#he tried so hard to be good for so long and then his dad passed and literally like

[crowthemothman]

I thinking about mutual cnc again.

Dad forcing older siblings to rape its younger brother. It begs and pleaded not to have to do it telling its dad how much it doesn't want to. Dad saying if it doesn't that he will and he won't be gentle. The oldest doesn't want the youngest to suffer through the cruel treatment of their dad. It gives in and agrees to do the unspeakable deed. Their dad tears the clothes off them. He forces the youngest face down on the bed and ties his hands behind his back. His cries are muffled by the pillow. The oldest male roughly shoves two fingers inside his son before wrapping his free hand around his other child's cock, jerking him off at a brutal pace. The oldest looks down in horror as its cock starts to harden.

"Did you think you wouldn't get hard? Next time you should be more careful with your drink. Trust me you'll be plenty hard for our activities tonight." He laughs at the face it was making.

He pulled his fingers from his youngest hole, smacking his ass so hard the poor boy cried out and started sobbing. This didn't stop the old man at all, he grabbed his oldest by the hips he lined them up together. He rubbed the cock up and down the hole listening to his children struggle to stop from moaning.

"Are you ready? You're gonna rape your little brother and ruin him just like I did to you." Their dad said teasing the tip against the virgin hole.

"No please don't make me do this."

He slapped his son's cock making him yell and fresh tears falling down his face. Without warning he forced the head of the cock into the tight hole. Both of them yelled out one in pain and one in pleasure. The oldest tried to be nice and give that youngest a moment to adjust but their dad wasn't having in. He grabbed his oldest hips and forced its cock in and out of the younger son.

"You better fuck him good or I'll show you how it's done and you can keep doing it over and over until you learn how to do it right." Their dad whispered in his ear running his hard cock up and down his oldest ass crack. "Or maybe I'll get him a demonstration on you."

"No please don't. I'll do it the right way."

"That's my good rapetoy." he said forcing a kiss against its mouth.

From there their father stuck to a grueling pace, forcing the oldest cock deep into the youngest hole and rubbing his cock in between his oldest ass cheeks. Making load grunts in its ear, and ever so often reach in front of him to slap faces, chest, ass, anything in reach to leave his red handprint behind.

The old man's thrust start to get sloppy and his grunts and moans louder. He moves from behind his older to in front of his youngest. He forces him to look at him and smiles at the broken look in his eyes.

He grabs the boy and forces his mouth open. "Don't you fucking think about biting me." He says before forcing his cock into his mouth. The little boy gags and tries to force the older man back but it's no use. The man has already started thrusting throwing his head back and moaning. It doesn't take long for him to cum, releasing in the boy's mouth. Cum leaks from the sides of his mouth and he coughs.

"Swallow." The man commands and the boy does as he's told. The man pats his face "Good boy."

He looks at this oldest. "What's taking so long, can't cum without something in your ass. You should have just said so."

He takes his fingers and puts them into the youngest boys mouth, finger fucking his mouth until they are nice and wet. Then he got back behind it. It tried to pull away to stop what he was about to do but he smack its ass so hard more tears started to fall down its face.

Two fingers we're roughly used to stretch his ass. Only a moment passed before a brutal assault started on the special spot inside it. Its knees shook and it could barely keep its hips moving. It moaned loudly and increased the speed of its thrust. Looking at its little brother it apologized before filling up his hole with hot cum. Their father clapped while the two children could barely look at each other.

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ACCIDENTALLY CALLS ROOMMATE TOJI “DAD”

It had been a long day but the moment you walked through the door, a sense of pride bubbled up inside you.

You had just gotten your test results back and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you had accomplished something. You’d worked hard for this— studied late nights, pushed through doubts and it had paid off. The grade was a lot higher than you’d expected and you couldn’t wait to show Toji.

You tossed your bag onto the couch and hurried into the kitchen where Toji was leaning against the counter, casually scrolling through his phone.

“Hey, Toji!” you called out, unable to hide the grin on your face. You pulled the test paper from your bag and held it up with a flourishment. “Guess who passed the test!”

Toji didn’t even look up from his phone at first, but the excitement in your voice caught his attention. He raised an eyebrow, finally focusing on you. “Oh yeah? Let me see".

You handed the paper over to him, your grin widening as he examined the score. It was a solid pass and the grade was far better than what you’d expected. You could feel the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for weeks starting to melt away.

Toji looked at the test and then back at you, his usual smirk tugging at his lips. “Not bad, Kid. Looks like all that late-night studying paid off".

You stood there, waiting for his reaction, your heart beating just a little faster. You were always used to Toji’s tough exterior but the moments when he showed approval when he acknowledged your hard work, it meant a lot to you.

Toji gave a low chuckle before reaching out and gently patting your head, his large hand ruffling your hair in an affectionate, almost fatherly way. “Good job, kid,” he said, his voice soft but laced with a sense of pride that made your chest swell with warmth. “You did really good”.

Your heart skipped at his words. You weren’t used to hearing that kind of praise from anyone, let alone Toji. It felt oddly comforting and a little overwhelming like a piece of the puzzle that had been missing had just clicked into place.

Before you could think, the words slipped out before you could stop them. “Thanks, Dad”, you said, your voice quiet but filled with warmth.

You froze the instant you realized what you had said. Your eyes widened in panic and you quickly looked up at him, expecting him to react with surprise or annoyance.

Toji paused, his hand still resting on your head for a second longer as he processed your words. Then without missing a beat, he chuckled lowly, his smirk growing wider. “Did you just call me dad?” he asked, his voice amused but still genuine.

Your face went red in an instant. “I— I didn’t mean to!” you stammered, quickly pulling away from his touch. “I just… It’s just that you were all nice and… and I don’t know”.

Toji leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave you a teasing yet soft smile. “It’s fine,” he said, his tone light and playful. “You’re just grateful. I get it”.

Your embarrassment only deepened as you tried to recover from the slip-up. “I really didn’t mean it like that Toji, I swear”. You fidgeted, unsure of how to fix the situation.

He chuckled again, his voice low and soothing. “Relax kid. You don’t need to apologize. You did well. I’m proud of you. So don’t get all worked up over a little slip of the tongue”. He stepped forward, his hand gently ruffling your hair again, this time in a more comforting manner. “You’re still a good girl”.

You nodded, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you despite the awkwardness. You still couldn’t believe you’d said it but Toji wasn’t making a big deal out of it. He seemed to understand what you meant, even if the words hadn’t come out the way you’d intended.

“Thank you, Toji”, you murmured, feeling a sense of relief now that the tension had passed. You still couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed but his casual, nonchalant attitude made everything feel less awkward.

“Anytime kid”, Toji replied. His usual smirk back. “But next time, try not to confuse me with your old man, alright?”

You laughed nervously, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll try”.

[cerisereids]

𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗵 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻, 𝗘𝗴𝗴 𝗬𝗼𝗹𝗸, 𝗜 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗔𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂- 𝗦.𝗥.

Pairing- mom!reader x s18!Spencer Reid

WC- just under 1k

Summary- Spencer enjoys a quiet moment with his wife and child. If he would have known 20 years ago he’d ever be so happy, he would’ve laughed hysterically.

Contains- just a bunch of dad!Spencer fluff, one super quick Maeve mention, Spencer being the best dad ever, not proofread we die like men

A/N- divider from @thecutestgrotto!

Spencer Reid, an accomplished man of three PHDs, is on cleanup duty. The sleeves of his linen pajamas are rolled up to the elbow, his hand gripping a wet dish cloth. It's just as well, really. Cooking with a three year old activates his need to clean immensely.

"Do you want to crack the eggs?" his wife asked, gripping two white ovals in her dexterous fingers. The sight alone is enough to make his stomach turn, let alone the idea of his baby girl trying to not get shells in the egg mixture. He loves them both with everything in him. That doesn't mean he's confident in their coordination.

"Yeah!" She yells in excitement. He can't help but smile, despite his anxiety.

"Alright, you have to be really careful. No shells in the bowl now, got it?" She holds up a finger to baby Diana's chubby face, slowly handing off an egg.

Diana is oh so careful. Her two chubby hands cradle the egg, balancing it in her right hand. She hits it once, twice against the counter, a bubbly shriek spilling from her lips when it cracks.

Spencer's heart swells at the two loves of his life, working so hard on making the perfect Sunday breakfast. They have the same crease of concentration between their eyebrows. The sight feels like the sun has taken home in his chest, warming him from the inside out.

"Good job! Now crack it over the bowl!" His wife instructs, and she pulls apart the shell, the gooey liquid sloshing in the bowl.

"No shells!" She squeaks, a fierce look of pride on her face.

"Atta girl!" Spencer holds his hand up for a high five, his wife's hand running up and down her back. She kisses Diana's head before cracking another one, giving Diana the last one.

He grabs a fork, whisking the eggs together as his two girls move on to the pancake batter. His wife pours powdered Bisquick in the bowl, giving Diana measuring cups full of milk to pour in.

She approaches Spencer, sleep still lingering in her eye. Her hands graze his waist as she passes, whispering a soft, "Do you want some coffee?" in his ear.

"Please," he nods, placing a chaste kiss on her lips before she goes.

He moves to his baby girl next, his hands wrapping around her soft tummy. She's still little enough for both his hands to fit all the way around her. That won't be for long, though he tries not to think about it. The way she sprouts up gives him at least ten gray hairs a day.

"Daddy look!" She squeals, ever so proud of her work. "Pancakes!" She claps her hands in excitement, splaying powder as she did.

Spencer sneezes at the contact, and a peel of giggles spill from her lips.

"Dada!" She gasps between laughs. Spencer can't help it, he laughs too.

"Diana, was that silly?" He asks, pressing his lips to her head.

"Yes! So silly Dad!" she throws a hand up to her face, like she can't even help herself.

She's too much, so much that he scoops her up, long fingers digging into her tummy in a vicious tickle. She screams even louder, her giggles multiplying in speed and pitch.

"What is going on over there?!" His wife asks as the coffee begins percolating. The strong earthy scent fills the kitchen, easing his uncaffeinated system.

"Daddy is being too silly!" Diana breathes as Spencer slows his attack.

"He loves to be silly, he's good at that. Don't fall for it, he'll still get you!" She waves a spatula at Diana, who just snuggles into him.

He watches his wife, the early morning light filtering through the kitchen window. It cloaks her in a golden haze, like their own personal angel.

Spencer gets a quick flash of the past 20 years, of everything that's led to this moment. Joining the bureau, his eventual decision to leave, accepting a linguistics position at Georgetown, meeting the prettiest European literature professor, his wedding and the birth of Diana...he's baffled.

He thought love like this only existed for other people. He'd seen his colleagues earn it and lose it, seen them grieve and celebrate. He'd learned to be fine without it, especially after Maeve. He just accepted he was one of those people it didn't happen to, that he was always meant to be alone. He'd seen the beauty in it, the freedom in doing whatever he pleased.

It was all well and good, but the love that fills his kitchen now is thick, sticky and sweet. It fills him up like warm cocoa. His wife reaches out for the two of them, wrapping them both in her arms as far as they'll let her. For the first time in his life, Spencer Reid is truly content.

[hyuckiefluff]

call out my name | lee jeno

pairing: stepbrother! lee jeno x fem reader genre + wc: smut / enemies to lovers-ish | 17k+ summary: your stepbrother suddenly starts acting a bit different after fixing your laptop, and you wonder if it has anything to do with the endless posts you’ve made about wanting him to fuck you brainless. content warning: stepcest, voyeurism, masturbation, cheating, smoking and brief mentions of drug use, unprotected sex, hard dom jeno, oral (fem receiving), face riding weee, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, jeno is a bit mean (but like in a hot way), lmk if i missed any! a/n: haven’t written for jeno in soooo long and my body needed it. also, beatbox era jeno still has me in a chokehold, so i imagined him looking exactly like that while writing this. that mullet-undercut combo was LETHAL i need him to reheat his own nachos expeditiously. also the lowercase is back too, i'm still trying to figure out if i like this more lol ps: if u catch the twilight reference you’ll get a kiss from me :p

jeno stomped into your room, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket, jaw tight with irritation. your voice still echoed in his head.

‘fix my laptop and i won’t tell your dad you’ve been skipping almost every class since the semester started.’

fix it? he wasn’t a damn IT guy. and how the hell did you even know he’d been skipping? what were you, a stalker?

seriously, it wasn’t his fault you couldn’t take care of your stuff. and why couldn’t you just take the damn thing to a repair shop?

“i need it for college work,’ you’d said.

yeah, right. like he didn’t hear you at night. his room was right next to yours, and those walls were way too thin. not only were you loud, but you also needed headphones, because he could hear exactly what kind of videos you watched.

he exhaled sharply through his nose, stepping up to your desk. the laptop sat there, taunting him in its sickly sweet pink case covered in hello kitty stickers.

“god, what a child,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before plopping onto your chair. the cushion was still warm from you sitting there earlier. he flipped the laptop open, and a password prompt appeared.

he tried your birthday first. denied.

with a sigh, he scanned your desk. you were forgetful, he was sure you had the password written somewhere. his eyes landed on a cluster of polaroids, mostly of you and your boyfriend. he grabbed one and flipped it over. sure enough, there was a scribbled note in your messy handwriting.

‘happy anniversary, my baby ❤️’ and a date.

jeno scoffed but typed it in anyway. the screen unlocked with a soft chime.

the moment your desktop loaded, he was met with a picture of you sprawled out on a beach towel, skin sun-kissed, in a tiny white bikini that barely covered anything. jeno swallowed.

several seconds passed before he snapped himself out of it, shaking his head and forcing his attention elsewhere.

your laptop was a disaster. it was clogged with files, random downloads, and so many pop-ups it was a miracle the thing still functioned. he clicked around, deleting error files and clearing out junk.

then a notification popped up from a browser window that was open in the background.

he opened the tab out of habit, not expecting anything interesting, but then the page loaded and he had to blink twice to make sure he was seeing right.

it was a blog called ‘horny antidotes.’

"what the hell is this?" he snorted.

he scrolled, thumb hovering before tapping on a section labeled confessions. a list of posts loaded, the oldest ones stretching back to the beginning of last year. against his better judgment, he clicked the most recent entries.

i tried it again tonight. used my fingers since the new toys i got don’t really feel good either. i think my boyfriend’s starting to suspect something. it’s kinda weird that i barely get wet when he touches me (╥_╥) we even try watching porn together, but it does nothing for me. we just scroll through hundreds of videos and i feel nothing, while he gets hard so easily. so i end up sucking him off.

jeno’s brows lifted. jesus.

i get more turned on looking at pictures of LJN. but i can’t touch myself to him… it feels wrong. so i gotta find an alternative. any tips? (>д<)

LJN?

his lips parted. those were initials. your boyfriend’s? no… his.

L. J. N.

lee jeno.

his pulse jumped. before he could think better of it, his fingers typed LJN into the blog’s search bar.

hundreds of posts popped up.

he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

no fucking way.

today LJN helped me with my homework. he looked like he hated every second of it. it was hard to focus when he sat so close… his cologne makes me feel so… hot (/ω＼).

jeno dragged a hand down his face. he’s not imagining all this? right?

my boyfriend and i broke up again (kinda) (μ_μ). same reason as always… our sex life sucks. he thinks i’m not into him, but that’s not true. he tries… i just… anyway, LJN knocked on my door today. he was only wearing a towel. i almost dropped to my knees right there and then. how does someone get abs like that? god, those arms… veiny and strong… maybe i should call my boyfriend and try again…

a slow smirk stretched across jeno’s lips. so your boyfriend can’t get you off, but i make you wet that easily? he thought.

his gaze drifted to your bed. the sheets were a tangled mess, barely clinging to the mattress. did you write that post after touching yourself last night? thinking about him?

he exhaled through his nose, head shaking like he couldn’t believe it. but god, his stomach clenched at the thought of you squirming with his name in your head.

sure, he knew people found him attractive. girls threw themselves at him all the time. but you? who argued with him over stupid shit, called him an asshole just this morning while throwing a sock at his head?

you wanted him. wanted him so bad you spilled it online for strangers to read.

his gaze flicked back to the screen, to the words where you described his cologne driving you crazy.

he should’ve stopped reading but instead, he clicked on another post.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

the next morning, you woke up to find your laptop working perfectly. no note, no sarcastic comment scribbled on a post-it, nothing. just fixed.

weird.

you headed downstairs, fully expecting jeno to be in his usual morning mood, grumbling about chores, throwing half-hearted jabs just to rile you up. but when you found him on the couch, he was… quiet.

"hey," you said, grabbing a drink from the fridge. "so… thanks for fixing my laptop."

he barely glanced up, his gaze flickering over your bare legs for a heartbeat before settling back on his phone.

"yeah, no problem."

...that’s it?

you waited. no snark about your messy folders? no whining about how you owed him now?

your brows knit. "you okay?"

jeno stretched his legs, shorts riding up just enough to show more of his muscular thighs. "yeah, why wouldn’t i be?"

"i dunno," you said, eyeing him. "you’re acting weird."

he chuckled, head tilting as he shot you a lazy grin. "i’m always like this in the mornings. maybe you just don’t pay enough attention to me."

"trust me," you muttered, taking a sip from your drink, "i pay plenty of attention to you."

jeno’s lips twitched almost into a smirk.

then he hummed.

"yeah, i know."

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

the next few days, jeno turned it over in his mind—how to play this.

sure, the whole thing was entertaining, but you were still his stepsister. technically. your parents weren’t married, but they’d been together for about four years, and you’d been living under the same roof since last year.

not that you and jeno were close. you barely crossed paths, always out with friends or holed up in your room when you were home. plus, he found you immature. spoiled. maybe it was the three-year age gap, or maybe it was how quickly you’d settled in and made this place your own. his dad had asked him to be patient with you—“it’s a big change for her”—but if you were struggling, you hid it well.

especially with how you put on that perfect little act for your parents. sweet and responsible. as if you weren’t sneaking your boyfriend in through the window at night. or slipping out when you thought no one noticed. jeno noticed.

he just never cared enough to call you out. but the hypocrisy definitely grated on him. pretending to be miss goody-two-shoes when, by your own confession, you were getting railed by a guy who couldn’t even get you off?

the irony wasn’t lost on him. neither was the opportunity.

he could confront you. he’d definitely enjoy to watch you squirm, see that spark of defiance flicker into panic. tempting.

but maybe… maybe he’d keep this to himself a little longer.

drag it out and see just how much fun he could have before you caught on.

the perfect opportunity presented itself only a few days later when your parents announced their trip to italy for valentine’s day. conveniently their anniversary was also coming up, so they’d be gone for two whole weeks.

“we’ll be back next sunday,” jeno’s dad said, ruffling your hair. “don’t do anything stupid while we’re gone.”

you rolled your eyes, half-smiling, but then his tone shifted as he turned to jeno.

“jeno, take care of her. don’t let her get into any trouble. no parties or anything reckless.”

jeno nodded without a word, eyes flicking toward you before he turned back to your dad with a forced grin. “got it.”

you mom stepped forward, kissing your cheek, her hand lingering on your shoulder a moment longer. “be good, okay? we’re trusting you.” her gaze softened but held an unmistakable warning beneath it.

you knew exactly why. after all, it wasn’t like you had a spotless record. just three months ago, you had come home drunk after sneaking out to a friend’s party. what was supposed to be "just a few drinks" had turned into you singing on top of the table and someone posting it to their story. your parents found out the next morning, thanks to your neighbor, of all people, who’d seen the video. it hadn’t even been that scandalous, except for the fact that you were obviously drunk and under 21 at the time.

the hangover was bad, but the lecture was worse. "you’re lucky jeno was there to drag you home," your mom had said, shooting you a disappointed look. jeno had played the responsible older kid that night, carrying you out before things got worse. but that didn’t stop your parents from being more protective now. especially of you.

still, it annoyed you that all the warnings were directed your way while jeno stood there looking like a saint, when you knew he was anything but. sure, he hadn’t gotten wasted like you, but he was at the same party smoking weed on the back porch, making out with some girl whose name he probably didn’t even know, and encouraging shots like he was the party host. he was just lucky none of that was caught on camera, unlike you.

when the front door closed behind them, a strange silence settled over the house. you watched through the window as they loaded their luggage into the car and drove off. two weeks alone with jeno. what could possibly go wrong?

“guess it’s just us now,” you muttered.

jeno’s lips twitched into a small smile. "looks like it."

his gaze flickered over your body while you were distracted. this will be so much fun, he thought.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

the house felt bigger without your parents around. normally, you’d take full advantage by inviting friends over, staying out late, and enjoying in the freedom. but something about being alone with jeno had you on edge.

not uncomfortable, just… wary.

he’d been acting strange lately. not openly, but enough that you noticed. it was in the way he looked at you now, like he knew something you didn’t.

you were scrolling through your phone in the kitchen that night when he strolled in.

"big plans while they’re gone?" he asked, pulling open the fridge.

"nothing crazy," you said, thumb still flicking at your screen. "just enjoying the peace and quiet."

he let out a low hum, the kind that sounded like he was holding back a laugh. "right. because you’re such a quiet, well-behaved girl."

your scrolling stopped. your gaze snapped up to him. "where’s that coming from?"

jeno didn’t answer immediately. instead, he stepped closer reaching past you for a glass in the cabinet overhead. the movement brought him close enough that his cologne hit you warm, musky, annoyingly good.

"you know," he murmured, voice just above a whisper, "you might fool them. but not me."

your heart skipped. "i have no idea what you’re talking about."

he dipped his head slightly, eyes flickering to your cleavage.

"sure you don’t."

then he was gone, leaving you in the kitchen with your pulse pounding and a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

the weekend arrived quicker than expected, and despite jeno’s weirdness lately, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

until saturday.

jeno was sprawled on the couch, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his knee. his gaze drifted up just as you wandered into the living room, barefoot and still in your sleepwear—a thin tank top and shorts that barely covered your ass. you didn’t even glance his way, too focused on your phone as you padded toward the kitchen.

it was almost funny, how careless you were around him. clueless, really.

jeno bit back a smirk.

"you’re up early," he said, breaking the quiet.

you glanced over your shoulder while pouring cereal into a bowl. "uh… yeah?"

he shrugged. "figured you’d be catching up on sleep after sneaking out last night."

your hand faltered for half a second. it was subtle but enough for him to notice.

his grin widened as he leaned back against the couch cushions, arms draping lazily over the backrest. "right."

you set the cereal down with a little more force than necessary and turned to face him, arms crossed. "okay, what’s going on with you?”

"me?" he feigned innocence, eyebrows raising. "nothing, just making conversation."

your eyes narrowed, studying him. when he offered nothing else, you scoffed and turned back to the counter, muttering under your breath.

he’d never cared before. never commented on where you went or what you did. why was he suddenly so interested in you?

jeno used to treat you like background noise, a mild inconvenience at worst. now his gaze lingered longer whenever you walked into the room, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your skin prickle in ways you didn’t want to think about.

later that evening, you curled up on the couch with your laptop, half-heartedly scrolling through an assignment you had no intention of finishing. jeno sat across from you, phone in hand, occasionally flicking through something with the tv playing low in the background. it was peaceful enough… until he spoke.

"you know…" he stretched, shirt riding up just enough to expose the waistband of his boxers. "your boyfriend kinda sucks."

your fingers froze mid-typing.

"what?" you asked, tone clipped. you didn’t look up, but your jaw tightened on instinct.

he hummed, "if i were sneaking out every night, i’d hope it was worth it."

you shut the laptop with a snap. "why do you even care?"

jeno grinned, clearly satisfied that he’d gotten under your skin. "i don’t."

you stood abruptly, blood buzzing with irritation. "whatever. i’m going to bed."

he chuckled under his breath as you turned to leave, but the sound grated on you. it echoed in your head as you stalked halfway down the hall before…no. screw that.

you spun on your heel, storming back into the living room. "you don’t know shit," you bit out.

jeno glanced up, unconcerned. "about what?"

"me. my boyfriend."

that finally got his full attention. he set his phone down and tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "oh, you mean the boyfriend who keeps getting dumped and crawling back like a stray?"

your nostrils flared. "fuck you."

"i’m just saying—"

"no, you’re not ‘just saying’ anything," you cut him off, stepping closer. "you think you know everything about me just because we share a roof?"

"you’d be surprised," he shot back, annoyingly calm.

your fists clenched. "you don’t know what i need. so stop acting like you do."

for a split second, something flickered in his expression, gone too fast to name. then his usual smirk slid back into place.

"i don’t need to know what you need." he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "i already know what you want."

your breath hitched. you hated that, hated the way your pulse jumped at his words, at the confidence in his voice. what the hell did that even mean?

"you’re an asshole," you snapped. "i don’t owe you an explanation."

jeno nodded, like he agreed. "then why are you still standing here?"

your face burned with frustration, but you bit your tongue. there was nothing you could say that wouldn’t make this worse. so you did the next best thing, you turned on your heel and walked away, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

and yet, lying in bed later, the back of your mind replayed his words on a loop. you still felt like you’d lost.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

hours passed and you were still pissed.

your whole body ached with it, hot and restless, like something crawling under your skin. jeno’s words sunk in deep, wrapping around you like barbed wire, too sharp, too true.

‘your boyfriend kinda sucks’ his voice rang in your ears.

no, your boyfriend was nearly perfect. he had all the right looks, the right voice, the right everything and yet… somehow, even after months of trying, of letting him touch you, of trying to want it—

you never got turned on with him. not the way you were now after a simple argument with jeno.

your hand moved before you could think, fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts, finding that sticky warmth between your thighs. a shaky breath left you, head tipping back against the pillows. it wasn’t enough. god, it wasn’t nearly enough. you needed—fuck, you didn’t even know what you needed. just more. something to fill the ache, to drown out the way his voice echoed in your head. i don’t need to know what you need. i already know what you want.

stop.

you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to picture your boyfriend, to think about the way he kissed you, the way he whispered your name, the way he touched you.

but your body rejected it. the images blurred, twisted, morphed.

and suddenly it wasn’t his hands you were thinking about.

