips as he smiles.
“You know cars?”
“Maybe,” You shrug as you watch the freeway peel around you at the speed Dave is driving, “Just know that drone,” You gesture over your shoulder with a smile, “Happens when you take too many silencers out. You compensating for something Dave?”
He exhales through his nose in a short huffing noise, something like a laugh; and your chest flutters at the look he gives you through the rear-view mirror. His eyes crinkle a little at the corners and his dark eyes dance with light as his lips twitch upwards into a smile that makes his cheeks dimple.
“Your mom warned me about that smart mouth of yours, just didn’t expect such a sharp tongue.”
You don’t know why but the light scolding from your stepfather makes your pussy clench. You break eye contact and opt to stare out of the window for the rest of the drive. You put it down to jet lag, or sleep deprivation, but every time you catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with his fresh perspiration it sends your mind into overdrive.
You catch glimpses of him, his thick forearms as he changes gears, as he pulls in and out of traffic and you cannot believe that this man is married to your mother of all people. You pull out your phone and start looking at your schedule for the week, you’re going to be giving your viewers a show tonight, even if you didn’t have a livestream booked in, you think you can make an exception tonight.
~*~
Lost in thought, you don’t notice the way Dave is also sneaking looks at you, taking you in. And all the while he’s trying to expel the thoughts of you from his mind. But one thing he can’t ignore, that already has him transfixed, is the way you’re clearly the polar opposite of your mother. You’re smart, worldly, and interested in something more than yoga, mani-pedis, or the bottom of a wine bottle.
He keeps telling himself that he’s stealing glances to size you up, get a feel for the kind of person you are. As if he’s analysing you like a hit. He didn’t miss the way your pupils dilated as he scolded you, nor the way your chest heaved as your breathing picked up. The app on your phone looked identical to the one he uses to organise his work schedule. He couldn’t get a clear look, but it surprised him to see that you weren’t scrolling through social media or texting friends. He files that away for later as he forces himself to stop looking at you.
With every passing second his gaze is less analytical and there’s a hunger to the way his eyes travel over your body. He tries to quash the selfish desire roiling in his belly as he focuses back on the road.
~*~
You must have fallen asleep at some point, the rumble of the V8 engine somehow lulling you off to sleep. A broad hand jostles your bare shoulder, and you hum softly as you come around. You look up to see Dave’s dark eyes staring into your own. His jaw is tight, and his plush lips pursed as his palm lingers on the swell of your shoulder.
“We’re here.”
Is all he says before he slides out of the seat, slamming the door behind him as he makes his way to the trunk. He grabs all of your bags this time, not giving you a chance to protest as he exits the garage through a side door you can only assume leads into the house.
The garage is huge, bigger than your entire apartment in New York and you raise an eyebrow at the meticulous organisation of the space. The floors are swept and polished, the dark linoleum flooring practically shining in contrast to the bright white walls. Tool benches and cabinets line the far wall, sandwiching a large work bench between them.
You notice that your mom’s escalade is absent from the garage, she must be out as she would never park on the driveway. You hear Dave call your name from inside the house and hurry through the door.
You recognise the marble countertops and wood floors from the many video calls with your mom when she’s drunk and feeling sentimental. What you hadn’t realised is how goddamn big the kitchen was.
“Fu-uck.”
Dave looks at you with a raised brow for a mere second before he realises you’re marvelling at his kitchen. He winces a little before his right hand rubs against the back of his neck as he tries to find the right thing to say.
“It’s a lot, right?”
There’s a nervous chuckle lacing his tone and you look up with an equally stunned expression as you realise he’s humble. The thought is jarring as you see the bashful flush across his cheeks.
“’Sounds like you didn’t have much of a choice in it?”
You volley back at him, still in minor-shock from the utter opulence of the house. You knew Dave had money, but this was something else.
“Your mom picked the house; I just paid the bill.”
He laughs, but it sounds hollow, rehearsed even.
“Didn’t think mom had it in her.” You mutter under your breath as you remorsefully commend your mother for landing someone with looks and money.
“Have what in her?” Dave asks as he scoffs before leaning against one of the marble countertops.
“Nothing, sorry I’m just exhausted could you show me where I’ll be staying?”
“Follow me.” Dave shrugs, the whimsy leaving his face in a flash as he seems to shake himself mentally.
You do as you’re told and traipse after him. The whole house is a shade of beige, white, or wood textures. It reeks of your mom and her obsession for everything Scandinavian or minimalist.
Sad beige houses for sad beige housewives.
You think to yourself, imagining Werner Herzog speaking the words like in that TikTok video about sad beige children.
Dave shows you to your room and leaves you to unpack and get comfortable. The room is huge, you look around at the sad beige interior design choices and immediately get out your iPad, jotting down notes and making a vague floor plan of the room.
The furniture, though boring, is low priority, clearly never used. The desk to the right of the door lines up perfectly with the base of the bed, perfect. There are two doors on the far-right wall, and you hum to yourself with curiosity as you open the first door. You gawp at the huge ensuite, there’s a walk-in shower big enough for an orgy, with a bench built into the one wall. A rainfall shower head is fixed to the wall opposite the bench and a detachable showerhead hangs above the bench.
“Shit, this is unreal.”
You mutter to yourself as you note the freestanding modern tub in the centre of the room and the double marble countertop sink, all glossy creams and greys. You let out a low whistle as you re-enter the bedroom to open the other door.
You laugh maniacally as you see a full walk-in wardrobe, with a display stand and shoe rack in the middle. You don’t think you even own enough clothes to fill the space.
“I should have given up the lawyer gig sooner.”
You busy yourself with unpacking and getting your filming setup working. Your tower PC and dual monitors set up like a gaming streamer, the perfect cover for any prying eyes. You stow away your box of props under the bed. Multiple masquerade masks, whips, flails, dildos and butt plugs of all shapes and sizes.
Once you’re settled in, you take a few test videos, not happy with the way the light bleeds through the thin blinds. You make a note to add blackout curtains to the list of changes you want to make to the room. You weren’t planning on staying more than a few weeks, but something about the move, the fatigue of crossing the country to settle here in Texas makes you weary. You don’t want to have to move again so soon, so you might as well make the most of this new found opulence.
And it doesn’t hurt that your stepdad is hot.
The thought comes to you and you feel like you should be grossed out, or ashamed for thinking such things, but you realise it has the opposite effect. Thinking about Dave like that is taboo, forbidden, and that only makes it all that more arousing.
~*~
Dave locks the door behind him as he retreats into the basement room he calls his office. The computer desk wedged against the wall to the right, his double bed freshly made from the morning. He strips off his dress shirt and slacks, pulling on an old green USMC hoodie and grey sweatpants. Your mother hates it when he dresses like this, calling it ghetto, or some other derogatory term. But she’s clearly out with her flavour of the month boytoy, Bryce. Dave knows that’s where she goes on nights like this.
If it weren’t the need to keep his cover, he would have left her months ago. Now, he’s faced with the very obvious problem of you.
He slumps down at his desk and turns on his VPN before logging in to his Cam Dolls account. His favourite streamer doesn’t go live on Fridays but he’s sure he can find someone else to scratch the itch.
He’s three pages in, bored by the other prospects, about to give up and just watch standard porn on another site when the notification pops up much to his delight.
Princess Luna has started a live stream.
“Fucking A.” Dave grunts to himself as he shimmies down his sweatpants, already half-hard just at the thought of seeing Luna. But he’s left disappointed, the screen is blank as he clicks through onto the stream.
Other men, he guesses they’re all men, are bombarding the comments on the stream with angry little messages.
Badboy78!: Cockteasing whore, where are you?
GoliathBalls: So what, you just milking us for cash without even showing your tits? Lame.
RedMask$2: Come on Luna, get that pretty little cunt out to play.
The messages keep coming as Luna’s voice lilts through Dave’s speakers and he groans as he squeezes his foreskin over his weeping tip at the sound.
“Aww boys I’m sorry, I’m having some technical difficulties tonight, but I was just way too horny not to come online and speak with my favourite boys.”
Luna takes the whole thing in her stride, her sultry purr seemingly disaffected by the abusive comments.
But it makes Dave furious, he hates the entitlement of the bastards that frequent this site. He pauses in his ministrations on his cock to click through the tip interface. Usually, he keeps it to a modest fifty dollars, enough to be generous but not feel like he’s buying Princess Luna’s attention. It’s delusional he knows, but he usually wants to keep some illusion of decency about his consumption of her work.
Anonymous user left a tip.
Flashes up in the chat box as an excited squeal plays through the speakers and Dave’s cock twitches at the sound of Luna’s exclamation.
“Which one of you boys was so kind as to leave such a generous tip? Don’t be shy, I won’t bite, unless you want me to.”
Dave remains silent as the desperate men in the comments clamber over one another to claim the tip. The schadenfreude of it all only brings Dave closer to the edge as he starts jacking off in earnest. Thinking about being cuckolded by your mother with that pathetic waif of a man Bryce.
“Oh baby I’m going to treat myself to something pretty to wear for you, whoever you are, thank you so much.”
Soft huffs echo through the speakers as Luna starts to put on a show, there’s something intimate about it that has Dave flustered.
“Touching my little pussy thinking about you baby, rolling my aching clit between my fingers as I imagine you here with me.”
“Yeah, fuck yeah that’s it.” Dave grunts under his breath as he closes his eyes, the sound of wet squelching as Luna fingers herself echoing around the room. He’s incensed, uncaring about how the sound might carry if you happened to step out of your room.
Little does he know there’s no risk of that at all. You’re spread across the foot of your bed, fucking yourself with your fingers as you make sure your microphone is positioned just right so your lewd, wet sounds are broadcast over the stream.
“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come, wishing you were here, wishing it were your thick meaty fingers stuffed up in my pretty little pussy.”
“Same baby, wanna treat you right, fuck my come deep inside you until it spills out.” Dave whispers as he feels his balls tighten, he’s going to come any second.
“Yes, that’s it, daddy yes!”
Dave practically roars as the word daddy spills from Luna’s lips, he comes in thick, milky ropes across his fist as he breathes heavily through his nose. His hoodie is covered in it and he huffs out a short chuckle as he hears Luna whine and moan as her release finds her.
“Thanks boys, that was exactly what I needed, I’ll see you on Sunday.”
The stream ends and Dave sits there with a pleased grin on his face as he feels his spend cooling on his hand. His mind drifts to you, and how the little gasp you made in the car won’t stop playing on repeat in his mind.
This could be a problem.
He thinks to himself as his dick twitches at the memory, already getting hard again at just the thought of you.
A real fucking problem.
He reiterates as he coaxes his cock back up with his come smeared fist before imagining you bouncing on his lap.
~*~
You roll awake with a sated smile on your lips, you’d kept going after the stream ended, making yourself come all over your sheets until you whimpered and trembled from overstimulation. You may have even breathed Dave’s name a few times, but you won’t admit that to yourself, not in the bright light of day in Southern Texas.
You take a long shower, making sure to scrub all evidence of your marathon orgasm session from your body before lathering copious amounts of expensive coconut body butter over your skin and fixing your hair up and out of the way.
You pick up your purse and make sure you have everything you need before practically skipping down the stairs.
“Morning.”
You yelp as you round the corner into the kitchen to see Dave reading a newspaper, coffee in one hand and fork in the other as he looks at you with a raised eyebrow. He looks glorious and you try and ignore the painful ache that rocks through your core. He’s in a navy blue hoodie with bold white lettering spelling out “USMC” on it. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal a simple silver watch and his tan forearms.
There’s a plate of eggs and bacon, as well as a pot of coffee and a white mug placed opposite him on the breakfast island. There’s sugar, honey, and milk set to the side and you feel heat bloom in your chest from the thoughtfulness he’d shown.
“Morning, mom not home yet?”
You ask as you round to sit, you pour the coffee, adding nothing to it and you groan as the rich liquid coats your tongue. You note the small twitch of Dave’s lips as he silently approves of how you take your coffee.
“Nah she’ll probably be out tonight too.”
You tilt your head as you chew your food slowly, trying to decipher the look on Dave’s face. It’s closed off, but not cold, like he’s hiding something. But you don’t press, it’s none of your damn business.
“I see, was hoping to borrow her car.”
You drain your coffee before filling it up again, gesturing with the pot to ask Dave if he wants a refill. He nods and pushes his mug over for you to reach. It’s oddly domestic but natural as you play house with your stepdad.
“Can borrow mine, I’m going to be home all day so don’t need it.”
Your eyes go wide as your mouth hangs open at the offer. Excitement humming through your veins at the prospect of driving the Mustang.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, just don’t wrap her round a tree, but I bet you can handle her.”
“I’ll be good to her, I promise!”
You down the rest of your coffee just in time for Dave to throw the key fob at you. You catch it with ease and grin at him.
“Alright, I’ll be back just after noon, you want me to pick up anything for lunch?”
“Sure, surprise me.”
You get up from the stool and clear the plates, loading up the dish washer as you hum happily to yourself. You’re about to head out when Dave calls your name over your shoulder.
“Oh no vegan food, I ain’t no rabbit.”
“Alright Dave, your secret’s safe with me.” You roll your eyes at him playfully before heading out, extensive shopping list in hand as you finally feel some optimism for staying here. You text your mom before pulling out of the garage. You don’t expect a response for some time, seeing as she hadn’t bothered to even check you made it to Dave’s house, her house, in one piece.
You roar down the drive, giving it some gas as you turn onto the main street. You panic for a second as the back end flies out, but you correct the steering with ease and the grin plastered on your face makes your cheeks burn.
Little did you know Dave watched the whole thing, and his smile was a perfect mirror of your own. He leans against the sofa in the front room as you race off into the city, you really are going to be a problem, but if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t care.
And that terrifies him.
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IGHT HERE WE GO THIS IS OVULATION AND BREEDING CAUSE HAHAHA….send me to jail before I embarrass myself………
Sukuna loves your cycle. Especially when you are ovulating and bleeding. Sukuna somehow knows every step of your cycle with pin point accuracy, and I believe it’s through his sense of smell. Like when you your body is getting ready to ovulate he can smell it coming and he pays very close to attention to you, he sees the way you start craving something sweet. Watches you sneak into the kitchen to grab something that will satisfy you. He makes sure Uraume or the servants are constantly making sweets. He probably makes Uraume make them because he trust their skill more than then any other servant.
He’s ears perk up when you hiss at the slight soreness forming around your beast. Most of the time he will pull you on his lap and undo your robes just enough for your breast to spill out so he can massage and play with them. He might even suck on them but won’t go so far as to fuck you…not yet.
He watches the way waddle a bit because of the slight pain that starts creeping up. When the two of you are together he hold you close so that his body heat will ease you and will wrap his arms around right where your womb sits. On one had it’s also to ease the pain but also in anticipation. He knows you are fertile, and that if he fucks you, there’s a high chance of you becoming pregnant. It makes him even more possessive of you and makes his need to breed you soar. If only these nuisances weren’t around. He would breed you in front of them but at the same time he doesn’t want anyone to see his pet in such a state. That’s for his eyes only.
Finally when the two of you are alone. He takes you. He makes it very clear that you are not going to leave this room until you are so full of him you cannot move or else his cum will spill out. And he doesn’t want that, he wants to make sure his seed takes root and creates something made out his love for you and your very being. He will probably leave so many marks and bruises on you. Bite marks on your sore breasts, nipples swollen from how much he kept sucking on them. Your stomach might have some light marks or love bites to show your womb some love. (His dick/s aren’t enough, he needs to make it very obvious.)
