#it's nice to have a multi-chapter fic again! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aeyumicore · 7 months

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what's mine

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, not canon events (completely fictional)

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 10.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, first time sex with zayne (not virginity loss), jealous!zayne, dom!zayne, zayne slightly loses control of evol, furniture breaks, lot’s of teasing, fictional characters, size kink, vaginal sex, oral sex f!receiving, tongue fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, slightly drunk sex (not really), tummy bulge, posessive/claiming behavior, let me know if i missed anything!

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: helloooo writing for my fav zayne again <3 would you guys believe this is actually the first lads fic i ever started but i put it on hold because it was way too elaborate and i didn’t want to make a whole like multi chapter fic? i actually cut out a lotttt of it, it probably would’ve been more like 30k words if i kept the same writing style/detail i had originally, and i just could not do that to myself

also the matthew/intern mentioned in the fic is completely made up and fictional, he is not a reference to any characters! i couldn’t bring myself to use greyson for the purposes of the plot bc i think he and zayne are so cute LOL god i love the jealous angsty feelings trope

pls enjoy hehe i luv u guys <3 also come interact with me on twit @/aeyumicore :’)

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

"Will you go to dinner with me?”

You whip your head around to see where the unfamiliar voice came from, coming face to face with one of the surgical interns of the Akso hospital. You’d run into him several times before when visiting Zayne at work, but never quite got his name.

"Me?”

The intern chuckles at your dumbfoundedness, which he thinks is adorable, "Yes, you’re Y/N right? My name is Matthew. I'm one of the surgical interns here. So, will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow?”

Zayne chokes on his rice from the seat beside you, patting his chest a few times to clear his throat. You’d decided to have lunch with Zayne after your check-up today; well more like you’d forced him to the cafeteria with you against his will. You’d desperately wanted to try the infamous mint chocolate chip jello the hospital cafeteria served, even though you knew it’d be disgusting. And so you both sat at a table in the cafeteria, you with your jello and Zayne with a homemade bento box you’d made for him, along with some of his favorite pastries from the bakery down the street.

At his coughs, the intern’s eyes snapped to Zayne’s and it was like he’d just then realized Zayne was there, the surprise and anxiety written all over his expression. Zayne was always someone who commanded respect and fear from his colleagues and subordinates, so much so that Matthew had turned pale as a ghost.

"Oh! Dr. Zayne, I'm so sorry I didn’t realize–” but Zayne cuts him off with a simple wave of his hand.

"It’s fine. Continue your conversation.” You’re a bit taken back by Zayne’s nonchalance. Sure, you were just childhood friends but it would be nice if Zayne had any reaction at all to being asked out right in front of him. You yourself couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards Zayne but it was seeming more and more that it was completely one sided.

"I, um…” you’re at a loss for words, not knowing how to let the handsome intern down. Matthew was honestly very attractive, and seemed kind enough, but you had hoped to spend your friday night with Zayne, though you hadn’t had the chance to ask him yet. He’d been swamped with surgeries and patients the last few days and you hardly got to see him at all. And you missed him thoroughly.

"I actually had plans with Zay– I mean dr. Zayne,” you glance at Zayne, hoping he’ll get the message, but the expression on his face is dark and unreadable.

"No we don’t. You should go,” Zayne’s tone is cold and his eyes refuse to meet yours. Despite yourself, your heart clenches in disappointment. You know Zayne could be obtuse but he was also extremely intelligent and perceptive. He undoubtedly knew you wanted to spend your night with him. But it was becoming more and more apparent he did not want to spend his with you.

"But i–”

"I have plans anyways.” Your eyes can’t help but sting as he avoids looking at you. So you try to steel yourself; you were a big girl and a little bit of unrequited affection would not destroy you. Keeping your voice steady and blinking back unshed tears of frustration, you look up at Matthew, his eyes lighting up at you expectantly, and you try to give him your best smile.

"I...I would love to go to dinner with you!”

You don’t notice the deep scowl on Zayne’s face as a dark icy storm brews in his green eyes.