It was jeno’s slender fingers.

your fingertips grazed that sensitive spot, slick and throbbing, pulling a broken sound from your lips. your hips rolled up into your hand, chasing any semblance of relief. you let out a quiet, shuddering breath as your stomach clenched, your pulse kicking up as you fought it, fought him, fought the way his image took over.

but it was useless.

your body didn’t listen. it latched onto the memory of him. the way his pretty lips curled right before he was about to say something you knew would piss you off, the way his voice dipped when he was toying with you, the way his hands always fidgeted, tapping against his thigh, against his lips, always doing something.

your lips parted as your fingers moved faster, your other hand slid up your stomach, pushing up your shirt as your breath stuttered.

would he keep his rings on while touching you?

the thought sent a sharp pulse of arousal through you, your body tightening, the wetness between your thighs growing slicker.

you imagined his long fingers and the coolness of the rings against your skin. would he drag them over your stomach, trace your thighs, tease you with them first? or would he shove them inside right away?

you bit your lip, your fingers pressing down harder, teasing yourself the way he would, the way he might if he ever—

a moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it. “jeno…”

outside your door, jeno’s world fucking stopped. his body was tight, his breath stuck in his throat as he pressed himself against the wood.

he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t be standing outside your room, shouldn’t be looking through the small crack where the door hadn’t shut all the way.

but fuck.

fuck, you were so loud. did you even realize?

did you know how needy you sounded? the way your voice cracked, the way your breathing hitched, the way you whimpered when you…

jeno exhaled sharply, gripping the doorframe, trying to keep himself in check. but his mind was already too far gone. because if you were touching yourself to him, and if you were so desperate you couldn’t even keep quiet or make sure the the door was closed all the way… then maybe you wanted to get caught.

maybe you wanted him to see.

his breath came out slow and measured as he peeked through the crack, his body heating at the sight before him. the dim glow of your bedside lamp cast soft shadows over your skin, your legs spread wide, fingers buried deep inside yourself. the slick sounds of your movements, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted as you moaned his name. fuck, it was too much.

he felt himself throbbing painfully against his sweats, already aching from just watching you. his cock was so fucking hard it hurt.

he pulled himself out, his fingers wrapping around the thick length, hot and pulsing in his palm. he let out a sharp breath as he started stroking himself, matching his pace to the rhythm of your fingers slipping in and out of your pretty cunt.

he wanted to be the one touching you.

he imagined it, his fingers stretching you open, pumping in and out, his thumb circling your clit until you were shaking, whimpering against his mouth. would you let him fuck you raw the first time? god, you’d feel so good around him, so tight, clenching down on him like you never wanted him to pull out. he let out a quiet groan, biting his lip to keep himself from making any noise, even though part of him wanted you to hear him, wanted you to know exactly what you were doing to him.

your moans were getting louder, your breaths coming faster, more frantic. you were close, he could tell, your body was begging for release, and he wished, more than anything, that he could be the one to push you over the edge.

he knew that no one else could make you feel like this. not even your boyfriend, the one you pretended was enough for you. that idiot had the privilege of touching you, of being inside you, and still you weren’t getting off on thoughts of him. no, it was jeno’s name spilling from your lips as you fucked yourself.

his hand tightened around his cock, his strokes quickening. "cum for me, baby," he whispered under his breath, his forehead pressing harder against the doorframe.

maybe you heard him, maybe you didn’t, but your moans pitched higher, your fingers moving faster, your body trembling on the other side of the door. fuck—you were close, so fucking close, and he was right there with you. his jaw went slack, his breaths coming in ragged pants as the pleasure slammed into him, hot and heavy. his cock pulsed, his body shaking, cum spilling over his fingers in thick streaks as he saw you falling apart in your bed at the same time.

his body tensed, every nerve sparking as he milked himself through the high, swallowing back the urge to moan out your name. he barely had the presence of mind to tuck himself back into his sweats before he started dripping onto the carpet. that would’ve been a dead giveaway. but even as he came down from it, the heat in his chest didn’t fade. because now he knew just how badly you wanted him.

and he wasn’t going to just let it go.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

so, he was back outside your room the following night.

your door was closed all the way this time. he swallowed hard, his pulse hammering as he curled his fingers around the doorknob, testing it. it turned just a fraction before stopping. it was locked. he expected this. he had the feeling you suspected he’d seen you or at least heard you last night because you were unusually fidgety around him earlier today.

he exhaled slowly, lowering himself down until his face was level with the keyhole, his breath shallow as he listened. the obscene sounds of your fingers working between your thighs were unmistakable, each wet stroke sending another pulse of heat straight to his cock. he knew you were thinking about him again. your boyfriend wasn’t here, who the fuck else would you be touching yourself to?

he let his hand trail down, palming himself over his sweats, but this time, it wasn’t enough. he needed more.

his fingers drifted down to his pocket, curling around the small, thin tool he’d stolen from mark’s junk drawer earlier. jeno wasn’t an idiot, he knew to be prepared this time. hearing wouldn’t do it for him, he needed to see you again.

he slid the tool into the keyhole, his other hand steadying the knob as he worked it. it wasn’t his first time picking a lock. he’d done it plenty of times as a teen, sneaking into forbidden rooms at school, usually to make out with random girls. but this was different. he was breaking into his stepsister’s room so he could watch her touch herself. his hands itched, his whole body thrumming with a dangerous kind of thrill.

the lock gave a quiet click and he held his breath trying to listen for any indication that you noticed. after he thought it was safe, he twisted the handle and pushed the door just enough to crack it open.

and fuck, what a sight it was.

you were sprawled on your bed, your legs were in a butterfly position this time, your skin glistening with sweat. your shirt was hiked up all the way giving him the perfect sight of your tits. your panties were pushed down completely and he could see the way your fingers disappeared inside you. his name started slipping from your lips again, breathy, ruined. he clenched his jaw, his cock started to throb painfully at the sight.

you were so fucking beautiful like this. needy, desperate, chasing a high that only he could truly give you.

he licked his lips, watching the way your back arched, your fingers curling inside you as you edged yourself closer. his own hand slipped into his sweats, wrapping around his length, stroking slow, lazy, savoring the moment. he should leave. should close the door and pretend this never happened. but instead, he kept watching, his lips parting in a silent exhale as he imagined once again what it would be like to replace your fingers with his own.

or better yet, his cock.

you had no idea he was here. no idea you were putting on a show just for him.

there was no way in hell he was going to stop now.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you’d been locking your door more often now. you weren’t sure why. it didn’t make sense, but the feeling just wouldn’t go away. the feeling that you were being watched.

maybe it was the fact that you thought you heard a moan outside your door the other night. or maybe the fact that your panties had mysteriously gone missing from the laundry basket. and there was only one other person living with you at the moment. you tried to tell yourself it was paranoia. after all, why would jeno do something like that? he didn’t have fantasies like you, right?

still, something felt different when he was around. especially when you bumped into him in the kitchen or living room. the tension was so thick as if the space between you was charged, waiting for something, or someone, to cross the line.

you tried to distract yourself, flicking through jersey shore reruns with half your mind still on him. but as soon as you heard footsteps approaching, your pulse spiked. your body clearly not knowing the difference between riding a roller coaster, and your stepbrother entering the room.

you glanced up, trying to force a bored expression. the moment your eyes landed on him, however, everything in you froze. his damp hair stuck to his forehead, a towel draped loosely around his neck. his sweatpants hung low on his hips, his boxers peeking, and the way his white shirt clung to his chest made it feel like the room was closing in around you.

you swallowed hard.

he caught your gaze, and for a split second, it felt like he saw right through you. like he knew what you were thinking, what you were feeling. but he didn’t say anything. he just walked over, sitting close enough that his leg brushed against yours. the space between you was so small, but it felt like a chasm, a void that you couldn’t bridge. you couldn’t move. not when your body was so painfully aware of him.

“you like this trash?” his voice was casual, but his eyes were anything but. they were on you, studying you.

you blinked, the question throwing you off guard. you hadn’t even realized he was talking about the show until he nodded toward it. “uh... yeah. it’s... entertaining,” you stammered, your voice sounding foreign in your own ears. you wanted to say more, to defend it, but the words wouldn’t come. your mind was fixated on him.

you tried to focus on the screen, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. his towel slipping from his shoulders, water droplets sliding down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. you could feel that familiar flutter in your lower stomach.

your fingers twitched, desperate to do something, anything, to alleviate the tightness.

jeno tilted his head slightly, his lips pulling into that almost imperceptible smirk, the one that made you want to either scream or crawl into him.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft, but there was something dangerous underneath. “you look tense.”

you didn’t answer immediately. instead, you shifted uncomfortably, your pulse hammering in your ears. he didn’t push, but the way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he had you cornered.

suddenly, the doorbell rang, and you shot up from the couch like you’d been electrocuted. your pulse was still racing, your thoughts tangled in knots you didn’t want to acknowledge. this was good. maybe whoever was at the door would shake you out of this haze.

but the second you opened it, you almost wished you hadn’t.

your boyfriend…or ex? you didn’t even know anymore, stood there holding a single rose in one hand and a bag of snacks in the other.

“happy valentine’s day,” he greeted, flashing that charming smile he knew melted you.

your eyes widened. you’d been so distracted you totally forgot the date. damn you, lee jeno.

“i’m sorry i didn’t call in advance,” he pushed the rose into your hand and leaned to kiss you “and i know we agreed to take a break… still, i couldn't just not come today…”

he lifted the bag on his other hand. “movie?”

you forced a smile, your stomach twisting guiltily for a second. even though your relationship was a bit unstable as of late, valentine’s wasn’t something you ever wanted to half-ass so it was a good thing you’d planned ahead.

you bought his gift the previous week, carefully wrapping the box yourself because you wanted it to feel special. a pair of shoes he’d been eyeing for months, a new band for his apple watch since his favorite one had broken recently, and a handwritten letter tucked inside, detailing how much you appreciated him, how much you loved him. You even spent extra time decorating the envelope, adding little doodles and stickers just to make him smile.

you should've felt some kind of relief, his presence should distract you from the wild thoughts swirling in your head. but as you stepped aside to let him in, that sense of relief never came.

because the moment you turned back, you remembered jeno was still there on the couch. you silently willed him with your mind to go to his room, maybe leave altogether.

but of course he didn’t.

“oh. hey, dude” your boyfriend said as he finally noticed him. “didn’t know your brother was here.”

you winced. that word. brother. your tongue itched to correct him, but what was the point? he knew you weren’t really siblings. he just chose to say it anyway.

jeno let the word hang in the air before he finally stood up, stretching his arms over his head before settling into a straighter posture. he never stood that straight, but he was making sure to show that he was at least two inches taller than your boyfriend. It was a subtle move, but you saw it for what it was. a challenge.

you almost scoffed at the sheer pettiness of it.

“ah, hello…” jeno drawled. “sorry, remind me of your name again?”

your boyfriend told him, his tone polite but slightly stiff.

“right,” jeno said, half-smiling. “didn’t know we’d be having visitors today…”

your boyfriend cleared his throat. “ah, that’s my bad. i didn’t tell her I was coming since I wanted to surprise her for Valentine’s”

“hm,” Jeno hummed. “well... as long as you two keep it in the living room, should be fine. gotta look out for my little sister while the parents are out, you know?”

you squeezed your eyes shut for half a second, inhaling slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm. he never called you that. also, who did he think he was playing house police all of a sudden?

“sit down, babe,” you said, your tone so sweet it sounded forced.

jeno scoffed under his breath, soft enough that only you heard it.

you ignored it, settling onto the couch as he disappeared into the kitchen. your boyfriend sat beside you, oblivious, scrolling through movies, while you shoved a chip into your mouth just to distract your mind.

suddenly, you heard clattering from the kitchen followed by a curse.

“uh, y/n… can you come help me real quick?”

you squeezed your eyes shut.

“what did you break now?” you called, already exasperated.

"your mom’s china," he called back. "think i broke like two plates. maybe three. hard to say. pretty sure she’ll notice, though."

shit. you were on your feet before you could think, muttering a quick, “sorry, i’ll be right back,” as you hurried toward the kitchen.

the moment you stepped inside, irritation flared hotter in your chest.

“are you kidding me? what were you even doing near those? my mom explicitly said—” you voiced trailed off when you saw there was no broken china. no mess. nothing.

just jeno, standing there with his arms crossed, watching you with a smirk so infuriating you wanted to slap it off his face.

your hands curled into fists. “what are you doing?”

“really?” he ignored your glare, tilting his head mockingly. “he brought snacks and a single rose?” he let out a dry chuckle. “it’s valentine’s day for god’s sake, he could’ve at least tried.”

“i like simple things,” you shot back. “i don’t need a big fucking production”

jeno took a step closer making your breath get stuck in your throat. he wasn’t touching you, wasn’t even crowding you, but fuck he might as well have been, with the way your body tensed.

his voice dropped lower. “are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

he clearly wanted to get a reaction out of you and you refused to give it to him.

his gaze flicked down to your lips, pursed at him, and yet so pretty. he could still remember them parting and gasping his name last night.

"bet it gets tiring to pretend so much” he leaned in slightly.

you took a sharp step back.

“just… get out of my business,” you snapped, breath uneven.

jeno’s lips curled. “sure thing.” his eyes glinted with dark amusement. “hope you have fun with mr. buzzkill.”

your jaw clenched as you spun on your heel, storming back to the living room. who the hell did he think he was? since when did he have an opinion on your love life? he’d never cared before, never questioned, never even acknowledged it. so why now?

he kept pushing, prodding, playing with you.

and the worst part was that you were letting him. you knew you should ignore him. his opinion didn’t matter anyways.

so why couldn’t you stop paying attention to him?

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you decided to push jeno out of your mind, and what better way than by surrounding yourself with people you actually liked?

a pool party seemed like the perfect distraction. it was nothing too crazy, just a few close friends from college. the weather had been unusually nice all week, the kind of warmth that made everything feel a little hazy, the sun kissing your skin as you lay stretched out on a lounge chair, still damp from your swim. it was the perfect excuse to bask in the sun, let the tension ease from your body, and pretend jeno didn’t exist.

jenny, lying beside you on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows and let out an exaggerated sigh. “by the way, where’s your hot brother?”

you sighed, not even bothering to open your eyes. “stop calling him that. people might actually think i'm related to that jerk.”

“honestly, though,” natty chimed in, rubbing tanning oil on her arms. “how have you not jumped his bones yet? he’s so fine.”

you scoffed, finally cracking an eye open to glare at her. “he’s really not all that. if you guys lived with him, you wouldn’t think like this.”

jenny turned onto her side, her smirk downright sinful. “girl, if i lived with him i'd let him do unspeakable things to me every night.”

you fingers tightened around your drink as something hot and unwanted curled low in your stomach. if only they knew the things you did thinking about him late at night.

belle made a face from where she sat at the edge of the pool. “you guys are gross.”

jenny just shrugged, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “why? they’re not even related.”

belle wrinkled her nose. “yes, but they live together. it’s still weird.”

jenny hummed, resting her chin on her shoulder as she eyed you knowingly. “whatever, i meant what i said.”

“does he have a girlfriend?” natty asked, stretching her legs out as she adjusted her sunglasses.

you shrugged, taking another sip of your piña colada. “i don’t know. i mean, he barely leaves the house. i doubt he has much of a social life… probably the most socially inept guy i’ve ever met.” the words left your mouth lazily, but the moment they did, a shadow loomed over you, blocking out the sun.

you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

you tilted your head back after a few seconds of silently cursing your big mouth. your heart did a million backflips as you locked eyes with jeno, who was now standing directly behind your chair. his head was tilted just slightly, a slow smirk playing at his lips.

you gulped slowly, and wished the chair would just swallow you whole. did he hear what you just said?

his gaze flickered over you, amused, but there was something heavier in the way his eyes traced over your bikini-clad figure. and then you realized he wasn’t in his usual hoodie and sweatpants. instead, he wore a fitted jean jacket over a graphic tee from a band you didn’t recognize, paired with tight black jeans. even his hair was styled, it looked like he got a fresh undercut, even added some designs on the side. he felt like an entirely different person. he looked good. too good.

“hello, ladies,” he greeted smoothly, his voice deep.

your friends giggled, but you barely registered them because jeno’s attention was back on you in a second.

“does dad know you’re having a party?” he asked, his voice had a teasing lilt to it, but there was something slightly patronizing underneath.

you rolled your eyes. “it’s just a few people.” get off my ass, you almost added but bit your tongue.

his smirk didn’t falter. “mhm… hope so, ‘cause he can see everything through those.” he pointed toward the security cameras, and something about the way he said it made irritation prickle at your skin.

he had the audacity to call your boyfriend a buzzkill, yet here he was, trying to kill any potential fun you could have.

“anyway,” he continued, “this socially inept guy is heading out.”

you breath caught in your throat. so he did hear you.

his eyes flickered over your body once more, and before you could respond, his hand brushed over your shoulder in a touch so fleeting, so meaningless, it shouldn’t have made your entire body lock up the way it did.

“call me if there’s an emergency,” he said. “be good, yeah?”

the second he was out of earshot, the giggles started back up, hushed and scandalized. your skin still burned where his touch had ghosted over you, and you hated that you wanted to turn your head, watch him leave, memorize the way he looked just now.

you swallowed hard, pressing your cold glass against your lips and forcing yourself to pretend that none of it affected you.

after several minutes of listening to your friends gush about jeno, how good he looked, how he smelled like expensive cologne, blah blah blah, you decided you’d had enough. you pushed yourself up from the lounge chair and made your way inside with the excuse of refilling your drink.

as you passed through the living room, a flicker of movement outside caught your eye. jeno was still there, standing near the edge of the sidewalk. his fingers dipped into his pocket, retrieving something small, and curiosity got the better of you. you squinted, trying to make out what he was holding.

despite knowing better, you grabbed a lightweight cover-up dress from the hook by the door and slipped it over your shoulders before stepping outside. the afternoon air carried the scent of chlorine and the faintest trace of citrus from the trees lining the house.

“since when do you smoke?” you asked, approaching him cautiously.

jeno turned his head slightly. the corner of his lips curled in that maddening way of his. without breaking eye contact, he placed the cigarette between his lips, the unlit end resting against the soft curve of his mouth.

“i don’t,” he said dismissively but then, he struck a match against his finger and the tiny flame came to life. the sight of it held your attention for just a second too long. probably because you’d never seen anyone light a match like that, or the fact that he was gaslighting you so casually.

“i thought you said you were going to hang out with friends,” you pressed, crossing your arms as you watched the flame kiss the tip of the cigarette.

“i said i was going to hang out,” he corrected, taking a slow drag before exhaling it in your direction, the smoke curling between you. “i didn't say with friends.”

you barely resisted the urge to cough, your throat tightening at the thick scent of tobacco. before you could call him out on this, the low rumble of an engine broke through the silence.

a black jeep screeched to a stop at the foot of your driveway, tires skidding slightly against the pavement. you instinctively took a step back as the vehicle came to a jarring halt. the tinted window rolled down, revealing a girl with jet-black hair that framed her face in glossy waves. he lips, painted a deep cherry red, curved into a smile that was just a little too perfect.

“sorry, i’m late!” she said, her voice airy, with a sing-song quality that immediately set your teeth on edge “there was so much traffic.”

“sure you didn’t just get pulled over for reckless driving?” jeno chuckled before taking another slow drag from his cigarette.

“mo, silly!” she giggled, her voice turning annoyingly flirtatious as she leaned a little closer over the window. “did you doll up just for me?”

“sure,” jeno replied casually. you didn’t catch the way his eyes flicked to you for just a split second because you were busy trying to mask the seething annoyance that was threatening to show in your expression. you didn’t even know this girl, and yet, the way she was acting was irritating you deeply.

“let me drive,” jeno said, pulling the door open for her to step out. you noticed the way she purposely wobbled slightly to fall directly into his arms.

“careful,” he said, his voice deep and resonant as he steadied her, the sound of it sending a heavy vibration through your chest.

“if your wet blanket of a boyfriend shows up later,” he continued once inside the car, his words laced with a hint of condescension, “just try not to fuck around in the pool, okay? remember, someone’s always watching.” the way he said that left a strange, uneasy knot in your stomach, the implication of his words lingering far too long.

before you could even muster a response, he slammed the jeep into gear and drove off.

it was around 9 pm when you decided to call it a night. your boyfriend hadn’t even shown up. he claimed he had to help his dad with “stuff” but you hadn’t really paid attention to the details. you weren’t interested in hearing excuses anyway.

your friends pouted, complaining that you should let them stay and have a sleepover, but you weren’t in the mood. they only left after you promised to do it another time.

you wandered upstairs, feeling the fatigue from the evening settle in your bones. the water from the shower was almost too hot, but you welcomed the burn as it stripped the chlorine from your skin. you lingered under the steam, savoring the quiet of the house.

once you were done, you meticulously moisturized your skin with extra attention to the dryness that clung to your arms after the pool and the heat of the shower. you threw on your usual pjs, a loose tank top and shorts. you thought of the way jeno’s dark eyes followed you whenever you wore them.

you made your way to the living room and sank onto the couch to watch tv, hyper aware of the ticking sound of the clock. the hands crept closer to 11 p.m. and you found your thoughts drifting despite your best attempts to focus. jeno’s face floated into your mind, his dark eyes flickering with amusement whenever he saw you. you tried to push it away but your mind kept returning to him and that girl with jet-black hair.

the sting of your nails digging into the palsn of your hands is what snapped you out of it. the thought of him with her… doing what? it didn’t even matter. why should it matter?

you decided to go to bed after realizing it was stupid to wait for him to come back.

it was around 2 am when you were jerked awake by the sound of shuffling outside your door. you heard a giggle followed by a hushed voice right before your door creaked open, and you quickly squeezed your eyes shut again.

"shit, wrong room," you heard jeno whisper, and your breath caught in your throat. you opened one eye just enough to see him standing in the doorway, the girl with jet-black hair practically draped around his neck.

she pulled him down into a kiss, and you watched, frozen, as they made out right there in front of your door. her soft moans echoed through the space along with the sounds of their hands fondling each other’s bodies.

they continued, oblivious to the fact that you were very much awake, until jeno finally pulled the door closed behind him, muffling the noises just enough for you to breathe again.

the anger hit you immediately, and the indignation that followed was almost comical in its intensity. with what face had he told you not to "mess around" at home because your parents were always watching, only to go and do this? right in front of your room, no less?

you heard the shuffle of movement in his room next door, and a chilling realization sank in.

they were about to have sex, and you’d hear every damn second of it.

it wasn’t like you’d never snuck your boyfriend in late at night before. But all you ever did was suck him off or let him finger you. you never actually had proper sex. not for lack of trying, but rather the issues you’d been having getting… aroused with him.

the moans started, soft at first, then louder. each sound felt like a needle, digging deeper into the pit of your stomach. you squeezed your eyes shut again, wishing, begging to be anywhere but within earshot of the noise that now felt like it was tearing your insides apart.

you could hear everything. the soft thuds of their clothes hitting the floor, the creak of the mattress as they fell onto it. jeno’s rough groans, the breathless whimpers he tried and failed to suppress. the wet, obscene sounds of him moving inside her. the desperate gasps, the frantic whisper of his name from her lips. their mouths meeting over and over again, the muffled, needy sounds of them colliding filling the space.

every movement, every noise, was painfully clear, as if you were right there in the room with them.

you wanted to disappear. crawl under your bed. evaporate into the walls. oh, the walls. the godforsaken, paper-thin walls that some sadistic architect clearly designed just to ruin your life.

you pressed a pillow over your head, begging for the sounds to stop, but it was useless. they only grew louder.

“jeno… i’m close,” she whimpered, voice high and shaking.

“cum for me…” he responded, breathless.

and suddenly, amidst the debauchery of sounds, you heard it.

your name.

spoken in a broken moan.

your breath stilled. for a second, you thought you must have imagined it, that your mind was playing a cruel trick on you. but then—

you heard it again. louder. needier.

jeno was calling your name as he came.

a paralyzing shock shot through you, pinning you to the mattress. your pulse hammering so hard you thought your heart might bruise your chest cavity. you stared at the ceiling, unblinking, as his moans settled over you like a suffocating weight.

silence followed, broken only by their uneven breaths. then you heard the rustle of sheets as they untangled from each other.

“can i stay the night?” the girl asked, her voice still heavy with satisfaction.

“no,” jeno said, voice oddly cold and detached. “my parents are gonna be here in the morning.”

that was a lie. your parents weren’t coming back until the following weekend.

you were still too shocked to move, too shaken to process what had just happened. but as you listened to her gather her things, to the sound of jeno walking her to the door without so much as an ounce of warmth in his tone, one thing became terrifyingly clear...

he hadn’t just used her. he’d been thinking about you while doing so.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you didn’t sleep. not for a single minute.

the shadows in your room shifted as the hours crawled by. it felt impossible to close your eyes without hearing it all over again. your name on his lips.

when your phone screen finally read 6:00 a.m, you gave up on sleep entirely, throwing off the sheets and slipping out of bed like a ghost.

you tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen, fingers numb as you grabbed a glass and filled it to the brim. the cold water slid down your throat in greedy gulps, but it did nothing to cool yourself.

then, a breathless laugh tore from your lips, unhinged and bitter. the sheer absurdity of it all crashed into you at once, like a sick joke the universe decided to play on you. jeno had been inside another girl, and yet, it was your name that spilled out of his lips.

the laughter bubbled up harder. it must have been loud enough to wake him, because a few moments later, footsteps padded into the kitchen.

jeno stood in the doorway, eyes heavy with sleep, brows pinched together as he took in the sight of you, your back was turned to him, shoulders trembling with laughter that didn’t seem to belong to you.

“the hell is wrong with you?” his voice was groggy.

you stopped, forcing the manic grin off your face before turning slightly away, shielding yourself from his scrutiny. god, if he saw the way you were smiling right now, he really would think you lost your mind.

“are you high?” he asked, a little more forcefully this time.

you let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head. i wish. maybe if you were high, this wouldn’t feel so real. maybe you wouldn’t still hear his voice in your head from the night before, broken and desperate, calling for you.

a shiver ran down your spine when you felt jeno move closer behind you. you could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest, the faint smell of sleep and last night’s scent clinging to him. his hand clamped down on your shoulder, turning you around with an impatient tug.

“no, seriously.” his voice was lower now, forcing you to meet his gaze. “did you do drugs last night?”

your breath hitched when his chest brushed against yours, and that’s when you remembered you weren’t wearing a bra. the thin fabric of your tank top did nothing to hide the way your nipples hardened at the contact.

you saw the flicker in his expression, the brief second of realization when his gaze dropped.

“what do you care?” you shot back instead, tilting your chin up defiantly.

you liked the way his jaw ticked when you pushed him.

his grip on your chin was sudden, firm, tilting your face until your eyes locked with his. his fingers were rough and the touch sent something dark and electric crackling under your skin.

you ripped yourself from his grasp, grimacing. “don’t touch me. i know where that hand has been.”

jeno laughed, a rich sound that made your throat close.

“oh, so you heard.”

you scoffed. “of course i heard. it was impossible not to when you were being so loud.”

his smirk deepened. “then you know my struggle.”

he stepped forward, pressed you further against the counter until there was barely any air between your bodies. this was the closest you had ever been to him.

your heart slammed against your ribs, but you refused to shrink away. if anything, it only made you glare harder, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

“i hear everything you do in your room too.”

he paused, letting his finger curl around a stray hair falling over your face.

“every night.”

your lips parted, but nothing came out except a sharp inhale.

his eyes fluttered across your features, lingering on your lips, still wet from the water you just drank.

“wh-what…”

“yeah.” his grin grew sharper, his perfect teeth peeking out to tug at his lower lip. “every time you sneak your dumbass boyfriend in.”

his fingers brushed against the counter beside you, caging you in completely.

“every time you touch yourself…”

you swallowed, looking between his neck and shoulder, unable to meet his dark eyes.

“and you do that a lot lately.”

you gulped to soothe your dry throat, wishing he couldn’t somehow smell how aroused you were getting. you hated the way your body reacted to him, how your thighs pressed together on instinct. he noticed. the bastard always noticed everything.

he was still pressed so close you could feel the steady rise and fall of his hard chest against yours, the heat of his skin bleeding into yours like fire licking at gasoline.

“i—” you started, but your voice cracked.

jeno tilted his head, “what?” his voice was a murmur meant for just the two of you. his lips curved, but the smile wasn’t kind, it was wicked. “got nothing to say now?”

you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to hold his gaze even as your stomach twisted into knots. “fuck you.”

his smile widened. “i mean, that’s what you always think about, isn’t it?” he murmured.

your breath caught in your throat. he leaned in, his lips so close to your ear that you felt the ghost of them graze your skin.

“you touch yourself thinking about me.”

a wave of heat crawled up your neck. you shouldn’t be reacting this way. shouldn’t be giving yourself away this easily.

you inhaled sharply, gathering every ounce of strength left in your body before shoving at his chest, pushing him away. he let you, barely stumbling back.

“go to hell, jeno.”

you turned on your heel, ready to storm out, to get as far away from him as possible—

but you barely made it two steps before his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. he yanked you back against him, spinning you around so fast that you barely had time to register the shift before your back was against the counter again, his body crowding yours.

his grip tightened, but not enough to hurt just enough to hold you there.

"what are you doing?" you demanded, pressing a hand to his chest. "i have a boyfriend."

he laughed bitterly "oh, please. we both know he doesn’t even make you wet."