I like to believe that when you’re fertile he likes to spend a good amount of time eating you out. Because your taste is so much sweeter than usual. As a reward he doesn’t use his normal mouth, he likes to use his belly mouth. Because he know how much you like the feeling of his belly mouth encasing your entire cunt. He has to have one pair of arms on your hips and another holding your hands because you go weak and limp at the feeling. It helps ground you but the sight he sees…your form trembling and head thrown back. The sweat forming on you making you shine with the bit of moon light coming in. It’s ethereal and special when you just so happen to be fertile.
S-should I start writing fic?……………..
PLS EITHER WRITE IT OR KEEP WRITING TO MY INBOX BECAUSE I LOVE THIS SM <333 Unleashing my breeding kink to the fullest in these last couple of asks...
Is a man who tracks your cycle really that much to ask for? I'm not saying Sukuna excuses bad behavior, but if it's in line with your moody days he's definitely more lenient about it. Him instructing Uraume when to keep extra stashes of sweets and snacks that you can enjoy when you start to crave it !! UGHH!
I also love the image of Sukuna possessively keeping a hand on your belly like that. That is his, entirely his to do with it whatever he wants!! And I like that you describe his wish to make you a baby not just as his possessiveness but also his love for you!! Sukuna expresses love in weird ways. He would die before he ever said ''I love you'' but he would do stuff like this... Ah plssss
I would 10/10 read a fic with these themes if you decided to write it!!
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Okay okay I hear ya. I'm an OG, 30+ fan who agrees with you on Jily.
But the question I need to know is Wolfstar - virtually canon or a fan fever dream?
Please base this on your experiences as an OG fan and not in the hellscape that modern Wolfstar has become!
I’ve always liked wolfstar, I think it’s fun, but it’s not my be all end all! Also, a lot of the newer wolfstar seems to have changed the Remus and Sirius characters a ton, which is interesting to me because the characters were a good match without the gradual fanon interpretation in the last five years.
Anyways, based on what canon gives, I have my own opinion on all four marauders below:
James is Straight. He dates girls, loves girls, and marries Lily aka HIS SOULMATE. The man honestly took one look at Lily and said “I’m gonna be an idiot for the rest of my life just for her” and I support that jocks choices with every fiber of my being. That being said, I love reading modern AUs with bi James as long as he’s not with R3gul*s, Sn8pe, or other Slytherins who join the DE. I’d be defending Prongsfoot faster than I’d get with wolfstar tbh
Sirius is Asexual. He don’t give two flying fucks. I have one sentence in the entire series to go off of for this so no one get mad at me if you think I’m delulu for this one okay. I like my delulu land where Sirius is asexual even if everyone else in this fandom wants him with Remus or Marlene McKinnon. let me have more asexual Sirius in more fics!!! fellow asexual Sirius writers help me out with this plz!!!!
Remus is Straight. I mean, he doesn’t stand up to his school buds when they’re being dicks because he likes being included, he falls in love with a manic pixie dream girl despite her being younger than him by several years, he desperately needs therapy due to PTSD but doesn’t go, he turns into a wolf once a month but is honestly probably so hairy even when it’s not the full moon, he has a baby and immediately forgets child support is a thing because he wants to run off to war with his dead best friends kid…I mean… idk. Don’t get me wrong I love Remus Lupin, my stupid son, but he screams straight to me.
Peter is Gay. I definitely think closeted so he dated girls to keep up with the straight persona. I don’t think this is a widespread thing that people agree with; I just have a personal head canon that he is actually in love with James due to the way he’s described by the adults in canon HP and the way he is depicted in the flashbacks in canon HP. Plus it makes his betrayal more fueled by something other than being a big baby coward. And I mean he still is a big baby coward, but I’d like more emotional depth with my betrayal plots.
#petals talks#this was probably more than you wanted#I got carried away with Remus for sure#why don’t we have more hairy Remus representation#that man is a WOLF#he must have chest hair like to the extreme
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In every universe Jason Peter Todd dies young. It’s a fate sealed across the multiverse. Maybe he could hope that there’s one universe where he doesn’t. aka, Jason, Dick, and Bruce go multiverse hopping, and are not having a fun time. (Ps, when I started writing this fic I hced Jason as Latino, but I don't really believe in that hc anymore, so just a heads up if you don't like that hc)
TRIGGER WARNING -> Child Death (it's Jason)
A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone. A child was gone.
Seven children were gone. And another one was about to die. And another one and another one, with every new reality they went to, because that was the pattern.
It wasn’t just Jason dying. It was Jason dying as a kid, unable to grow old. None of his counterparts would grow old.
None of them spoke. It was like they were frozen in time. Except he knew they weren’t frozen because his knees were trembling and he had to clench his fists to keep them steady. Before he could tell what he was doing, Jason was moving.
He could tell who was comforting who. If he was clinging to Dick to keep himself from floating away or if Dick’s vice-like hug was to make sure he wouldn’t turn into smoke right in his arms.
Finally, it was Bruce who broke the silence, “We should find somewhere to rest. Maybe sit this universe out.”
And honestly, Dick and Jason were too worn out to realize it wasn’t a very Batman thing to say. In fact, it felt a lot like the Bruce they both knew in their childhood. The man that didn’t have Batman bleeding into the person he truly was– Bruce.
Though now that they were relatively back to their senses, he took his time to look around. The magic was strong in this universe. Specifically soul magic.
The sould didn’t feel like they were on a separate plane, like how he learned with Ducra. It felt like each and every soul had the ability to pass through the veil and take on a form in the physical world. Like if everyone had the ability to summon their own version of the All Blades.
They were in some sort of museum. Except, It didn’t feature dinosaurs or WWII artifacts. No. It seemed to feature winged skeletons, but attached to humans. Except they weren’t really attached. As far as Jason could tell, the anatomy didn’t really line up for the back of the ribs to connect with the wings. Though Jason could feel the connection between the wings and the skeleton that ran soul deep.
Bruce smoothed out Jason’s hair, “Come on, lets go.”
As soon as they got outside, they realized what was different about this universe. There were people with wings. From the shape of a falcon to a songbird, from the wing of a dove to a vulture. He could tell that each and every set of wings was a reflection of that person’s soul. It was their soul.
He thought about Bruce. Maybe his wings would be some sort of Eagle. Strong, sharp, intelligent. Though, those are more qualities of a person, not a soul. And an Eagle didn’t really seem to fit Bruce. You can’t really describe a soul with words. It’s just an energy, a vibe.
What would Dick’s look like? Dick, a man who was born to fly. Him having Robin wings felt a little too on the nose. He had to have giant wings that drew eyes and signaled comfort. Jason couldn’t really think of a specific wing that would portray that. Unless his wings were unique, and unlike anything anyone has seen.
He wondered what his wings would look like. Would his soul, a soul strong enough to wield the All-Blades, have giant wings that were majestic? Or was he too broken? Would his wings only manifest as a few measly feathers.
They got to a motel, and the receptionist noticed them immediately, “Oh! Mr. Wayne! I didn’t expect anyone of your status to ever stay somewhere here.”
Bruce gave her one of his signature Brucie Wayne smiles, “It was the closest place.”
She looked from Dick to Jason and gave him a soft smile back, “Rough night out?”
“You could say that.”
She handed them a key, “The room’s on the house. After all you and your sons do for the city, it’s the least we could do.”
Bruce looked a little confused, “Are you sure? I have enough money–”
“Yes, yes, please. I insist. You and your family are the Guardian Angels of Gotham. My boss would throw a fit if he realized I made you pay. Now go! Rest! It’s the least you could do.”
“Oh.” Bruce took the key, “Thank you.”
As soon as they got to the room, Dick face planted onto the colossal bed (For the wings? But sleeping with those seemed like work). Then he rolled over and started pushing all the sheets to the middle. Like he used to do when Jason was visiting the Titans.
Dick was the type of person who didn’t sleep with any blankets, whereas Jason bundled himself like a burrito. Jason could sleep without them– his time on the streets and in the league made that a necessity– but when given the choice, he’d take the protection and safety blankets provided.
Of course he knew he could trust Dick to catch him when he fell, or to protect his back, but it took a while for Jason to trust Dick like that . He remembers, way back in the beginning, he used to sleep on the giant couch in Titan’s tower, which slowly turned into sleeping on the ground in Dick’s room. Then to the opposite end of the bed with a pillow wall separating them.
There was that time, it was a couple nights before Dick left for space. Jason had went to Titan’s Tower after Gloria Stanson died and the whole situation with Fellipe Garzonas. And Dick, he just held him in his arms. Leaning his cheek on top of Jason’s curls. Not saying anything, and just holding him. He didn’t ask any questions. He just gave him comfort.
It was hard for Jason to trust people like that. Trust people enough to be vulnerable around them. Though once Jason trusted someone, nothing they did could break that trust. Sure, they could disappoint him, like Bruce and Sheila, or even in some ways Talia, but he still trusted them with his whole being. Even if he knew Dick didn’t trust him. He probably didn’t see Jason as anything more than a… coworker, or a person who took the face of a kid he maybe used to care about, Jason trusted Dick more than anyone else in the world. He was his big brother.
Jason rolled himself up in the blankets and scooted until his forehead was slightly touching Dick’s shoulder. Dick immediately melted relaxed That couldn’t be right. Maybe he was just really tired.
Soon he could hear Dick’s breathing even out and knew he was asleep.
He thought about how Jay from the Alley, and Baby Jay would never get that big brother. How the Robin Jays barely got close enough to really know Dick as a brother before they died. Even he didn’t really have the rights to call Dick his brother. Not as much as Tim or Damian, or even Duke. Quality over quantity, and by the time Jason truly opened up he died. They all died.
Jason knew there were infinite realities. He knew there were many realities where he lived, but there had to be equally as many where he died. Maybe even more.
Maybe by coming back to life, he caused one of these many Jasons to die. Maybe that’s why they were on this multiversal adventure. The transporter device is trying to find a reality where his soul fits. Maybe it doesn’t fit anywhere anymore.
“Can’t sleep?”
He shrugged. Jason knew Bruce would notice he wasn’t really asleep. He was Bruce, he couldn’t not notice. He was somehow simultaneously the most observant and the most obtuse person he knew.
They sat in the silence that always felt so loud between the two of them. Sometimes, Jason felt like they were the tides and the moon. He knew Bruce was always trying to reach out to him, but in the end, the gravity of Gotham will always be greater than Jason’s.
He heard Bruce shift in his seat, “Do you… do you remember those nights we’d stayed up all night in the library reading poems?”
Jason nodded. Of course he remembers. Most of the poems he’d been telling all the versions of himself had been from those nights.
He also remembered the reason they were up all night. Most of the time it was because they had run into someone he used to work for. He could never sleep after being so starkly reminded of his past. And it was near impossible to build up the guts to get in a bed those nights.
He remembers sitting in the papasan chair in the library feeling like a bird. He remembers Bruce sitting on the far end of the couch, because even then, he knew. Of course he knew.
He remembers them going back and forth reading poems they thought the other would like. He remembers watching Bruce’s eyelid get heavier and heavier with each blink, but he still stayed up with him. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, the poetry books they’d been skimming through were left on the coffee table with green flags marking the poems Jason had liked and orange ones marking the ones Bruce did. Though the only ones Jason ended up memorizing were the pink ones, which both of them enjoyed.
“I never told you, but I used to do that with my mother. Not staying up late, but we used to sit in the Library after I had come home from school, and we’d– we did that too.”
Jason didn’t really know what to say to that. ‘ Was anything we did original to us?’ or ‘ I special enough to you to the point where you let me share what you once had with your mother?’.
In the end Jason didn’t say anything, because Bruce continued, “Remember the poem ‘Still I Rise’ , by Maya Angelou?”
He nodded. It used to be his favorite. He remembered finding it the first poetry night he and Bruce spent together. Jason had read it first. And almost every poetry night they had they would come back to that one. They both had it memorized.
“It used to be my mother’s favorite too.”
Jason could never forget the way Bruce read the poem to him. The way he seemed to not just read the poem, but express it.
He always found it interesting that Bruce, a white man, could resonate with that poem. Though now that he thought of it, Bruce always read it like he was recalling a memory. So maybe Martha Wayne, a Jewish woman, helped him understand.
“Though, after the first time you read it out loud to me, I could only think of that poem being yours.” Bruce paused like he was debating saying something, and seemed to ultimately decide against it.
Jason didn’t know what to say. He had too much to say. Too many thoughts and feelings and actions that float around in his mind but never make it past the layers upon layers of thorns he uses to hurt people. The thornes he uses to protect himself.
He wanted to tell Bruce to stop playing with his feelings, but he also wanted Bruce to hold him like he held the boy who was long dead. He wanted Bruce to stop using old memories like a carrot on a string just out of reach. He wanted to tell him of the nights he yearned for Bruce’s voice to lull him to sleep through the pattern of the stanzas. He wants to smack Bruce upside the head and tell him that he’s no longer the boy who died and that he’s still the same person. He wanted to scream that he was here and that he hates the person he’s become. Except he wasn’t sure if he hates Bruce or himself.
He couldn’t stand being in the same room as him. He missed him even though he was two feet away. He hated him because he loved him and that love would never be enough. He just wanted to call him Dad, and not worry about Batman taking that away.
In the end all Jason could say was, “‘s our poem.”
He heard Bruce shift, “Is…is it still our poem?”
Jason nodded, Now more than ever. There were nights, he remembered, during the league, during his early Red Hood days, even now, when the only way he can fall asleep is by reciting poems. Bruce’s voice almost lucid in his head. So when Bruce started speaking he had to remind himself that Bruce was really there. Reciting the poem for him.
“You may write me down in history; With your bitter, twisted lies; You may trod me in the very dirt; But still, like dust, I'll rise; Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells; Pumping in my living room. Just like moons and like suns; With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I'll rise.
“Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?Does my haughtiness offend you? Don't you take it awful hard; ’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines; Diggin’ in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise.
“Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise; That I dance like I've got diamonds; At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history’s shame; I rise; Up from a past that’s rooted in pain; I rise; I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear; I rise; Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear; I rise; Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave; I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
“I rise. I rise. I rise.”
Jason didn’t remember falling asleep, but he certainly remembers waking up. Because it felt like his soul was being– he couldn’t even describe it. It just felt like his soul was in trouble, but not his soul. It was like it was being ripped out of Jason’s body–
The Jason of this Universe.
He sat up, and realized he was seeing double. Nope not double, there were two Bruces and two Dicks. And an ten/eleven year old Tim, and Stephanie.
So the stalker probably stumbled across them, and their Jay must’ve gone missing, so they came to them for help. Except their Jay couldn’t be dead because Bruce Dick and Jason were still in this universe.
Tim, tilted his head like a bird, “Is your arm glowing a normal thing for you?”
Jason looked down. His soul marks. Except Jason didn’t feel any evil entity near him . Was… was Jay being hunted by an Untitled?
Dick, the older one, replied “No.” At the same time Bruce replied with, “Yes.”
Jason closed his eyes. He’s never been the best at astral projecting, but hopefully trying to track his own soul would make it easier.
The museum.
He made eye contact with Steph who looked bewildered, and spooked all at the same time. So she was probably their witness,
He stood and headed towards the door, making a motion for everyone to follow, “What’s happenin’, Blonde?”
“They- They took Jason and it’s all my fault.”
Jason snapped his head back because usually Steph was not one to be so open while being self loathing, “Oi, cut the guilt. Knowing myself, Jay probably chose to get taken rather than you. So tell me what’s goin’ on. And I want a story, no self loathing.”
Steph stepped into pace with Jason, and took a deep breath, “I was helping this kid, she needed help, but she wasn’t trusting me enough to help her. So…so I showed her my wings.” She said it like it was a bad thing.
He guessed it could be, showing your soul to a stranger, but people flew around with their wings on full display, as far as Jason could tell, it was fine.