–

You stumbled out of the taxi, your way-too-high heels catching on the foot step almost causing you to trip headfirst into the pavement. You sigh as you catch yourself on the cab door and glance at your hunter watch and see that it’s already 1am.

"Get home safe miss, and no more drinks, you hear me?” Your cab driver reprimands you teasingly.

"Yes sir,” you mock salute him as you wobble onto your feet, thoroughly drunk, "Thank you so much! Please drive safe. Good night sir!”

"Good night miss!”

You turn towards your apartment building, sighing in exhausted defeat. What an absolute disaster of a night.

The date was unexpectedly wonderful. Matthew was handsome, kind, funny, and a complete gentleman. He brought you to a very fancy and expensive restaurant downtown, so you wore one of your most elegant dresses, not that you had many. It was a simple satin black mid-length evening dress, with a slit that exposed just up to your mid thigh and an open back that accentuates your figure. You’d normally never wear something so sensual on a first date, but you couldn’t deny that the way Zayne had reacted, or not reacted, stung your heart. So maybe you did go a little extra tonight because you were hurt. So what?

After dinner, Matthew and you took a leisurely stroll at linkon park, with enough time to catch the sunset. As you watched the sun melt into the sea of golden yellows and dusky pinks, Matthew kissed you. It was passionate, slow, and soft. The perfect kiss.

Except when you moaned out Zayne’s name.

And so the night ended as quickly as it began. Matthew was as understanding as he possibly could have been, but you could tell it killed anything that could have happened between the two of you. Matthew was a surgical intern, so with what little free time he had, he said he couldn’t chance it on a girl who was clearly already in love with someone else, especially if that someone was his boss and mentor. He’d offered to give you a ride back home but you refused, saying you’d grab a cab instead.

So you found yourself at a bar, downing shots of soju to numb the mortification of your blunder but also the feeling of utter patheticness. Hours went by as you wallowed in your emotions. You’d had feelings for Zayne for as long as you could even remember. And still, you couldn’t tell him or move on from him.

But maybe you would have the guts to tell him if it didn’t feel like he literally could not give two cents about you, beyond as a patient and as his annoying childhood friend. It was literally like pulling teeth to get him to spend any time at all with you lately.

So here you were, stumbling into your apartment building at 1:37 am: drunk, exhausted, and empty. The night breeze raised goosebumps on your exposed thighs as your heels clicked on the pavement in the dark.

You headed toward your apartment, through the main entrance and up the lobby elevator, the alcohol still making your brain swim. Luckily you no longer saw double, and your eyelids no longer felt like a ton of bricks.

The elevator door dinged open and you trudged toward your unit, your toes screaming in protest in the confine of your heels. You forced your vision to cooperate with you as you tried to punch in your door code. The error buzz sounded out, again and again, and you groaned in frustration.

In the blurry edges of your vision, a large and slightly scarred hand reached over yours. Yelping, you whip yourself around and reach to grab the gun you always had strapped to your thigh. But from the icy cold touch against your fingers and the scars littering the pink skin, you realize exactly who it was.

"Zayne?” You did your best not to slur, trapped between him and your front door. You don’t miss how he swears under his breath as his eyes trail down your body, lingering at all your exposed skin, before snapping back up to your face. You can’t even imagine how wrecked you must look right now, mentally kicking yourself for not touching up after the bar. Your gloss was undoubtedly smeared from the kiss and the copious alcohol, your hair a bird’s nest from the night breeze, and your mascara smeared from the stray tears of your drunken emotions.

You didn’t do a very good job at steeling your voice because Zayne saw right through you, his eyes narrowing as they absolutely drank you in, "You’re drunk?” His voice holds a dangerous edge, as if mad that you’d have the audacity to be drunk. He deftly types your access code in, and gently ushers you into your apartment. You stumble in your heels against his body, and Zayne wraps his arm around your waist to catch you before you fall. You flush at the way his hands palm the exposed skin of your lower back.