“how do you—?” you swallowed, barely able to get the words out.

the realization suddenly settled like lead in your gut. he read it. your blog. the one you used to vent frustrations you couldn’t say out loud, the one that held every unspoken insecurity, every late-night confession you never meant for anyone to see. every filthy thought about him.

and jeno of all people had gotten his hands on it. that’s why he’d been acting so strange lately.

your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, not pulling him closer, but gripping like you needed something to hold onto before you lost your mind.

his smirk deepened as he saw the expression of horror in your face.

“you should really clear your browser history,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “or, better yet…maybe don’t keep the tabs open on a laptop you asked me to fix.”

the bastard wasn’t even sorry for invading your privacy.

your pulse roared in your ears as you tried to school your expression, trying to make it seem like you weren't two seconds away from spiraling.

“i don’t—” you started, but the words wouldn’t come.

he leaned in, voice dipping lower. “oh don’t quit on me now. you had plenty to say in that little blog of yours.”

his fingers traced your jaw softly.

“especially about me.”

he grinned, teeth grazing his bottom lip as he watched your reaction unfold in real time. “what was it you said?” he pretended to think. “oh, right. he pisses me off more than anyone else, but i bet he fucks like a god.’”

you shoved him again but he barely stumbled, just let out a low chuckle like he was thrilled by your anger.

“what’s wrong?” he taunted. “embarrassed?”

“shut up.”

“aww, c’mon, don’t be shy now. i read the whole thing, you’ve definitely thought about this exact moment before.”

you wanted to die. right there on the kitchen floor. just disintegrate and never have to endure the smug, self-satisfied look on his face ever again.

but worse than the embarrassment? worse than the rage twisting inside you like a coil ready to snap?

was the terrifying, undeniable truth.

he knew you wanted him.

jeno moved closer, and you instinctively backed into the counter, your hands gripping the cool edge.

his smirk was insufferable. giddy, almost.

“god, you should see your face right now,” he murmured, tilting his head. “all pink and flustered. just like i imagined.”

your eyes darted across his face in shock.

“oh yeah,” he continued, watching the realization flicker in your eyes. “you’re not the only one who’s fantasized about this, baby”

“i don’t fantasize,” you said quickly, hoping to salvage some dignity.

jeno just laughed. “save it.”

he reached up, tucking another stray strand of hair behind your ear, the way someone might handle something delicate, except the glint in his eye was anything but soft.

“i said i read everything,” he reminded you, voice dripping with satisfaction. “i even memorized that one post, the one where you talk about my fingers—”

“don’t,” you interrupted, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could finish that sentence.

bad move. because now his lips were pressed against your palm, his breath hot against your skin. and he didn’t pull away.

instead, his dark eyes locked onto yours making your pulse stutter. he reached up, prying your hand away from his mouth, but instead of letting it go, he brought it lower flat against his bare chest, over the steady thump of his heartbeat.

“i like knowing your secrets,” he murmured. “i like knowing what gets in that pretty little head of yours late at night.”

your stomach flipped.

“and you know what i like the most?” he dipped his head, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “i like knowing that no matter how much you fight me on this,” he whispered, “you’ve already given yourself to me.”

his lips brushed from your ear down to the corner of your mouth, until finally, they met yours. you barely registered how easily your lips parted for him until his tongue slid in, claiming you. a groan slipped out before you could stop it.

you knew you should push him away. you should. but the thought barely even formed before it was gone, lost in the heat of his mouth.

"aren’t you gonna stop me?" he murmured, pulling back just enough to make you chase his lips.

you didn’t move, didn’t shove him away, didn’t say a damn thing.

his lips curled. "didn’t think so.”

then he kissed you harder, rougher. his fingers cradling your face while his other hand slid lower, gripping a handful of your ass. you gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

his knee pressed between your legs, shifting just right, and you moaned. his lips curved against yours. "there’s my good girl."

heat flared up your spine, equal parts humiliation and arousal. some semblance of reason came over you and you pushed at his chest, but he caught your wrist, pinning it against the counter.

"you wrote about how bad you wanted me to take you right here in this kitchen," he murmured, his breath warm against your lips. "want me to remind you?"

"shut up," you groaned, twisting your wrist free and shoving at him properly this time.

he didn’t budge. he only laughed, nipping at your lower lip before angling your face up, kissing you deep and slow, like he had all the time in the world. his hand slid from your ass to your thigh, hiking it higher around his hip.

the new angle made you feel him, every inch of his hard length pressing right against your core, and you gasped. he thrust against you and the groan he let out sent a pulse of heat straight to your stomach.

"fuck," he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours, his hips rolling again. "you feel that?"

your fingers curled into his shirt, whimpers spilling out of you as he kept humping you.

jeno’s grip tightened on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked against you, his breath hot against your lips. “look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement and something darker. “clinging to me like this when you were just pretending to hate me a few minutes ago.”

you opened your mouth to argue, to deny, but all that came out was a sharp gasp as his hands slid under your tank top, fingers tracing lazy patterns up your ribs until they found your perked nipple. his knee pressed more insistently between your legs.

“jen—”

“shh.” he breathed against your lips. “you don’t have to say anything. your body’s already telling me everything i need to know.”

the way his lips ghosted over your jaw, then down your throat, made your breath hitch. you felt like you were drowning in the way he touched you, just enough to drive you crazy but not enough to give you what you really wanted.

“you’ve thought about this,” he mused, voice laced with satisfaction as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear. “haven’t you? late at night, when you’re all alone…”

your nails dug into his shoulders as he ground against you again, harder this time. he was right. and that infuriated you.

“jeno,” you hissed, half warning, half plea.

“say it,” he murmured against your skin, hands slipping lower. “say you want me.”

you couldn’t do that. you still wanted to cling to some semblance of dignity. but then his fingers slipped inside your shorts, and the illusion that you ever stood a chance shattered.

your gasp turned into a strangled moan as his fingers dipped between your soaked folds, tracing slow circles, teasing you with featherlight strokes that had you melting against him. his breath was hot against your temple.

“if you don’t want this,” he murmured, “then maybe we should stop.”

and just like that, he started to retreat, his touch vanishing like a cruel tease.

“no,” you choked out, your hand gripping his wrist before he could pull away completely. “don’t stop… please.”

he tilted his head, savoring every ounce of your desperation. “you sure?” he mused, feigning innocence even as his lips, swollen and slick, curled into something devilish. “because if you think this is wrong, we really should stop.”

the bastard was toying with you, and worst of all, you found it maddeningly hot.

your nails dug into his arm, your body thrumming with frustration and need. “jeno,” you warned, voice dangerously low. “if you don’t touch me right now, i’ll go upstairs and do it myself.”

you saw the moment his pupils dilated, a dark, almost feral hunger flashing in his eyes.

“oh, princess,” he crooned, his hand slipping back into your shorts in an instant, fingers resuming their torment with renewed urgency. “you really shouldn’t have said that.”

but instead of touching you like you needed, he yanked your shorts down, your panties dragging along with them in one swift motion. before you could form a single word, he hoisted you onto the counter with ease, the hard surface pressing into the backs of your thighs. your legs instinctively tried to close, but his grip tightened, keeping you open for him.

and then he dropped to his knees.

your stomach plummeted, anticipation coiling so tightly inside you that you felt dizzy. he looked up at you from beneath his thick lashes, eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with hunger. his hands dragged slowly up the inside of your thighs, spreading them further. his tongue darted out, wetting his lips like he was about to devour the best meal ever.

your walls clenched around nothing.

“jeno—” his name came out in a broken gasp.

“you’re shaking,” his breath ghosted over your core, making you jolt, making you ache. "what’s wrong, baby? nervous?"

the way his voice curled around the word baby, sent a fresh wave of heat straight between your legs. but you didn’t get the chance to answer.

because then he dove between your thighs.

the first stroke of his tongue had you gasping, hands flying to his hair as your head snapped back against the cabinets. the heat of his mouth had your body jerking before you could stop yourself, pleasure so intense it almost hurt.

his hands flexed against your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you still as he licked deep into you. and when he groaned you nearly lost it. the vibration shot straight through you, your stomach clenching, your thighs twitching against his grip.

“jeno—” his name was barely a breath, a desperate sound that made him hum against you, pleased. he pulled back just enough for his lips to brush over your skin.

“god, you taste even better than i imagined” he rasped.

and then he was back on you, tongue working faster, fingers digging into your thighs like he needed this, like he was getting off on the way you gasped, the way your body trembled under his mouth.

he wasn’t just eating you out. he was devouring you.

his tongue moved in slow strokes, drawing out every whimper that spilled from your lips. you tugged at his hair, grinding down harder, but he just chuckled against you. cocky bastard.

“needy, huh?” he murmured between licks. “thought you could handle it.”

you barely registered his words, too caught up in the way he worked you open. but then he pulled away, making you gasp at the loss.

“jeno—” you started to protest, but he was already grabbing you by the waist.

“quit whining,” he smirked, hoisting you up easily. you yelped, legs locking around his hips as he strode toward the stairs. “you wanted this, didn’t you?”

your back hit the mattress a second later. you barely caught your breath before he tugged his pants down, the outline of his dick straining against his boxers.

jeno climbed onto the bed, gaze flicking over you with heat. you expected him to take you right then but he leaned back instead, hands behind his head.

“ride my face,” he said.

you froze, thinking he was joking for a second, but then you saw his his eyes and realized he was being completely serious. panic came over you, you’d never done this before, your boyfriend had never even eaten your out before, only fingered you. this was way more than that though.

“jeno—”

he raised a brow. “what, shy now?” his hands shot out, dragging you toward him. “c’mon, don’t start getting all sweet on me now.”

he positioned you right above his face. you swallowed, “jeno… i-i don’t know—“

“don’t worry baby, trust me”

and then he was spreading your legs further apart so you sank on his face slowly. his nose nuzzled between your folds first, the sharp line of it pushing against your core and making a guttural moan escape you.

his tongue followed, licking up and down, and prodding your entrance with insistence.

“oh, fuck—me” you whimpered, his hands on your hips guided you to press even harder against his face and even in your pleasure you worried he would drown in your cunt.

but when you looked down, there was nothing but pure bliss on his face, his eyes rolling back and his brows furrowed as he lapped relentlessly. it looked like he was enjoying this as much as you.

as your orgasm approached again, you couldn’t help but roll your hips against his face. the movement made his nose press further as his tongue continued licking long greedy strips against your clit.

“jeno—i...i’m—“ you moaned,

and your orgasm crashed over you with such a violent force it made you lean forward barely catching yourself with your arms before you could actually suffocate the boy under you.

you crawled down his body, your breath hitching as you took in the sight of his face glistening with your juices. his tongue swept out as he licked up every trace, dark eyes fixed on you.

his hands remained anchored on your hips, fingers flexing just enough to press you down against his body. you could feel him hard and burning through the thin fabric of his sweats. the instinctive grind of your hips had him exhaling a low chuckle. you wanted this, he wanted this, but something held you back. if you crossed this line… would you really be able to turn back?

you didn’t have time to find out because the sound of the doorbell ringing snapped you both out of your daze.

jeno blinked, looking toward the bedroom door. “seriously...?”

“shit—” you scrambled off him, tripping over your own limbs in the process.

“i’ll get it,” he offered, starting to sit up.

“no!” you shoved at his chest, pushing him back down. “your face, jeno— it’s covered in my—just—go wash it off!”

he grinned lazily. “didn’t hear you complaining a minute ago.”

“not the time!” you hissed, picking up your discarded clothes and putting them on.

jeno started, “i read somewhere that cum is really good for your skin—”

you didn’t dignify that with a response, slamming the door shut on your way out. your reflection in the living room mirror was a disaster: hair tousled, lips kiss-swollen, fresh marks blooming along your neck. you tugged your collar up and plastered on what you hoped passed for a normal expression before opening the door.

and promptly felt the ground vanish under you when you saw who was standing outside.

“hey, beautiful” your boyfriend said.

your mouth went dry. “oh. wow. hi—”

he held up a bouquet. “i realized we didn’t really do anything special for valentine’s, and you were so thoughtful with your gifts…” his other hand revealed a small box.

your heart twisted at the sight.

��figured you deserved something nice after everything you’ve done for me.” he opened the box to reveal a delicate necklace, your initial glinting in tiny diamonds. “also, i wanna take you out today”

you swallowed. “it’s... beautiful, thanks.”

“here.” he stepped forward, gently brushing your hair aside to fasten it around your neck. his fingers grazed your skin then stopped.

“you’ve got a mark,” he said, frowning. his thumb skimmed over the hickey, sending your pulse into overdrive.

“mosquito bite,” you blurted.

he raised an eyebrow. “looks... aggressive.”

“it was a big mosquito,” you managed with a nervous laugh.

“massive, actually” came jeno’s voice.

you turned just as he was descending the stairs, towel-drying his face and now dressed in…god help you, only sweatpants. fresh hickeys also peppered his collarbone and chest.

your boyfriend’s smile tightened. “hi, man. hope i didn’t wake you.”

jeno shrugged. “nah, i was just eating a delicious meal.” his gaze flicked to you with something too close to amusement.

you fought the urge to kick him in the balls. “so! you said something about... going out?” you blurted, trying to shift the topic.

“uh... yeah. a new amusement park opened up nearby. thought we could check it out.”

“sounds amazing! i’m in!” anything to get out of this situation.

“i’ll just… shower real quick,” you said, stepping back.

“i’ll put the flowers in water,” your boyfriend offered, heading toward the kitchen.

as soon as he disappeared, you turned to jeno and hissed, “are you insane?”

he chuckled. “i didn’t even do anything.”

“you’re standing there shirtless covered in hickeys i don’t even remember giving you!” you whisper-yelled.

“yeah you went a little crazy, who knew you wanted me this bad?”

you shot him a glare. “this isn’t funny.”

“it’s a little funny.”

you let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing your face. “god, you’re impossible.”

jeno leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of him. “wouldn’t be nearly as fun if i wasn’t.”

you shook your head and darted upstairs, pulse still racing. what the hell was your life right now?

you gave yourself only twenty minutes to get ready, worried about leaving your boyfriend alone with jeno for too long. god only knew what kind of things jeno might say if left unchecked. you quickly threw on a pair of high-waisted jeans and a knitted sweater, keeping it simple with just a swipe of lip gloss and a touch of mascara.

when you came downstairs, you found them sitting at opposite ends of the couch. jeno was scrolling through his phone, legs spread out, a bored look on his face. your boyfriend was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, glancing around as if searching for a conversation topic that didn’t involve glaring across the room.

“i’m ready,” you announced, trying to break the awkward tension hanging in the air. both boys looked up.

you noticed Jeno had changed into fitted jeans and a black t-shirt.

“i hope you don’t mind,” your boyfriend said, his smile too stiff to be genuine, “but i invited jeno to come with us.”

“what?” your head snapped to jeno, who didn’t even have the decency to look guilty.

“yeah,” jeno said, casually running a hand through his hair. “a few of my friends are heading there too, so i figured we could all hang out.”

“oh… how nice,” you muttered through clenched teeth. jeno just smirked, waiting for you to snap in front of your boyfriend but you held back, drawing in a calming breath and turning toward the door instead.

outside, your boyfriend wiped a tiny smudge off the driver’s side door of his car with meticulous care. jeno scoffed audibly.

your boyfriend paused, glancing over his shoulder. “jeno, do you have a car... or do you wanna ride with us?”

“my car’s in the shop,” Jeno replied without missing a beat.

“oh yeah? what do you drive?”

“a ’69 mustang fastback,” jeno said smoothly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

your boyfriend’s lips parted slightly. you knew he was impressed—he loved cars—and even if he tried to play it cool, the way his eyes widened gave him away. “that’s a classic. was it your dad’s?”

“nope.” jeno grinned. “saved up since high school and bought it myself at the barrett-jackson auction last year.”

your boyfriend’s eyebrows shot up. “that’s... actually really impressive.”

yeah, jeno thought, satisfaction bubbling in his chest. he lived for moments like this, when people looked at him like he was something special. he just couldn’t let it slip that his dad had footed most of the bill for the car’s custom work. it wasn’t like he asked for that help, but there was no way he was turning it down either. and he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit that in front of your boyfriend. not when the guy was looking at him with something close to respect. honestly, jeno kind of liked having that edge over him.

you could practically see the mental competition unfolding in front of you. jeno stood there like he’d just scored a point, while your boyfriend’s jaw tightened, clearly thinking of how to reclaim the upper hand.

“are you guys done with the dick-measuring contest, or should i grab a ruler?” you asked, arms crossed.

jeno laughed under his breath. your boyfriend glanced away, muttering, “yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

the ride was somehow worse than you expected. normally, when you’d ride with your boyfriend, the car was filled with pleasant conversation. he’d ask about your day and tell you about his… but now, with jeno in the backseat, the air felt suffocating. not even the faint music playing on the radio could ease your discomfort.

“were you sleeping before i came?” your boyfriend asked, glancing at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

you tensed. sleeping? far from it. you’d most definitely come before he arrived, and now your face burned with the memory. you shot a quick look over your shoulder at jeno, hoping to gauge if he was going to say something incriminating. he was scrolling through his phone, but the corner of his mouth curled up in that stupid smirk of his.

“uh… no,” you said, clearing your throat. “i couldn’t sleep very well last night, so i just had an early breakfast.”

“ah,” your boyfriend hummed. “and your parents are back sunday, right?”

“yeah,” you replied, grateful for the change in subject.

the silence that followed wasn’t comfortable. your boyfriend tapped the steering wheel rhythmically, occasionally glancing at you like he was expecting conversation but you were too busy trying not to spontaneously combust from how tense everything felt.

he reached over and turned on the car’s bluetooth. “let’s put on some music,” he muttered, scrolling through his playlist. he settled on a song, and you relaxed until you recognized the beat a split second before the lyrics started.

"thoughts of you keep me up at night..."

heat immediately started creeping up your neck. of all the songs... and of all the lyrics to play right now.

"i think about all of the ways you turn me on... and my bed gets lonely whenever you’re gone..."

you stiffened, eyes wide as you stared out the window. you could feel jeno’s gaze burning into the side of your face, and when you dared to glance back, you saw his eyes fixed on you, an eyebrow raised like this was the funniest thing to ever happen. your boyfriend, oblivious to the lyrical implications, simply tapped along to the beat.

you reached for the phone. “let’s put something else—”

“what? you don’t like this song?” your boyfriend asked, glancing at you with a smile.

“it’s… just—” you floundered. jeno chuckled under his breath.

“leave it,” Jeno said. “I think it’s pretty relatable.”

your boyfriend shot him a look through the rearview mirror probably wondering what he meant.

you squeezed your eyes shut, praying for the ground to swallow you whole. why did the drive feel like it was taking forever?

when you arrived at the amusement park, you were pleasantly surprised to see jenny and natty waiting near the entrance, drinks already in hand.

“we’re the masterminds behind this whole thing, by the way” jenny grinned, looping her arm through yours when you reached her.

“yeah,” Natty added, slipping in on your other side. “we told him he was an idiot for not doing something nice for you on saturday, so this is his redemption, and we’re here as the judges.”

the revelation should’ve surprised you—maybe even disappointed you—but it didn’t. things with your boyfriend had been...off lately. neither of you was really trying, and you couldn’t blame him for that when you weren’t putting in much effort yourself.

still, you plastered on a smile. this is supposed to be fun, you reminded yourself. and it was, you went on nearly every ride. your boyfriend, though, wasn’t a big fan of fast rides due to his motion sickness, and you didn’t miss the way jeno scoffed every time he turned down your suggestions to ride together.

you were heading toward the food stalls when something caught your eye. “ooh! let’s do that one!” you pointed to a shabby building draped in fake cobwebs and flickering lights. a crooked sign above the entrance read bloody encounter in dripping red letters.

jenny made a face. “why would you willingly do that to yourself?”

“come on,” you urged, tugging her arm. “it’ll be fun! i saw a video of it on instagram! it looks insane.”

“that’s exactly why i don’t want to go,” jenny shot back, glancing warily at the entrance.

natty, wide-eyed, whispered, “have you seen that movie where a group of friends goes into a haunted house, and there’s an actual killer inside?”

“that’s literally a movie,” you said, but your attempt at sounding confident fell flat when natty added, “it was based on real-life events.”

you rolled your eyes but glanced over your shoulder at your boyfriend trailing behind. he looked at the ride and grimaced.

“eh... i don’t know, babe,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “you know i hate this kind of stuff.”

you visibly deflated and before you could respond, another voice cut in. “i’ll go with you,” jeno said, stepping forward, hands stuffed into his pockets.

“I—” you started to object, nerves twisting in your stomach. jeno? alone? no way. that felt like walking into a trap. “weren’t you going to meet up with your friends?” you tried, hoping to backpedal.

“they texted that they got a flat on the way here, so it’ll be a while before they arrive” he shrugged.

“you two have fun,” jenny said, already pulling natty away. “we’ll grab food in the meantime.” natty threw you a look that screamed good luck before disappearing into the crowd.

your boyfriend lingered. “you sure you’re gonna be okay?” he asked, eyes darting to jeno, whose expression remained unreadable except for the subtle roll of his eyes.

“yeah,” you lied, forcing a reassuring smile. “i’ll be fine. see you in a bit.”

stepping through the entrance, you were swallowed by darkness. the air was thick with the artificial scent of fog machines and that weird plasticky smell of cheap props. distorted laughter and screams echoed through the narrow halls, looping over speakers that crackled with static.

beside you, jeno looked about as thrilled as someone waiting in line at the dmv. he glanced around, gaze skimming lazily over the walls. "spooky," he deadpanned.

"wow, you're really committing to the whole fun-hater thing," you shot back, glancing over your shoulder. you knew something was about to jump out, it was just a matter of when. "if you hate this so much, why'd you come?"

“figured your dumbass boyfriend wouldn’t,” he shrugged, mouth quirking into something between a smirk and a sneer. "someone had to make sure you didn’t cry."

“excuse me—”

BANG!

a hidden panel to your left slammed open and a clown with cracked white paint on its face and red bulging eyes lunged out, blaring a horn right in your face. your soul practically left your body as you screamed and instinctively grabbed onto the nearest thing which, unfortunately, was jeno.

he didn’t even flinch, his arm simply went around your shoulders, comforting you even as your heart tried to beat out of your chest. you looked up, breath catching when you met his gaze. his eyes flicked down to where you were clutching his hoodie before lifting back to yours.

you pushed away, but his hand didn’t fall away immediately. it trailed from your shoulder down to the small of your back, you felt his warmth seep through the fabric of your sweater.

"so," he drawled, "should i hold your hand for the rest of this?"

“i swear to god…”

“—because i don’t mind”

“keep talking and i’ll feed you to the next clown,” you shot back.

he snorted. "like you’d make it through this without me."

you flipped him off without looking back, which earned a low chuckle in response. you stalked ahead, determined to focus on not tripping over the uneven floor, but his footsteps stayed close behind. annoyingly close.

the mirror maze was where things went downhill. everywhere you turned, warped reflections of you and jeno stretched and twisted in the glass. dark shapes flickered just out of sight, and the speakers just made everything worse by echoing whispers that felt like they were breathing down your neck.

your reflection twisted, making your head look three times too big. jeno snorted. “look, they got your good side.”

“bite me” you said, peering around a corner. your reflection multiplied into a dozen versions of you, all looking equally pissed.

“tempting,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

jeno’s fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you in the opposite direction.

“it’s this way,” he said.

“how would you know?”

“we’ve been stuck in here for like ten minutes,” he cut in. “you’re clearly not the best guide.”

you bit your tongue, resisting the urge to snap back.

jeno pointed at a door partially concealed by a tangle of fake cobwebs. “that’s gotta be the exit.”

“that looks deliberately hidden,” you said, eyeing it warily. something about it seemed off.

“well,” he shrugged, “either we try that or we keep wandering in circles. your call.”

fine. you followed him, trusting—against better judgment—that his instincts were better than yours.

they weren’t.

the door creaked open to reveal a forgotten section of the attraction with dust-covered boxes, broken props tossed in corners, and walls lined with peeling fake blood. the air smelled like damp cardboard and stale fog machine fluid.

“...okay,” he said, unfazed. “so not the exit.”

“wow. color me shocked.”

he shot you a look. “didn’t hear you coming up with better options.”

you rolled your eyes and turned back to the door. “whatever, let’s just—”

it didn’t budge. frowning, you tried again, putting more weight into it. nothing.

your pulse quickened. “uh... jeno?”

“what?”

“the door’s stuck.”

“just turn the handle—”

“i am!” frustration and panic crept into your voice. “i know how to open a damn door!”

“move.” he gently nudged you aside, grabbing the handle. he twisted while shoving his shoulder into it but the door held firm “...shit.”

your stomach dropped. this wasn’t funny anymore. “no, no, no… this can’t be happening.” you raked a hand through your hair.

jeno stepped back, scanning the room like there might be another way out. “it’s gotta be part of the attraction… like some escape room or…”

“yeah? you really think they’d make a whole escape room and hide it behind a side door that was clearly not supposed to be opened?” your voice cracked, breath coming quicker now.

he glanced at you, expression shifting. “hey.” his tone dropped, calmer. “don’t freak out.”

easy for him to say. your brain was already spiraling. you were locked in some creepy back room of a haunted house... with him.

you leaned back against the door, shutting your eyes as you tried to calm your racing heart.

“do you have your phone?” you asked, voice tight as you pushed away from the door and walked toward him.

he patted his back pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it up before showing the dead screen. “no battery.”

you let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing your temples. “of course.”

“the staff will probably notice we never came out,” he said, glancing around the dimly lit room. “they’ll be looking for us soon.”

“i didn’t even see anyone else besides that clown,” you muttered. “this is what i get for coming in here with you.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” his voice dropped a note lower, and when you looked up, he’d stepped closer. your back nearly hit the door again, tension sparking between you like static electricity.

“you’ve clearly upset some kind of energy around me, and that’s why all these things keep happening,” you snapped, trying to push away the sudden awareness of how little space there was between your bodies.

“are you being for real right now?” he chucked bitterly, dark eyes flicking to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. “you’ve been writing dirty fantasies about me for months but i’m the one somehow upsetting your energy?”

heat surged to your face, both from anger and embarrassment. “and that’s all they were! fantasies!” you shot back, voice rising. “i never wanted you to read those.” your breath came quicker. his proximity was messing with your ability to think straight.

“yeah?” he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. the playful glint in his eyes burned away, leaving something far more dangerous. “you say that like you didn’t mean every goddamn word.”

your fingers curled into fists at your sides. "is now really the time for this?"

“how come my presence didn't bother you when my mouth was between your legs?” he growled.

your hand shot up, ready to shove him away but he caught your wrist, pinning it above your head. your heart kicked into overdrive.

“not here,” you breathed, but it was weak, barely convincing.

“nobody’s around,” he rasped, chest flush against yours. “and you don’t really want me to stop.”

his lips dragged along your neck greedily, teeth scraping your skin before his tongue soothed the sting. your knees nearly gave out.

“jeno—fuck—we can’t,” you gasped, even as your hips arched toward him, desperate for friction.

“i’m sure i can make you cum before anyone shows up,” he promised, voice like rough velvet.

then he grabbed your thigh, hauling your leg around his waist and shoving his hips against you. the contact had you gasping, heat blooming everywhere at once. his grip was bruising, grounding you and shattering you all at once.

“you have no idea—” his breath was ragged, words spoken between gritted teeth, “—how fucking hard it was to sit back and watch you with him. i wanted to drag you away and remind you exactly whose tongue had you shaking mere hours ago.”

that snapped something inside you. your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him in as his mouth crashed against yours. his hips rolled, grinding against you in rough motions that stole every coherent thought from your brain.

you should stop. you should care about where you were or the fact that your boyfriend was waiting for you outside, but the way he was touching you, kissing you, claiming you.

he pressed you hard against the wall, hands pulling at your sweater with urgency. the second it was off, his mouth was on you, sucking against the lace of your bra. his groan was barely controlled.