“Hm, I dunno if my Bruce has told you this yet, but we’re from a different Universe. One where only birds and bats have wings. I don’t really know the Socio-political climate here. What’s… why was it wrong to show this kid your wings?”
Tim ran up to Jason’s other side, “Wings are a physical manifestation of your soul. There are certain wing types that are super rare. And because they’re so rare, they’re made to be… a spectacle. People who have mythical creature wings, like, Dick, are you ok with me using your parents as an example?”
Dick, the younger one, gave a wistful smile.
“Mr. Grayson had these huge dragon wings, and- and Mrs. Grayson’s wings were absolutely beautiful! They were Psyche’s wings. Do you guys have the myths of Dragons and Psyche in your world– Nope, I’m getting off topic. The more… I wouldn’t say pure or good, because you can’t really describe a soul with words, but usually your wings mirror your soul, and if you have more mythological wings, the more… magic your soul has. Though, if you’re not careful about who you show your wings to, you’ll probably get trafficked if you have pretty ones. That’s what Jason told me.”
Jason nodded. Then stopped in his tracks as the realization hit like a bus, and spun around, “The receptionist called you,” he pointed at Bruce, “And you,” he pointed to Dick, “the ‘ Guardian Angels of Gotham’ . Does that mean you’re really… ”
They nodded. “I have Powers Wings and Dick has Virtues.”
They were angels . He was literally standing in front of angels .
Jason turned around and continued walking while whispering “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. ” under his breath. He touched his forehead, his chest, his left and right shoulders and then brought his hands together, “Amen.”
That also meant they didn’t have secret identities, but he was in the presence of angels.
Dick– not the angel one– cleared his throat. “So, you… also have angel wings, Steph?”
She nodded, lip wobbling, “But I didn’t notice there were other people in the alley, and like Tim said Jason said, when you have special wings you get taken and– and before I knew it, Jason was jumping down into the Alley, spreading his wings and telling me to run, and- and he got taken.”
Bruce, the literal angel, face looked conflicted between proud and worried, “He spread his wings? He doesn’t show them to anyone .”
Angel Dick made a pinched face, which meant Dick The Angel knew what wings Jay had. God, he was probably– he probably had songbird wings or something. If he had any other wings, he probably would have a mental breakdown.
They walked through the doors of the museum, as Tim tugged at Jason’s sleeve, “Why are your hands glowing?”
The feeling of his soul being chiseled out chip by chip became almost overbearing. “Kinda… kinda like your wings, but I got swords instead.” He placed his hand to his heart, to keep it from bursting out of his chest, but it wasn’t working. “Timbo… do you also have Angel wings?”
He nodded, “I have Dominion wings. They’re not as cool as Jason’s though.”
Tim was a literal angel too. And… if these traffickers targeted people with special wings, he couldn’t let Tim and Steph wherever those traffickers were. He couldn’t let another Tim watch his brother die “Alright, I have a really important task for you and Steph.” Jason crouched down so he could be face to face with them. “Whenever I use my soul sword, it takes a lot of energy out of me, cus it’s ya know, a sword that comes from my soul. Do you guys have gatorade here? Specifically lime green.” they both nodded, “Do you also have Arizona Iced Tea, Space Rocks– not pop rocks, there’s a difference– Sour gummy worms, but they have to be the Candy Works Brand, and those strawberry hard candies that grandmas always have–”
“The ones with the gooey center?”
“Yes! Those! Along with the butterscotches they usually have on them too. I need you two to find all of those things. Then I need you to mix the drinks and the gummy worms together, but not the Space Rocks or the old lady candy. Then, I need you to put an old lady candy in your mouth and chant ‘Acres of All, give All strength.’ Keep chanting until you’ve dissolved three candies each , ok? It has to be three strawberries, three butterscotches.” They nodded again, “And then, once you’re done with the old lady candies, you have to throw the pop rocks into the gummy worm drink, and say, ‘ soul replenisher’ until all the bubbles from the Space Rocks fizzle out. Make sure to take your time. If you rush it, my soul will become very weak.”
Steph and Tim nodded solemnly, “We won’t let you down, Giant Jason.” and they ran off to go find the ingredients.
Jason stood up and walked deeper into the museum, where his astral projection went, but all it led him to was the center of the museum. He could feel his own soul. He could feel the evil presence nearby. They were close enough to where he could summon the All Blades, but he kept them away. Not yet. There had to be a hidden door somewhere.
He paused in the middle of the room. There were wings with feathers preserved in resin.
Seraphim Wings.
All three sets of wings were open wide, they weren’t curled in to veil the angel like they were supposed to. They were spread open. They looked wrong . Then he saw the plaque.
The wings of Thomas Wayne. The first Seraphim in centuries. Seraphim feathers hold special healing qualities that are even rumored to be able to heal fatal wounds. These feathers lose their healing ability after the Seraphim dies.
Jason felt his blood run cold. This… this was worse than the case that held the suit he died in. This was a dead soul on display– no. This was a trapped soul. Never to be set free. Never to be at rest.
Dick frowned, confusion slowly making way for horror, “But, Tim said that… your wings are your souls.”
Jason grabbed his Bruce by the elbow before he could fall to the ground.
“Bruce–” He wasn’t sure which Dick said it to which Bruce, but Angel Bruce cut him off.
“I had no say in it. I can never forgive Alfred for it, but this Gotham, this world , it isn’t just magic. It’s also cursed and corrupt. It was the only way he could keep me from living a life in a fighting pit or a cage.”
Angel Dick’s eyebrows scrunched up in worry, “ Br –”
“What about…” Bruce peeled his eyes away from the taxidermy of his father, “What about Mom?”
Angel Bruce looked away.
Jason could hear his Bruce’s jaw click shut, “You’re a grown man now, capable of protecting yourself. Why won’t you–”
“Don’t you think I tried ?! They came after Dick! I’m trying my best here! And I know my parents would rather have their grandkids safe than their memories honored. I have to pick and choose my battles. It’s not just about doing the right thing, it’s a war against evil . And my parents not being put to rest is a small loss compared to what’s necessary for my kids, and maybe even grandkids, to live in a safer Gotham.” Angel Bruce was looking at Bruce firmly. Eyes narrowed in that way that left no room for argument.
This Bruce was a Protector's Angel. This Bruce fought true evil. And Jason could feel all the Untitled-Like beings crawling around nearby. There was no hoping for redemption when it came to them. This Bruce killed, but it was nessasary. These evil beings would stop at nothing to get what they want.
Jason shifted and walked over to a patch where the stone floor looked off. He lodged his foot into an odd looking cobblestone, and suddenly the ground under him disappeared.
No stairs. Just free falling. Which was good for people with wings, but Jason didn’t really have those.
He summoned one of his All Blades and stuck it into the wall to stop his fall.
Angel Dick came diving down, before catching sight of Jason hanging and stopped. “Don’t scare me like that!”
Jason almost slipped off his sword, because, holy mother of Christ, Angel Dick had his Angel wings out.
Jason regained his grip, and positioned himself so he was sitting on the blade like a seat.
There was the sound of grapples and suddenly Bruce and Dick were hanging next to him. Followed by Angel Bruce floating next to Angel Dick.
Bruce frowned at him, “Didn’t you say the Blades burned up your soul?”
“Only when I stab truly evil things.” He gestured downwards.
Angel Bruce’s expression darkened, “I’m going to head down, and do some recon, you four, wait for me to come back.” And he dove down.
Dick anchored his foot into his grapple, so he was no longer hanging by his arms, and gave a questioning glance to Jason, “Magical soul swords, huh?”
Jason, instead of answering to Dick’s passive aggressive question, shifted on his makeshift seat and rested his head in his hands. He felt like his intestines were entangling within themselves forming a tapestry that read the words, ‘Something was wrong. ’ Something was really really wrong. And he could feel how close Jay was. It was like if he reached his hand through the wall he would be able to grab his hand. Except, Jason couldn’t do that.
Angel Bruce came back up, “I couldn’t see Jason, but there are cages filled with children lining the perimeter of the substructure. There seems to be bidding going on. ART Dick and Bruce, you two sneak around and open the cages while Dick and I will guide them to safety, there are three more exits to the North, East, and West. We are currently in the South exit. Jason…just, try to find my son.”
Jason nodded. He just didn’t know if it’d be in time. With each second he felt like more and more of his soul was being plucked away until he was left raw and pink.
Bruce gave him a nod before grappling the rest of the way down. Dick squeezed Jason’s ankle and followed Bruce’s lead.
Which left him with the Angels.
Angel Bruce looked at Jason, “Thank you, for making sure Tim and Stephanie were safe. I know you don’t actually need the gatorade-tea-candy potion.”
Jason looked at the knee of his pants. They had rust color stains. Blood. Of different Jasons. That were on him because he was too late to save himself. “I just didn’t want them seeing anything they shouldn’t”
Angel Dick floated closer to Jason and cupped his face, “I don’t know what you’ve been through these past couple days, or months, or maybe even years, but just know that you are the most resilient person I’ve ever known. And that I care about you so much.”
Something about that tightened the knots in his stomach. “I’m not the kid you want to say that to.”
Angel Dick smiled, and shook his head, “It’s something I know holds true throughout each and every Universe. You’re my little brother. And nothing can change that.”
And with that, the Angels dove down.
Jason shook his head. He’s not the Dick he wants to hear those words from. He knows those words will never come out of his brother’s mouth.
Well, he wasn’t getting any more info by astral projection. Time for the good old fashion way.
If Jason Todd in this Universe was a son of Bruce Wayne, known to be the Guardian Angel of Gotham, he was probably being kept somewhere secure. Not with any of the rest of the kids who were being trafficked. He would also be up for a secret bid. One that only people with jets filled with money and power could participate in.
He scaled down the wall and lowered himself to the ground in a relatively bold way. Bold enough to catch eyes, but with enough menace to avoid weapons. Just like old times.
He scanned the crowd. A crowd reeking of Untitled energy– it wasn’t everyone, but a solid amount.
Though there was one who stood out the most.
Jason kept his hands in his pockets as he strode forwards. Hands in his pockets meant he had something to hide. Striding forwards with his chin slightly down, but his eyes fixed on one person, meant he had prey.
He loomed over the man. Close enough for him to feel Jason’s presence, but not to the point where they were touching. He spoke low, “Rumor has it you have some of the best Wings Gotham has to offer. Most of what I’m seeing here, I could find in Metropolis or New York.”
The monster of a man didn’t flinch, but he did shift and turn his head to Jason. Good. “What typa wings ya got?”
Jason smirked, in a way that didn’t reach his eyes and tilted his head while he stared through the man, “What makes you think I have any?”
“Whadarya, a cop? Everyone has wings, and I swear if–”
“What if, I told you mine were ripped away slowly. Feather by feather. Skin from bone. Bone from my very being until I was left nothing but a husk of who I used to be. Go ahead. Try to kill me. Though, believe me, you’ve never fought a man who’s already dead.”
The man’s eyebrows deepened, “Stay for the real show. It starts in thirty minutes, after all the wannabes leave.”
Jason slipped back into the shadows without a word. He tracked Bruce and Dick opening cages, and the Angels fly into and out of the shadows. It was a slow process to make sure no one noticed, though they were making good progress. To the point where there were only three cages they hadn’t gotten to by the time the 30 minutes were up.
There was the sound of gunshots as the man he was talking to earlier held a gun to the air and stalked to the center of the room, withering vulture wings visible. “Scram! Or the ceiling won’t be the only thing with bulletholes in it.” Just to prove his point, vulture wings grabbed the nearest person and shot them in the head.
There was the sound of wings rustling the air as the uninvited guests left. Followed by a couple more gunshots.
Vulture Wings turned back to the remaining crowd, “Well well well, my friends, you’ve just made it to the afterparty, and should I tell you, you’re in for a real treat tonight.” the room erupted into cheers, but died down as soon as Vulture Wings put his hand up. “Now, Now. Before I show you the Good I’ve got stalked up, I’ll be giving you a disclaimer. This one, is not for sale.” a rumble of Boos chimed throughout the basement, “Hold on! Hold on! You’ll all get something out of this. Donny! Bring out the feathers! And Tony! You know your que.” Donny brought four bags to Vulture Man, “Now, we all know our dear Guardian Angels of Gotham. Of Bruce Wayne and his Protectors Wings. And of Dick Grayson and his Virtues Wings. Though, there’s another Guardian Angel. One who’s wings we’ve never seen. There are certain people who theorize that the little one is just a late bloomer, or that he’s not an Angel so to stick with branding he keeps his wings hidden.” Vulture Wings let out a laugh and unzipped one of the duffles, pulling out a singular, pristine white feather. One that seemed to have an ethereal glow to it. “Boy were they wrong.”
There was the screeching of old hinges being unlocked above them. Something– someone was being lowered from the loft.
A Seraphim.
Angel Jason.
He was hanging by his arms, and his legs were bare. All broken and bruised. His wings were next to bare. Most of The feathers had been plucked off, leaving a spare few that were stained red with blood. Two sets of the broken bare wings were curled in to shield his body and face. The last set were hanging at a painfully unnatural angle.
“No. No! ” He couldn’t pin down the emotion in Angel Dick’s cry. Rage? Fear? Grief? Vengance ?
Doesn’t matter, because either way, all hell broke loose.
All the Tainted Wings started lunging for the duffle bags filled with feathers, taking down anyone who got in their way.
Angel Bruce was busy trying to make sure the duffles didn’t end up in the wrong hands, while Angel Dick was trying to make it to Angel Jason, but kept getting pulled back anyone with Tainted wings who were also trying to get to the Seraphim.
Jason had to get to him. He-he promised Angel Bruce, He he couldn’t let an Angel die.
Jason summoned his All-Blades, and began slashing and stabbing, with only one thing in mind.
How could they have seen something so holy and defiled it?
He could feel his soul burn up with every Tainted Wing he banished, like a fire that was slowly simmering out, but he couldn’t make himself care. If he had to lose his soul in order to save an Angel , someone who’s soul was probably worth trillions of his, he would do it. He would do it in a heartbeat.
Suddenly, Angel Jason jerked down.
The rope he was hanging from was fraying.
Jason’s eyes snapped to Dick, who already had his grapple out and was flinging himself towards the Angel. But he was bodyslammed off of his trajectory. Angel Dick was surrounded by Tainted Wings, desparately trying to shake them loose so he could save his brother. And both Bruces were occupied too.
And Jason… Jason wouldn’t make it to him in time.
He watched as the rope snapped. He watched as the Seraphim fell, seemingly in slow motion. He heard a shout come from Dick, though he wasn’t sure which one.
He was sure everything had frozen when Jay made contact with the ground.
An Angel had fallen.
Something had slammed into Jason’s head hard, and for a second, he didn’t see the broken wings of an angel. He saw the tattered yellow cape of a Robin. He saw a face that was tinged blue with Hypothermia. A mouth filling with blood from a punctured rib. A neck bleeding out. A Lamb to the slaughter curling in on himself. A doll.
Jason thrusted his Blade into a stomach, as he got back onto his shaky legs.
A fallen Angel.
Angel Dick rushed to the Seraphim. Mercilessly taking out anyone who was in his way. Jason took out anyone who got too close to the pair.
Angel Dick cradled Angel Jason in his arms. “Jason… Jason, can you, can you stay awake for me? Please?” Jason knew he was gone, deep in his being, but Angel Dick continued, “Please, Jason. You can… just rant to me about that one story? Like you always do. The one… what was his name, Icarus? It was Icarus right? And spring? It was spring when he fell. It’s not spring right now. And you don’t have– why would anyone have wings made of wax, that’s just stupid. And whoever wrote that story was dumb, because obviously the higher up you go, the colder it gets, so the wax wouldn’t melt, it would’ve frozen and gotten hard. Jason.” Dick shook him and one of his wings stopped veiling his face, “Jason. It’s not spring. You don’t have wings of wax, your–your wings are mine, and- and my wings are yours. You’re my wings. And you can’t– Jason! You asshole, wake up!” Dick smacked his face but it didn’t do anything, “You promised. You promised we could fly together after– after you told Bruce. You promised we’d fly together, and I promised I would teach you. If you can’t fly then I can’t. I can’t. If you’re not next to me, I’m not going to fly. I can’t fly. Don’t you understand? You’re my wings. I can’t fly without my wings.”