“fuck, so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words shaky. his gaze was hungry as he tore your bra off, his lips tracing the curve of your chest.

his mouth found your nipple, sucking hard. your back arched and a gasp slipped from you.

“god, perfect tits,” he growled. his hands were shaking now, and there was no control in his voice, just raw need.

without warning, he pulled your pants off, almost knocking you off balance. you barely steadied yourself before he turned you around, shoving you forward. Your hands gripped the wall for support, and you felt him push his erection against your ass.

“fuck, gonna make you feel so good. better than your fingers ever could. let me fill you up” he groaned, his voice desperate. you could feel how hard he was even through his jeans.

you bit your lip, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of knowing just how much you wanted him. before you could look back, his hand was on your jaw, turning your head to face forward.

“be good and i’ll let you look,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear.

he pulled your panties aside, the fabric stretching tight against you. it felt like it might snap any second, but before the thought could even settle, his finger was buried in your folds. the cool touch of his rings against your heat made you gasp, your body shuddering in response.

“oh god,” you mewled.

if your mind was clear enough to process anything, you’d laugh at how absurd this was. your fantasies, the ones you’d written about in your blog, were unfolding before your eyes, all within a day.

“barely even touched you, and you’re already dripping like this?” his voice was laced with amusement, though there was a growl beneath it.

“jeno, please don’t… tease me.” the words barely left your mouth, a plea you couldn’t hold back.

he smirked, his thumb brushing over your sensitive spot as he circled your clit. “i thought you were the one who didn’t want to do this here,” he taunted.

“please,” you whispered, barely able to form a coherent thought.

he chuckled, drawing another slow circle, teasing you, making you ache. every motion of his finger made your body respond, pushing your hips back instinctively. “so eager,” he muttered, his mouth hot against your shoulder.

his finger plunged inside you, and before you could adjust, another joined. he pulled them out slowly, spreading the slickness of your folds across your skin, making you squirm in desperation. you felt the pressure of his cock growing against your ass, and you clenched around his fingers, your walls yearning for more.

“ready for me, baby?” his voice was low, dark, almost a growl, and you nodded, mind too fogged to say anything.

he spread your legs wider, forcing you open for him, giving him better access. you felt the tip of his cock swipe against your folds, teasing the entrance, and you couldn’t help but steal a glance down. his pre-cum smeared against you, mixing with your slickness.

“when i’m done with you, you won’t even remember who came before me…” his words were gruff, hot against your hair.

and then, just like that, he thrust inside. you heard him inhale sharply as your gummy walls welcomed him, stretching around him, pulling him deeper. he felt thick, too thick, and you weren’t sure if he was all the way in, but the fullness was overwhelming. his body pushed against yours, your legs trembling under the weight of him, but he wasn’t stopping.

one hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as jeno continued to push deeper. your moans grew louder, and with each thrust your inhibition was slipping away. it felt too good to care about being caught, to think about anything else but the feeling of being so full.

but then, just as you were losing yourself completely, the sound of footsteps and distant voices jerked you back to reality.

“guys, they probably already came out,” you recognized jenny’s voice, and you froze.

“y/n isn’t picking up her phone,” your boyfriend’s voice followed, too close, so close you could practically feel him in the room.

you pushed weakly against jeno, trying to make him pull out, but he wasn’t paying attention. instead, he thrust into you again, harder, his cock pressing into you so deeply that you bit your tongue to hold back the moan threatening to slip out.

“that’s cause i have it,” natty’s voice rang out, innocently. “she gave it to me when she went on the roller coaster earlier.”

jeno’s hand moved to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds you couldn’t stop from escaping. he continued to pound into you, relentless, while pulling you flush against his chest, his pace steady but punishing. panic clawed at your throat as your breath quickened.

“when were you gonna tell us that...?” jenny’s voice sounded sharp, you could even picture the scowl that came with it.

“did you try jeno?” your boyfriend asked, the concern in his tone making the situation even more unbearable.

“we don’t have his phone number,” natty replied casually.

“i do,” Jenny said, her voice almost sheepish.

jeno’s hips stuttered for a brief moment, the pace slowing as he briefly pulled away from you. you thought he was stopping but before you could even react, he spun you around, forcing you to face him. his forehead glistened with sweat, his lips swollen from how hard he’d bitten them, his breath labored.

“what? since when?” natty asked, her voice sounding confused but amused.

“i stole it from y/n’s phone,” jenny muttered quickly. “don’t tell her, though.”

before you could even process her words, jeno thrust back into you, pressing you into the wall with each brutal stroke. the wall rattled violently with every movement and you could barely form the words to warn him.

“j-jeno, stop… they… they’re gonna hear us,” you gasped. your whole body felt like it was being torn apart in the best way, but the fear of being caught made it impossible to enjoy it fully.

“let them,” he growled against your ear, his grip tightening on your waist. “let your boyfriend know i’m the only one who can make you cum.”

you couldn’t help the loud whimper that came out when he said that.

“did you guys hear that?” your boyfriend’s voice rang out, sharp with suspicion.

your eyes widened in sheer panic, your body stiffening around jeno. but instead of stopping, he only smirked, still buried deep inside you. the bastard was enjoying this.

his hand trailed down, fingers finding your clit, and the second he started rubbing tight circles, your head lolled back involuntarily. another strangled whimper escaped before you could stop it. the feeling of his fingers working you over while he continued driving into you relentlessly had you seeing white.

“what?” natty asked, her voice tinged with unease.

jeno didn’t stop, his movements staying controlled except for the way his breath hitched when your walls fluttered around him. his lips parted slightly, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he fought to keep from moaning out loud.

“it sounded like… a person?” your boyfriend said, his voice closer now.

your head snapped up in terror, eyes locking onto jeno’s, silently pleading with him to stop. but he wasn’t even looking at you. his teeth were digging into his lower lip, dark eyes fixed on where your bodies were joined, watching the way he disappeared inside you over and over again.

“it’s probably just the scary audio replaying on the speakers,” Jenny suggested.

“and that rattling sound?”

jeno’s eyes flicked up at that, finally registering your panic. without pulling out, he wrapped an arm around your waist and lifted you off the wall effortlessly, carrying you a few paces away before pressing you down onto an old, dusty table.

before you could even think to protest, he shoved your knees up and entered you again, deeper this time, making you arch off the surface with a muffled cry. your teeth sank into the flesh of your hand to keep the noises in.

the table creaked with each sharp thrust, dust kicking up into the air around you. tears pricked your eyes, whether from pleasure, mortification, or both, you weren’t sure.

“maybe rats or something,” jenny suggested, her voice fading as she moved further away. “who cares? let’s just go. they’re not here anymore.”

the moment the voices started retreating, jeno leaned over you.

“we almost got caught,” he whispered, his teeth grazing your earlobe “...and you’re still fucking dripping around me.”

you didn't even get to feel embarrassed by his words because soon he was already moving again harder, deeper, like he needed to make up for the interruption. the table kept creaking under the force of his thrusts, and your fingers scrambled for something to hold onto.

when you looked down, your breath hitched at the sight of his cock drilling into you over and over, slick coating both of you in a wet mess. you were mesmerized by the sharpness of his hip bones, the way his veins bulged with every flex of his muscles.

you wanted to touch. you needed to.

your fingers twitched with the urge. why is he still so covered? you’d seen him shirtless before, had spent far too long secretly admiring the cut of his abs, but seeing and feeling were entirely different. you wanted to feel them ripple under your hands, to feel the heat of his skin against your palms.

driven by that need, you pushed up on your elbows, reaching for the hem of his shirt. he didn’t stop you, just watched with dark eyes and parted lips as you dragged the fabric up, exposing smooth skin and the taut muscles beneath. your fingers splayed over his stomach, feeling how hard he was clenching, how his body responded to you.

jeno tensed the moment your hands made contact with his skin, a sharp inhale hissing through his teeth. his hips faltered for a second before slamming back into you with even more force. your breath stuttered, and when you looked up, his eyes were already locked onto yours, pupils blown wide with something wild.

suddenly, he leaned forward and his lips crashed into yours, all-consuming. a deep grunt rumbled from his chest as he licked into your mouth, greedy and desperate, sucking at your tongue like he couldn’t get enough of your taste. you gasped, clutching at his shoulders, your fingers digging into the sweaty skin under his shirt.

he groaned against your lips, voice ragged. “you—” another thrust, deeper this time, knocking the air from your lungs. “—are driving me fucking crazy.”

you felt your orgasm building fast, your breath catching as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. words tumbled out of your mouth, barely coherent, dissolving into soft gasps as your body clenched around him. jeno moaned against your lips, his hand sliding back to your chest, fingers toying with your nipple. his hips didn’t slow, driving into you with almost manic thrusts that had your head spinning.

“fuck, i’m close,” he breathed out, voice rough in your ear. “where do you want it?”

you blinked through the pleasure, brain too sluggish to register the question. when it did, warmth flooded your cheeks. you were on the pill and the thought of him stuffing you up with his cum, just like you’d written about, made your walls flutter instinctively. “inside,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

jeno’s jaw flexed, his gaze darkening. “yeah?” his pace quickened, rougher now, his lips brushing against your neck. “couldn’t wait for me to fill you up, hm?” his words melted into a groan when you clenched around him.

“jeno—i—” the rest of the sentence dissolved into a cry as your orgasm crashed over you violently. your body arched into him, trembling.

he wasn’t far behind. you felt his rhythm stutter before warmth flooded you, his hips pressing deep as he let out a low, drawn-out moan. his lips found yours again, kissing you slowly, even as both of you tried to catch your breath.

when he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours for a while. you wanted to ask what he was thinking, but the words stuck in your throat.

you felt him slip out of you along with the slow drip of hia cum trailing down your thighs. he reached for your discarded underwear, swiping it between your legs with surprising gentleness before, without hesitation, tucking it into his back pocket.

“hey—” you started to protest, but the look he shot you shut you up fast. apparently, those were his now.

a few quiet minutes passed, both of you fixing your clothes, when the door groaned open. you flinched as an older staff member peeked in, eyes widening upon spotting you two.

“what on earth are you two doing in here?”

you quickly stepped forward, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “so sorry, sir! we got lost trying to find the exit, and then the door jammed. thank you for helping us”

“yeah. where’s the way out?” jeno added, right behind you.

“just head left twice. you’ll see the exit sign.” the man shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he waved you off.

“thanks again!” you called, already pulling jeno with you. once outside, the cool night air hit your flushed skin, and you wrapped your arms around yourself with a shiver.

“if we’d followed my directions,” you said, glancing sideways at him, “we would’ve been out a while ago.”

jeno’s jacket appeared over your shoulders before you could argue further. “yeah,” he smirked, eyes glinting under the neon lights. “but then we wouldn’t’ve had all that fun, would we?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 my inbox is always open for any feedback about the fic or if you just wanna talk

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[bunnigumi]

─ FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT

YOU KNOW HOW hormonal teenagers are. Especially the boys. They'll want to fuck anything; even their own sisters.

cw. megumi x reader , incest , porn with plot , reader described with small chest , brief mentions of drinking/smoking , Toji is referred to as dad/daddy (nonsexual) , light exhibitionism , dead dove

an. hi guys!! thank you!! for!! 600+ followers!!!!! i lowkey accidently edged you guys at the end srry in advance i didn't have motivation to write out a full smut scene and i hope theres no typos in this bc ill cry if i see it too late... happy reading ^u^ ^_<

There's a lot of things Megumi can't do when Toji's around. Shower for too long and use up all the hot water, sneak his beers. Get handsy with his sister.

But he seems to do the last one all the time, whether his dad is home or not.

Toji is always too loud watching baseball or horse racing on the TV to hear the noises you make when your brother tries to shove his fingers up your virgin ass for the second time. You chickened out the first because you heard the front door open, your dad coming home for the first time in weeks.

Thought he was going to walk in on the two of you. Ask how your day was, what you've been up to. Something along the lines of what a normal dad would do. All he ever does is mope around. She's dead and you're all grown up.

But Megumi likes to humor you, Let's do it under the covers then.

Especially when you're so irrational, Wanna feel good, right? He won't hear a thing by the time I get my fingers in.

Sometimes he's too passed out drunk to see the bedroom door open with Megumi's hands groping your breasts. They're too small to be properly fondled, but he's always liked girls with small tits. 

You've shared a room since forever. There's only two, one for you and Megumi, and one for your parents. But daddy spends most of the nights on the couch, never makes it a step past the living room.

It probably wasn't the best idea. Megumi started touching you all inappropriately at night, your stuffed dolls from family friends facing away when he fingers you, fucks you, kisses you.

You know how hormonal teenagers are. Especially the boys. They'll want to fuck anything; even their own sisters.

Your brother liked to kiss you a lot when you were younger. Regardless of where you were, who you were with. Simple, fleeting kisses on the lips. Your mom and dad would do it all the time.

Grown ups would fawn over how cute you were as children. How well you two got along. How they wished their children were as well behaved as you two were.

It's not all weird for their age. Shiu said it's just what kids do, kids are parrots, not that he has any. But'chya better teach ‘em it's not normal, or you’re gonna have inbred grandbabies. He says it with a quirked lip, chuckling, and a cigarette in between his fingers.

Your dad, unfazed, gnawed on his own, the sliding door open, summer on your face. Puppy stickers trailing up on the glass that don't make it past the handle.

On a good day, Toji's got a Playboy magazine in one hand, a cold bottle in the other. C'mere, boy. He likes to call Megumi from your room to taunt him. Don't she look just like your sister? Flat out drunk. Well, with that rack, it's more like your ma. See, now this one's more like your sister. Isn't that funny?

He tears out the page, careful to not cut through the model's hips, and tosses it in Megumi's direction. His eyes never leaving the magazine. Not even when he takes a swig of the bottle.

Don't fucking talk about your daughter like that. The hell's wrong with you? Megumi says it partially under his breath. And he says it like he isn't hard in front of his dad, like it's not because of the thought of his sister. 

His face twitches with mock disgust. It's as if he isn't folding the page and slipping it into his pocket when he heads back to your shared room.

It all went through one ear and out the other—television static. Toji doesn't look up, doesn't notice Megumi leave. The daggers stabbed into his hollow head. The hard on his son’s got at the mention of his sister. He never notices anything at all.

And it's whatever. You're waiting for him. You want to show him the new panties you bought when you were out with your girlfriends, the money courtesy of your brother. Not in exchange for sex, of course. He loves you more than to treat you like a prostitue. Plus, you'd do it for free, so that makes you a good sister slut.

Megumi doesn't like his new part time all too much. ‘Part time’ means being away from you, leaving you alone. Government code to keep families apart. Buy whatever you like. You're a people pleaser.

Your dad babies you a lot. He still doesn't understand how teenagers work. Coddles you to death like you're still five when his breath smells like spearmint.

It's about the same for Megumi, that kiddy treatment. Still offers runs out to the nearby store to buy ice cream, loitering for the air conditioning on days when cold baths with you aren't enough to kill the heat. Sticking their faces in freezers, your mom twirling you in circles. Letting you go like a wind up doll, spinning and spinning ‘till the world was dizzy.

You inherited her smile, her upturned eyes when you laughed.

And you hate the way Toji let himself go. The person he became. The safety, the warmth. Detached too early from nurturing. Spiraling all the way down from the tree, the nest.

You, me, your sister. Like we used to.

He never got his ass off the couch. Not for those recreational things at least. Everyone knows that, but Toji still tries.

Not to say that Megumi isn't a fan of tradition. Cold baths with you, having you warm his dick while he washes your hair with strawberry, 3-in-1 kid shampoo. Sucking your little tits and biting down on your tender neck. Rubbing your needy clit in circles, your hips bucking, water sloshing. Suds popping and flying in the air. Soapy residue clinging to tile walls.

Your dad doesn't question why you still do it together when you're in your teenage years, or how you two should have outgrown baths already. It's a win-win situation.

He never has a reason to leave; no wife to nag him about remembering to buy fabric softener at the store with the groceries because he forgot the last time. It's not that important, only sissies need soft clothes to survive.

When he does leave, it's for days on end. And you never really notice when he does until you’re on your way out the door to school in the early morning, and there's no one on the couch, not a note on the counter.

Tugging at the hem of your uniform shirt, slipping on your shoes and leaning on the door handle you’d drill holes into the Toji-shaped spot and the door is quietly shut behind you, your brother still asleep.

He's gotten into the college near home and has been taking on more night shifts. Most of his classes start in the afternoon and you miss walking with him to school.

Megumi's the one paying attention to you more, and even extra attention on nights when dad isn't home and he's back from work.

You can be as loud as you need to be, fuck as much as you want. You've grown to be one spoiled girl, that's for sure.

Toji saw him feeling you up once in the kitchen when he went to grab leftover takeout from the fridge. You thought he wasn't home. Turned out he hadn't left the house since yesterday, passed out in his room. Still smelled like a bar, nicotine, and a skank.

You think it's the first time he actually slept there since, well, you know. 

The hell you kids doing. It wasn't a question. He said it with a yawn, with glaring indifference in the base of his tone. Megumi ignored the way his shoulders were slumped over. How he rested his weight on the fridge handle.

And you could act like it didn't happen, like your older brother wasn't pressing up against your backside, trying to stick his junk inside of you.

Nothing, daddy. It's all in your imagination. Just playing. You've just been watching too many pornos. By the way, are you hungover? Your breath reeks of cumsluts and prostitute whores.

Megumi finds that Toji tends to only register the sound of your voice rather than your words. He'd gotten pretty good at that thing with your mother. When you hit puberty, you started to sound like her.

And it's easy for Toji to turn a blind eye. To forget and be at ease. Megumi could really just have continued to go and fuck you right there over the kitchen counter. You're real good at quick and dirty. There’d be the high pitch of your moans and Toji could care less.

It's what happens when you have a dead mom, a college roommate of a dad, and a touchy brother for a family.

Shiu managed to lure Toji out of the house tonight with the promise of girls and booze. Like a dog hearing the words ‘park’ and ‘treat’. Pathetic, is what it is.

You’re wrapping your hand around your older brother’s cock. Pressing your cheek against his thigh. Pleading eyes staring up at him because you’re unsure of how to start. Red knees on scratchy hardwood floor. It's been a while since you had time for foreplay more than kissing and fingering.

“Suck it like a popsicle. Careful with your teeth,” He says in a low voice. “Yeah, exactly like that.”

You've always been a quick learner. Daddy doesn’t know that. Grey rings on unopened report cards turned coasters.

But your brother sure does. He likes to encourage your learning with a hand tangled into your hair. And he’s not all too strict of a teacher, relenting in his grasp when you dig your nails into the side of his legs. Pulling off with saliva dripping down your chin. Lips pouty and shredded like paper, your jaw aching. Thighs rubbing together, always desperate for something more.

Megumi lifts you up onto his lap so that you're straddling him, and taking the initiative, you throw your arms around his neck—pressing your bodies together, grinding down on him and zealously chasing after his lips.

You love like it's second nature.

Intimately to the ideal of union. Crossing lines just to hear the way they snap, it's more satisfying from the other side. In privileged rebellion; the temptation that comes with this taboo of want.

He can taste himself on you, with notes of sugar from home baked cookies and cheap frosting on your tongue.

Megumi has to force you still, his hands squeezing tight around your waist.

Petulant like a child, a whine leaves your mouth at the halt of friction. He manhandles your position so that your back is resting on his chest. Legs dangling off the edge of the bed, kicking and making a soft thumping noise against its side. 

Lifting up the hem of your shirt, his shirt that you’re wearing, reveals nothing but white panties soaked wet from the way your brother nips at your bottom lip when you kiss, from humping him, the way he loves you, too.

He shoves your panties to the side, smearing your slick all over your cunt with his fingers, onto your clit. He rubs light circles, eliciting breathy moans from you before abruptly stopping to pull your underwear down the rest of the way, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Resting his chin on your shoulder and marking the dip between your neck and shoulder with red indents of his teeth, the sting of his canines, he slips his middle finger into your cunt. The ring, to stretch you out. Then the index, to see how much you can take.

Facing the open door, no one's on the couch while your big brothers got a hand between your thighs. The other sliding under your shirt, agonizingly slow up your chest in a way that sends shivers up your spine, translating into hunger for your brain.

You don't wear bras at home, but you enjoy wearing frilly, lacy ones. Little white bows on the center of your chest. Dolly and cute to the point it was sexy, but not overly so. In blue and pink pastels bordering white.

Megumi was always poked fun at for hanging out with you during lunch and breaks in middle school. Always badgered by his rag-tag group of friends. 

C’mon, Fushiguro. Hang out with us. Just for today at least. That pink haired one was always so whiny. Cute, maybe, but whiny. Or what about after school? You always go straight home. He got on your nerves. You hated him. 

Only sister fuckers hang out with them at school. The brunette was fairly pretty. Skinny legs, good tits. Glossy lips when she said her snide remarks. You always had this fear that Megumi would leave you for her. Irrational, did he mention? You shot her a glare, and hated her too.

You’d ask Megumi to follow you to the girls bathroom after lunch. Undoing the buttons of your blazer. The first, second, third one of your dress shirt—flashing starstruck eyes with a new bra. Arms pushing your breasts together, offering him a sweet smile. Lustful persuasion.

Then you would leave him for class and he'd have to jerk off to get rid of his boner. In a stall over the toilet, quick so no one hears him. Grinding his teeth together, biting down on his lip, chewing the side of his mouth to muffle the noise until it all hurt.

You’ve always liked to rile him up. To leave him high and dry, no hand holding on the way home, then give him all of you the second you step into the door without so much as a glance to see if anyone's in the house.

You like to tease him, even whenever Toji is near. 

Simulating the tent in his pants with your feet under the table while daddy is smoking with Shiu.

Staring at your brother from across with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

Waiting for his cool composure to break until he’s got only two options: Bend you over the table and fuck you right then and there, or play his little sister’s game, her rules. Puppy dog eyed, exhibitionist freak.

Your hips continuously grind up to meet his knuckles. Clutching his wrist, whispering as he curiously stops his attack on your neck, “More. Want more,” and you hold your breath.

You feel him smile on your skin. Without a word, he flips you onto the mattress, and knows exactly what you want, exactly what you need by the way you hook your legs over his back, locking your ankles together. Pulling him in closer. Effectively caging him in. The world can't have him. You've claimed your stake on him a long time ago.

And the words that leave your mouth feel nothing but natural. Your voice is airy, breathy. This insatiable desire tugs harshly at your heart.

Your lips purse together for a moment, just a single moment before the words seamlessly roll off your tongue. 

“I love you," like you were born to do.

[thatonegrimm]

So glad you're doing requests.

Could you do one where the Saja boys are meeting reader's parents and they are nothing like they expected?

You can make them shy while reader is loud, traditional while reader is more free-spirited or whatever you think.

-Viña

Thank you for the request! I had a lot of fun figuring out the right attitudes for this one. Here you go! 💌

🌙 Saja Boys Meet Your Parents

--------------------

🧿 Jinu 

Jinu had prepared like it was an exam.

Hair neat. Clothes ironed. Three emergency conversation topics memorized.

He expected your parents to be loud like you—quick to tease, easy to win over with a soft smile and maybe a shared love of tea. Instead, they were… quiet. Too quiet.

Your father stared across the table with the same piercing stillness Jinu used when sensing demons nearby. Your mother folded napkins with military precision and asked questions like she was on the admissions board for an elite academy.

“So, Jinu,” she said, pausing mid-fold. “What would you say your intentions are?”

He blinked. Twice.

You, beside him, kicked his ankle under the table. “Mom—”

But he cleared his throat. “I… I care about her. Very much. I want to stay by her side as long as she’ll let me.”

Silence.

Then your mom smiled—small, but real.

Your dad nodded once. “Good answer.”

And just like that, Jinu exhaled for the first time in fifteen minutes.

--------------------

💪 Abby

Your family dinner turned into a feat of strength before dessert.

No, really.

The second your dad realized Abby could lift a couch with one hand, he was ushered into the garage for a “friendly little challenge.” Now he was holding your cousin above his head like a human trophy while the rest of your family cheered.

You clapped. Your mother took photos.

Abby grinned through it, but when he sat beside you afterward, pink in the face, he whispered, “Is it always like this?”

You beamed. “Oh, this was tame. You passed the uncle test and the squat challenge.”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling. “I thought they were gonna make me fight a bear.”

You kissed his cheek. “You are the bear, babe.”

And he decided he didn’t mind being your family’s new favorite party trick, as long as he got to leave with you.

--------------------

📚 Mystery 

Mystery wasn’t nervous—at least not in the way people usually were. He had met monsters with six eyes and no mercy. He’d eaten with those who didn’t blink when carving curses from their ribs.

But nothing prepared him for your grandmother.

She pinched his cheek.

Not once. Three times.

“Oh, he’s shy,” she crooned. “Just like your grandfather. Sat in silence for two whole Thanksgivings before he ever said a word.”

Mystery blinked, eyes wide as he clutched his tea like a lifeline.

You tried not to laugh too hard.

By the time dinner ended, he had been called “sweetheart,” “cutie,” “mister tall dark and handsome,” and “the one with the sad puppy eyes.” Your entire extended family had adopted him like a stray cat.

On the way home, he looked at you, dazed. “They fed me six slices of pie.”

“They liked you.”

“I think I’ve been… grandparented.”

You squeezed his hand. “You earned it.”

--------------------

💋 Romance 

Romance came in armed with charm, wit, and a tray of expensive macarons.

He expected jokes, teasing, dramatic aunts who wanted to know if he was going to propose in the next six months.

Instead… your parents were composed. Like monks. Stoic. Minimalist décor. Classical music in the background. Your dad nodded politely. Your mom offered chamomile tea.

He, who had never known silence in his life, sat with perfect posture and sipped with the delicacy of a man not on the verge of spiraling.

“I thought they’d be like you,” he whispered when you passed him the sugar bowl.

You shrugged. “I’m the chaos they prayed into existence.”

He smiled tightly. “I love them. I’m also scared.”

Later that night, your dad pulled him aside and said, “We see how much you love her. That matters more than anything.”

Romance melted.

And maybe stopped over-performing, just a little.

--------------------

🔥 Baby 

Baby strutted into your parents’ house like it was his stage.

He’d met fans. He’d met ghosts. He could handle in-laws.

…Except your mom was already waiting at the door with a photo album.

“Oh, he’s cuter in person,” she said.

“I told you!” your little cousin squealed, phone out. “He’s already in the family group chat.”

He blinked. “I’m what?”

You leaned against the wall, grinning like a traitor. “They found your fancams last month. It’s been over.”

At dinner, your dad tried to recreate one of his choreography moves and pulled something. Baby immediately helped him stretch, red-faced but laughing. Your older brother tried to act intimidating, but cracked when Baby offered him extra gochujang without asking.

“You're not what I expected,” your mom said as you were leaving.

“Good or bad?”

She smiled. “Better.”

He didn’t stop smiling the whole drive home.

--------------------

M-List

[eriwithpetalsandletters]

Probability Says Otherwise

Inspired by an Oscar Piastri x Reader fanfiction.

When stats prodigy Y/N L/N returns to the F1 paddock, chaos follows—culminating in SkySports accidentally hard-launching her as Oscar Piastri’s girlfriend. They’ve never met. Yet. Probability didn’t see this coming.

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story created purely for entertainment and imaginative purposes.

The paddock was not prepared.

When Y/N L/N—statistical prodigy, alleged child of Lestappen chaos—walked into the Japanese Grand Prix after five years off the grid, people genuinely thought she was a mirage.

A Mercedes intern fainted. Someone from McLaren dropped their tablet and forgot to pick it up for three laps.

She wore distressed jeans and a white t-shirt—the kind of outfit that screamed, "I’m smarter than you and will judge your tire strategy with my eyebrows alone."

As she passed Red Bull’s hospitality suite, three camera operators tripped over themselves, trying to capture her entrance.

Y/N ignored the chaos. Her glasses caught the sunlight like they were in on the joke. She looked less like a long-lost paddock figure and more like someone who’d spent five years fine-tuning tire degradation models instead of doing media rounds.

Reporters swarmed. Boom mics waved like battle flags. But Y/N’s gaze drifted to someone else: a young journalist clutching a notebook like it was shielding her from the storm.

Y/N approached calmly. Like she’d spotted a nervous woodland creature.

“You look like you weren’t planning to scream in my ears until I become deaf” she said, voice laced with interest.

“I—I wasn’t. Honestly, I didn’t even expect you to show up,” the reporter stammered.

“I didn’t expect Ferrari to nail their tire strategy either,” Y/N said, glancing at the garage. “Yet here we are. Living on the edge.”

The reporter giggled nervously. “So... uh, people are dying to know—what have you been doing all these years?”

Y/N adjusted her glasses. “College. Stats. Became a full-time chaos predictor. I ran the numbers and figured this weekend had the lowest probability of drama.”

She looked around. “That aged poorly.”

The reporter hesitated. “My boss is begging me to ask this. I swear I tried to stop them, but… the internet is losing it.”

Y/N smirked. “Go on. Hit me.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Without missing a beat, Y/N leaned in. “Like ghosts? Or hallucinations?”

The reporter short-circuited. Y/N patted her on the shoulder like a war general passing the torch and strolled off, completely unbothered.

Race Day – Chaos Fully Activated

Y/N returned the next day like a patch update: cooler, sharper, upgraded.

She wore a soft blue dress under a vintage Ferrari jacket. Windswept hair. Sunglasses hanging from her collar like a prop. She looked like a Vogue cover model who could also rebuild an engine.

Photographers lost their minds. One climbed onto a crate and immediately fell off. Another burst-shot 300 blurry photos and cried when his camera overheated.

Max Verstappen spotted her and marched over like a fed-up dad.

“You’re coming to my garage next race,” he said flatly.

“So I can hear you yell about brake temps?”

“I’m trying to protect you from this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at everything.

She nodded toward Ferrari. “I came specifically to watch them ruin their own race in high definition. Don’t take that from me.”

Max groaned and walked off, muttering something about ungrateful children.

Y/N settled into the Ferrari garage, half-hidden behind a monitor. Everything was calm... until Lap 44.

SkySports zoomed in on her face. Too close. Too long. Somewhere in the broadcast room, an intern panicked.

“Is that Y/N L/N? Is she real?”

"She's very real. She's a statistician now” someone higher-up said. “Make it good. Add spice.”

The intern, who happens to be an Oscar Piastri fan, hesitated, then typed.

Suddenly, on every screen:

Y/N L/N

Statistician – Oscar Piastri’s Partner

Meanwhile: Oscar Piastri

Oscar had just secured P3 and was reaching for his water bottle when a reporter appeared, too giddy to hide it.

“Congrats! Big race. Also—any thoughts on your partner?”

Oscar blinked. “My what?”

The reporter held up a tablet. Oscar squinted. “Did I just pick up a relationship mid-race like it’s a pit stop?”

“Yup. SkySports called it live.”

“I’ve never even spoken to her. Didn’t know she was here.”

A pause.

“…She’s really pretty, though.”

Back in the Ferrari Garage

Y/N hadn’t even stood up before the interrogation started.

Max had his arms crossed. Charles looked personally invested. Carlos pretended to be checking tire data but was clearly eavesdropping.

“Why does Sky think you’re dating Oscar?” Charles asked.

“No idea,” Y/N said. “Maybe fate ships us. Maybe someone at Sky’s bored. Maybe both.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Are you lying to us?”

"I stayed here hoping Ferrari’s disastrous pit calls would distract everyone from my face,” she insisted. “Clearly, the statistics lied.”

Before they could dig deeper, Oscar himself appeared—like a confused guest speaker who missed rehearsal.

“Hi,” he said. “Are we dating now?”

Y/N gave him a long, amused look. “Have we ever talked?”

“No.”

“Then clearly, yes. We're in a deeply serious, imaginary relationship now.”

Oscar laughed nervously. “Wanna grab coffee and let the internet spiral?”

Y/N tilted her head, looking at him properly. Kind eyes. Earnest posture. Pretty. Suspiciously pretty.

Then she smirked.

"After years of dating sad-looking men with zero emotional range, gives lame excuses, and lies like their 5 years olds, the universe sends me Oscar Piastri," she said. “Statistically improbable. And I like it very much”

Oscar grinned. “So that’s a yes?”

“Statistically speaking?” Y/N adjusted her glasses. “Definitely.”

And just like that, the internet combusted.

📝 Author’s Note

Inspired by a fictional Oscar Piastri x Reader dynamic. All characters and events are dramatized. No real-world affiliations implied—except for our undying respect for the SkySports intern who pressed the chaos button.

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ messy on a haystack

❥ dbf!logan x fem!reader

having a crush on an older man, your dad’s best friend , was something you never expected.

❥ tags: age gap (but it makes sense), based off of origins wolverine, reader is thick asf (country booty duhh), explicit language, creaming, squirting, breeding kink, pussy drunk logan, mutant awakening, semi-plot—needed him to fuck us asap, logan is a little pervy…

note: up next, fantasize. wc: 2.8k

your dad left the farm’s care in your hands this week, while he took a trip back to his hometown to check on his parents—your grandparents. which means that you were in charge of everything. from the animals, to the wood the men chopped, to the pay and the workers; you were in charge of it all. including him.

logan had known your father for a while, meeting him a few months after you left for college and that was practically six years ago. during that time, logan practically ran the farm with your father—he was his right hand man. everything was running smoothly, the farm had been booming for years. and then your father got sick, changing everything.

people found out about your father’s sickness and tried to get him sell. logan would scare them away most of the time, telling them to fuck off, but then the stress of running the farm started to jeopardize his health even more. so, logan found your number stashed in your father’s office—your dad’s too stubborn and old school to get a cellphone—and gave you a call. you caught the next flight out.

the moment you stepped on the dirt paved roads, everything seemed to perk back up. especially your old man. but, when logan laid eyes on you, he was finally able to see what you really looked like, (your dad kept old photos of you in his office) and he was amazed. you were gorgeous, prettiest lil thing he’d ever seen.

those deep blue flare jeans you wore, hugged you tighter than a grandma during holidays. and he never thought he was an ass man till he seen yours and how it sat in your jeans. and don’t get him started on how you filled out your the cropped white beater—fuck he sounded like a perv. but, it’s been a long time since he thought about a woman like that; and you were everything and then some.

after greeting your dad and explaining to him why you were here, you finally met the mysterious man who called you—and let’s just say he caught your eyes too. he was handsome, the rugged look he adorned was incredibly sexy and the way he would look at you; had your panties wet every night. if someone would hear your thoughts right now, they’d call you weird and tell you that he was old enough to be your father—but thank goodness he was not.

—

“time for lunch boys!” you yelled out to the men hard at work, watching them throw down their things and separate—happy to finally stop working and chow down. you watched as logan sauntered over towards you, standing on the porch; waiting for him to join you for lunch. “hi logan.”

“hey princess, what’s for lunch?” you blushed at the nickname and walked with him to the kitchen, where you had practically went all out. you made a big ole southern meal. you loved cooking, it was your love language. and he loved the meals you’d make.

the two of you sat down and began passing around the various dishes of food you had made, before he sparked up a conversation. “your dad left today, right? what day did he say he’ll be back?” his eyes locked onto yours as he picked the chicken you made, munching on it while he spoke.

“yeah and he won’t be back until…next monday.” he nodded and smirked, tossing back some more of the home cooked food you made. “so then i got you all to myself then?” you nearly choked on your mashed potatoes, eyes wide when you saw him smirking. there was no denying that you heard him, loud and clear.

just as you were about to respond, the kitchen timer went off—signaling that it was time to go back to work. you pouted and he hurried up to scarf down the glass of water beside his food before getting up and leaning over to kiss your forehead, “later princess. I’ll be back tonight.” you watched him leave, heart heavy with love and your mind going crazy with what happened at the table.

you spent the next few hours at the front office, crunching numbers and overseeing where the next shipment of wood was going. the sun going down and slipping past the horizon, made the workers excited as they all wrapped up their work and lined up to clock out. you watched from the porch, as they scanned their manilla colored time cards in front of the clock and headed home.

logan was the last one and when he clocked out, he made his way over towards you. his flannel was torn to shreds and his beater that made his toned torso stick out, was covered in dirt; showing how hard his day went. but all in all, he was still sexy, even when covered in dirt.

“logan~” your voice mimicked a siren, trying to seduce a sailor in by the sexy tone of their voice, while your eyes were low and lidded. he could feel himself grown in his pants from the sound of your voice, his desire for you growing by the second.

“need sumn’, princess?” his voice made you melt and you pressed your thighs together. “shower’s free and i made your bed. ooh, there’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re still hungry!” you smiled at him, trying to suppress a moan when his natural scent hit your nostrils. the smell of woods, hours old cologne and hard work, had your panties wet.

he nodded his head, licking his lips as his eyes traveled down to your thick thighs that were no longer being hidden by denim—before fixtating them back onto your own. “might have to marry ya’ one day.” he commented, planting a kiss on your forehead, before stepping into the house.

letting out a moan, you bit your lip and accepted the tingling sensation that throbbed down below. oh you needed him bad.

logan enjoyed the shower’s hot steaming waters, easing the tension in his muscles and helping him clear his brain. well at least he tried to, his head was clouded with thoughts of you. his best friend’s daughter.

once he stepped out of the shower and put on something comfy, he went down to the kitchen hoping to find you there, however much to his dismay you weren’t. he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. just as he was about to put it his lips, he heard you let out a distressed scream and he took off running.

he could see you in front of the barn doors being harassed by the men that came a month ago, whom tried to get your dad to sell his land. one had a grip on your hair while the other stood in front, taunting you. logan practically pounced on them and his claws unsheathed, slicing them men up.

you back away and watched as they fought, blood splattering everywhere—but that’s not what worried you. what made you worry was when both of the men began to overpower logan—you had to help him. you realized there were some tools in the barn and as you moved to get, you appeared inside in the blink of an eye; grabbing a shovel before appearing right behind the fighting men again.

your mind was pushing out a million thoughts about what just happened, but you didn’t have time to focus on them right now; you had to save him. you swung with all of your might, knocking the men across the field and off of logan. their bodies crashed into other, giving logan ample enough time to pounce on them and fuck them up.

“get in the barn!” he yelled out, slicing them to bits and pieces—and just like before, you appeared in the barn.

–—

you were in there for quite a while, pacing back and forth; wondering what the hell was going on out there. the sounds of his grunting and the slicing of their skin could no longer be heard. you didn’t care what happened to them, they deserved hell or worse, all you cared about was logan.

the doors to the barn creaked open and you eyed it, but you relaxed when you saw him stomping in. your eyes watered at his bloody torso and you sprinted over to him, engulfing him in a hug. “baby, i was so worried about you!”

that nickname rolled off your tongue and he caught it, pulling you back to look at your face. he held you by your chin, puffing up your cheeks, before kissing your soft plump lips—while you gladly accepted his. the kiss was hot and a little sloppy. and when he pulled away from you, a trail spit following.

“been wanting to do that for awhile now. go ahead and take those off, you won’t be needing them,” he tugged on the hem of your shorts and you obliged. you quickly stripped them off along with your sunset colored thong, a web of your essence following. you were beyond soaked and he knew the moment he appeared in the barn, he could smell it.

you sat on a nearby haystack, spreading your legs and your slick coated lips, rubbing your sensitive little love bud. “please logan, wan’ you so bad.”

the lust that had built up over time, had overflowed and erupted; causing a change within you. and he loved it.

he watched with a lust filled glint in his eyes, his cock growing in his sweatpants as he watched you play with your pretty pussy—his desire and longing for you growing by the second. “think you can handle it, princess?” he asked and you nodded, slipping a finger in your aching hole; a sweet mewl leaving your lips.

he then replaced his finger with his fat leaky tip, pressing it right at your entrance; causing you to clamp down on nothing. he grunted and pushed through, stretching you open bit by bit; making you gasp and tear prick at the corner of your eyes.

“ ‘s too big—fuck!” that was an understatement. logan was huge, thick even. he was painfully big, but that’s exactly what you wanted. to be fucked dumb by his big fat painful cock.

“i know baby, but you can take it. yeah? —atta girl” he coached, splitting your cunt open as he pushed through, his tips inches away from kissing your cervix. logan leaned down and kissed away your tears, his cock pressing deep inside of you. he wiggled his hips around, helping you get used to his size and pressing his thumb to your clit; causing you to shudder.

the more he rubbed and he moved, the less pain you felt—and soon you were taking him so well. his cock was coated in your slick, a ring of white started form around his base as he plunged in and out of your wetness. logan watched your tits bounce out of your top with lidded eyes and the animal in him couldn’t help it anymore. his claws unsheathed and wrapped your top open—shredding it completely and freeing your jiggly mounds.

“so fucking—pretty. fuck, my pretty girl taking me so well!” his praises had you gushing all over him, clamping down on him as you started to see specks of white. you had never had an orgasm like this nor have you ever came so quickly before. none of the boys in college made you cum like this. but, that was the difference between logan and them. they were boys and he was a man.

“please don’t stop. please~” you begged, pulling him close while your orgasm flowed out of you. he grunted in your ear and your cunt weeped at the noise, his hips never faltering. “wasn’t planning on it sweetheart.” he moved his head down and took one of your hard nipples into his mouth, sucking on it like he was trying to pull milk from it.

you whined and bucked your hips up to match his thrusts, your clit pressing into him—adding more pleasure to your fucked out body.

you clung to him with each powerful thrust, his hips spanking your ass making a clapping sound erupt through the barn; accompanying your series of moans. your next orgasm approached by the minute, but this one felt different and you lowered your hips trying to back away.

“wait—wait, feels like m’gonna pee—“ but he didn’t budge, he stayed inside of your pussy—still drilling your cunt stilly—and let your nipple go with a pop; a web of saliva followed after him.

“just let go, trust me baby.” he smirked and gripped your hips, hazel eyes dancing over yours. you watched the dog tags around his neck jump with each pump, sending you straight to nirvana. your body shook as you let go, this orgasm different from your last; it was way more intense and you loved the feeling.

a clear stream of liquid splash out of you and onto his low stomach, pushing him out of you—drenching the hay bale beneath you. he slapped his cock onto your sensitive clit, coating himself in your essence.

when you finally calmed down, he leaned down and kissed your lips—hunger laced in it—his hips grinding against yours. and that’s when you realized something. he was still hard. you pulled away and looked at his swollen cock, shiny with your love. “baby, you didn’t get to cum?”

he pecked your lips some more, his tip now laying onto your belly, “just wanted to get you off first. see how pretty you looked when you came on my dick.”

you practically drooled at his words, eyes glued onto his girth that laid on your tummy—small hand fisting it, causing him to growl. “come sit your pretty ass down on my dick and ride me~”.

and that’s what you did for the next couple of minutes, riding him on the hay bale where he just made you squirt for the first time. webs of your messy fluids sticking to his thighs while you bounced and grinded on him—your boobs jiggling all in his face.

logan was losing himself under you, his cock twitching with each movement. he couldn’t wait anymore. he so desperately wanted to let go inside you. wanted to see your belly swollen in a few months with his kid and fuck another one right into you.

he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes and ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed.

you rolled your hips, teasing him while leaning down to kiss him—tongues melting on one another. you pulled away and bit your lip, eyeing him with desire. the way he made you feel had you wanting more and he felt the same way. “take me inside.”

—

the two of you laid on his navy blue sheets, in each other’s arms, after a few more rounds of lovemaking. you toyed with his dog tags while he stared at your pretty face, loving how you looked with the moon glowing on you.

“your dad would kill me if he came back and saw us like this.” he spoke and you looked at him and smiled—getting on top of him and laying down on his muscled body.

“nah, i don’t think so. he’ll know i'm in good hands. ill be with the guy he’s going to sell the farm to, after all.” one of his beautiful thick eyebrows raised in response and you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“read the official letter in his office, he wants to sell the farm to you. im all for it. keep you close so we can have a litter of mutant babies together—now that i am one~”.

now it was his turn to smile and kiss on you. he rubbed circles on your back and pecked more kisses to your plump lips, “you’d look so pretty having my kids, with a ring on your finger and my last name attached to yours. i could see us turning that barn into our house, waking up next to you every day…”

“you can see all of that? you sure the wolverine isn’t a clairvoyant?” you joked and he roared with laughter. you smiled at him, so happy and content with every. so happy that you had to tell him, “i love you.”

his hazel eyes with hints of green widened and his smile became wider, “i love you more, doll.”

[blueberrykefir]

No Permission Needed

Joel Miller x f!reader x Daryl Dixon 18+

Summary: You hit the road, running from home. Hitchhiking, only to be picked up by your daddy's two best friends. Sat between Joel Miller and Daryl Dixon, boundaries blur along the Texas highway. It's a forbidden attraction with two older men that push your limits.

Warnings: Smut! MDI! age gap, dads best friends, praise, teasing, dirty talk, use of nicknames, threesome, vaginal fingering, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex (p in v) rough/manhandling.

Word Count: 10k lol

—

You stuck your thumb out before you could second-guess yourself.

The sun beat down like it had a vendetta, the heat making the asphalt shimmer, like a mirage. You were hot, you were pissed, and for once, you were doing something your way. No asking permission, no clearing it with your daddy first. No curfew ticking in your head like a time bomb.

You were grown up, dammit. Even if your daddy refused to see it.

So you didn’t care where that truck, slowing down for you, was headed, so long as it was away.

The engine rumbled closer, an old, familiar growl that should've made your heart settle. Instead, it damn near dropped straight into your boots.

The truck coasted to a slow stop beside you, sun-bleached and rusting at the corners. 

The window was already cranked down, glass halfway dusted with sun and road grit. You blinked up at the window and froze. 

Joel and Daryl. Your daddy’s best friends.

Oh, shit.

You’d seen them around for years, Joel and Daryl, your daddy’s longtime buddies who showed up for the occasional football game, or during Fourth of July barbecues, beers in hand and sun glinting off sun-kissed forearms. 

They were older than you, sure, but they made your stomach flip. They were weathered, rugged, comfortable in their own skin the way boys your age couldn’t fake if they tried.

Joel had this slow, gravel deep drawl that always made you glance down at your boots to hide your blush. And Daryl had those sharp eyes that said he noticed more than he let on. Back then you were too young. Off-limits. But now? Now you filled out your denim skirt and knew how to swing your hips just enough to get attention, even if you pretend not to notice when either of them looked a little too long.

They sat side by side on that wide bench seat, like the devil sent them personally to scoop you up. Their eyes drank you in. Bare legs, scuffed cowgirl boots, the tank top you wore to fight off the heat and to show a little more skin than your daddy would’ve liked.

Joel’s brows lifted a notch, “You runnin’ away, Sweetheart?”

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, heart drumming in your throat. Then you nodded. “Yes.”

Daryl didn’t even try to hide the smile pulling at his lips. “Your daddy know where you’re at?”

You swallowed, “No.” 

You were ready for them to scold you. To tell you to turn back around and be a good girl. Or for them to haul you into that truck and deliver you straight back to your daddy’s front porch. 

Instead, they looked at each other. Just one second passed between them. Then Joel nodded, subtle and sure, like this had already been decided.

“Hop in.”

A wave of relief washed over you and you smiled, gratefully. 

You grabbed the handle and climbed in, the door creaking like it hadn’t been oiled since before you were born. Daryl didn’t move. Didn’t scoot. Just nodded to the space between him and Joel like it was obvious.

Your skirt barely brushed his knees as you passed over him, settling into the seat between them.

The seat was hot and worn smooth. The old vinyl stuck just a little to the back of your thighs as you squeezed in. The truck was older, so it had a stick shift rising straight up from the floor. You had to throw one leg on either side of it, skirt pulling tight across your thighs.

Joel’s thigh brushed yours on one side, hard muscle under faded jeans, warm and solid. Daryl’s was the same on the other, just close enough that the rough scrape of his denim kissed the soft of her bare thigh.

Your legs looked out of place there. Smooth and soft as a peach next to all that rugged masculinity. Neither of them adjusted for you. Neither of them looked surprised. The engine rumbled to life, low and steady. The rough of Joel’s forearm brushed over your thigh as he shifted into gear. The vibration of the truck thrummed right between your knees… between your thighs. 

Joel kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh, just inches from you, prepared to switch gears as they drove out of town. The subtle proximity made the air feel charged. 

Daryl leaned on his elbow on the open window, his other lazily draped over the back of the seat behind you. His touch never quite reached you, but the space between you was electric, like he was seeing how close he could get without crossing the line.

“You runnin’ off somewhere, darlin’?” Daryl asked eyes on the road ahead, but his voice dipped low and slow, like he already knew the answer, but just wanted to hear you say it.

“Maybe.”

The wind whipped through the open windows, warm and wild. Dust kicked up behind you, and you didn’t look back.

Joel shot you a look from under his lashes, “So. You wanna tell us what you’re doin’ out here, stickin’ your thumb out for strangers.”

You shrugged, fingers fiddling with the frayed hem of your skirt. “Got into it with my daddy.”

Daryl glanced over, his knuckles resting lazy on the open window frame. “He put his hands on you?”

“No–no, not like that.” You hesitated, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “Guess I got tired of being treated like a little girl.”

Daryl chuckled low in his throat, “That right?”

You didn’t answer, just looked out the window like the horizon might save you. The warm wind brushed your skin, lifting the edge of your skirt, like even the breeze was curious.

Joel shifted gears again, this time his hand grazed your thigh when he pulled back from the stick. His fingers skimmed just above the hemline. You swallowed hard.

Joel didn't look at you when he spoke again. Just kept his eyes on the road. 

“Funny,” Joel murmured, voice laced with sin. “You don’t look like no little girl to me.”

“Then maybe y’all oughta stop treatin’ me like one.”

That earned a quiet amused noise from Joel. His fingers tapping idly against the stick shift, like they missed the feel of your skin already.

Daryl leaned forward, his arm behind your shoulders, brushing against you as he adjusted the radio, letting a soft hum of old country fill the space. “Well now, darlin’, that kinda talk’s liable to get you in trouble.

You tilted your chin up, “Maybe I’m lookin’ for a little trouble.

Joel chuckled under his breath, like he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of your mouth. 

The low sound of his chuckle curled in your gut like smoke. You didn’t like it. Not because it wasn’t nice to hear. 

But because it was dismissive. 

Amused. 

Like he still saw the kid pouting over curfews and not the woman sitting between him and Daryl.

So you glanced over, chin tilted in challenge, “Somethin’ funny Joel?”

His eyes slid to your, then back to the road. He didn’t answer right away. Just shifted the gear again, knuckles brushing your thigh like the truck wanted to stir trouble.

With a slight curl to his lips he said, “No, no. Just tryin’ to remember when you learned how to bite.”

The low hum of his voice, slithered down your spine, but the words burned hotter. He still thought it was a game. Like you were just actin’ up for attention. 

At that, you felt a little frustrated he wasn't taking you seriously. You wanted to be seen as a woman. Treated like one. So you snapped. “You guys think I'm just playin’ dont you?”

Neither of them responded. Joel’s fingers twitched on the wheel and Daryl glanced your way, not smirking anymore. His brows tugged in a furrow, the look of a man questioning something he didn’t see coming. 

“I’m not playin’,” You went on, quieter. “I’m done waitin’ around, being treated like I'm ten. I got my own legs now, and I know how to use them.”

That earned a slow glance from both of them. Like finally, they weren’t just looking at you, but they were seeing you.

“Yeah,” Joel said finally. Rough, Barely there. “We’re startin’ to notice.”

You finally settled in, sinking into the old bench seat. The heat of Daryl’s arm pressed warm and heavy against your shoulders and your legs were snug against theirs, like you’d been made to fit there. 

“Good.” You finished. “‘Cause I really didn’t wanna have to hitch a new ride.”

The corner of Joel’s mouth curled, almost a smile, but darker. And when he shifted gears again, his hand grazed your bare thigh. But this time it lingered. He didn’t move away, fast like before. 

The truck suddenly felt too quiet. The old country song warbled low on the radio, a twangy ache that sounded just the way your stomach flipped.

“So.” You started. “Where y’all off to anyways?”

Daryl answered, “Checkin’ out a property over state lines.” 

“Lookin’ for trouble maybe,” Joel added, glancing at you sideways.

You smiled, lashes fluttering. “Lucky you picked me up then.” 

Joel looked back at the road. Daryl’s gaze caught the way your fingers messed with the hem of your skirt.

“Yeah,” Daryl said, “We’re beginnin’ to think so too.” 

The radio crackled with old country, as you guys drove down the old Texan highway. Fields of scrub, rusted fence posts, telephone wires strung lazily alongside the road. It was the most peace you felt in a while. 

You took it all in with anticipation of what's next. A wad of cash in your back pocket. Your past in the rearview. Your bare knees bumping against their thighs every time the truck hits a dip in the road.

Ten minutes passed like that.

Just open road, stolen glances, and accidental touches that lingered too long to be innocent.

Then Joel cleared his throat. “Gotta stop for gas soon.”

Daryl snorted from the passenger seat, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Hell, this old thing runs like it’s draggin’ it’ last breath. We hardly even left town.”

“Hey.” You ran your fingers along the cracked leather of the seat like it was precious. “Ain’t nothing wrong with older.” 

That got their attention. Joel looked at you sideways, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Daryl raised a brow, amused.

“Yeah?” Joel asked, voice thick with heat. “What is it about ‘em you like so much?”

You shrugged, pretending like your pulse hadn’t just kicked up a notch.

“Older things last longer… if you know how to treat them.” You leaned your head back against the seat, letting the sun catch your cheekbones just so. “New stuff’s too easy. I like somethin’ that takes a little work.”

Daryl made a noise of amusement. “Talkin’ ‘bout trucks or men, darlin’?” 

You shrugged, “Ain’t much of a difference, far as I’m concerned.”

Your words landed like a shot of whiskey. Rough and warm.

You weren’t just playing with fire. You were the match, waiting for them to strike. You wanted their minds reeling. Wanted them to picture your lips wrapped around something other than words.

They tensed. They didn’t look at each other, but you could feel them thinking about it. About you.

“Well,” Joel cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. His lips twitched like he was fighting a grin. “Hope you like gas stations too.” The corner of your mouth lifted, amused, “Love them.” 

—

The old truck rumbled to a halt in front of a sun-faded gas station that looked like it had been baked into the Texas dirt. A single rust pump stood half-leaning like it might give out if the wind blew wrong.

The sun poured down mean, sharp as glass. Your skin prickled under it the second Joel cut the engine and the breeze vanished.

“Thirsty?” Darly asked, already nudging open the truck door.

You nodded, legs unfold slowly, denim skirt riding up as you stepped down from the truck. Joel and Daryl’s eyes flicked over your legs and you felt the heat of it like a sunburn.

The soles of your boots crunched on sun-bleached gravel as you followed them towards the station.

Daryl beat Joel to the door, pulling it open with a cocky smile, “After you, darlin’.”

You gave him a mock curtsy and stepped inside, only for Joel to follow right behind, slipping in a little too close. His chest brushed your back as he grabbed the handle and swung the door shut in Daryl’s face, with a lazy flick of his wrist.

You hear the solid thunk of it closing, followed by: “What the hell, man?”

Your laugh bubbled up as Daryl shoved the door back open, giving Joel a shove on his way in.

“That’s what I get for bein’ nice,” Daryl muttered, shooting you a mock wounded look.

You grinned at him, “Didn’t ask you to be.” 

Something unreadable passed through Daryl’s eyes, and his jaw clenched like he was holding back words. Before turning and walking down an aisle.