Jason realized no one was attacking them anymore. Which was a good thing because he was pretty sure if he stabbed one more Tainted Wing, his soul would completely disappear.
He felt his knees go limp and his head spin.
Dick Grayson, the last Flying Grayson, a man who’s feet were probably in the air more often than they were on the ground– something that had to be true across the multiverse, because if it wasn’t that wasn’t Dick Grayson– couldn’t fly because his brother couldn’t. Because it wasn’t Dick’s wing’s that were his soul, it was his family. His family was his soul. His family was his wings. And he couldn’t fly without his wings.
A pair of hands grabbed his face and it took him a moment to piece together that they belonged to Dick. His brother. He immediately rested his forehead into the crook of his kneck, trust be damned. Or whatever complicated feelings that ranged between them, be damned.
Everthing turned white around them, and he was pretty sure he had passed out, until a voice spoke.
A very familiar voice.
“You have mastered the All-Blades?”
Jason could feel the very blades in question retract back into his soul as he turned his head so he could confirm who he was speaking with, with his eyes, “Oh. Hi Talia. Yes.”
And then he passed out.
#jason todd#batman#batfam#dc comics#red hood#dick grayson#tim drake#stephanie brown#wings au#robin jason todd#alternate universe#dimensional travel
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hi dove! i can't believe i've never requested anything on your blog! could you possibly write a enemies to lovers - lewis nixon x reader? maybe where feelings are discovered after one of them gets hurt/captured/something like that! you know i'm a sucker for angst with tons of fluff! thanks for being awesome!
mads <3
Coming Clean
Lewis Nixon x reader
A/N: omg hi Mads! Thank you so much for the request 🤗 I love your work (especially the way you write Nix) so I really hope you enjoy this!
I edited and wrote the last half of this fic while sick, so if this is totally incoherent, that's why - and I'll just have to do my best to fix it when I'm better😆
(As always this is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️
Warnings: language, mentions of war
“I am not being overdramatic,” Nixon insists in what can only fairly be described as a rather theatrical tone.
Dick only glances up from across the table, an eyebrow quirked as he studies his friend. He nods slightly. Thank you for proving my point, the gesture seems to say.
“Nix,” he says, his tone serious, even though he opts for his friend’s nickname instead of a more reprimanding Lewis. “I don’t think comparing anyone to Sobel is fair.”
Nixon drops his fork and holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay. All I said was that if she wanted to, (Y/N) could give him a run for his money. That’s all.”
“They’re nothing alike,” Dick deadpans.
Nothing alike? A bit nondramatic, in Nixon’s opinion. An understatement for sure. He starts to protest, but Dick cuts him off.
“I think the two of you just got off on the wrong foot.”
Scoffing, Nixon leans back in his chair. “Well, I wouldn’t call overhearing someone explicitly talking about how they think you’re unqualified for your job getting off on the wrong foot. But close enough, I guess.”
“That’s not what I said.”
The voice is enough to startle both Nixon and Winters – although the ginger presses his lips together in a way that suggests he’s only just managing to repress a smile as he takes in your arrival on the scene. Nixon, on the other hand, has to forcibly close his mouth to stop from gaping at your sudden presence.
“What I said,” you continue. “was that I wasn’t sure how well a Yale man would hold his ground amongst the other officers.”
A frown tugs at the corners of Nixon’s mouth. For once, he’s grateful that part of his upbringing included lessons in how to conceal one’s true emotions lest someone gain the upper hand by using them against him. He presses his lips into a thin line and steels himself.
“Remind me where you studied again, Lieutenant?”
Your face pales. Bingo! You may have had him there for a second, but he’s struck a nerve.
“It was just a joke,” you say, your voice quiet.
Nixon only shrugs before turning back to Dick. There are footsteps as you walk away, but he doesn’t turn to see you go. Instead, he tries to concentrate on his tray of food. Tries being the operative word, since Dick seems intent on staring at him with that look of utter disappointment on his face that could make a saint feel guilty.
“What?” He stabs some broccoli with his fork, not looking up.
Dick sighs. “It was a joke, Nix.”
The potatoes on the corner of his tray are his next victim. Unseasoned and questionably cooked as they are, Nixon still puts all his focus into getting them firmly on his fork.
“Why does it bother you so much?”
Now he looks up. “Huh?”
“The joke,” Dick clarifies. “Why did it bother you so much?”
It’s not so much that the jab at his alma mater bothers him. It’s just . . . Huh. Why does it bother him? The way it’s said, perhaps, or the people it was said in front of. After all, it was one of the first things that you said upon Nixon’s arrival after his promotion. Not a good look for a newcomer in such a prestigious position. If he wanted people to poke fun at him despite his achievements, he could have just stayed home.
Sure, that’s probably it, he tells himself. You’ve just hit a nerve. No need to psychoanalyze this whole thing.
To Dick’s question, he only shrugs.
His friend, thankfully, does not press the issue.
. . .
Lewis Nixon, you’re beginning to realize, does not forgive and forget.
Well, that’s too bad, because all the other officers seem to think that he’s funny and charming. And they’re right. But clearly those qualities are not on display whenever you’re around. And you’re not about to ingratiate yourself to him by groveling for forgiveness over some stupid offhanded joke.
Too bad. Because you’re a big enough person to admit that despite his flaws, Lewis Nixon has his good qualities – not to mention that he’s handsome.
“Why are you staring at me?”
The sudden question draws you out of your thoughts. You blink, back in the present moment.
“Pardon?”
“You’re staring at me,” Nixon says. He doesn’t look up from the stack of mail that he’s censoring, intent on his work.
You avert your gaze, trying to ignore the heat you feel rushing to your cheeks. The words on the letter in front of you turn to nonsense the more you try to focus on them. If you work hard enough, you won’t be tempted to let your thoughts wander to the man sitting across the table from you.
“Here.” A letter lands on top of the one you’re reading as Nixon, once again, interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you look up to find him looking at you rather expectantly.
The letter he’s tossed to you looks familiar. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s written in your handwriting – a letter that you wrote to your family back in the states. When you glance up at him, he turns back to his own work.
“You spelled accommodate wrong. Thought you might want to fix it before sending it off to your family.”
Oh of course he would point out your mistake like that! Anyone else would have let it go. Your family will be so thrilled by the letter that they wouldn’t even give the misspelling a second thought.
The sigh that you push through your nose comes out louder than you expect it to. Nixon, however, doesn’t look up. Swallowing your pride, you aim for a tone that’s halfway pleasant.
“Thank you, Nixon.”
Is it your imagination, or does the corner of his mouth twitch slightly? A smirk, perhaps.
“You’re welcome, (Y/L/N).”
. . .
Though the world no longer trembles with the barrage of artillery fire, you keep your hands pressed firmly over your ears, staying low in the foxhole. Is it the cold causing you to shake, or the adrenaline that still courses through your veins?
You had been out making rounds when the shelling began, just trying to make sure that the rest of Easy Company was okay. The shellings are always unexpected, but this one caught you out in the open, exposed. You had had to dive into the nearest foxhole, hoping for the best as you hid from the explosions just outside.
Someone had grunted when you fell into the foxhole, your elbow connecting with their stomach. There had been no chance to apologize over the loud, cracking booms that filled the air.
After a shelling, there always seems to be a moment – a split second, really – of silence before it all goes to hell again. Then the calls for a medic will break out and everyone will jump into action, throwing around orders amid the screams and groans of the injured.
Now, as you wait for the few seconds of silence, you feel the person beneath you shift.
“Sorry,” you mutter, your arms shaking as you attempt to push yourself off of them.
“Christ,” a familiar voice grumbles. “My fucking ribs.”
Nixon’s voice is all the motivation that you need to push yourself the rest of the way off of him. Still full of adrenaline, you push yourself back on your heels, staying low in the foxhole, but ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
The Princeton man rubs his ribs. “You came out of nowhere. That really – “ He pauses, his expression shifting into one that you’ve never seen on him before as his brows furrow. Gently, he leans towards you. “Hey, (Y/N). Are you okay?”
“I-I’m fine.”
“You look – “
Ka-BOOM!
The air splits in two as the second round starts. The shell must hit somewhere very near your foxhole, because the reverberations its impact sends through the ground cause you to topple forward, straight into Nixon.
Before you can even think about pushing yourself away from him again, something strange happens: you feel his arms wrap around you, drawing you in, close and tight, as the barrage continues. You bury your face in his shoulder.
When the second round ends, you both remain still, breathing heavily as you wait for whatever comes next. Only when it’s clear that the Germans are no longer firing do you pull away from each other. Neither of you looks the other in the eye.
“Sorry about your ribs.”
“Huh? Oh. They’re fine.”
Neither of you leaves the foxhole until absolutely necessary. And the next time that the Germans begin firing, when you somehow find yourself back in the same foxhole, neither of you seem to question how easily you wrap your arms around each other, bracing for the impacts and explosions.
The fog of war is a hell of a thing.
. . .
“Medic! We need a medic!”
The call is so unexpected that Nixon actually stops midsentence and turns his attention towards the panicked voice. Several others follow suit. After all, in the middle of Berchtesgaden, who would need a medic? It’s not like they’re in combat. And there’s nothing and no one around that should be putting anyone in danger.
Dick jumps into action immediately. Of course he does; he cares so deeply for his men – anyone can see that. It’s especially evident in this moment as he steps forward to intercept the panicked looking Talbert.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“(Y/L/N) needs a medic.”
Despite his wishes, Nixon feels his heart skip a beat at the mention of your name. It’s because of the startling and unusual news that Tab is delivering, he tells himself.
“For what?” he asks at the same time that Dick takes charge of the situation, charging down the street they’ve been standing on, yelling out that he needs to find Doc Roe.
As soldiers snap to attention trying to find the trusted medic, Nixon moves closer to Talbert.
“What happened to (Y/L/N)?”
Talbert takes a step back, his eyes wide, like he’s being confronted by a madman. Sure, Nixon’s tone was a little demanding – a little worried – but there’s really no need for the other man to look so shocked.
“A couple of us were out exploring the woods,” Tab explains. “She caught her ankle on a root and tripped. Might be just a sprain, but it looks pretty nasty.”
“Where is she now?”
“We got her back to the house that she was quartering in – Hey! Nix, where are you going?”
Talbert’s voice fades behind him as Nixon rushes down the street. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s vaguely aware of people stopping to stare at him as he passes, his pace a barely restrained run.
Several shocked faces look up at him when he bursts into the house. He stops in the doorway of the living room, staring into where you are.
You sit on the couch, one leg propped up beside you. Other than the swelling in your ankle, you look okay – if not a little surprised, that is, to see Nixon gaping at you like this. For what it’s worth, the few Easy men who are scattered throughout the living room look just as stunned.
“(Y/N),” Nixon breathes. Coming back to himself, he clears his throat, willing his heart rate to slow down to normal levels.
“Um . . . I think we should – we should maybe clear out, yeah guys? Give (Y/N) some room to breathe,” Babe suggests.
Casting glances between you and Nixon, the other men squeeze past him in the doorway as they make their way out of the house. Behind him, the door closes, but Nixon doesn’t move. Somewhere within the house, through all the silence between the two of you, a clock chimes to signal the top of the hour.
“Can I help you?” You finally ask.
“We’re at the end of the war.” Nixon’s voice, once again, is louder than he intended it to be. He clears his throat again before pushing on. “We’re at the end of the war, and you somehow got hurt.”
“I tripped in the woods. So what?”
“So what? I was worried about you!” The words are out of his mouth before they have his permission to be spoken. They’ve escaped before he truly grasps the gravity of what he’s just said.
You quirk an eyebrow – a rather sarcastic expression that he’s come to know on you, but your voice is quiet when you ask, “You were worried about me?”
He was worried about you, he realizes suddenly. And he’s been worried about you for some time now, though he can’t place when his feelings towards you softened, when he started to care.
“Yeah,” he admits. “I want you to get home safely.”
“Why is that?”
His head spins. Maybe you should have been put in intelligence, the way that you’re pressuring him for answers while keeping a collected tone. It’s exasperating, honestly, how you’ve somehow gained the upper hand.
But part of him . . . likes the feeling it gives him when the two of you spar like this.
Something tugs at the corners of your mouth. It might be a smile you’re trying to suppress, or one of the smirks that he’s come to know so well.
“Nixon, I think you’re very bad at expressing your emotions.”
He blinks. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” With your propped leg taking up the space beside you on the couch, you instead gesture to the chair that sits nearby. Without knowing why, Nixon takes a seat. It’s a bit like waiting outside the principal’s office, the anticipation of it all. “But,” you continue. “it’s kind of cute to see you so flustered.”
You’re messing with him, surely. Yet he can’t find any sort of witty comeback.
After a moment of staring at each other, you nod with the assurance of someone who has finally made up their mind and is resigned to their fate. “I think it’s time I finally came clean.”
“About?”
“I think you know. But just to watch you squirm, I’m going to start at the beginning.”
He’s heard you tell stories before. The two of you could be here for a long time.
But, he thinks as you start your narrative, he’s starting to realize that he wouldn’t want it any other way.
#band of brothers#band of brothers x reader#band of brothers fanfic#lewis nixon x reader#lewis nixon#my writing#mutuals#tumblr friends
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The Girl Next Door
Hank Hall x Fem!Reader x Dawn Granger
Summary:
When you move in across the hall from Hank and Dawn, they become incredibly protective of you. When you ask Dawn for some advice to help your sex life along - she and Hank show you that everything you ever wanted has been right across the hall all along.
Hank Hall x Fem!Reader x Dawn Granger. Neighbours to Lovers. Smut.
Word Count: 5,600
Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link
Based on this request from @star-mum.
If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.
List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: there is a mention of the reader being sexually assaulted (groped) by a random outside man - and Dawn and Hank kick his ass, mentions of canon level violence (not super detailed), the reader is more feminine - it’s mentioned that she wears make-up and participates in typical beauty rituals, age gap relationship (I imagine the reader to be 22/23, Dawn is 27/28, and Hank is 32/33) and it is mentioned in the fic that Hank feels slightly ‘guilty’ about the reader being so much younger than him and having sexual feelings for her - but he gets over those feelings of guilt when he realizes that the reader is showing enthusiastic consent/has a lot of lust for him and Dawn in return, sub/dom dynamics - the reader is submissive, Dawn is very dominant, and Hank is dominant over the reader but listens to Dawn/follows her rules (but not really in a submissive way??), the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, the reader character is not a virgin (the reader character is very faux innocent), under-negotiated kink - all parties have enthusiastic consent during the situation, but it is not thoroughly discussed beforehand and no safewords are in place (though Dawn and Hank obviously use queues like any signs of physical discomfort and they would not outright ignore the word ‘no’).