The air inside the station was barely cooler, just stale and humming from a dusty box fan shoved in the corner. Old postcards curled on wire racks, a faded Coke machine in the corner, and the clerk reading a hardback. 

“Real fine establishment,” You smiled, fingers trailing along a row of melted candy bars as you trailed behind Joel and Daryl into the aisles. Daryl peeled off toward the back, muttering something about jerky. Joel veered toward the cooler.

He grabbed a water bottle, condensation slick on his fingers. He cracked the cap and took a slow swig, throat bobbing.

Then he held it out to you. 

You hesitated for half a beat before taking it. The rim was cold and wet where his mouth had just been. You brought it to your lips and tried not to think about it.

Joel watched you, one brow raised like he hadn’t meant to stare, but couldn’t help it. Your stomach flipped.

“Ain’t gotta get shy on me now,” Joel murmured, voice low and teasing.

You pulled the bottle back, licking a drop from your bottom lip, catching his gaze. “Not shy.” You said. “Just didn’t expect you to be the kinda guy to share.” 

He huffed a breath through his nose, “I’m not usually. But some things…” His eyes dragged over you, “...are worth makin’ an exception for.”

Something warm and thrilling raced down your spine. 

Daryl came round the corner, snacks in hand. He noted the look on your guys’ face. “What’d I miss?”

You turned toward him with a syrup-sweet smile, voice all innocence. “Joel was just tellin’ me he likes to share.”

Daryl raised a brow at Joel, slow and curious. Joel didn’t say anything. Just ran a hand over his jaw like he was tryin’ to keep it together. 

A smirk tugged at your lips. You turned toward the counter, hips swaying and you set the water down with a quiet clink. 

Neither of them moved, just fixated on you. “I’ll be waitin’ in the truck. Don’t take too long.” You drift towards the door and toss over your shoulder, “Reckon I’ll find a way to entertain myself.”

That was all it took. Daryl blinked once, then tossed the snacks down like they’d offended him. “Gas is on you this time, buddy,” he said, already making a beeline for the door. 

Joel didn’t move, just stared after him. “The hell–,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Daryl's boots were stomping behind you, leaving Joel to deal with the clerk.

Outside, the air hit like a blow dryer set to hell. You reached for the truck’s door, but the metal burned your palm like it had soaked up every bit of the Texas sun. 

You pulled back with a small hiss.

“I got it.” Daryl stepped in, casual as anything and pulled the creaky door open. He didn’t even flinch. Of course he didn’t. 

“Thank you.” You said, slipping into the middle with a little sigh. The leather had already gone warm under the sun, leather sticking to the back of your thighs.

Daryl lingered outside the truck, arms crossed over his chest, muscles flexing beneath the frayed edges of his sleeveless black vest. The angel wings stitched across the back was a cruel contrast to a man who looked more like fallen grace than divine mercy. 

The bell above the gas station door jingled, and Joel came out into the sun. He made it halfway to the truck before he tossed a brown paper bag into the cab with a little more force than necessary.

“Dickhead,” he muttered at Daryl, cuffing him on the shoulder, not too hard, but not playful either. Like it wasn’t about snacks or the gas anymore.

Then Joel grumbled something about “damn heat getting to me,” as he walked around to the pump. His eyes cut toward you through the dusty windshield. It was clear, It wasn’t the sun that was getting to him.

Daryl climbed in the passenger side door with a lazy grin, grabbed the brown bag and slid in with a creak of leather and old springs. His arm returned behind you on the seat, this time closer than before.

You gasped when something cold landed in your thigh. He dropped a glass bottle of Coke in your lap. He smirked at you, “Figured you’d want somethin’ sweet.” 

It was chilled, beads of condensation rolling over the red label, soaking into your thighs through the denim of your skirt. 

You took your time, twisting the metal cap on the Coke, letting the fizz whisper as it opened. You brought it to your mouth and took a slow sip from the rim. A soft sound came out, something between a sigh and a hum of satisfaction.

Daryl's gaze seared into you. Intent and sharp. You pulled the drink away from your lips, with a flutter of your lashes. “You want a taste too?”

Daryl’s tongue flicked across his lower lip. “Might be a little too sweet for me.” His voice was low and rough. 

“Huh.” You tilted your head, “I thought you might’ve liked things a little… Sweeter.”

The words floated in the air, charged and suggestive.

Before he could answer, the sound of the door opening sliced through the air. The truck rocked slightly as Joel climbed into the driver's seat. 

You smirked at Daryl, as if you’d just shared a secret, and brought the bottle to your lips, taking another sip. You savored the cold rush down your throat, keeping your eyes on him the whole time.

The truck’s engine roared to life and Joel turned to look at you, his eyes lingering on the way you held the Coke and the way Daryl still hovered too close to you.

There was something tense in the air now, and for once, it wasn’t just the Texas heat. 

—

As the truck pulled back onto the road, the horizon stretched out before you. An endless ribbon of highway shimmering in the scorching afternoon sun. 

The low hum of the tires and old static radio didn’t do much to ease the tension in the truck. It only seemed to thicken with each passing mile. 

Your nails traced lazy circles on your bare thigh, like you needed something to do with your hands. Or maybe you just liked driving them crazy.

The road ahead seemed to blur under the heat and the only thing keeping you tethered to reality was the weight of Daryl’s arm behind you, and the brush of Joel's hand shifting gears. 

Every now and then, you’d catch a fleeting glance from Joel in the rearview mirror, each look sending a thrill through you. His stare was dark, leaving a spark that lingered long after.

The heat from the sun made everything feel too close. Too tight. You tried to stretch out a bit, but you were trapped between their two muscular thighs. 

Joel’s hand rested on the gear shift, letting his forearm carefully hover over your thigh, the lightest brush of his presence. The small act of restraint made your heart skip a beat, a quiet challenge hanging in the air.

You took a slow sip from your Coke, the rim between your glossed lips, pretending you weren't aware of the way they glanced over to watch your mouth. 

“So what was the final straw?” Daryl asked, as though it had been chewing at him for miles.

You blinked, popping off the bottle, glancing over, “What?”

Daryl’s hand rested loosely on the open window. “What was the reason? That made you leave in such a damn hurry.”

Joel glanced at you in the rearview mirror but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t one for prying, and you both knew that. 

You rolled the Coke bottle between your palms. “I told you already.” There was an edge in your voice. “Just needed to get out.”

Daryl made a sound from beside you, like he didn’t quite believe that was the full story. Joel didn’t say anything. The muscles in his neck were tight, like he was fighting the urge to ask more.

You sighed, finally caving. “My daddy ain’t exactly the type to let his little girl grow up.” 

Their attention was fixed on you. They looked at you, quiet and waiting. “Couldn’t date. Couldn’t work. Couldn’t breathe without him granting me permission.” You took a sip of Coke, clearing your dry throat. “Saw what I was wearin’ this morning and told me I looked like a whore.”

Joel's brows twitched and daryl shifted in the seat.

“Well,” Daryl gave your outfit a slow, once-over, “You don’t look like a little girl anymore, I can tell you that.”

You grinned, teeth sharp behind the bottle. “That’s what I told him. Right before I slammed the door and left.”

Daryl let out a breath through his nose. “Daddies and their little girls.” He tsked. “Never good at lettin’ go once they realize they ain’t so little anymore.”

“You think he’ll come lookin’ around for you?” Joel asked.

You shook your head. “No. I’ll go back eventually. I just…” You hesitated. “I need to do things on my own for once. Y’know? Just for a little while.”

Daryl sucked in a deep breath, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Gonna be a hell of a reunion,” he said with a coy smile, “Showin’ up for the Fourth…”

Joel finished it, “...With his daughter sittin’ between two of his oldest friends.”

You scoffed, “He trusts you guys. Hell, he’d probably thank you for keepin’ me safe.” 

Daryl snickered like you said something funny. Joel ran a hand over his jaw, like he was covering a smirk.

“What?” You blinked, clearly missing the joke. 

Daryl leaned in closer, his arm brushing your thigh. “Ain’t no girl in her right mind, sittin’ between two men like us, unless she wants somethin’ real bad.”

You choked on your Coke, with a breathless laugh, “Jesus, y’all are gonna get me killed.”

“No, Sweetheart, you are gonna get us killed,” Daryl grinned sideways.

Joel just huffed, but there was a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, like he knew it was true.

You shrugged, playing it casual. “Y’know, my daddy always did say I was trouble.”

Daryl glanced at you, eyes skimming over your barelegs, “He might’ve been onto somethin’.”

“Funny,” You looked at them, voice all honeyed innocence, “Never stopped you two from lookin’.”

Joel’s jaw twitched. Like he’d been caught, for all those lingering glances over the years. “Ain’t exactly easy when you strut around like that.”

You scoff, lips curling, “Just like my daddy said… That I was askin’ for attention.”

“Well,” Daryl drawled, voice low, “You sure as hell got it.”

“Is that so bad? That I wanted it?” Your eyes darted between them, something reckless sparking under your skin. “For someone to notice me?”

Daryl didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you. Long. The kind of look that felt like a hand dragging down your spine. 

Your boot scuffed against the floorboard as you set the Coke in the cupholder, an innocent move, if it hadn’t hiked your skirt just enough to teeter forbidden skin. His gaze flicked down to your legs. You didn’t fix it.

“I'm noticing, Darlin’.” He looked at your lips. “And if I don’t stop, I'm gonna forget you’re daddy’s little girl.

You leaned in like you were confessing a sin. “I don’t want to be daddy’s little girl anymore.”

The words hung in the air. Tense. Final. 

To prove that you meant it, that you weren’t some girl playing grown, you leaned closer. Close enough to breathe in the heady scent of leather and heat rolling off of Daryl in waves.

He didn’t pull away. But he didn’t move toward you either. Like he needed you to be the one to cross the line.

So you did.

You closed the distance, crashing your lips onto his. Hot and messy. Like you’d finally run out of patience for all those years. 

Daryl tasted like smoke and gasoline. Trouble. The kind of man your daddy warned you about. You loved it.

Daryl’s hand caught your knee, like he was holding himself back. But when your tongue slipped into his mouth, warm and waiting, he made a low, desperate sound in his throat. Like a man letting go.

His palm slid up your thigh, rough fingertips dragging over skin made hot by the sun. He stopped just shy of your denim skirt, like he was giving you the chance to tell him no.

Your legs shifted open instinctively, brushing against Joel’s thigh. Solid and warm. And very aware of everything going on besides him.

The truck shifted with a slight change of gear, the sound of the engine growling beneath you as it sped up. Joel’s jaw clenches as he tightened his grip on the wheel, his fingers flexing. His eyes darted between the road and the rearview mirror, watching you two. But he didn’t say a word.

You pulled away from Daryl, tugging his lower lip, before letting go. 

But you weren’t done.

You turned and leaned across the seat, toward Joel, slow and sinful. His jaw was locked, that muscle ticking as he stared ahead, like he’d just lost a fight he didn’t know he was in.

Then your mouth grazed the shell of his ear, your voice was velvet, “Still think i’m just daddy’s little girl?”

You nipped, playful and bold on his ear. He tried to balance watching the road and you. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel’s voice was low, thick with warning, but not the kind meant to stop you. More like the kind that said keep going.

But you were already kissing him. Soft and teasing, at first. Just the curve of his cheek, where the scruff scratched your lips. Then the corner of his mouth. 

He turned his head, chasing it, like he needed it to breathe. Trying to meet you halfway and trying to drive and sin at the same time.

But he failed.

The truck veered ever so slightly, tired humming against the edge of the road. He muttered something low under his breath, but you just laughed a soft, wicked giggle that made his jaw tighten. 

Your lips trailed down to his neck, mouthing over stubble and sun-warned skin, feeling his Adam’s apple jump beneath your lips. Joel breathed in deep through his nose, fighting for composure, but it was slipping. Fast.

Behind you, Daryl chuckled low, wicked and amused. “Mmm, look at you.” he drawled, “Just can’t decide who you want first huh?”

You pulled back from Joel's neck, slow and smug, lips tingling from the trail you left on his skin. You looked at Joel first, sweet and daring, then turned to Darly, flashing a grin full of trouble. A challenge.

With a slow smile, you answered Daryl, “Why choose?” You let the words drip off your like honey. Sweet, but sticky enough to trap them both.

The seat creaks with the weight of it… of all the years they looked at you like they shouldn’t. And now you're sitting pretty between them, all willing in your cutoffs and cherry lips.

“Always wondered what it’d feel like… gettin’ touched' by both of you.” You continued.

Daryl leaned in close, breathed hot against your ear, “How long you been thinkin’ ‘bout this, huh?”

You exhaled your truth like a prayer. “Years.”

Then Joel’s hand found your chin, turning you to face him. To face the truth. 

“Dirty girl. Walkin’ around all summer, fantazing about gettin’ fucked by your daddy’s friends.” Joel’s eyes were dark and ravenous.

“Been beggin’ for this without sayin’ a damn word.” Daryl added.

But you weren’t the only one.

As if you hadn’t noticed the way their eyes would linger too long when they thought you weren’t paying attention. They wanted this just as bad…Maybe worse.

“And you boys never looked at me like you were saints either.” You blinked up at them, lips parted. “You were just waitin’ for me to grow up.”

Joel’s jaw ticked, “We never claimed to be saints.”

Joel and Daryls hand slid up in unison, breaching the edge of your skirt, pausing letting you stop them. But you didn’t.

“Maybe it's time we stop pretending,” Daryl said, voice rough and hungry. “And finally take what we want.”

Joel’s free hand shifted the gear in fifth, then landed on your thigh, warm and heavy. Like a claim.

Then Daryl’s hand found your other thigh with rougher, calloused fingers. Like a dare. 

Their hands couldn’t have felt more different. One firm and steady, the other lazy and hot. But both felt possessive. A silent agreement of their shared sin.

You could feel it. All that tension burning low and deep in your belly. The kind that made your pulse drum in your ears and your breath come light. 

“You think you can handle the both of us?” Daryl asked, grip on your thigh tightening.

“Or are you just playin’ pretend.” Joel’s eyes found yours in the rearview, dark and unreadable.

“Ain’t nothin’ pretend…” You purred, slowly, “... about how wet I am right now.” 

“Fucksake,” Daryl muttered, at the same time Joel cleared his throat. 

The temperature in the truck rose significantly. The old vinyl seat stuck to the back of your thighs, and sunlight cut through the dusty windows like a blade, striping Joel’s forearm in gold as it gripped your thigh. His fingers just a little tighter now.

Outside, the road blurred in the heat shimmer. But inside… inside was hotter.

Need throbbed inside you, sharp and sweet. It was too much. Your thighs tried to press together for friction, but the gear shift mocked you, right in the way. The truck bounced again, hitting a loose patch of dirt. The movement sent a shiver rippling through you. Every nerve ending felt like it was one fire.

Daryl noticed and whistled low, eyes dark. “Look at her, Joel,” his hand slid down your thigh with the slow patience of a man savoring a favorite song. “Poor thing’s shakin’. Needs it so bad, she's tremblin’.”

There was no hiding it now. Your body had given you away.

“Reckon we oughta be gentlemen and help her out,” Daryl said, voice dripping with mock sweetness, “Don’t you think so, Joel?”

Joel’s voice became dark like a warning. “Ain’t nothing gentlemanly about what I wanna do.”

Those words punched air from your lungs. Your stomach twisted in on itself, heat spreading through your core like fire catching dry grass.

“Then stop pretending otherwise,” the words exploded out of you. “And fuckin’ do it.”

Joel's hand caught your jaw, firm and warning. The grip made your heart skip. Half fear and half delicious thrill. 

“You better watch how you talk to us,” Joel's low and commanding voice had your thighs twitching against their hold. 

Daryl’s voice was laced with promise. “Gonna have to teach you manners.”

“We're gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” Joel growled, “and when we’re done, you're gonna say thank you.”

You eagerly nodded your head, unable to suppress the anticipation flooding your body.

“You got that? Use your words.” Joel’s voice was unwavering.

“Yes. Please.” The words tumbled out without hesitation.

As if your words were a surrender, Daryl grabbed your jaw, turning you toward him. “She’s a fast learner.” You barely gasped before his mouth swallowed it. The kiss was messy and unhurried. All heat and carelessness.

A moan spilled from you as your tongues tangled, lazy and deep, like neither of you had anywhere to be, but right here, in the middle of the wide-open nowhere. 

Despite your tank top clinging to your skin, damp with head and need, a shiver ran down your spine, sharp as lighting. Your nipples pebbled beneath the thin cotton, aching for more.

But even as your lips moved with Daryl’s, you still felt Joel. The steady, unmoving grip on your thigh, that made your breath catch. His hand wasn’t roaming the way Daryl’s was. Joel’s was anchored. 

Daryl pulled back, chest rising fast. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, swollen and kiss-bitten. 

“Go on,” he rasped, “Give Joel a turn, baby.”

You smiled, sugar sweet and slick with mischief. Then you turned in the seat, the curve of your rear brushing against Daryl’s solid denim, teasing a groan from deep in his chest.

The warm breeze slipped in through the open window. It caressed your skin, like even the wind couldn’t help itself in wanting to touch you.

God, the sight of Joel. The white knuckled grip on the wheel. The tick in his jaw. His eyes like thunderclouds, barely holding back a storm. And below the belt… There was no mistaking the way his jeans strained against the denim.

He liked it. Watching.

And that realization made your whole body sing with delight. 

You leaned forward again, pulse pounding softly in your ears. Daryl’s taste still lingered on your tongue, but now your eyes were on Joel.

Every vein in Joel’s forearms stood out like he was barely holding it together.

“Joel,” You purred, dragging his name slowly over your lips. You shifted closer, your thigh brushing his. His jaw clenched, hard enough to crack. “Did you like watching me kiss Daryl?”

“Didn’t need to rush. I knew you’d come around.” He said smugly. 

That made you smile.

You giggled teasing and breathless. You leaned in, wanting to share your attention with Joel now.

Your breath skimmed the side of Joel’s face as you brushed your lips against his stubbled jaw. He didn’t look at you, not yet. His eyes were locked on the road ahead. But you felt his restraint thrumming beneath the surface.

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, feather light. Then another closer to his mouth. He turned his head just enough to offer a half-hearted kiss back. His focus stubbornly locked on the road ahead. Responsible and resisting. But you weren’t in the mood for restraint anymore.

So you brought your mouth to his ear, licking and nipping the skin that had seen too many summers, “Come on, old man,” You whispered, “Don’t you wanna know how I taste?”

Joel’s whole body tensed, like he was one breath away from pulling over and wrecking all three of you right then and there. The grip on your thigh was steel now.

So you kissed him again. Below his ear. Along the lines of his jaw. Corner of his mouth. Teasing, tempting, and absolutely relentless.

And when he finally snapped, it wasn’t with words.

It was with a sound, so low and deep in his chest. In one sharp turn of his head, his mouth was on yours, delivering a punishing kiss to your welcoming lips.

You moaned in relief, like you’d been waiting hours for that kiss. His lips were soft, but the way he used them wasn’t. It was desperate, and aggressive.

He wants this. He wants you.

And you kissed him back like you meant it. Because you did. For years you wanted this. Wanted him.

The stubble on his jaw was rough against your hands, and your chest ignited with excitement as his tongue swept into your mouth. He possessed your mouth like it was his.

This kiss was different. Not better, just different. Joel was all hard lines and rough hands. But Daryl was slow and hot. 

Heat was radiating off Daryl from behind you, like a second sun. He watched and waited, full of desire.

You wanted more. 

From both.

Suddenly, the truck lurched and Joel ripped his mouth from yours with a curse. All three of you jerked upright. Dust kicked up behind the wheels, blurring the endless stretch of sun-bleached Texas highway in the rearview.

The sudden lurch of the truck had adrenaline pulse through you like a living and breathing thing. 

You giggled, breathless, a little too delighted by how close you were to getting the three of you killed. 

It was if fate was trying to issue a final warning, one you were too far gone to heed. 

Then Daryl joined in, letting out a deep huff, dragging his hands through his hair. “Fuck, darlin’.” he rasped. “You’re gonna get us wrecked, actin’ like that. Gonna have this old man forgettin’ how to drive.”

You tilted your head, biting back a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“If that’s all it takes, Joel,” You teased, “I’m just getting started.” 

Daryl barked a short, stunned laugh, and shook his head, “Jesus, she’s tryin’ to kill us.” 

“Huh,” You hummed, “Thought you boys could keep up.” 

You settled into your seat, dragging your nails lightly down your bare thigh, just to watch their eyes follow, “Must be the age.”

Daryl’s hand gripped your jaw, not gently. His fingers pressed into your cheeks as he leaned in close, voice thick with hunger. “That damn mouth.”

Then Darryl slammed his mouth onto yours. All heat and hunger. His tongue slipped past your lips like he owned the space. You sighed into his mouth, like you were finally getting what you wanted.

“Look at you,” Joel said, “putting that mouth to better use.” his hand slid up your thigh. Daryl's hand followed suit.

Both of their hands slowly slid beneath the hem of your skit, fingers greedy, knowing exactly what they were after. You shifted in your seat, legs falling open another inch. Barely a movement, but an invitation all the same.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, wild and waiting. Wondering which one would cross that line first.

They didn’t touch you. Not yet. Instead, they laughed. Low and amused, like your need was funny. Like your eagerness was cute. 

You flushed, cheeks burning as heat coiled through your stomach. “Don’t make me beg.” You were so wound up it hurt. “I’ve been good for too long.”

Daryl let out a low, taunting chuckle, “Hear that, Joel? She thinks she's been good.”

“Good?” Joel scoffed, eyes amused. “Good girls don’t end up in the middle of this truck.” 

“You want it that bad?” Daryl growled, eyes blazing. “Then show us.”

“Go on,” Joel encouraged. “Let's see how desperate you really are… for two old men.”

“Lift your skirt.”. Daryl’s gaze pinned you down, heavy and expectant. 

You hesitated, not from modesty, but from the way nerves and desire tangled like twin heartbeats. There was no going back after this. And you didn’t want to.

The pads of your fingers curled in the hem of your skirt. Slowly, deliberately, you pulled back the denim inch by inch, offering yourself like a secret you’d been dying to spill.

“Fuck,” Daryl hissed, eyes fixed between your thighs. “Underwear completely soaked.”

Your cheeks burned hot. The kind of humiliation that throbbed between your legs. You tried to close them, but their hands were already there, holding you open helplessly and displayed.

Joel’s voice came rough and tight, “You’re makin’ a mess of my truck, Sweetheart.”

You couldn’t meet their eyes. Could barely breathe through the ache swirling in your belly.

Joel's hand slid up your thigh, so slowly you trembled in anticipation. His fingers grazed the soaked cotton stretched tight between your legs. His thumb pressed down, rubbing the wet fabric right where you needed it. 

A breathless sound escaped your lips.

A heart beat later, Daryl's hands were on you too, sliding up your ribs and palming your breast though the thin tank top. His mouth found your neck, dragging wet hot kisses over your racing pulse. 

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

Air exploded out of your lungs when Joel’s thumb found your clit through your soaked underwear at the exact moment Daryl’s rough fingers found your nipple through the cotton.

“Yes,” You whined. A cry of relief, of years of pent up desire, finally happening. 

Your head fell back against the seat and your eyes rolled back as twin waves of pleasure crashed over you, stealing thought and breath alike.

Daryl’s teeth scraped against your neck, “Such a fuckin’ tease,” he said against your fevered skin. His hand pinched your nipple hard, wrenching a gasp from your lips. “Until your falling apart for us.”

All you could do was whimper in response, legs twitching against their grip. 

Joel growled low in his throat, a raw primal sound and Daryl held your thigh wider as Joel hooked your underwear to the side.

Two fingers slid into you, deep and effortless. Filthy-slick from how wet you were. 

Your eyes squeezed shut from the sudden stretch, the fullness, and the sudden wave of white hot pleasure… It was overwhelming.

A needy cry tore free from your throat. You couldn't have swallowed it down if you tried. 

Joel’s fingers thrust with purpose, brushing that perfect secret spot inside of you as Daryl kissed all the way down your neck until he reached your nipple, straining against the fabric of your top.

Your skin buzzed, burning hotter than the Texas sun leaking in through the dusty windshield.

“Open your eyes.” Joel ordered, “Watch us ruin that little cunt of yours.”

You forced them open, dizzy from pleasure, just to see the sight you knew would haunt you forever. Rough, sunburned hands on your soft, yielding body. Their mouths, their teeth, their fingers, worshipping you like you were some spoiled offering they’d been starving for.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, watching helplessly as they devour you. You felt like you were on fire from the inside out. 

Your legs trembled violently. 

Ruled by lust, Daryl growled and pushed your tank top up and over your breasts, smirking at what he unveiled. Your nipples were aching and hard, despite the Texas heat. Without hesitation, he swiftly sucked on one nipple, rolling the other between calloused fingers.

You groaned, puffing your chest out further into his possession as a hot sensation rippled throughout your body.

“Fuck, look at you, giving it up so easily for us.” Daryl smirked against your skin.

“Knew you'd be perfect.” Joel said, curling his fingers deep inside you. 

You were completely open now, bared for them like a feast. And they were starving.

Joel’s fingers thrust in and out, steady and ruthless. His thumb circled your clit with cruel, precise strokes that made you buck helpless between them.

Your whole body jolted when Joel found that perfect spot again and Daryl’s teeth scraped your nippled. They did it again and again, like they knew how to pull you apart at the seams. 

“Oh my god,” you mouthed because you lost your breath. “Im gonna–”

Your hands scrambled for purchase, clutching at Joel’s forearm and at Daryl’s wild hair, desperate from something solid as your orgasm barreled down you, unstoppable.

“Doin’ so good for us.” Daryl growled under his breath, his cool breath against your wet skin. “Such a pretty girl.” 

You tried, god, you tried, to keep your eyes open to watch them, but when Daryl’s teeth nipped sharp on your skin and Joel’s fingers hit that devastating rhythm inside you… You shattered.

Pleasure ripped through you, hot and blinding. Your whole body shook, shuddering violently, in their hands as you came with a broken cry.

Your hands flew out, trying to find something to anchor you in place, for fear that you were leaving your body from pleasure.

“That’s it.” Joel coaxed, his voice warm and rough in your ear.

When you finally floated back down to earth, your left hand had carved crescent moons into Joel’s skin and your right hand fisted tight in Daryl’s thick hair. 

You were gasping, trembling, and utterly undone.

Joel removed his fingers and your body twitched with aftershocks. You whimpered at the emptiness, clenching still wanting more.

You blinked up at them in a daze. Joel’s fingers glistened with your orgasm in the golden light of sunset. 

Fingers dripping and shining. And then, Christ, then Joel brought those fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, eyes half lidded, humming low in his throat.

“Just as sweet as I thought you’d be.” he turned to Daryl, smirking, “Go on, have a taste.”

Your hand shot out and gripped Joel's denim clad thigh when Daryl’s fingers slipped between your thighs. His fingers dipped inside your dripping entrance, then pressed hard on your throbbing clit on the way out, making you twitch and gasp.

Holding your gaze, Daryk smirked at you as he slowly slid his fingers into his mouth, sucking them like he was savoring honey. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, “Maybe you were right. I do like things a little sweeter.”

He repeated your earlier words and they settled low and deep in your belly. Despite your heaving chest, you were still so goddamn greedy for them.

You needed more.

You needed them inside of you. It felt as vital to your existence as oxygen.

So you did something wicked. Something you have been dying to do since you stepped foot in this rusted truck. 

You placed your soft palms against the coarse, sun-faded denim that covered their thighs. Your hands slid up and down, lazy and lingering. You felt their muscles twitch beneath your touch.

Joel exhaled through his nose, voice as rough as the road, “Goddamn, look at you teasin’ us like it's your job.”

You smiled, a picture of pure satisfaction. Sated, yet starving at the same time. You traced your way further up, reaching where aching hardness was trapped behind worn denim.

“What’re you doin’, pretty girl?” Daryl drawled, his eyes amused.

“That wasn’t enough for you?” Joel rasped.

You tugged your lip between your teeth and your palms pressed harder against the heat between their thighs.

“I'm thanking you.” You purred, lashes fluttering like a promise, “For ruining me.”

Both of their breaths hitched, a heavy twin sound that only fueled you. You kept your motions slow and measured, just enough to tease them. Enough to make them suffer the same desperate ache that rattled through your bones. 

“Fuck darlin’, driving me crazy.” Daryl hissed. 

“Just takin’ my time.” Your eyes sparkled with desire and mischief, “There’s enough of me to go around.”

You turned towards Daryl first, pressing a sweet, little kiss to his mouth. Soft and almost innocent, if not for the hint of your arousal on his lips. It was a tease of a kiss. Like saying goodbye. 

Because then you shifted towards Joel, kissing a trail up the thick column of his neck, tasting salt and sun. You grazed your teeth along his stubbled jaw until you reached the shell of his ear.

“Hi,” You whispered sweetly, before nipping once. He huffed a breath in response.

You shifted your hips towards Daryl, angled like a siren. Your hands stayed busy on Joel, palming him light and taunting over his jeans. Daryl’s hands, rough over soft skin, snuck around your waist grounding you while you misbehaved. 

Joel sucked in a sharp breath, hips shifting under your touch when you squeezed him harder through the denim.

“Relax, old man.” You teased with a sly smile.

“Keep doin’ that and I won't.” He warned, voice dark with desire.

Power thrummed through you, finally having some control of the situation. 

You reached down and popped open the button of Joel’s jeans, then eased the zipper down slow enough to be cruel.

The second you did, heat and hardness surged into your palm.

You licked your lips, drunk of the way he stared down at you. His gaze made you feel suddenly too hot. Sizzling with desire. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Daryl rumbled from behind you, gripping your hip, “Least you can do is be sweet to the poor bastard… after makin’ such a mess all over his seat.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining when I made it.” You said, pushing back against him.

Daryl's hands slid down your waist until he reached the end of your skirt. He breached the line of fabric until he was massaging your thighs all the way up to your ass. You pushed your hips further into his touch, hungry for more.

Joel’s hand found your face, cupping it gently, his thumb dragging over your bottom lip. “It’s okay, Sweetheart,” Joel’s hand came to cup your cheek. His thumb tugged your lower lip down. “A little filth doesn’t bother me.”

A lewd smile tugged at your mouth. you hooked your fingers into his underwear, and pulled down, freeing him. “Let’s see if you still think that, when I'm done with you.”

Joel's cock made your eyes widen. He’s huge. Veined. And beautiful.

Teasing him was tortuous for Joel and you. Every second you played with his restraint only made the ache in your body grow stronger. You couldn’t help it. Your fingers moved on their own accord, wrapping around him in desperate need. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

You grip the base firmly, feeling the heat of him pulse against your palm. You stroked once before, placing a teasing kiss to the tip, then another, letting salty pre-cum gloss over your lips.

You moan, a hot breath on Joel's cock when Daryl’s hand slips under your skirt, cupping between your legs, sending a rush of heat through your body.

“How much do you care for these?” Darly asked, snapping the band of your underwear against your skin with a sharp sting.

You turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your mind was hazy… Too aroused to think straight. “What?” 

“Guess I'll find out,” he muttered to himself.

In one swift motion, he tore the cotton right off. The sound of fabric ripping echoed through the truck. 

“Daryl–” The protest died on your lips when the sudden rush of air from the open window hit your exposed core, sending shivers through you.

Momentarily distracted by Daryl's hands roaming between your thighs, exploring and caressing every inch of you, you turned back to Joel.

He looked so hard it had to hurt. His length was straining against the air pointed straight at your waiting mouth. 

You gave him a slow, gentle squeeze, never breaking eye contact. “So pretty.” You said, lashes fluttering.

Wasting no time, you time you flicked your tongue around the swollen head of him. Slow, languid licks, then quick teasing licks. Joel’s hand found your hair, gripping it firmly, making you exhale a hot breath against his skin from the delicious pressure. 

“Sweetheart,” He warned with a serious glare.

You smiled against him, then, shocking him completely, you parted your lips and took him deep in your mouth. You licked and sucked along the length of him, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing him down.

“Shit,” Joel groaned, tightening his grip in your hair.

Tears formed in your eyes when he hit the back of your throat, and still, you kept going, greedy for every inch of him.

You moaned around Joel, the sound vibrating along his length, when suddenly, Daryl’s fingers found your swollen bundle of nerves. He rubbed a slow lazy circle that made your hips buck into his hand and your mouth sink deeper onto joel.

Daryl shifted closer, his rough hands greedy as he lifted your hips, settling you on top of him.The coarse scrape of his denim met your tender skin and you whimpered grinding down against him, aching for more.

You pushed back into Daryl, wanting to feel all of him. 

You popped off Joel with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his aching cock. Over your shoulder, you cried out, “Daryl, please.”

“How’m I supposed to say no when you finally used your manners?” Daryl said voice thick with lust.

You heard the rustle of his zipper. You replaced your mouth on Joel’s cock with your hands, so you could watch Daryl unsheath himself. 

Your stomach twisted with want at the sight of him, thick and flushed. You clenched around nothing, already aching to be filled. 

Daryl lined himself up behind you, the swollen tip teasing your dripping entrance. You were so slick, he could have slid in with one hard thrust, but he didn’t. Instead he relished the way your wetness coated him, dragging his cock slowly through your folds, soaking himself in your need.

“Guess you ain’t as tough as you act, huh?” you teased, trying to push him over that edge, daring him to stop holding back and take what he wants.

A cruel smile tugged at his lips.“You’re gonna be cryin’ for it when I’m done with you.”

Then he pushed forward, until he reached the end of you, stealing your breath. You fisted the denim of Joel’s jeans so hard your knuckles grew numb.

“Taking him so well, Sweetheart.” Joel praised, voice thick with sin, “Should see how pretty you look sittin’ on his cock.”

You moaned, helpless, the sound tumbling out of you in a string of broken cries. Words abandoned you. You were nothing but pure pleasure. Raw and reckless. 

As Daryl settled inside of you, you turned your attention back to Joel. You wrapped your lips back around him, bobbing your head in time with the slow, punishing roll of Daryl’s hips. The three of you moved together in a filthy symphony, all rhythm and ruin. 

Joel’s free hand fisted your hair so hard it stung, like maybe if he held on tight enough, he won't go to hell for this. 

Daryl’s fingers bruised into your hips, dragging you back onto him with every thrust, like he was trying to brand you from the inside out. “So fuckin’ greedy for it.” 

Your jaw ached but you had no sympathy for it. You only cared about sending Joel over the edge with your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his head and you hummed around him when Daryl’s pace turned ravenous. 

Joel grunted, low and viscous, “Don’t stop sweetheart, fuck, that it.”

Their words spurred you on, pushing you to move faster and harder. 

The cab of the truck was filled with slick, obscene sounds of sin. The wet slap of Daryl’s hips against you, the hollow, desperate gag of your mouth on Joel. The sound of all three of you coming apart at the seams. 

Daryl struck that sweet, hidden place inside you, sharp enough to make your body jolt forward, driving Joel deeper down your throat. You gagged, choked, and Joel groaned low and wrecked, his hips twitching up into your mouth. 

You clenched around Daryl from Joel’s dirty sounds. Your orgasm was clawing its way up your throat, wild and inevitable.

Both men growled, a ragged harmony of pleasure, when your body squeezed tight and desperate between them.

“Gonna come?” Daryl asked, “Can feel you’ squeezin’ me so damn tight.”

Completely overwhelmed from sensation, you just whimpered around Joel’s throbbing length. You couldn’t respond–nor think. Instead you sucked harder, tears sliding down your flushed cheeks.

Joel huffed a breath through his nose, chest expanding. “Poor thing can’t even think straight, too full of cock.”

Daryl chuckled darkly then lifted your hips up and slammed you back down on his cock Simultaneously, Joel pushed your head down grunting at the pleasure you provided. You could do nothing other than just take it.

You’re pretty sure this counted as a one way ticket to hell… pretty sure you didn’t care.

It shouldn’t have been as arousing as it was, how easily they manhandled you, used you for their pleasure and yours alike.

Every thrust, every groan of pleasure, brought you closer and closer to bliss, Your body trembled violently with a second approaching orgasm.

Noticing the way your body responded, Daryl went faster, thrusts becoming sloppier as his orgasm followed close behind your own.

Joel's chest heaved erratically, and you could feel him twitch in your mouth. He was almost there too. 

Then, Daryl’s hand went around rubbing your clit, sending sparks of pleasure so intense you felt it start in your toes and shoot all the way up your spine. You vibrated against Joel, making lewd, choking sounds.

“She love’s it.” Daryl praised, rough and warm. “Made to be fucked by men like us. 

“That right, Sweetheart?” Joel cooed with mock sweetness.

Their words send you to oblivion. You hummed around him, being caught by surprise as pleasure crashed over you, like a tsunami.

“Fuck, she’s coming.” Daryl said through clenched teeth.

You popped off Joel's cock as your muscles spasmed, clenching tightly around Daryl. Your orgasm took your breath away and your eyes squeezed close.

“That’s it.” Daryl said as you fisted Joel's shirt in one hand anchoring you while you jerked him up and down with the other.

“Sweetheart, fuck–keep going.” Joel praised.

You were desperate for it. Wanting both of them to experience the same pleasure you did. 

Even in the haze of your post bliss, you wrapped your mouth around Joel, and moved your hips up and down, slipping effortlessly onto Daryl’s cock from your spent desire.

“Faster.” One of them said, but you were too gone to know who. Regardless you bobbed your head fast and lifted your hips faster, chasing both of their orgasms now.

“Fuck–” Joel breathed out, as his cock twitched in warm, hot spurts of his release hit your tongue. You swallowed, gagging around him. Daryl spilled inside of you with a groan. You felt warmth rush down your thighs.

You were completely full from both ends, and you’ve never felt more satisfied.

Sated, spent, and dazed, Joel gently helped you sit upright. Daryl adjusted your hips with a careful, reverent touch, pulling you off him slowly. They sat you back down in the seat, each of them guiding you with quiet intent. 

Daryl smoothed the fabric of your skirt over your thighs, while Joel wipes away the tears streaking your flushed cheeks.

There was no need for words, just the flow of their hands and the deep silence between you, thick with the aftermath of what just transpired. You felt dizzy, floating in the aftermath, but in the best way. Like you were safe, even if it was just for the moment.

“Pretty girl,” Joel murmured, brushing your tears from your skin, “Did so good for us.”

You exhaled shakily, still coming down from the high of it all. Daryl’s hand rubbed soothingly up and down your thigh, grounding you, bringing you back to earth. “You’re alright, honey,” he whispered, his voice low and comforting.

They fixed themselves with a quiet kind of ease, zipping their pants back up. But your lip curled in a small pout, something soft and needy stirring inside you when they turned their attention elsewhere. 

It wasn’t until you looked out that window that you realized how late it was. How the sun hung low in the sky, bleeding orange and pink across the horizon. You hadn’t noticed the time or the world outside the cab of this truck. 

A dazed laugh bubbled from your chest, escaping your lips before you could hold it back. You couldn’t find the words to speak. Your breath still caught in your throat, tangled in their hands.

Joel joined, also chuckling softly at the absurdity of the situation. “It’s getting late. We better stop for the night. Get somethin’ to feed the poor girl.”

Your stomach rumbled, a soft reminder that your body was only just starting to remember its other needs, other than them. Now in the aftermath, your body finally felt the quiet pull of hunger.

Joel pulled the truck into the lot of a quiet motel and diner, the neon sign flickering lazily in the light of dusk.

Joel and Daryl shared a look when the engine stalled in the parking lot. Then they looked at you. 

A secret they’d keep between them.. And between your thighs.

[cbeargyu]

im not sure if your comfortable w this trope but... stepbrother!taehyun 😔

𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍

summary: five years ago, your dad married his mom. you were never close. not really. but the tension, the kind that lingered in your glances and accidental touches... was always there, waiting. one summer night, you catch him in a moment of private pleasure... and neither of you are able to pretend anymore.

pairing: stepbrother!taehyun x stepsister!reader

genre: smut, angst, stepbrother!au, slow burn, forbidden romance, power struggle, unresolved tension.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), masturbation, voyeurism, rough sex, dom/sub power struggle, use of protection, spanking (light), strong language, taboo themes (step-siblings, but no blood relation), sexual tension, minor exhibitionism, suggestive dialogue, awkward morning after

wc: 2,2k

notes: wow, thanks anon, honestly, i’m comfortable with this. i actually have a similar fanfic with soobin that i never dared to post because i was scared it might make people uncomfortable or be poorly received. please read all the way to the end if you want to hear more about my thoughts on the theme.

five years ago, your father married taehyun’s mother. it was a small ceremony, nothing extravagant, just close family and friends gathered under a blush-colored sunset. everyone smiled. everyone said it was beautiful, that you were now a family.

family.

the word always tasted foreign on your tongue whenever you looked at taehyun. it didn’t matter how many dinners you sat through, how many family vacations you forced yourselves to smile for. the truth lingered just under the surface—he never felt like your brother. not really.

your dad and his mom were head over heels in love, and tried so hard to make you two feel like a happy little blended family. but you and taehyun? never siblings. never even close.

there were rules, of course. unspoken ones. you would both pretend. you would play along for your parents’ sake, acting like siblings when necessary. but behind closed doors, when the charade dropped, it was something different. it wasn’t family. it wasn’t hate either. it was something heavier. something that lived in stolen glances across the dinner table, in the way your fingers would brush when you passed each other in the hallway, in the too-long eye contact when no one else was watching.

you tried, at first, to ignore it. god, you tried. but some things grow wild when you starve them, and the tension between you and taehyun was one of them. it twisted and stretched over the years, thickening every time he slung his arm too casually over the couch where you sat, or when you caught him looking at you like he was memorizing every inch of your skin. you never talked about it. you never named it. but it was there, pulsing and alive, hiding just underneath the way he would call you “sis” with a smirk that never reached his eyes.

summer in your house was unbearable. not because of the heat, although the humidity clung to your skin like a second layer, heavy and suffocating. but because of him. because taehyun was always there—shirtless, loud, smug—and every corner of that damn house seemed to vibrate with the memory of your fights, your glares, your unsaid words.

if anything, you were rivals.

your personalities clashed constantly—both of you stubborn, both too sharp for your own good, both used to getting the last word. your parents called it banter. you called it warfare.

and still… there were moments. fleeting seconds when the air got too thick between you. when you brushed past each other in the hallway and his hand lingered a little too long on your waist. when you fought about the remote and he leaned in too close, the curve of his smirk brushing your cheek. when he called you princess in that mocking tone, and your stomach twisted in ways it shouldn't.

you never spoke of it. never acknowledged the heat. it simmered quietly, dangerously, waiting.

and then came that night.

you can’t sleep.

you're wearing his hoodie, one you stole from the laundry days ago, pretending it doesn’t still smell like him. you wander the dark hallway, heart thudding, feet silent on the cold floor.

it was past midnight. the house was silent, your parents long asleep. you'd been tossing in bed, craving something cold, something sweet—maybe the popsicles hidden in the freezer behind your stepmom’s meal preps. you padded barefoot into the hallway in the big hoodie and cotton panties, yawning, eyes half-closed.

and then you heard it.

a low, sharp gasp. the creak of a bed. a muffled curse.

you paused at the end of the hallway, heart stuttering.

his door was open. just a crack—but enough.

enough for you to see him.

taehyun, sprawled on his bed, shirtless, bathed in moonlight. sweat-slicked chest rising and falling. eyes half-lidded, jaw clenched, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself with slow, angry precision.

you froze.

his head tilted back, a broken sound escaping his throat.

“fuck…” he muttered, breathless. “just like that…”

your knees almost gave out.

you should’ve turned around. you should’ve walked back to your room and pretended you never saw a thing. but your body betrayed you, burning from the inside out, and your mouth moved before your brain caught up.

“you left the damn door open, idiot.”

his whole body jolted. he sat up abruptly, hand still around his cock, wild eyes meeting yours. his expression twisted in horror and frustration and—something else.

“shit!” he hissed. “what the fuck, are you spying on me?”

you stepped into the room, fire rising in your chest. “you wish. i came down for a snack, not to watch you jerk off.”

“then go back to your fucking room!” he snapped, yanking the sheet over his lap too late. his cheeks were flushed, pupils blown wide, lips parted.

you didn’t move.

his jaw flexed. “get out.”

he threw the blanket off, stood, and you could see the line of his muscles, the tension coiled in his body, the fact that he was still hard.

“i said—”

“make me,” you whispered.

“always fucking arguing,” he muttered. “can’t even let me jerk off in peace.”

“you wanted me to see you.”

you folded your arms, leaning against the doorframe, deliberately not looking away.

“i won't tell you again.”

“why would i? you don’t seem to mind the audience.”

his gaze dropped to your legs, the hoodie, the way it barely covered your thighs. when he looked back up, something had shifted.

you felt it—like a snap in the air.

“you’re always running your mouth,” he said quietly, rising from the bed without breaking eye contact. “acting like you’re in control. like you can handle shit you don’t even understand.”

“oh, and you do?” you shot back, heat pooling between your legs. “you think jerking off in the dark makes you some kind of expert?”

he laughed. low. dangerous.

“i think it means i know exactly what i want,” he said. “and how to take it.”

you scoffed. “you wish you could take me.”

in a heartbeat, he crossed the room, chest to chest with you, body radiating heat. his breath was all over your lips, your cheeks, your throat. you refused to back down, tilting your chin defiantly.

“try me,” you whispered.

his hand caught your wrist. tight. his other hand gripped your waist.

it was too much.

too much heat. too much tension. too many years of pretending, of ignoring, of brushing past each other in narrow hallways and acting like neither of you felt the static.

taehyun was still holding you against the wall, breath ragged against your ear, fingers pressing bruises into your hips.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured, but his grip tightened.

you swallowed, breathless. “no.”

his forehead dropped against yours. his body was burning, chest rising and falling against you. he wasn’t smirking now. wasn’t playing games.

“fuck,” he muttered, like he hated himself. “i don’t—i don’t think i can stop.”

you exhaled shakily, threading your fingers into his hair.

“i don’t want you to.”

a harsh, sharp breath left him. his thumb dragged along your jaw, down your throat, over the racing pulse there.

“you—” his voice broke. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.”

your knees went weak. “taehyun…”

he lifted you onto the bed, lips ghosting over your collarbone, your shoulder, your jaw.

and then—softly, desperately—

“tell me you’ve thought about it too.”

your stomach tightened. you forced yourself to meet his gaze, the way his pupils were blown wide, his lips parted.

you could lie. you could keep up the game.

but you were too far gone.

“i think about you when i touch myself,” you admitted, voice raw.

taehyun let out a sharp exhale, like you had just wrecked him.

“fuck.”

his fingers dug into the sheets beside your head, body trembling as he stared down at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

his hand slid up your thigh, slow, deliberate.

“say it again,” he whispered.

your cheeks burned, but there was no going back now.

“i think about you,” you repeated, fingers gripping his shoulders, dragging him closer. “about your hands. your mouth. about how bad i want you.”

his breath stuttered. his forehead dropped to your shoulder, a soft, wrecked groan escaping him.

then he kissed you. hard.

like he was claiming you.

his fingers curled into your hair, his other hand slipping under your waistband, finding just how wet you were.

he let out a low, dangerous chuckle against your lips.

“you really have been thinking about me, huh?”

you clenched your jaw. “don’t get cocky.”

he kissed the corner of your mouth, then lower, trailing down your throat.

“don’t start what you can’t finish,” he growled.

“then shut up and finish it.”

and when his fingers dipped inside you, slow and teasing, you knew you were fucked.

he pulled back only enough to look at you—his lips red, his breathing shaky.

"i need to fuck you," he whispered, like it physically hurt to hold it in. "need to feel you lose control under me."

you clenched around nothing, nodding before your pride could get in the way.

"then do it."

and that was all it took.

his mouth was back on yours, hungry, biting, tongue fucking your lips open as his hands dragged down to tear at your shorts. you lifted your hips, eager, desperate, and he growled when he felt how wet your underwear was.

"fuck, baby," he hissed, dragging the soaked fabric down your thighs. "you’re dripping. did just confessing turn you on this much?"

"shut up," you breathed, tugging at his shirt, nails scratching up his back. "less talking, more fucking."

he smirked against your neck, then you heard the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being torn open—he'd had one in his drawer. you felt his cock, hard and heavy, brush against your thigh as he rolled it on. you raised an eyebrow.

“what, you just keep those around?”

he didn’t even blink. “you live here, don’t you?”

you were breathless at that. angry and turned on and god, you hated how much you liked that answer.

“fuck you,” you whispered.

“that’s the plan.” he tore the foil open with his teeth. “you’re lucky i’m responsible,” he muttered, pressing the blunt head against your entrance.

you bit your lip, eyes fluttering.

“you’re lucky i’m letting you.”

that made him groan.

"fuck, you’re perfect."

he slid in slow, watching every inch disappear inside you like he wanted to burn the sight into memory. you gasped, legs wrapping around him, arms pulling him closer.

and when he pushed inside you, slow and thick and unforgiving, you saw stars.

he wasn’t gentle.

he wasn’t rough.

he was intense.

every thrust was a dare. every moan a power play.

you tried to take control, to ride his rhythm, to drag him under your pace—he resisted, holding your wrists down, pinning you by the hips.

"you like thinking you're in charge, huh?" he growled against your throat.

"i am in charge," you spat, pushing your hips up hard, making him stutter mid-thrust.

his eyes darkened.

"not tonight."

he fucked you deeper, harder, making your back arch off the bed, your voice rising.

"say it," he hissed. "say you want me in control."

you refused.

so he angled just right.

and that was it.

you broke.

"taehyun—fuck—yes, okay, yes, yes."

he kissed you, like he was sealing a deal.

and when you came, shaking, crying out his name, he didn’t stop. he chased his own release like a man possessed, groaning your name when he finally let go, collapsing over you, breathless and trembling.

you lay there for a long minute, tangled, sticky, ruined.

neither of you said a word.

because saying something meant admitting what had just happened.

and admitting it meant figuring out what came next.

the clink of dishes. the sound of the news playing quietly from the living room. the smell of coffee and peanut butter.

your parents were already seated at the table, sipping tea and chatting about some neighbor’s new garden.

you stood at the kitchen counter, still in pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, trying to spread peanut butter over a stubborn piece of toast without thinking about how your thighs still ached.

taehyun walked in.

you didn’t even have to look to know. you felt him—his heat, his presence, the weight of what you'd done.

he walked right behind you, headed for the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

but as he passed, his palm landed on your ass. not hard. not loud.

just enough.

your breath hitched and you gasped, body jolting forward slightly, the knife nearly slipping from your fingers.

"everything okay, honey?" your dad asked from the table.

you blinked. blinked again.

"i—uh. almost dropped the jam," you stammered, holding up the glass jar. "it’s slippery."

your mom smiled politely and went back to her tea.

behind you, taehyun popped open the bottle of water and chuckled, quietly.

the bastard.

you turned slightly, eyes narrowed.

he just raised an eyebrow, took a sip, and leaned in close enough that only you could hear:

"you moaned so pretty last night."

your face burned.

you wanted to punch him. or fuck him again.

or both.

my honest reaction to that req

[fear-is-truth]

Bestie hehe whose pullout game is worst and whose is best out of the characters Evan plays???

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑽𝑨𝑵𝑺 — 𝑷𝑼𝑳𝑳-𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march ‧ kai anderson ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel — nsfw ; MDNI 18+

a/n: hey bestie i love your mind

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍. (3/10)

his intentions are good. his execution? terrible. pull-out game is WEAK purely due to incompetence.

“fuck—wait, wait, oh shit, i was supposed to—”

feels guilty as hell afterward. “you don’t think i did it on purpose, right? you believe me, don’t you?”

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑. (2/10)

kit TRIES to be responsible. really, he does. but he’s also a man who fucks deep and loves even deeper.

a very passionate lover and in the heat of the moment, he forgets everything else.

honestly, he doesn’t even try that hard.

if you reminded him, he’d listen. but if you didn’t? yeah, he’s finishing inside.

if you got pregnant, he’d step up immediately. his pullout game is terrible but he’s a great dad.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑. (10/10)

doesn’t take risks; he’s got a good head on his shoulders.

his timing and self control are actually great. the pull-out game is strong with this one.

even before he met you, kyle doesn’t sleep around like most of his frat brothers, even though he totally could.

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆. (6/10)

jimmy knows he can’t afford to be reckless. he’s working in a freak show—not exactly the best place to raise a kid.

he also worries about passing on his ectrodactyly. even though you tell him constantly that it doesn’t matter.

most of the time, he cums on your tits or ass.

but when he’s drunk, he’s super impulsive, emotional. all self control flies out the window.

if you got knocked up, he’d have a mini breakdown and go on a two day bender but would also step up.

he will also propose immediately (after he gets his shit together)

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇. (10/10)

he is nothing if not disciplined.

if james ever decided to give you an heir, that decision was made long before the act.

lowkey has reservations because of bartholomew.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍. (0/10)

kai never pulls out. he never intended to in the first place.

at first, he’ll act like it was an accident—just for plausible deniability. he’ll moan about how tight you are, how good you feel, and then when it happens:

“fuck—couldn’t help it. you feel too good, baby.” he’s fake guilty, kissing your shoulder, murmuring “next time i’ll pull out, promise.”

next time never came. (but he did. inside you) at some point, he just stopped pretending.

“this is how it’s supposed to be. why would i waste it anywhere but inside you?”

if you tell him you’re not ready for kids, he’ll say “women are biologically wired to want children. you’re just brainwashed by feminism.” (i hate this guy)

0/10 cos he’s actively TRYING to fail.

if you got pregnant? he’d be ecstatic.

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅. (5/10)

thinks he has great control, but he really, really doesn’t.

he’ll pull out last second. but he cuts it close EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

sometimes he miscalculates timing.

“uh. okay, okay—don’t freak out, but I MAY have just—wait, are you on the pill?”

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋. (9/10)

very responsible. colin respects boundaries and never pressures you into risky sex. always wears condoms unless you explicitly ask not to.

“you sure? ‘cause, uh, i got condoms—like, a lot. not a weird amount, just… y’know, normal.”

lowkey wants to have kids with you… but suppresses the “selfish” fantasy.

his one weakness? when he’s tipsy.

the one time you were both drunk, making out on the couch, which led to hot and sloppy sex. you felt so good and he was so lost in it, and then—

“oh, shit.”

immediate panic. full-body guilt. buys you plan b, also flowers and coffee because he feels guilty.

overall he’s very reliable, just that one slip-up.

[sevsgiirl]

— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 2

pt. 1, pt. 3

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words.