Dawn and Hank are very protective over the reader (it could be edging on yandere, but I don’t know how you could categorize it), mentions of alcohol - partly background, and there is a mention of Dawn drinking wine before the sex happens but it’s definitely not enough to impair her ability to consent (there is no explicit mentions of the reader character drinking alcohol), mentions of porn/watching porn, Dawn teaches the reader character how to perform a blowjob using a banana, (though it is heavily implied that the reader is more experienced than she lets on and is just playing innocent), innocence kink/corruption kink (kind of?), the world ‘little’ is used to describe the reader or her clothing, but it is not meant to imply that the reader is thin/skinny - it is meant to say that her clothing is too small for her (revealing a lot of skin), or it’s simply an expression, the reader is referred to as ‘sweetheart’, ‘sweetie’, ‘brat’, ‘good girl’, ‘honey’, ‘doll’, ‘naughty girl’, ‘slut’, ‘whore’, hair-pulling (Hank and Dawn pulling the reader’s hair), Daddy kink (towards Hank), the reader gives Hank a blow-job, size kink - mentions of Hank’s cock being massive and how his general body/frame is very big (no mentions of the reader being skinny/dainty), slight sweat kink, spit kink, mentions of ball worship (as a fantasy - doesn’t actually take place during the fic), finger sucking, leg humping, orgasm restriction (put on the reader by Dawn), I believe that is everything. This is generally just filthy smutty fun lmao.
A/N: This was originally supposed to be much shorter, and the cut off for blurbs vs oneshots officially in my mind is 5k. So this is a full oneshot fic and not just a blurb lmao. Blame Star she causes me to get carried away. Often. (It makes really great fanfiction though.)
For reference, this takes place during the period of time when Dawn and Hank had parted from the other Titans (after Garth's death) and they were living in DC, before Dick and Rachel showed up there looking for help.
Also - the situation here is really similar to a scene in this fic and it's completely by coincidence (I guess these are just my bisexual thoughts lmao) but I love the difference in the context and the energy of both of these fics even though the actual situation playing out is every similar. I guess it just goes to show - you can write the same prompt/situation for fics a dozen times, and it will come out different every single time.
...
When you first moved into the building, you never imagined yourself becoming so close with people like Dawn and Hank.
In any other situation, you probably wouldn’t have been incredibly close with two people like them. They were both older than you, and didn’t really run in your social circles. An ex-college football star who had fallen a long way from his glory days, seemingly humbled a lot since then - who now picked up a lot of odd jobs, mostly of the handyman variety to fill his time. And a woman who could have easily been mistaken for a prissy primadonna on the outside, someone who was kind and down to earth, who filled her days teaching interpretive dance to combat grief at the local youth center.
You were a young woman, unsure and still forming a life for yourself as you shaped out how your twenties, and likely the rest of your life, were going to be. You were surprised when a fantastic job opportunity at a tech firm in DC made itself available. Seeing as you had recently graduated with the exact degree that the company had been looking for, you seized the opportunity to move states just to chase after such a prestigious job.
You had no idea how isolating it would be, being in a brand new city where you didn’t know anyone else, your family so far away. You had no sense of attachment, moving into a new home in a random apartment building just so you could start a real career for yourself.
It was only because of the kindness of those two people (who were random strangers to you at the time) that you didn’t feel completely lost living in that big, new, scary city.
Your friendship with them had started out because on the day you had moved in, Hank found you lugging your heavy boxes up the stairs when the elevator was out of service and - being the kind of guy he was - he couldn’t resist the urge to swoop in and help.
When you first saw him, you were slightly intimidated by his size. The fact that he was towering over six feet tall and built like a brick house of muscle did set off some alarms when he first approached you. But when he chuckled and made a joke about a teddy bear that had fallen out of one of your boxes, saying how ‘the poor little guy’ had fallen onto the floor, you knew instantly that Hank and that bear weren’t that different. They were both soft and cuddly and full of fluff on the inside.
It made you feel even safer when his girlfriend - a beautiful blonde woman came along - introducing herself to you with a gleaming smile. It was nice to know that someone with a calming presence like her would also be living across the hall from you. She helped to carry some of your boxes, even though you insisted that neither of them had to. All the while, Dawn nagged Hank, warning him that a previous ‘sports injury’ was going to flare up if he kept straining himself.
He didn’t listen. And when he tried to lug one of your particularly hefty boxes full of books up the stairs, he popped a disc in his back and you felt so bad when he bent over groaning in pain. It made you feel incredibly guilty, even though Dawn insisted that it was his own fault.
Dawn - who was surprisingly strong for her petite stature - helped you carry the rest of the boxes and even insisted on helping you unpack some of them while Hank sat with a bag of frozen peas on his back. The new friendship was truly cemented when you made them dinner the next day and brought it over to their place. You figured it was the least you could do after all the kindness they had shown you.
You felt so guilty because Hank had injured his back trying to help you and you wanted to do something to make up for it. But you had no idea that the injury had very little to do with the box of books, and a lot more to do with the fact that he had been kicked in the back by a drug dealer the night before. But that side of their life wasn’t something that Hank and Dawn were too eager to tell you about.
On the outside, they saw you as something - someone, so young and sweet, naive and unaware of the dangers constantly surrounding you. Because of the work they did as Hawk and Dove, they saw all those ugly things in the world - gun runners, rapists, drug dealers. Things they needed to protect you from that they never wanted you to know about. You were pure and sweet, something they were eager to protect.
It was probably why they grew so incredibly close to you so quickly - that sense of protectiveness. You were only twenty three, in this brand new city all by yourself, starting out a new job with predatory eyes everywhere, unsavory people eager to take advantage of you. And they were those sacred birds eyes above, those friendly people across the hall - the only people around who truly wanted the best for you. The only people who truly wanted to protect you.
It was probably why you fell for both of them so easily.
You could feel that protective blanket they put around you, even unconsciously, and you loved it.
You fell for Dawn’s incredibly sweet nature. With her helping you and giving you tips on everything from home decoration to make-up and self care. She made you feel pretty, and doted on, and always complimented you and praised you just to see you smile.
You fell for Hank’s subtle masculinity, and those vulnerable moments he shared with you. He made you feel safe and cared for without constantly asking to be thanked for it.
You loved him being there for you to help out with small home repairs - being there to fix your sink or help you hang curtains at a moment’s notice and wanting nothing more as payment than a cold beer from the fridge or a slice of pizza. There were even times when he didn’t mind you squealing across the hall to come and kill a spider you saw in your apartment. You didn’t know it, but he liked the feeling of saving you, he liked the joy it brought to your face when he could quietly declare ‘there, all better’.
And Dawn wasn’t much better. She liked to be your rescuer in other subtle ways. If you got a stain on your favorite blouse and she could return it to you in seemingly brand new condition, the way your face lit up put the sun to shame in her mind. She often knocked on your door with coffee in the morning, claiming that it was just easier because their coffee pot made more than enough for three.
You came over in the evenings to watch TV with them because Dawn had gotten you into cheesy shows like the Bachelor. And she often tricked you into watching ‘just one more episode’ until it was into the late hours and you fell asleep on the couch. She would never tell you that it was motivated by the simple desire to enjoy your peaceful, sweet face as you slept before covering you up with a blanket and retiring off to bed.
You would never tell her how much you enjoyed those nights either.
Whenever you woke up there in the morning, you would profusely apologize. You would tell them both how sorry you were for falling asleep there and taking up too much space, for being a bother. But Dawn and Hank would never accept it. They loved having you over and truthfully - you always felt sleepy and peaceful in their presence because you felt so safe with them.
This became particularly evident one night when you came home from a date bawling. You had big black streaks of mascara running down your face when you knocked on their door. It hadn’t even occurred to turn in the direction of your own apartment. The moment they saw you in such disarray, their hearts dropped with worry. Dawn began cooing sweet comfort as she took you into her arms; Hank clenched his fist so hard with feral rage toward whoever had made you upset that he nearly crushed the TV remote in his hand.
You had made the mistake of finally accepting a nagging invitation from someone at work who had asked you out over and over again. You thought it would be harmless, and at the very least, it would get the guy off your back once he saw that the two of you had no real chemistry in practice. Once the date was over, you had let him kiss you. The horrid, entitled man had groped you. He had ignored your disgust and your attempts to push him off you. He even tried to further assault you - the only deterrent toward him had been a harsh slap you delivered that put him in shock long enough for you to walk away.
You sobbed as you delivered the story. Hank and Dawn exchanged a cold look above your head as Dawn sat beside you on the couch, holding your hand and rubbing your back in a comforting way while Hank prepared you a calming cup of tea. It was a look that only said one thing: that guy was going to be paid a visit from Hawk and Dove. They stayed with you for the night - ate some ice cream with you, cuddled up with you on the couch watching shitty reality TV while Hank assured you that ‘you’d never have to see that asshole again’. (Of course, you had no idea what he was planning on doing to deliver you that assurance).
The next night, while you were in your apartment, working on some project for work on your laptop, they went out and found the guy. Dawn had found him through your social media and yes, someone like him was way too cocky to turn off his geotags. Hank held him down and Dawn showed him your picture, making sure that he knew to stay away from you - that hurting you was the reason for his broken kneecaps.
When you went to work on Monday, he had called in sick because he had some pretty grievous injuries. The working story was that he had been hit by a car.
When you told this to Dawn and Hank, Dawn gave you a small grin and Hank grunted ‘shame’ in the most utterly sarcastic way. You thought their reaction was strange. It caused you to develop the utmost suspicion that they had something to do with it, but of course, you couldn’t prove it. And it only deepened your feelings for them in the most beautifully strange way.
From that point on, they ensured that you always had them on call. They told you over and over again that if you ever needed a safe escort home, no matter what time, if you needed to feel safe at any time of day, no matter what, you could call either of them. (And on top of that, you didn’t know that Hawk and Dove checked in on you often if you were out on the town while they were out on patrol.)
It wasn’t long before you realized that no one else would be right for you. No one else outside of those two amazing, heroic, protective, kind souls - would ever make you feel the same way they did. And you definitely had to do something about it.
…
Hank wasn’t surprised when he came home that day and you were in his kitchen.
You practically lived at their place now, and he didn’t mind it.
You were someone he had come to like a lot - even if he probably liked you a bit too much. You were sweet, kind, cute. You were incredibly gorgeous. He wasn’t exactly dealing well with the growing temptation he had surrounding you. Especially considering that he was pretty much a decade older than you and he sometimes felt like a creep when his eyes lingered too long on you. But he found that a lot of the time, he couldn’t help it if you bent over in front of him - wearing those tiny little pajama shorts or those short skirts. Sometimes you even forgot to wear bottoms under a long sleep shirt if he caught you as you were getting ready for bed.
Dawn assured him that his attractions weren’t wrong, that it was only natural for him to want someone as perfect as you. Especially because she shared all of those attractions - she had eyes, after all. And if she had a passing thought that she might like women before meeting you, it was a deep confirmation inside of her after all the hours she had spent fantasizing about making you cum.
Dawn was firm in her convictions about you - how you belonged right between her and Hank. She was just trying to get the more hesitant Hank on board.
She knew that the age difference was the biggest thing that made him worry, but she told him over and over again that it’s not like you were some jailbait, naive little thing, as much as you sometimes acted like it. Dawn saw the way you looked at him, and she knew what kind of desires you likely held that they simply needed to help you unlock.
But Hank often warred with the instinct to protect you from all corruption and harm versus the deep underlying hunger to have you beneath him, being the one to corrupt you himself. And if it wasn’t for that guilt, for his fucked up issues - Dawn believed that they would have invited you into bed by now. But Hank hadn’t grown completely comfortable with the idea yet and she wanted to take it slow.
When Hank walked over to the kitchen counter and heaved the bags of groceries up onto the center of it, he realized what was truly peculiar about the scene as he looked at you and Dawn, sitting at the kitchen table.
Dawn with a half-finished glass of wine? That was normal. You holding a half-peeled banana that appeared to be half-soggy and glossy with spit? A bit strange.
The laptop sitting in the middle of the table’s surface, paused on a graphic frame of a woman with her overly plumped glossed lips around a man’s veiny hard cock? Not so normal. And it definitely informed the presence of the banana in this scene.
If Hank wasn’t mistaken - it looked like Dawn had been teaching you how to give a blowjob using a banana. It was something that caused a harsh electric lust to shoot through Hank. Oddly enough, it only seemed like a natural extension of the nights she spent teaching you how to do your own manicures because it was cheaper and the way showed you how to get the most out of a tube of lipstick by sticking a q-tip into the bottom. It was oddly adorable to see the two of you bonding like this, and insanely hot at the same time. Like a fantasy out of a porno that Hank definitely had not been expecting to walk right into.
The entire scene had blood flowing toward Hank’s cock, and he was glad that the dining table that the two of you were sitting at was on the other side of the kitchen island. It gave him something to conceal the slight hardness in his jeans that he was hoping he could mentally will down. He didn’t want to scare you or creep you out by having an obvious boner.
At the sound of the bags slamming onto the counter, you whipped your head back to look at Hank. Your face instantly hardened with embarrassment, as though you had been caught. You reached out and slammed the lid of the laptop closed, clearly wishing that Hank hadn’t had a chance to see it. The wide eyes and slightly pouted lip you gave him were too adorable. It was like you were waiting for him to tell you it was okay or ready to run if he said that he was disgusted with you, eagerly seeking his approval.
And of course, he wanted nothing more than to give you that approval.
“I’m not gonna laugh, sweetheart.” He told you, suppressing a nervous chuckle.
“It’s alright, honey.” Dawn told you with a giggle, taking another sip of her wine. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen porn before.”
“It’s fine. I’ve seen a lot worse in my time.” He confirmed this with a nod. There were probably things in his search history that would make you gag.
“You definitely got me curious, though,” He added with a chuckle, speaking about it as though he hadn’t figured it out already.
You went uncharacteristically silent, clearly shy now that the idea of talking about sex was present in the room. Your mouth gaped open and closed like a fish struggling on dry land, and your eyes kept flickering back to Hank, clearly still looking for that approval. He felt his cock swelling with even more blood against his will.
Dawn stepped in to explain when she saw you struggling.
“Y/N asked me to help her out because she’s got a hot date tomorrow night.” She told Hank, turning completely in her seat to face him. “She said she doesn’t have a lot of experience pleasing a man.”
Dawn gave Hank a very pointed look. In that kind of silent communication that only two vigilante partners could have, two people who always needed to have each other’s backs in the most important moments - he instantly understood what she meant.
Neither of them wanted you to go out on another date. They had simply been hoping that you would give up after that last disaster with the entitled bastard. Realistically, they knew that Hawk and Dove couldn’t ‘keep an eye’ on you through all of your romantic ventures. So this was obviously Dawn’s new plan. Make things friendly - distract you. She wanted to show you that everything you ever needed or wanted was right across the hall. She wanted you to see that you didn’t need to go on a dozen dates with a dozen different grabby assholes when two of the kindest people you would ever meet were right in front of you.
Hank could easily play along.
“I don’t think you’re gonna learn much suckin’ on bananas, doll.” Hank told you with a snort. “You wanna test drive the real thing?”
He tried his hardest to sound casual, as though he had no personal interest in you ‘testing out’ your skills on him. As though it wasn’t a perfect fantasy come to life before his very eyes.
You let out a shuddering breath as his words churned through your mind.
“You don’t - you don’t mean-?” You stuttered.
Your eyes flickered from Dawn, to Hank, and then down his body toward where the counter was blocking him at the waist. As though you were willing yourself to see right through the object and suddenly had the ability to inspect what was in his pants - wondering if that part of him would be just as intimidating as the rest of his size.
The way you bit your lip, slightly shy and obviously somewhat lustful, had Hank throbbing with full hardness.
Dawn downed the rest of her wine before she answered.
“Only if you want to.” She told you, shrugging casually herself, as though it were a simple conversation about what the three of you should have for dinner. She wanted to assure you that they would absolutely respect your consent. “I’m sure that practicing on a man like him will have you ready for whatever little guys come your way.”
Hank tried not to let his ego swell with pride at the comment.
…
That was how you ended up in your current predicament - on your knees for them.
You were kneeling in front of their living room couch, with a couple of Dawn’s precious decorative pillows helping to cushion your knees from the hardness of the floor. Because in her mind, a sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to hurt yourself while doing this.