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

you can check out the fic playlist here.

it’s been two days since you and your father moved in and sevika was beginning to think she had nothing to worry about.

your old man seemed nice enough and his shift at the town’s office started this monday morning. she found out yesterday that he clocked in at exactly 6am and would come back home at 7pm and sevika felt bad for the guy. her job starts at 9am and ends at 6pm, and that was already exhausting for her.

she didn’t have any work today because her boss wanted to remodel the place. some of the paint on the walls had chipped off and her co-worker, ran, almost had one of the metal shelves fall on them due to rust.

but she still went out of her way to wake up early so she can work out, meaning she was able to catch up with your father when he pulled up at your driveway, ready to leave as he unlocked his car while sevika watched from her garage.

she just finished her cardio and was toweling herself dry from the sweat dripping off her forehead when you suddenly ran out in a pair of fluffy pink slippers, your hair in disarray while a thin blanket was draped over your shoulders. you gave your dad a quick hug and he smiled before he kissed the top of your head and sevika had to admit she found the view endearing.

she didn’t have a good relationship with her father. after her mother died her relationship with him got tethered and for the remaining years before he passed it just felt like living under the same roof as a ghost - a shell of a man who once had everything and then nothing, which made her resentful given the fact he still had a daughter, after all. that’s why she admires your father.

that in spite of everything he still looked out for you. and she admires you too in a way, that after everything you didn’t let the passing of your mother weigh you down too much that you still managed to stop yourself from going down the path of an addiction. unlike her, it took her a good chunk of her twenties and thirties to overcome hers, but even now, she still needs at least 4 pints of alcohol to get through the day.

so that’s what convinced her that since your old man was a good example maybe you wouldn’t be too troublesome.

oh, but she thought wrong.

it wasn’t until a few hours after your dad left and she finished her workout and decided to go back to bed was when she heard it.

that awful, grating sound of a speaker blasting music from your bedroom window, which coincidentally happened to be right across hers.

sevika tried to tune it out thinking maybe she’d be able to sleep it off or that eventually you’ll turn it off, but after twenty minutes where you showed no signs of stopping, she begrudgingly got up from bed in only a wife beater and sweat pants hanging low on her hips, marching out of her house and up to yours.

she didn’t want it to come to this, she thought maybe she was just overreacting when she sensed you were going to be a problem but like always, her gut instinct was right.

she pounded on your front door and when you took too long to open it, she scowled and banged on it so hard she swore she could’ve torn the hinges off.

“open up!” she yelled.

the music came to a screeching halt. fucking finally. she never really let her temper get the best of her, she normally had a tight hold on it, but in moments like these where she was given some time off work and to relax, to have that disrupted so early in the morning irked her beyond comprehension. plus didn’t you have any consideration? it’s nine in the fucking morning.

it took a couple of moments before the door swung open and revealed you, still clad in your pajamas (rather skimpy at that, as you only sported a baby black tee and shorts) distracting her with your bare thighs before your voice snapped her out of it.

“can I help you?”

again, your voice got on her nerves because not only was it a huge contrast to your inconsiderate behavior, being soft-spoken and all, but the way you asked the question didn’t help either. you almost sounded like you were the one being inconvenienced.

her jaw clenched “can you turn the music down? it’s so loud and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s still so goddamn early.”

you blinked up at her with your big doe eyes, and if it were any other person, they would’ve fallen for the oblivious facade you were trying to pull. but she knew better.

and you sensed that she wasn’t having any of it either, making the ends of your mouth twitch as you glared up at her.

“you know, I’m beginning to doubt my dad’s judgment when he said you were cool.” you quipped back which only made her chuckle.

“I am, only because your father was good company and respectful. but you,” you dared her with your eyes to continue and quite frankly, she had no problem doing just that “you on the other hand? yeah, can’t really say the same.”

you shot daggers at her with your eyes but you were quiet for a bit despite her remark. then you grinned before walking closer and getting up in her personal space, too close that she was taken aback because she could practically feel your chest rubbing against hers due to the close proximity.

“that’s not a nice way to talk to your neighbor now is it?” you asked, tone dripping with sarcasm while your face hovered near hers, the height difference being the only barrier that stopped your lips from touching hers considering the top of your head could only touch her chin “sevika?”

the way her name rolled off your tongue shouldn’t have made her spine tingle, but it did. you had an obnoxious effect on her and she wanted to justify it as her being annoyed by you. nothing more.

“turn that shit off or else,” she said gruffly before turning back around and walking away, sparing you one last heated glance before she reached her house, and slammed her front door once she got inside.

the music still didn’t stop.

 

𐙚˙⋆.˚

 

it only got worse from there.

she should’ve known better than to confront someone like you who probably fed off on being told no more than anything, and you were slick with it too. you pulled your tricks just around the same time your father leaves for work, leaving no possible witnesses to see how much of a menace you are.

it started with the music, which became louder and more horrendous that she was convinced you only put it on just to grind her gears. it’d last for three hours until eventually you go the whole day before turning it off when you knew your father would come back home.

as if that wasn’t enough, you made some friends. not just any other friends, of course, you just had to get close to powder of all people, vander’s youngest, along with the rest of her friends who’s been sevika’s biggest nightmares for as long as she could even remember.

they’d stop by your house to hang out which would’ve been fine hadn’t powder brought her whole damn crew with her, and she means that literally too. powder and her boyfriend ekko had their own little band as a sideline job which they called the firelights, and for some ungodly reason, you decided to invite them over as well.

the firelights testing out their new equipment in your garage while you and the rest had drinks in your front yard, flinging some of the red solo cups you were using carelessly into the trash bin and of course missing, causing three or four to land on sevika’s yard instead.

combined with the commotion coming from your garage and the fucking littering, sevika was about to pop a vein. she knew she’d have to confront you again without there being other people so as to not cause a scene, so instead, she took her jacket and got out of the house so she wouldn’t have to endure any more of this nonsense. but while she was stomping away, the sound of your maddening voice made her pause.

“afternoon, sevika!” you chirped from where you sat in your front yard in your plastic chair, a stupid obnoxious grin on your face as you drank from your red solo cup before flinging it directly on sevika’s lawn, making her eye twitch before she got into the driver’s seat of her car and slammed the door shut. scowling at you one last time and she swore she saw you giggle.

fucking brat.

 

𐙚˙⋆.˚

 

she couldn’t take any more of your bullshit.

but she didn’t want to make it awkward with your father by bringing it up. aside from the fact she got along with him, she’d seen how tired he was after a long day at work. he does not need sevika giving him crap about how his daughter is a major pain in the ass.

vander and silco seem to agree as well.

“just ignore her, girls her age tend to act like that so they can get a rise out of you.” silco advised as sevika scoffed.

“I’d be lying if I said vi and powder don’t act the same way sometimes,” vander chimed in from behind the counter of the bar, a bustling little establishment he and silco opened years ago, before pouring sevika another pint of beer.

sevika chugged it down in mere seconds, letting out a groan “why did you even let that gremlin daughter of yours befriend her? now I got two problems on my hands.“

vander sighed “you know how she is, she’s sociable. and the girl is new here, are you really mad that she’s making friends?”

“I couldn’t give less than two shits that she’s making friends, my problem is that she and your daughter are causing a ruckus while I’m a few feet away.” she snapped “I only have a few days off before my boss clocks me in again, and I haven’t had the time to enjoy it.”

both men exchanged deliberate glances with one another before vander nodded in understanding.

“I’ll talk to her.”

sevika held onto that promise. even as she returned home from the bar, her head pounding from the afternoon spent complaining about how much of a nuisance you were while she drank her stress away.

she noticed that your father’s car still wasn’t in your driveway, but thankfully powder and her friends already left. relieved, she strode up to her house and up to her bedroom, already wanting to sleep the day away because she knew you’d wake her up with your obnoxious music in the morning.

she begrudgingly stepped into her bedroom while she stripped herself from her shirt, leaving her in only her sports bra as she tossed her keys onto her nightstand, about to turn the lamp shade on when her peripheral caught something from your window.

there you were, clad in a matching black lace set of lingerie. you looked at yourself in your vanity mirror while your hands roamed from your torso up to your shoulder blades until you fidgeted with the thin straps of your bra.

’what the fuck?’ sevika thought to herself as she watched you almost in a daze, entranced at how you fondled parts of yourself while being unaware that you had an audience.

one of your hands reached for your drawer, rummaging a bit until you pulled out a lengthy, purple object that sevika took a while to decipher what it was until it hit her.

you gripped the purple dildo in your hands as your nimble fingers made quick work to remove your bra, unclasping it from behind before it fell graciously down your back. giving sevika a good view of the small dip just above your rear, her gaze moving slowly back up to where your mirror was.

your vanity mirror which gave her a vantage point of your round perky breasts, your nipples pebbling in the freezing night air and you let your palm stroke them slowly, making you shiver as your head fell back, and sevika was sure you let out a moan.

sevika’s throat clamped up. she knew she shouldn’t be watching this. she didn’t like you but it’s not like she should be invading your privacy, it was wrong and she was forcing herself to turn away.

but you were hypnotizing, to say the least. a small little forbidden fruit she was so tempted to take a bite into, curious what you would taste like - how you’d react if the simplest of touches already got you so riled up like this.

she felt her cunt throb at the thought, wondering how you’d feel under her callous hands. if you’d squirm if she decides to manhandle you, pull your hair back while she yanks your hips and jerk you down onto her stra-

she snapped out of her trance when she noticed you were no longer in your own little bubble, eyes finally meeting hers and she startled before running to close her blinds in a hurry. but not before catching the way your eyes squinted, watching her.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

it was like it was your mission to make her life hell.

[autumnmobile12]

Natsuo is more like his father than he wants to admit...and it is both tragic and unsettling.

Disclaimer: Not a criticism of Natsuo. I actually like this character. It is just a comparison study and a commentary of actions vs reactions. Natsuo is NOT a bad person for any of his choices.

He does what he wants without regard for what the people around him want.

Sure, he'll go along with certain requests, like going to the family dinner because Fuyumi asked him to.

However, rather than be a polite host, he decides he'd rather embarrass his sister by being angry at their father all through said dinner and making things awkward for their guests. He didn't have to be there. Whoever he's talking to on the phone after the fact, maybe the girlfriend, he apologizes for bailing on their plans. He didn't even have to white-lie to Fuyumi. He straight up had other plans that night. So there are two ways you could look at this:

He conceded to a request to support his sister...then half-assed it.

Or he canceled his plans and went out of his way to be a prick.

He's not wrong for hating his father, that is 100% a normal reaction to an abusive parent, but he is wrong for not establishing his own concrete boundaries or respecting Fuyumi's.

Like Endeavor, Natsuo is pretty isolated within the family.

Mom’s out of the picture and contact with her is limited.

We all know what his relationship with his father is like.

His closest sibling 'died' when they were kids, but even then, Touya and Natsuo's relationship wasn't a good one. We know Touya spent years trauma-dumping on Natsuo, and little bro took it like a champ. Supporting one's siblings like that is admirable, but it does highlight a key difference between the brothers. Touya has memories of a happy childhood with their father. Natsuo does not. So he had to listen to his older brother crying for a past he knows nothing about, which had to have brought on a little resentment. "At least Dad loved you once. I never even got that much."

As stated above, Natsuo doesn't see eye to eye with Fuyumi. At least not enough that he respects her decision to forgive their father. Whether he supports that decision or not, he should love his sister more than he hates their father, and starting shit unprovoked over a dinner she asked him to be at is not a supportive decision.

His relationship with Shouto is hard to gauge. They were raised apart, sure, but they lived in the same house. So the fact that he didn't know Shouto's favorite food until he was fifteen is...odd. Natsuo never tried to have a conversation with him in passing? But I have a theory about that. With how Shouto behaved in the very beginning of the series, the mirror-image of their arrogant father, I think Natsuo had a, “Fuck, now there’s two of them," moment and actively avoided association with his younger brother. This may have contributed to him moving out even though he attends a college that's close enough that that he can casually stop by for dinner.

He Actually Does Get Violent.

Not with other people, thankfully, but he does slam his fist against the door in this scene, which is an act of aggression.

This makes for an intense moment in animation, sure, but if you saw a person do this in real life, you’d be nervous about where that fist is going next.

I already went over this in the Endeavor analysis that I made a few months back, but the gist of it is taking out your anger on inanimate objects is unhealthy because you're training your brain to associate anger with violence, which has the potential to make it harder to dissociate in the long run.

In his own way, he did abandon his family.

Fuyumi tells him to leave the family circumstances to her....and he just left her to it? She went to college to become a teacher and made a career work in spite of living in a volatile home. The series doesn't say where Natsuo is a student at, but he clearly lives close enough to home that he can drop by for a visit, so it's not like he went to some prestigious university out of town.

So yeah. Left his remaining brother and sister to their father.

The other point, though, is he's canonically studying medical welfare.

Medical welfare is the consideration of patient wellbeing, preserving individual dignity, promoting quality of life, and taking a holistic approach to healthcare that applies mental and emotional care to a patient, not just physical.

So it's ironic this is where his brother ends up and he says absolutely nothing about it. Nothing about promising to come see him, nothing about asking the staff if this really the best arrangement they could come up with, no promises to Touya that he'll figure something out. He just ghosts and, like their father, that is really hypocritical.

In the end, he puts his own hate and feelings above everyone else’s.

This one's pretty closely related to my first point, but it does bear reiterating for the finale. Natsuo's decision to never see his father again is ultimately going to hurt his family more than it's going to spite Endeavor.  Going no-contact is a healthy choice and I don’t fault him for it at all.  But if he sticks to it, it’s going to lead to some serious ramifications down the road.

If he's strict enough to refuse to be in the same vicinity as Endeavor:

He won’t attend Touya’s funeral and support his grieving mother and siblings if Endeavor will be there.

Since we see in the epilogue Rei stays with Endeavor, Natsuo visiting her is going to be complicated.

If Fuyumi gets married, she might want her father at the wedding. Is Natsuo going to skip his sister’s wedding out of spite?

If Shouto gets married and decides to let their father be there, same story.

If Endeavor outlives Rei, will Natsuo miss her funeral?

And finally, Natsuo might have to come to terms with the fact his own children may want to meet their grandfather, which is a decision he can only control until they’re legal adults.  He can tell them how much of a monster Endeavor was all he wants, but those kids may still be curious about meeting the man in person, especially if they hear stories from other family members and know the former No. 2 and No. 1 is their grandfather.

I’m not saying Natsuo should forgive Endeavor, or even stop being angry with him because he has every right to his anger. But if he still wants a relationship with the rest of the family, he is going to have to exercise some form of compromise.  Especially with his children because he unfortunately has all the hallmarks to become the next Kotaro Shimura. This is a society where kids want to be heroes, and then there's Natsuo who has a history with the dark side of hero society, no matter the good Shouto does.

[itsnesss]

𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

OO1. OO2. OO3.

summary | during a weekend getaway, unspoken tension between you and minho comes to a head despite his relationship. a stolen kiss leaves you conflicted, torn between your feelings and doing what’s right

warnings | fluff, infidelity, tension, kisses, emotional conflict

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The invitation arrived unexpectedly at night. You were about to finish your tasks when your phone buzzed with a message in the group chat you shared with your friends.

Min Ho: "Hey, losers. This weekend, I’m inviting you to my dad’s cabin. Before you start making pathetic plans, confirm who’s coming. It’s going to be epic."

You stared at the message, surprised. Min Ho didn’t usually organize things like this… or at least, he didn’t invite everyone. Yuri was the first to reply.

Yuri: "Of course, we’re coming! Although I can’t believe you’re being generous. Is this a joke?"

Juliana: "I’m in! I wouldn’t miss it!"

Q: "Count me in."

Then, a message from Stella, his girlfriend, appeared.

Stella: "It’ll be fun. 💕"

For a moment, you hesitated. There was something about the idea of spending a weekend with Min Ho that made you feel… nervous. For months, there had been this strange tension between you two: glances that lasted longer than they should, little jokes only you understood, and an electricity you tried to ignore. But he had a girlfriend. And you weren’t that kind of person.

Still, you finally typed: "I’m in."

Min Ho: "Good choice. See you Friday at 5 PM. Don’t be late.

The weekend came quickly. Everyone gathered in the KISS parking lot, where Min Ho waited with his cars. Stella took the passenger seat, and you ended up in the back, squeezed between Yuri and Juliana. During the ride, Min Ho drove with a confidence that was as infuriating as it was attractive, throwing sarcastic comments that seemed aimed directly at you.

"Ready for the best weekend of your life?" he asked, briefly glancing back at you with a smug grin.

"I don’t know, Min Ho. You’ll have to try really hard to impress me," you replied, crossing your arms.

The "cabin" turned out to be a luxury villa in the middle of the forest, with huge windows, modern furniture, and a lake view straight out of a postcard. "Welcome to paradise," Min Ho said, spreading his arms wide.

The afternoon passed with board games, walks by the lake, and laughter. Stella was more interested in her phone than the group, leaving Min Ho free to talk to you more than he should have. His comments seemed harmless, but there was something in his tone and the way he looked at you that made your heart beat faster than usual.

When night fell, Yuri suggested using the outdoor jacuzzi. "It’s the perfect way to end the day!"

"I hope you all brought decent swimsuits," Min Ho said, throwing you a teasing look.

"I hope you talk less," you shot back, meeting his gaze.

The jacuzzi was surrounded by warm lights that gave the garden a tranquil atmosphere. Everyone got in, laughing, and for a while, you managed to relax. Min Ho, as always, dominated the conversation with exaggerated stories, but his eyes kept finding yours. That invisible connection you’d both been ignoring was there, growing stronger by the minute.

One by one, your friends began to leave the jacuzzi. Yuri and Juliana were the first, saying they were cold. Then Q, who yawned dramatically before saying goodnight. Finally, Stella said, "I’m going to bed, love. Don’t stay too long," planting a kiss on Min Ho’s cheek before disappearing into the villa.

Now, you were alone with him. You tried to focus on the starry sky, but the silence between you was too heavy. Finally, Min Ho broke the ice.

"Why do you always do that?"

You turned to him, confused. "Do what?"

"Pretend like nothing matters to you," he said, leaning against the edge of the jacuzzi as he stared at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Min Ho," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, with that infuriating smile that made your heart race and drove you crazy at the same time.

"If you’re looking for a fight, find someone else," you retorted, turning your gaze back to the water.

But he didn’t back down. "I’m not looking for a fight. I just want to understand why you act like you don’t feel the same way I do."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Min Ho, you have a girlfriend."

"That doesn’t answer my question," he said, leaning a little closer to you.

You looked him straight in the eye, trying to stay calm. "Because it doesn’t make sense, Min Ho. We’re different. You’re… you. And I don’t want complications."

"Complications?" he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe it. "Is that what you think I am?"

"No," you admitted softly. "But all of this would be. I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt."

For a moment, Min Ho didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, a mix of frustration and something else in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "Do you know what your problem is? You always try to do the right thing, even when it’s not what you want."

"And that’s a bad thing, according to you?" you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but…" he began, then stopped. He sighed, as if he was about to confess something important. "I’ve been trying to ignore this for months. But every time I’m near you, it’s like nothing else exists."

His words left you breathless. You wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. And then, before you could think about what you were doing, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow, intense, and full of everything you both had been holding back. His hands gently cupped your face, while the world around you seemed to disappear. But just as you were starting to lose yourself in the moment, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding. "This shouldn’t have happened," you said, moving away from him.

Min Ho looked at you, confused. "Why not?"

"Because you have a girlfriend, Min Ho. Stella trusts you. I can’t be that person."

"And what about what I feel? Or what you feel?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

"That doesn’t matter. It can’t matter," you whispered, your eyes filled with a sadness you couldn’t hide.

You quickly got up, wrapping the towel around your body. "I’m sorry, but this isn’t right."

Without waiting for a response, you walked back to the villa, leaving Min Ho alone. His words, and the warmth of his kiss, echoed in your mind as you walked away. This shouldn’t have happened. It couldn’t happen. And yet, a part of you wished things were different.

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀⠀arguing w bigbrother!caleb⠀⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: as much as you love your older brother you end up second guessing him, tired of only being allowed to talk to him and wishing you had some friends like other girls did ૮𐔌っ˕ -｡꒱ྀི𑁬

tw: angst, caleb slaps reader, they argue (obviously), tons of manipulation, rape mentions, drug mentions, caleb’s a fake to people, pathetic reader, overall this is really toxic, etc.

caleb was waiting for you parked in front of your uni, toying around with the necklace you gifted him when you were kids while his mind drifted away.

he was so excited for today, friday’s being his favorite days of the week since he took you out to eat and then had a walk by the meadowy park near your house. it was simple but he enjoyed every second he shared with you.

he didn’t need much more than that, really. he just needed you.

all the girls at your uni were hands down for your handsome older brother, trying to approach him every chance they’d get and getting politely rejected, even though he felt disgusted by them and thought they were vulgar whores; he was pretty good at hiding it.

you, on the other hand, started to feel lonelier each passing day.

ever since you were a kid you shared all of your time with caleb up until now. you told him everything, lived every moment together. there was no memory in which he didn’t appear.

and you really really liked that, you wouldn’t want that to change. but there’s been the longing for a friend, someone who wasn’t caleb, someone new.

you’ve always tried to get to know some of your classmates, feeling a little bit guilty when you disobeyed your big brother’s orders. it wasn’t hard for you to socialize, you were actually very good at it!

a nice sweet girl with a pretty voice and soft smile? who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?

well, every single time you thought you made a friend they would separate ways with you in a couple days, which made you feel sad and insecure.

why are they living you so fast, were you rude, said something bad, appeared weird perhaps?

far from reality the only one to blame was caleb, who had his eyes glued to you every second of the day and didn’t miss on how you tried you break free from the brainwash he managed to give you throughout the years.

he learnt this would happen every so often, and stopped confronting you about it long ago.

yes, he used to argue with you about this kinda thing, complaining about you getting along with other people and playing the victim, crocodile tears down his face as he begged you to never leave him.

so what he’d do now it’s confront the person in question directly, maybe to threat them, maybe to beat them up, maybe to kill them if they got too annoying.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“hey, pips, how was today?” he asked with a boyish smile plastered on his round lips, frowning when he noticed your crossed arms and pouty face, not even greeting him and looking out the window to avoid his purple eyes.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i’m talking to you.” he mentioned your name in a serious manner, locking the doors before grabbing both your cheeks with one of his big hands to make you face him.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i want to go to the party.” you simply muttered, avoiding his gaze while you tried to pull away from his grip, making him wrap your throat now. “we’ve already talked about that, princess. and it’s still a no.”

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“but mom and dad said i could go!” you complied, crossing your arms again. a tantrum is the last thing he needed from you today.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“mom and dad don’t know what’s best for you. i do.” he spat, letting you go and mimicking your pose now. “you wanna know what goes down at these frat parties, hmm?” caleb challenged you, tracing the shape of the steering wheel while speaking.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“there’s people getting high on anything they can find, fainting, vomiting because of how drunk they are, fucking everywhere.” he knew the party you wanted to attend was nothing like that, your classmates telling about the party to your parents and describing it as ‘chill’ and ‘safe’.

caleb totally believed that, they seemed fucking boring.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“what? no, that’s not true! you’re a big liar!” you yelled at him, feeling how his hand collided against your cheek; you knew you crossed the lane when you raised your voice at him. so you just took it, going silent after that.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“if you wanna get drugged and raped by the whole fucking class then go ahead, i’m done with this conversation.” he spat, engine vibrating beneath your feet as he drove you two back home. what a failure of a friday.

the whole drive you sat down there, tears rolling down your face as you quietly whimpered, cleaning them with the sleeves of your sweater.

you just wanted to make friends and go on a party for once to at least die knowing how it feels to be like the other girls. but that made your gege upset, and you loved him more than anything, more than you loved yourself.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“it hurts me more than it hurts you.” caleb broke the silence after parking in front of your house, resting his head against the headrest and sighing, looking at you now.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“‘m sorry, gege. i’m being selfish.” your voice trembled, reaching out for his hand to hold it up against your lips, kissing it several times, tears wetting his pale skin.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i don’t like hurting you like this, you know that. why you make me do it, doll. why can’t you just listen?” he kept on questioning you, his palm pressing against the cheek he slapped minutes prior, caressing the imprint his fingers left.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“i know, i know, i’m truly sorry. please forgive me, please gege. i love you.” you kept on apologizing, rubbing yourself against the attention he gave you, feeling the tears fall again and again.

he wasn’t faced by your crying. sure, he didn’t like to see you cry, but he knew he had to be strict with you in order to make you behave. you really hurt his feelings and you had to know your actions had consequences.

it took him a few days to completely forgive you, days in which you had to wake up without him, in which you had to cook for yourself and come back home by foot all alone.

days in which you remembered your gege was all that mattered in your life and realized that you didn’t need any friends, because no one would know how to treat you or take care of you like your old brother did.

and just like that caleb got away with it again, torturing you to make you behave, obliging you to live without him even if it was just a couple of days to make you see how much you actually needed him.

you finally understood after all; no friends, only caleb. you made yourself believe you were okay with that. ⠀ ⠀ 　　　

a/n: this was a request from an anon! I hope you like it, bunny. I feel like i outdid myself with this one, this is how i see caleb in my mind fr ᥩྀི ´ ᩳ ` ꒱

— masterlist.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism Boys - Meeting Your Parents

G/N. Headcanons on what your parents would think. Goo, Jake, Gun, Samuel, Ryuhei. Masterlists

Both are absolutely two sides of the same coin. Either way, your parents will be so charmed by Goo or Jake that they wish they were the ones dating him instead.

Goo is hilarious. In a mean bitchy way, that even though he is laughing at other people rather than with - he's laughing with your parents at other people so this slips pass their radar.

They are caught up with his quips and sharp tongue and honeyed words that they happily go along with this ride, trading numerous inside jokes by the end of the meeting, giggling together like a bunch of school children.

It helps that he's also dressed head to toe in hard to miss designer labels, and brings lavish gifts for them too. No, their affection and approval can't be bought but well, it doesn't hurt to try.

Jake is the son your parents wish they had, insult to their actual sons be damned. Or the person they wish they had met if they were twenty years younger, sexuality be damned.

And yes, Jake would pull out the cheesy lines like (gesturing to your mother) "Y/N, you didn't tell me you had a sister!" and dad jokes to your own dad. He would be so insufferably charming about it that it would inevitably work and win them over in no time at all.

Unlike Goo, so what if Jake's finances are tight right now? And his prospects are a little questionable? He clearly loves you and is a Good Guy. You two are young, he can work that out in due course.

There's a powerful aura emitting from Gun and your parents don't know what to make of it. Is it ok that you're seemingly with this dangerous man? With the unusual eyes and scar between his eyes?

This would have put their backs up more but Gun, to your surprise, is capable of showing exceptional manners. He is super respectful in their presence. Deep bows, good etiquette, and formal honorifics. They can't help but be reassured that if he is this respectful of them, then surely he will be of you.

Gun's demeanour is generally stiff and serious. He's quiet and doesn't talk much, though they don't miss the way he softens when he looks at you. Nor his patience when you revert back to being a sulky child when you're in your parent's presence too long.

They approve, mostly. But will always be a little uneasy around Gun.

At first glance, or first meeting, Samuel is clearly a guy that thinks a lot about himself. Unfortunately it shows to your parents too.

To his credit, his ego and confidence is inflated but the way he treats you is surprisingly tender. And despite the pedestal he sometimes likes to put himself on, he puts you on an even higher pedestal. Which can be both positive and negative. To your parents though, it's good that he obviously treats you well.

Sammy does turn on the charm a little, walking the thin line between flattering and smarmy - a bit like how he is with Eugene. Most of all, your parents are impressed with his prospects (something Jake, unfortunately, lacks).

Excellent career prospects, property, assets, finance. Even if he is a bit up his own ass, at least he can look after you.

Ryuhei has never ever met a partner's parent, and it shows with how tense he is. A complete surprise for you to see your happy-go-lucky puppy so anxious.

He relaxes each time you give him a small smile or squeeze his hand in a comforting gesture.

Your parents, to be honest, don't think much of him. Not to say they think he's bad for you, they just don't form much of an opinion of him during the first meeting.

The second meeting, however: 'Poor guy,' your parents think. He is wrapped around your finger and he's too head over heels to even kick up a fuss whenever you're being unreasonable or bratty.

He tries to charm them, which is a bit hit and miss but it's so so obvious how much he adores you and hangs on to your every word that even they become a bit worried about his well being and you taking advantage of him.

Not that you would... maybe.