You had your hands spread out on the muscled thickness of Hank’s denim clad thighs, with his impressively monstrous cock - most definitely proportional to the rest of his massive frame - pulled out through the zipper. You had your jaw stretched wide, lovingly struggling to accommodate it while Dawn guided your pace with a hand in your hair. All the while, she gave you gentle, sweet encouragement in her harmonious voice.
“Such a good girl for us.” Dawn said gently. “Make sure you keep your tongue flat. You’re doing so good, sweetie.”
The praise sent hot jolts right between your thighs.
You almost felt small in the presence of their looming figures, with Dawn’s careful eyes staring down at you and the sheer size of Hank’s muscled form. Especially because Hank’s shoulders were spread even wider than usual. His hoodie and shirt shed off because the entire situation was just too hot for him to comprehend, causing him to sweat already (a musk you couldn’t deny made him even more attractive to you). Both his arms stretched wide over the back of the couch as he gripped at the object with his large hands, making the wood of the frame weep with just how hard he was gripping it. He was heavily resisting the urge to reach down and grab your head and simply start skull fucking you.
Dawn had given him strict instructions not to. It was one of the only reasons she was even letting this happen. She knew that Hank could get carried away sometimes and forget his own strength. It was something she was used to, and she had more than enough strength and skill that his roughness was never a manhandling of her - it was a heated competition. Dawn was afraid that (while you had voiced that you definitely weren’t a virgin) you were too fragile and inexperienced to handle all of Hank’s desires right out of the gate, lest he accidentally scare you away. So she had to censor him a bit to help you explore your own desires in a safe way.
“You don’t have to take it all the way down, honey, I know he’s big.” Dawn chuckled.
You moaned in acknowledgement of this. Hank let out a choked-off sound, both at the vibrations from your mouth at Dawn’s words.
“But make sure you swallow - it’s like a suction, it makes it better for him,” She quickly added on.
You followed the instructions, causing a sharp pulse through Hank’s whole body as he felt the suctioning of your mouth against his cock. It truly tested his self control as he deeper resisted the urge to grab you by the hair and fuck your mouth.
It was something that left him struggling - his whole body rapt with pleasure, yet every muscle practically seized and shaking as he struggled to hold back. He was nearly insane, spread out against the couch as he held onto the plush frame for dear life. With Dawn contently sitting beside him, gently guiding your tender, warm mouth up and down on the hard thickness of his cock.
The feeling of your gorgeous mouth tore harsh rippling moans from his chest, bucking breaths from his nostrils that made him sound like a raging bull. It had him biting his lips in an effort not to urge you on or say terribly filthy things that he thought might scare you or cast a true light onto his perversions. He had swallowed down the words ‘perfect slut’ and ‘suck my balls’ several times now.
Especially with the feeling of spit flowing from your mouth and down his shaft, dripping wet and warm over his balls. It only made him imagine what your sweet, soft tongue would feel like worshiping over his sack and sucking his balls into your mouth while he got to see his overwhelmingly large cock flat against your face, making your head look so tiny by comparison.
The pace Dawn had set was practically killing him. Causing a slow burn in his gut, his orgasm coming on epically slow and teasing. He knew that if he didn’t cum soon, he was going to say something drastically filthy that he was going to regret.
He certainly didn’t expect your filthy mouth to act up first.
Dawn pulled you back, giving you a moment to get some air. This left Hank’s cock bobbing in midair as he throbbed with the need for release, a large string of spit dangling from the bright red head to your swollen lips as you sat back on your haunches, enjoying the cushioning Dawn had so graciously given you. She petted a sweet, gentle touch down the side of your face, and was about to ask if you needed a drink of water before you spoke up, shell-shocking both of their systems with your next words.
“How am I doing, Daddy?” You asked, your throat absolutely raw from the fact that his cock had accidentally bumped against it.
You sounded so fucked out and so utterly filthy as you looked up at them from down on your knees - your eyes slightly glassy with tears and a gloss of spit ready to drip down your chin.
Dawn looked at Hank with her jaw dropped in shock, her cunt throbbing from your words, expectantly waiting for his reaction.
Neither you nor Dawn were prepared when Hank let out a quiet ‘jesus’, and after a moment of recovering from the shock, he simply said:
“C’mere, ya little brat,”
And then he reached out, grabbed you by the back of the hair, and shoved you back toward his cock with intense force.
You had finally broken his willpower.
He began shoving you down onto his cock with force, fucking your face with a tight grip on your hair - essentially using your mouth like a fleshlight for his pleasure. He was only slightly canting his hips up off the couch to meet the touch of your swollen lips and your warm, velvety mouth, most of the effort put into moving you around him. It was something that had you moaning wildly around him, knowing that he was finally using you for his own pleasure instead of holding back.
Though Dawn was wrought with pleasure at the sight, she couldn’t help but let out a scolding ‘Hank!’ as she reached out to grab his arm, attempting to stop him. Your lids had fallen shut in what seemed to be a haze of pleasure and your moaning was obvious, but she still held trepidation because he hadn’t explicitly asked you first. And because of the gags that emanated from your throat as the head of his large cock roughly jostled you - something that only served to turn Hank on more.
“What?” Hank snapped at her, not stopping his movements even as Dawn dug her nails into his wrist. “She likes it.”
You moaned even louder in agreement, and Dawn frowned.
“Let her tell me that herself.” Dawn ordered firmly.
‘Let me fucking cum.’ Hank wanted to argue.
But he easily understood his girlfriend’s hesitation - so he pulled you off his cock with a noisy, wet pop. You looked more fucked out than ever, your eyes now ripe with tears, a thick layer of spit gathered on your chin and ready to drip down your neck, your expression absolutely hazy with pleasure.
“I like it.” You sniffled, a pleasured whine evident in your tone. “I love it. I want you to use me. Both of you.”
That was the moment it truly struck Dawn. There was no guy - there was no date.
When you had come nervously fluttering across the hall, fidgeting with the strings of your hoodie and shyly looking at the ground when you told her you were worried about what might happen if your date wanted to go to ‘second base’ - you had been lying. It had all been a ploy to get right where you were. On your knees in front of them.
She had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t even your first blowjob. You had been taking someone the size of Hank far too well for it to be your first.
Dawn grinned at you.
“Naughty girl,” She sighed.
She reached out and ran her thumb through that pool of spit on your chin, then shoved the digit inside your mouth, forcefully pushing down on your tongue until you gagged again. It was something that made Hank moan beside her.
“You lied to us.” Dawn tutted her tongue, shaking her head disapprovingly. “You wanted this all along, didn’t you?”
You nodded furiously while sucking on her thumb, and moaned in affirmation.
“Get up.” Dawn demanded sharply.
You looked between the two of them, and then Hank let out a sigh, hesitantly letting go of his grip on your hair. He knew that it was useless to argue with Dawn.
She took her hand away from your lips, and then repeated herself.
“Go on, stand up.” She told you, an air of pure dominance coming off her that you couldn’t help but bow to. (Well in this case, stand for.)
You rose up on shaking legs, and waited for whatever instruction she would give you next. You wanted to show that you were compliant, that you would be good for them.
“Take off your pants.” Dawn told you.
You eagerly rushed to comply, ripping down the zipper of your jeans to get them off your hips and kicking them off your ankles. When you moved to rip off the waistband of your panties, Dawn stopped you.
“Leave those.” She said, her voice just as commanding and firm.
You felt both sets of their eyes now fixated on the spot between your legs as you stood there in your underwear, socks, and a thin tee shirt. The panties weren’t anything special, because honestly, you hadn’t been expecting this to lead to sex. Just a plain cotton white pair that stuck to your cunt in a very telling way. The fabric absolutely seeped with a wetness that you had been trying to ignore as you heavily enjoyed the feeling of Hank’s heavy cock on your tongue. Now, as the cool air of the room brushed against that wetness, you found yourself unconsciously clenching your thighs, trying to seek some kind of relief against your throbbing pussy.
“See,” Hank said, motioning toward you - toward your visibly wet panties. “The little brat obviously likes it.”
The nickname coming from him made your cunt clench so hard that it was almost painful. You let out a whimper from deep within your chest and Hank held back laughter. Dawn smirked.
Dawn nodded in acknowledgement of what Hank had said - quite obviously, you did enjoy being choked on his cock and you likely enjoyed being bossed around too. It was the discovery of something beautiful.
Then, she moved a foot across the floor, kicking away the cushions she had set down for you.
“Lying whores don’t get cushions.” She said in response to your confused look. “Back down on your knees,”
You eagerly rushed back into your position between Hank’s thighs. You really didn’t mind the hardness of the floor against your knees or the way the area rug scuffed your skin. It would only be a good reminder for later that all of this had been more than a dream.
Dawn harshly dug her nails into the back of your scalp. You were expecting her to shove you toward Hank’s cock once again, but instead, she crooked your neck back in a rather painful way, drawing your attention toward her face. And then, she scooted forward slightly on the couch, and draped her thigh over the thickness of Hank’s calf, bracketing her leg with his and shoving her leg right between yours. You let out a pathetic moan as you felt the stiffness of her lower leg shoved right up against the tenderness of your neglected cunt.
“The only way you’re gonna get off tonight is against my leg.” She explained to you, her voice still velvety sweet, yet deadly authoritative. “Understood?”
You nodded vigorously, and she tugged harshly on your hair.
“Use your words, pretty girl.” She scolded you.
“I understand.” You whimpered.
You began canting your hips toward her, rubbing your pussy against the firmness of her leg. The feeling sent pleasurable sparks through your gut, and you couldn’t help the loud moan that you let out - something that easily made Dawn smile.
“Feelin’ mean today, aren’t ya?” Hank snorted, obviously believing this to be a harsh punishment.
“You’re lucky that I’m letting her cum at all.” Dawn commented.
It became immediately obvious to you which one of them was the more lenient one. (You would be taking advantage of that in the future.)
Dawn then shoved your head back toward Hank’s throbbing cock. You eagerly opened your mouth, capturing the bulbous head between your lips and letting her shove you down until you gagged on him.
“Now make Daddy cum.” She told you.
“Jesus christ.” Hank swore. “You better not start with that shit too,” He told Dawn offhandedly. Obviously he hated how much he loved Dawn calling him that name.
She leaned over to him and pressed her lips right up against his ear.
“Don’t even pretend you hate it.”
#sundrop writes#dawn granger x reader#hank hall x reader#hank hall x reader x dawn granger#dc titans fanfiction#titans fanfiction#titans#dc titans x you#dc titans#dc titans x reader#dc fanfiction#titans x reader
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SUPERBOARD
Chapter 3: N/S
Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader
Word Count: 5.7k
General Synopsis: S_Class started off as a street racing team, built between friends but as the adrenaline rush died down, racing wasn’t enough. N/S was formed. What started off with petty crimes, quickly spiraled into a string of organized crime.
Warnings: Mentions of sex PALACE. Mentions of violence, weapons, drugs, growing weed,
Added: If you would like to tour the N/S House please click here:
Bedrooms
Personal Rooms
Common Spaces
A/N: Holy shit this one took a lot out of us...
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, this does not represent the idols mentioned in any way.
please DO NOT rewrite, translate, or repost this fic. Thank you.
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You didn’t sleep that night, your brain was too busy pestering you about the idea of needing to choose between Limitless, and S_Class. Your mind twisted with Felix’s words of warning. How would choosing a crew be a lifetime commitment? Who was Domino? Why was ‘Jinnie’ offered up? In what way was ‘Jinnie’ offered to you? Why did Jake let you spend the entire time with the S_Class crew? Was he sick of you? Was his plan to pawn you off to them? What would he gain from letting you lean towards S_Class? What would he gain if you joined Limitless? The more you learned about each group the more you wondered if these were just racing teams, or if you’d actually been brought into some weird type of cult.
Why could questions only be answered by the respective groups? What the fuck and why the fuck are they so secretive? What about the weapons? Fighting? And seriously who the fuck was Domino, and why did Phobia look so pained to even hear the name? What had Phobia done for them to bring something clearly painful to him up?
All the questions you had, would either go unanswered or you could find out. IF you joined S_Class. Limitless showed no real interest in you. Felix was right, they had handed you off from the get go. Sure Oddinary and NoEasy were both clear ring leaders with power over both groups you couldn’t even begin to comprehend, but if what Felix said was true, if Limitless wanted you, they’d have fought them and made one of their own members show you around.
You were exhausted. Tossing and turning all night, from everything. The more you thought on it, the more questions you had. You wanted to know what was going on with S_Class, you wanted to know why Phobia looked so distressed. You wanted to know why you even cared about his stupid fucking emotions, when he had treated you like nothing more than a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, that he was trying desperately to get off him.
As you walked through the halls of your university, you couldn’t help but almost want to avoid both Jake and Felix, and whoever the fuck Yeosang was.
“No name!” a black haired boy dressed in a pair of baggy black pants, a white tee and an oversized leather jacket comes jogging up to you, waving at you. You recognize him from the race yesterday, he was glued to NoEasy. AH! Double Knot.
“Uh…”
“Jeongin,” he says, and quickly notices the confusion on your face.
“Hi?”
“Oh uh, sorry. You might know me as-”
“No, no I know who you are, I just didn’t expect you to be here.” You feel an arm drape over your shoulder from behind you and you turn quickly to see Felix smiling at you and the boy standing in front of you.
“Nah, Innie here is just a baby, he’s still gotta attend classes you know Princess?” Felix teases in a sing-song tone. “Just because he’s dicking down one of the leaders, doesn’t mean she gives him a free pass on skipping classes,”
“You’re just mad I landed on one of the sisters and you didn’t.” Jeongin puffs out his chest, obviously proud of the girl he gets to call his, a smug smile pursed on his lips.
“Interesting way to describe my sister.” Oddinary huffs as she walks past, with Maniac in tow.
“Shut it Kierra, you know it's true!” Felix laughs.
“Remember your place Felix.” Maniac seethes at Felix.
“Ooh big scary Minho, is threatening me in school! Common man, go back to quietly simping for your girl.” Felix teases, making kissy faces at Maniac, no, Minho. Dear god this is gonna get confusing.
“I'm not a simp?” Minho says and rolls his eyes at Felix’s childish antics.
“You took an extra year to make sure she’d be safe. That's simping.” Jeongin adds.
“That's loyalty.” Oddindary, nope, Kierra says brushing Felix off your shoulder. “You pick a side yet No Name?”
“That’s my job?” Felix huffs, as you see Jake running up to the group of people that circled around you.
“Jakey boy, here to find out the answer?” Felix teases, pushing and poking at Jake’s arms.
“Partially that, partially to figure out where Seungmin is, dude was supposed to meet me like ten minutes ago.”
They’re all watching you, waiting for some sort of answer. Earlier you had thought you came to the conclusion that you knew exactly where you’d land and pick neither group. But now, with them all in front of you. You were once again conflicted. Jake had come alone, once again. Meanwhile S_Class had presented themselves in front of you. Each waiting eagerly for your response.
“I-” you look between Jake and the S_Class crew, eyes landing on Felix. “I think I’m a bit more comfortable with you guys…”
“You made the right choice No Name.” Kierra said, patting your head gently.
“I’ll tell Akira.” Jeongin said, fishing his phone out of his pocket.
“Today you ride with me, and Hyunnie.” Kierra says. “We have a lot of work to be done before you're brought into the crew fully, Hyunnie will be your guide for that part. While Akira and I find you a spot, you good to leave your car here overnight or?”
“I don’t have one-” you say a little shyly and the people surrounding you all gasp. It does seem a little silly to join a racing team and not have a car…
“I can work with this.” Kierra nods slowly. “Surely I got something around. Maybe Bin can whip something together for you. Can you at least drive?” You nod your head. “Wonderful, meet me at the back end of the school at one. Don’t worry about whatever classes you have.”
~𝄋~
You look at the clock displayed on your phone, the time read twelve fifty-eight. You were early. Something inside you told you, you didn’t want to push Kierra’s buttons when you’d be riding with her. You look up and see Phobia walking towards you. God he’s even more beautiful in the day time, the sun kissing his tan skin making it look like he’s fucking glowing.
“No name,” he says coldly as he stands next to you.
“Phobia.” you say shyly to greet him back.
“Call me Hyunjin here. It’s fine.” You’re playing with your fingers again, super uncomfortable with his cold disposition. “I see you dropped the Limitless losers.”
“Felix made a compelling argument last night.”
“With his dick?” You turn to him quickly and look at him in shock. What the fuck did he think you were? Did he think it was that you were that easy?
“Absolutely not?!”
“He didn’t fuck you? Progress buddy, fucking progress!” Hyunjin laughs, but there was still a bit of seriousness to his praise to his friend.
“So, where's Kierra?” you ask, shaking off the weird vibes that surrounded you both from his previous questioning.
“Getting her ‘child’ she should be here in a second. You’ll hear that monster of a practice car in a moment.” He emphasizes the word child on purpose. You just rolled your eyes at his comment and chose to ignore it.
You hear the car before you see it. Kierra pulls up in a red Subaru wrx, her speakers blaring music as she smiles out the window at you and Hyunjin. You both wordlessly get in the car. You didn’t really ask where you were going, as the rules stated, “any information deemed worthy will be given”. Here we fuckin go I guess.
~𝄋~
The drive was fairly long, for someone who was speeding down the highway at speeds that would kill you on impact if you were to somehow crash. Music blaring through the speakers, the bass reverberating through the car. Sending wave after wave of sound, physically through your chest. No one spoke the entirety of the way. Even with her speeding, the ride was roughly two hours long. By the time anyone said anything, you were headed into a forested area. You had no clue where you were. Your surroundings all looked the same. There was barely anything around, the only things that surrounded the lone road were tall trees and deep dark woods. There was no one else on the road. No cars for miles. The car stops, and both Oddinary Kierra, and Phobia Hyunjin turn to face you.
“This is your last chance to back out. Before I give you any information I need you to think very carefully,” Kierra looks at you seriously through the rearview mirror. “This is a lifetime commitment, this is much more than just a racing crew. You can back out now, all you want; but if you choose to continue in, there's no backing out.”
“Not if you value your life that is…” Hyunjin whispers,
“My- what? My life?”
“Think about it, no name. Think about it deeply.” They both turn to look at you seriously. Kierra’s seriousness was a little unnerving.
What have you gotten yourself into? There was no information to make this decision, when you had originally made it you thought this would simply just be some team. A sports team of sorts. Now they’re saying your life would depend on your decision? Somehow this isn’t what's holding you back from wanting to continue on with them. Life has been pretty boring, stressful, and lately just not worth.. Continuing. Every move, every new school, every friend group made and lost, your family who cared about no one other than themselves. All of it added up, into what you were before moving to Seoul, to what you knew you would become the second you could escape them. “Can I have one question?”
“You just asked one.” Hyunjin quips back at you. His tone is serious. He obviously doesn't trust you at all or like you very much.
“Shoot.” Kierra rolls her eyes at Hyunjin, slapping his shoulder.
“I have a shit family-” you start, “They move me around often. They don’t think of anyone but themselves. If this is a lifetime commitment, what happens if they decide to pick up and leave again?” Hyunjin looks at Kierra, he tightens his brows together and shakes his head slightly as if to say ‘no’. Kierra just looks back with a slight pout to her lips and nods affirmatively.
“Now let me answer that with a question,” Kierra asks. “Do you want to leave? If you had the option to stay, ignoring the money, and where you’d live. Would you? If you had a-” she pauses, picking her words carefully, “if you had a makeshift family, who would support you, financially, mentally, physically. Would you stay?”
“I would.”
“Then you wouldn’t be moving.” Kierra says matter-of-factly. “If you choose to continue, you’d have all of that and more.”
You think over her words. What have you really got to lose if you continue? The family who doesn't care about you? Kierra is offering you that family. They’re offering you so much more than you could get at home. “Then I’ll go on.” Kierra nods, as she slowly pulls the car forwards onto a gravel path. The forest thickens around you, until you reach a large clearing with a modern mansion in front of you. The house is massive from the outside, windows surrounding the front of the house, a large staircase leading to the front door, with an entrance to a garage right next to it. The house looks like it goes on forever. Kierra pulls in slowly to the driveway, from the outside; you don’t see how the driveway leading into the garage actually slopes downwards. She continues in slowly, the fluorescent lights all turning on as the motion from the car triggers their sensors. As the dark garage brightens you notice you’ve entered what looks like to be a garage the size of one that you’d typically find in apartment complexes. Who the fuck has a garage this big? You see the line of cars all parked in designated spots labeled with each person's name carefully written into a metal plate placed on the wall.
Kierra pulls into the spot that is marked with her name. Each of you getting out of the car.
“Hyunnie,” Kierra calls,
“Ki.” Hyunjin turns back to her.
“Be a doll?”
“Yes ma’am.” Hyunjin says and he turns to you and says “I’ll be back,” before he heads out of the garage.
“So, no name. What’s your name?” Kierra asks as she leads you towards the stairs. You walk past another garage, much smaller, but had a shit ton of equipment in it, music blasting throughout the room. She walks with you up the stairs and into a huge living room with black couches and windows that reach the tall ceilings. You both continue to walk into the living room and you can see the kitchen a bit further away.
“Y/N.” you say as you look around the place in absolute awe.
“Well, Y/N. Welcome to N/S base.” She motions her hand towards the couch, wordlessly telling you to sit on the black clothed couch. “This is where we work, plan, play, and live. Everything is done here.” Kierra says fondly as she looks around the room. You notice a large table behind her couch, with enough seating for 18 people. You see a staircase that leads to a loft above the living room. The house was all greyscale, blacks, grays, whites, and wood tones decorated most of the house that you have seen so far. Kierra turns to you a little more seriously. “This is our safe space, where we can do what we want when we want. Without the world telling us we’re wrong.”
“This is our haven.” NoEasy says as she walks up with Hyunjin in tow. “And now yours as well.”
“Mine?” you ask confused, looking between the two girls and Hyunjin.
Kierra hums and nods her head, “Jinnie will show you around while Akira and I work out the specifics. You’ll meet with Hanji later. I find it’s best to learn on the job.” Kierra smiles smugly as she winks at her sister. Hyunjin stiffens next to NoEasy Akira.
“Ki-” Hyunjin stops Kierra before she continues. “Ki, are you sure sending her out with Ji is a good idea?” Kierra looks at him and gives him a look.
“For now. You need to understand what you’ve been brought into.” Akira cuts him off before he says anything else. You are fully confused now. “I’m sure Hyune has mentioned, not to ask questions. Well now is your time to defy him, ask away.” You have just been given a gift. Any question you want. What the fuck do you ask first??
“I thought your team name was S_Class. What is N/S?” You ask carefully.
“S_Class is our team name.” Hyunjin answers quickly. “N/S is the organization that owns S_Class. Next Question.”
You're starting to piece things together - large house, many cars, code names, ‘Without the world telling us we’re wrong’, secrecy, your life depending on your decisions. Ahh, you got it. “What sort of business owns an illegal street racing team?”
“An illegal business?” Hyunjin says snarkily, folding his arms across his chest.
“Jinnie,” Kierra scolds..
“Ki, babe seriously what kind of question is that? Did you really expect me not to say something back?” Hyunjin whines. You see Minho jump over the back of the couch and pull Kierra into his side.
“Watch your tone, Hyunjin.” Minho threatens.
“Yeah, whatever. Next question.” Hyunjin waves him off, looking back at you to continue.
“If N/S is the organization that owns you all-”
“Let me stop you there, N/S owns the team love.” Minho stops you before you have the chance to finish your sentence. “The ones who own us all, are sitting in front of you.” He points his finger between Kierra and Akira. A look of shock crosses your face. How in the fuck do these two women own all of these dudes? Were they slaves? Sex Slaves? Why are you here?
“So you’re a gang.” You say carefully.
“Bingo baby,” Minho snaps his fingers and leans back to Kierra, gripping her thigh between his hand.
“I see,” you nod in understanding. “So, why am I here?”
“Jinnie.” Kierra calls. “Be a doll?”
“Yes ma’am.” Hyunjin says and leaves the room again. You notice that whenever Kierra calls him ‘doll’ he goes off without a single word further of what he has to do. Like it's ingrained in him somehow. But without missing a beat, Akira continues for her sister.
“To put it simply, we recently lost a member.” Akira says calmly. “Replacing a member takes time. Now I didn’t expect 7PM to just go and drop a replacement in our lap like that, but all is fair on S_Class territory. They lost their chance, not that you’d fare well with them anyways.”
“That brat The8 would’ve eaten her alive,” Minho seethes through his teeth.
“My love?” Kierra says in a sing-song voice.
“Yes, kitten?” Minho responds back immediately.
“Why don’t you go play with Innie, I’m sure he has a broken down new toy, waiting to be fixed. I heard it runs quite fast.” Kierra says and looks to her sister. Minho smirks at her and kisses her temple before getting up and leaving the room.
“I love those kinds of toys,” Minho chuckles, rubbing his hands together. You look at him in confusion. What the fuck are they talking about.
“Make sure Innie doesn’t go too hard after it, please? I’d like to actually see it today.” Akira chimes in before he can leave.
“And Minho?” Kierra calls out, Minho turning around to look at her. “We don’t want a parrot.” Minho nods, the smile on his face is devious, scary. He looks excited to play with this toy. Minho leaves the room and the girls turn back to you.
“So before I send you off with Hyune, we’re gonna have to get some rules straight okay?” Akira says and waits for your undivided attention. “Rule number one, everyone has a job. Respect it. Unless asked to help, stay out of their way.” You nod and her sister continues.
“Rule number two. Nothing that happens within this group ever, EVER, leaves the group.” Kierra says, nodding to herself.
“Rule three, ALWAYS make sure to present yourself as irreplaceable. Everyone is replaceable, make sure we don’t ever want to cut you lose.” Akira rattles off. You notice that the two of them are bouncing back and forth throughout this whole ordeal, as if it is well rehearsed, something that is shared between the two of them, two equals.
“Rule four, do not EVER speak of past members, they’re gone for a reason. Hopefully, you’ll never have to witness someone leaving.” Kierra says the last part a little sadly. You take a mental note to ask about that next time you have permission to ask questions.
“Rule five,” Hyunjin returns to the living room between Akira’s words. “Do not EVER, mention the name N/S or 7PM to ANYONE outside the organizations.” Kierra looks at Hyunjin and nods to him.
Hyunjin walks up to you and motions his head for you to follow him, “lets go No Name.” He leads you to the top of the grand staircase, up to the top floor. “Kierra and Akira designed this house to have everything we need.” Once you reach the top of the staircase, Hyunjin motions his hand down the hallway for you to continue further. “This is the top floor. Kierra and Akira live up here. To the right, is Kierra’s room.” He opens the door to a black bedroom, bed facing the windows with a black bedspread, black pillows and black blanket draped across it. The walls are painted gray with black accent pieces, minimal lighting. The large windows have sheer gray curtains hanging in front of them. You’re led further into her room and enter her bathroom, her closet attached at the end. The bathroom is a stark contrast to the bedroom. The walls, floor, and countertops are covered in a bright white tile, the same gray curtains hanging around the windows in front of the white bathtub (which could definitely fit 3 people easily). At the end of the bathroom was her closet, which matched the bedroom. Black walls, black cabinets and smaller wardrobes lined the whole room. You took note that there were mens and womens clothing in her closet. Did Minho share the room with her? “She’s got what she needs here, closet, bathroom, whatever. Never come up here if you’re not called to. You will most likely never need to come into her room, but you might be called up in general because across the hallway is her office. Kierra handles- The” Hyunjin pauses as he leads you out of her room and across the hall to her office. “Physical plans.” He opens the door and you’re brought into a very plain looking office. Wood fixtures decorated the room, a lone desk sat at the end of the room.
“To the Left is Akira. Her room, she's got everything she needs, closet, bathroom. You get it.” He leads you into Akira’s room which you notice is the complete opposite of her sisters. Her bed is decorated with a white bedspread, white pillows, and a gray blanket. Her walls are lined with mirrors to brighten the room when the light hits it. Her bathroom was the opposite of Kierra’s as well, black and gray tiling lined the room and dark wood cabinetry finished it off. Her closet, also at the end of her bathroom, was again opposite of Kierras. White tiling on the floor, white shelving, and bright light fixtures. You also noticed that there were mens clothing in Akira’s closet too. “Across the hall, is her office. Akira handles more of the logistics.” He leads you out of Akira’s room and across the hall to a large office, black flooring, black walls, black furniture, a large black desk with computer monitors and paperwork filed neatly across it. There was plenty of seating in her office as well. You assume this is where they hold some of their important meetings.
“So, the brains and the brawn?” You ask carefully.
“They’re both the brain and the brawn, but they know how to play to their strengths. Plus, not like Ki will ever let Akira get into a fight without her. Nor will Akira let Ki go into a business deal without her. Together or nothing. Is this their favorite saying.” He says proudly. You take note that he calls Kierra by Ki when he drops his bad boy facade in front of you. What’s up with them? You wonder.
“Next floor.” He announces as he leads you to the next level down. “Three bedrooms down here, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin.” He walks all the way down the hallway and to the right. “Chan’s room.” He opens the door to a pretty minimalist looking room. The walls are lined with a glossy gray tile, soft lighting scattered throughout the room, a bed centered on the back wall. His bathroom was lined with a darker gray tile, with the same warm lighting, as was his closet. The closet was decorated with dark wood cabinetry and glass doors. Hyunjin leads you out of Chan’s room and across the hall. “Changbin.” You’re starting to recognize a theme. All the rooms in the house that you’ve seen are either black, gray, or white. There was no in between. This room was no different. The walls were lined with half white marble tile at the bottom and accented wood paneling at the top half. The bed is situated adjacent to the windows, his bathroom a mix of gray and white tiling, and his closet a warm charcoal. Hyunjin leads you out of this room and further back towards the stairs to another room. He leads you into the gray room, the bed fixed in the middle of the room, his bathroom a mix of black, white and marble tile, and his closet lined with dark black cabinetry. He takes you from Jisung’s room and across the hall. “Jisung, and this is a personal room. It belongs to Chan. Do not go in unless invited.” He quickly opens the door and you can see what looks like a recording studio. You can’t see much inside before Hyunjin closes the door in your face quickly.
“A lot of rooms huh-”
“Eighteen full rooms, eleven bathrooms, six common spaces, and a greenhouse. In the backyard, passing the pool.” Hyunjin says incredibly casually. As if it was completely normal to have a house of this size. Even though, now that you’re thinking about it, the house didn’t look that big on the outside. Maybe 3 floors tops. Where are the rest of the rooms he’s talking about? He’s leading you back downstairs to the living room where you left the two girls. They’re no longer there. “Ground floor.” Hyunjin says as he continues walking through the living room and past the kitchen towards a hallway with 4 doors. “This section has two rooms, two personal rooms. On the left is Seungmin.” His room has to have the most personality you’ve seen, the walls covered in half gray bricking and half bookcase. His bed is situated against the windows. His bathroom and closet are a bland gray. “And next to his room is his personal room.” He leads you next door to a room decked out in computers, random equipment that you wouldn't even be able to name if you tried. “Across from him, Felix.” You take back what you thought before. This room has more color and personality than Seungmin’s. His room was painted gray, but was decorated in red lighting, lining the ceiling. And a large mirror sat behind his bed. His bathroom and closet were also decorated with the same red lighting in contrast to the gray walls and floors. “Trust me when I say, you don’t even want to walk into Felix’s personal room, especially if you’re invited into it.”
“Why-” you ask confusedly as Hyunjin escorts you to the room next to Felix’s. He rolls his eyes and flings the door open.
“O-oh, oh my god.” The best way for you to describe this room was a sex dungeon. Fixtures that you have never seen before were placed throughout the room, bright red lighting, similar to what was in his bedroom, lined the entire room.
“Now you know what you’re in for, if you’re ever invited in there” Hyunjin laughs watching your shocked expression. He trudges along, back past the living room and kitchen again and down another hallway. “My room.” His room was probably the coziest one you saw today. His walls a warm cream, a wood accent wall decorated behind his bed, and a fireplace? His bathroom was a mix of black and wood features, and his closet stark gray and black. He leads you across the hall to another door. “And my personal space. If you ever come in here without permission, I’ll kill you.” Hyunjin quickly opens the door to his space, a brightly lit room, canvases, paints, and sketches pinned to the walls. An explosion of color from the rest of the house. Two of the walls of his room are lined with windows, looking out to the pool and the greenhouse. You looked around the room in awe. How could someone so cold have the brightest, most colorful room in the whole house? He quickly ushers you out of his studio and across the hall again, stopping at the door, his hand on the handle. “Lastly, this will be-” he can’t seem to come to the right words, pausing his movements. “It will be your room.” Hyunjin says, basically wincing as he says the words. “Go at it. Walk in, familiarize yourself with it.”
You walk into the room to a pretty bland room. Two walls covered in a white tile, one covered in black tile, and the last wall a line of windows. The bed is plain cream and white. “It’s uh-” You walk further into the room, the bathroom has nice white marble flooring white gold accents throughout, the walls a gray tile with white accents throughout. You walk into the closet last. The room is completely white, with gold accents on the drawers, bright lighting lining the cabinetry, and a squishy carpet draped across the floor.
“You can decorate it how you want.” Hyunjin shifts from foot to foot as you walk through the closet. “But please- try to-”
“Jinnie built that closet, custom.” Kierra sighs from the doorway. “So please take care of this entire room, or he will never forgive you for it.”
“Oh- okay,” You say slightly confused as to why Hyunjin is being so weird about this room in particular. “Umm, so about this being my room…”
“You can start to move in whenever, bring whatever you want from home.” Kierra says to you, elbowing Hyunjin to snap out of his weird fog.
“How will I even explain this to my parents?”
“Leave that to Aki, and I.” Kierra continues to poke and prod at Hyunjin who is trying his best to ignore her and whisper to her ‘not now i'm working’. Seriously, what the hell is up with their weird dynamic?
“Anyhow, I need to run to meet with Min, so I’ll be back by the time you’re set to head off with Hanji,” Kierra starts to head toward the door before turning around quickly. “And Jinnie?”
“Yes ma’am?”
“Do me a favor?” He nods to affirm to her he’s listening. “Lighten up sweetheart, stress doesn’t suit you my love.” Kierra smiles wide and leaves the room. Did she just call him ‘my love’??? Isn’t she dating Minho???
“Ignore her,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “You can explore your personal room after, you still need to see the rest of the house.”
“The rest? There’s literally no way anything else can fit itself in here.” Hyunjin smirks at you and leads you towards the stairs you came up from the garage earlier. “Oh,” he turns to the left towards the kitchen, between the kitchen and the staircase is yet another door. “This is the library, could also be considered our designated quiet room. It’s soundproof. Nice place.” You peak your head in through the door and see every wall lined with bookcases, every space of the shelving filled with books. You can see a small seating area that is down a small set of stairs inside the library. He leads you back to the stairs and leads you down towards the garage, stopping at the door you saw earlier.
“Changbins personal room, this is the one room you’ll find yourself in more often than most.” The room was covered in tools, tires, basically anything that had to do with fixing up cars. There wasn’t anyone in there anymore. He leads you out of the room and down the steps. You’re back in the garage. He walks across the garage to another set of doors. “These two rooms both belong to Minho and Jeongin.” He opens the door to a dance studio, wood flooring, and wall covered in mirrors. “Though, I admit I come here too sometimes.” He walks to the next room. “Unfortunately I can’t let you actually walk in here, but this is their other room.” He opens the door and the walls are lined with guns, a huge wood table centered in the room with black office chairs surrounding it. WHO THE FUCK OWNS THIS MANY GUNS? “Down the hall you’ll find two doors. To the left, you go upstairs exiting near the green house. To the right, you'll find another basement.” You walk down the other set of stairs. This house was a maze, how in the fuck were you supposed to remember where everything was. You entered a huge training room with a boxing ring at the center.
“Training room. Behind those glass doors is the gym. Gym is for personal time, training area is for group activities, or if you’re training with someone else. As long as you’re never alone.” You head back up the stairs and out to the backyard. “That is Jisungs personal space.” He points to a huge glass greenhouse covered in vines.
“He’s a florist?”
“Of sorts.” Hyunjin laughs, and you both walk in and are immediately hit with the scent of weed.
“I see,” you say as you shake your head. Hyunjin chuckles and walks you back inside to the living room.
“And that’s that. Any questions?”
“How-”
“Rich kid perks I guess,” Hyunjin shrugs.
“How do two people so well off end up becoming gang leaders?” You mumble. “If I had that life I’d-”
“Best not to ask questions about their past. Or anyone’s past here. We’re all here for a reason Little Star, try not to act like you shine brighter than the rest of us.” You can tell that he’s basically saying ‘youre no better than us.’ “Last thing kid,” he sighs. “There's one other rule you need to know, it will be your golden rule.” You nod your head, waiting on his words. “Everything goes through Kierra and Akira. Every, single, little, thing. Need a bathroom break? Make sure they approve. You want to even breathe in their presence? Make sure they fucking approve. Don’t even blink if they don’t say you can.”
“W-what- Surely it’s not that extreme…”
“One thing those two value more than loyalty, is organization, and no one. I repeat, no one is better at it than them. Therefore everything must go through them. Tell me you understand this- please Y/N…” He’s never said please to you before. It’s almost a little concerning how desperate he is for you to understand his “golden rule”, but he looks pretty stressed about making sure you fully understand it. You nod your head and you can see him relax his shoulders slightly. Why is this stressing him out so much?
Tags @chanlixiiee @channiesbub @jaebaebaegot7 @maeleelee @iadorethemskz @maenijw @hangin-out-with-the-street-rats @elizalabs3 @jinniespuppy @painstakingly-juno @lethallyprotected @multeciahucho @@jisungsbff01
#skz fluff#skz smut#hyunjin#lee felix#skz hyunjin#skz felix#skz fic#stray kids stay#stray kids fluff#stray kids smut#stray kids hyunjin#stray kids felix#skz#stray kids#hwang hyunjin fluff#hwang hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin hard hours#slow burn#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x you#stray kids fan fic#stray kids fic#stray kids x y/n#skz x y/n#skz x stay#stray kids x stay#stray kids x you#hyunjin x female reader#hyunjin x y/n
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I am obsessed with ‘The Highland Fox and The English Rose’ please I have questions:
What inspired you to write this?
Do you know how talented and incredible you are?
Have you seen outlander by chance?
(Spoiler question): In meters, how big is Laid! Lucien? Or are we to find out with Miss Elain?
If you would like….could you share a little snippet of any part of the series? (You can every share deleted scenes—I am in love)
What does your research process look like?
Feel free to answer this ask after the series has ended! Hope you’re doing well! Please forgive my enthusiasm.
First of all, do you know how insanely sweet and amazing you are??
This is such a lovely comment that absolutely made my day!! I love your enthusiasm! I apologize for the delay but I’ve been steadily working on this ask, because I want to give it the attention it deserves.
(More under the cut, including a very brief snippet from the next chapter, because idk how to write succinctly)
Honestly, my only inspiration for this fic was general vibes😂 I’ve been reading a lot of historical romances lately, and in my American mind, Scotland is such a romanticized area of the world that is still recognizable to readers that I thought it would be fun to explore. And selfishly, I thought that Lucien would look hot in a kilt and wanted to write about that.
I’ve seen a few episodes of Outlander, but I’m more familiar with the books (at least the first two or three). I didn’t realize until very recently that maybe SJM based Lucien somewhat off of Outlander’s main man, Jamie Fraser, but I feel very smug for picking up what SJM was throwing down.
Hmm, how big is Lucien (what parts do you mean😏😏??) I imagine him tall but not excessively so—maybe 1.87 or 1.88 meters (around 6’ to 6’1 for the Americans). I headcanon Elain more on the shorter side, so Lucien doesn’t need to be huge to get that size difference we all know and love (unless you meant his dick, in that case Elain will definitely learn sooner rather than later)
My research is never ending. I start with large ideas and concepts (Scotland in the 17-18th centuries, looking over clan maps, etc.) then narrow it down as topics come up (in canon Lucien has a metal eye, but those have never really existed in our world, so when were glass eyes invented and accessible to the public? What did people in the Highlands eat and wear? Were pencils around during this time period, or was everyone writing with ink and quills?) and so on. I don’t have access anymore to Jstor for academic articles so I’m mainly confined to articles and blogs online. For those, I try to look to see if the author lists their sources for the article—if they do, I generally consider it a good enough source. It’s even better if I’m able to find a good primary source, like paintings and pamphlets, to describe something.
All that being said, if something I want to write isn’t quite historically accurate but the vibes are sexy, I’m probably gonna go with whats fun and sexy. I’m doing this for myself and for free and I’m not being graded—who cares if the colors in someone’s kilt isn’t accurate because there’s no native plants that color the people would have used as dye?
Thank you again for your support and enthusiasm and all your lovely comments on my fic! Truly, seeing people get excited over this makes me so happy and is keeping me so motivated!
Finally, a little snippet from the next chapter…
Lucien woke, as he had every morning since the day after his wedding, hard as his dirk.
Sighing, he threw his quilt off his heated body and leaned up on his elbows to stare at his cock, a slight frown as on lips. He had hoped his body would have gotten the hint by now that it wasn't going to have any company other than his hand for a while. Apparently, his little tryst with Elain last night had convinced it otherwise.
He looked over to his window. The window was slightly ajar, and the thin, gauzy curtains framing the glass fluttered softly as the gentle breeze brought the earthy scent of the loch into Lucien’s room. The sun was out with hardly a cloud spoiling the bright blue sky overhead. It was going to be a beautiful day, and he really needed to get out of bed and begin his long list of tasks.
That could wait a few minutes, though.
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𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐑𝐚𝐭
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 Mary loves watching his little Rat pleasuring himself like this.
𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Mary x Copia (Mary is trans and AFAB in this fic)
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 Smut (18+ only, MINORS DNI or I'll take one sock from each pair of socks you own so that you never have a matching pair for the rest of your life). Boot humping, pet play, oral (Mary receiving), descriptors of cock, dick, clit, and nub used to describe Mary's genitals so if any of these terms are uncomfortable or triggering please don't read!
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 849 words
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 Listen. Listen, okay. I'm so weak for Copia dressed as a little rat. The terms I have used to describe Mary's genitals are words that I use to describe my own as a trans AFAB person, but I'm aware that there are trans AFAB ppl who don't like to use some of the terms I have so if these make you uncomfortable or dysphoric please don't read. Your comfort is much more important than a fic! This hasn't been proofread bc I'm actually in the middle of a lesson lsekndsfjhd
𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 𝐓𝐢𝐩 𝐉𝐚𝐫
Mary can’t help but salivate at the sight before them. Had you told them an hour ago this was how their evening was going to pan out they’d have laughed and told you to stop doing so many drugs. But now, as they sit back in their makeshift throne, they think that maybe this is the best turn of events that could have been thrown their way.
“What’s wrong, Rat? Not enough for you?” His voice is taunting as he smirks down at the man at his feet. “You know what to do if you want more. Come on. Say it.”
His little rat, decked out in grey and silver silks and lace, bucks his hips with a whine. For the most part, his Papal paints are still in place. It’s only the lips that are smudged, black and white smearing into a mess of grey from where Mary’s lips have melded against his in a bruising kiss.
“Please,” Copia hisses through gritted teeth, “I need more.”
They hum and lean forward, running a hand through the tousled brown and grey hair atop his head. “More what?”
There’s a moment of hesitation and Mary wonders if they’ve pushed too far too soon. They’re both new to this relationship and this dynamic and the last thing Mary wants is to push Copia into a place that he feels uncomfortable and resentful. He’s not said the safe word yet, however, and that’s the only reason they’ve not ended the scene.
Averting his gaze, the former cardinal speaks once more. “I need more, Master. Please, give me more.”
Relieved, they lean back and begin to press their boot a little harder against Copia’s clothed cock. Their lover moans and tilts his head back as he bites his lip, exposing his bare neck and the bites that adorn his blushing skin.
“Go ahead, my little Rat. I know you want to.”
He practically purrs as he watches and feels Copia hump and rock against the sole of his boot. Papa’s hands, clad in fingerless grey gloves with a squishy pad of pink attached to his palms, grip onto Mary’s boot as he pleasures himself. It’s an unreasonably arousing vision that makes his cock twitch in the confines of his ripped jeans. He palms it, releasing a shuddering sigh as Copia watches him.
“Oh, Master, please let me watch you touch yourself. Need to see how good you feel.”
Mary doesn’t need any further encouragement or persuasion, momentarily taking his foot away from Copia’s groin as he pulls his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and spreads his legs at the knees. Copia shuffles over to the foot he’d been humping and desperately lifts it back into position, licking his lips as he watches his partner run a couple of fingers through his slit and up to his engorged nub.
“Is this what you wanted to see, Rat? Hm?” They gather slick with their middle finger and their hips jolt briefly as it comes into contact with their clit. “Wanted to see my pretty little cock while you fuck yourself on my foot? Such a dirty little Rat.”
The former cardinal mewls, nodding his head as he rolls his hips against the bottom of their boot. “W-want to suck it, Master. Can I suck it? Please?”
Mary’s hand threads through brown and grey hair as they push Copia’s head down to where they both want it most. A gasp followed by a soft moan tumbles from Mary’s lips as their Rat wraps his lips around their cock and sucks, tongue flicking against the sensitive nerves. He’s still humping Mary’s boot, sucking and rocking his hips in tandem. The quiet slurps and groans emanating from between their thighs has more slickness dripping from their core as they tip their head back and allow the pleasure to wash over them.
“Good Rat. Such a good, filthy Rat for Master. Gonna make me cum if you don’t stop.”
Copia’s tongue swipes through Mary’s folds, lapping up his arousal, before replacing it with two of his fingers and returning to sucking his dick. The slow but firm thrust and curl of his fingers bring Mary ever closer to his end, the pleasure coiling in his abdomen and stretching the band tighter and tighter. He’s humping the boot faster now, hips stuttering and faltering as he approaches his climax too.
It's with a shout and the jittering of his hips that Mary cums, fingers tugging at Copia’s messy hair as they ride out the high of their orgasm. Not even a second later, their beloved Rat stops moving and whimpers against their sensitive nub as he crashes over the edge and climaxes. They both pant as the wave washes over them and they finally come down from their highs.
Mary smiles drowsily as he grasps Copia’s chin and tilts it up, both to look at him and to remove his face from his overstimulated dick. He already knows without looking that some of the paint will have transferred to his thighs.
“Good Rat. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
#spicy content#mary goore#cardinal copia#papa emeritus iv#mary goore x cardinal copia#mary goore x papa emeritus iv#the band ghost#repugnant#smut#fanfic#my fanfic#mine
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