"M’not drunk,” you protest, swatting his hand away, not wanting your body to give any of your feelings towards him away, but Zayne only grips you tighter, fingers flitting between the soft satin material of your dress and the goosebump ridden skin of your back. His arm on your waist feels so right, threatening to make you melt right into his embrace. But you fight the urge, trying to hold onto your annoyance.

You can’t see his eyes but you know they’re rolling in their sockets at your obvious drunkeness. He gently guides you through the threshold of your home and then kneels down before you. The sight of him on the floor in front of your feet makes you reel, hoping the furious blush is masked by the flush of alcohol in your blood.

"W-what are you doing?” You try to step back, but your knees wobble and Zayne grips your thigh in place. You shiver at his cold touch on your sensitive skin, a little too high for you to keep any semblance of calm.

"Do you want to stay in these deathtraps?” He murmurs as he starts to slip the strappy heels off of your aching feet. His fingers around your ankle tingle as he softly massages the red skin of where the straps dug in.

"Zayne? Why are you here? Did something happen?” Your voice wavers still, but Zayne’s cold touch is starting to sober you up and clear your vision as your mind tries its best to focus on him. Zayne doesn’t respond as he lifts your other foot and slips the other heel off. His fingers linger on your bare legs before he slips your house slippers on your feet, standing back up to tower over you.

"It’s almost 2 in the morning, and you’re just now coming home,” his voice is hard and stern, it’s clear he has things he wants to say but you’re in no mood for a lecture on sexual safety, stds, and stranger danger.

"I was busy,” you snap, your emotions running extra high from everything that had happened today, especially Zayne’s nonchalance. But he’s incredibly patient with you, as he always is, taking you by the waist nagain and leading you to your living room couch. You’re too tired to resist, and you desperately need to get off your aching feet.

"How was your date?” Zayne sits you on your couch and then heads to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. His question reminds you of how royally you screwed up today and your mood sours even more.

"Fine,” you mutter, trying to keep from snapping at him again. Zayne sits beside you and brings the glass of water to your lips, tilting it for you with his fingers on your jaw. You take deep gulps, the cold water soothing your entire sore body. Sinking further into the couch, your mind wanders back to your disastrous screw up. You’d called Matthew Zayne. It literally couldn’t get more mortifying than that.

Zayne stares at you and you know he doesn’t believe you, so you murmur again, "It was fine.” But as his intense eyes bore holes into you, your voice cracks under all the feelings you’d stuffed deep down today.

He was here now and it confused you to no end. You’d wanted nothing more than to spend your day with him, but he’d pushed you away. Were you really that blind that you’d developed feelings for a man who did not feel even slightly the same way?

Your eyes well up with tears at the thought and you try to subtly brush them away by pretending to scratch your cheek, but as always Zayne sees right through you.

"Did he do something to you? Did he get you drunk?” Zayne’s voice is calm but hard and threatening.enough to scare you if it weren't for the way he softly gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back to his, using his free thumb to catch the tears before they can slip down your cheek

But through it all, you register the implication of his words. "Wh-what? No!” You exclaim, "Matthew was a complete gentleman.”

His eyes track yours, unwilling to let go of your gaze, "Then why are you crying?”

You blink back your tears before more can fall onto his thumb. Your voice wavers as you stare into the hazel green ocean of his eyes, and you answer his question with a question of your own, "Why are you here Zayne?”

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe.” Your chest constricts with unrelenting emotions, but your drunken haze makes you even more steadfast in your stubborn resolve.

"Well I'm home, safe,” you avert your eyes, knowing if Zayne keeps staring at you with that intensity you’ll start to unravel and confess everything.

"Why did you take a cab home?”

Your eyes snap to his, "How did you know I took a cab?” And this time Zayne’s eyes refuse to meet yours, "Zayne? How long have you been waiting for me?”

Zayne doesn’t respond, instead brushing the tangles out of your hair. You try to get his attention by tugging at his tie, the alcohol making you feel much bolder than you normally ever would.

You can see his adam's apple bob as he lets himself be drawn in, only slightly, towards you. At your pout, he sighs in defeat, prying your hands away so he can loosen the tightened hold around his neck, "I’ve been waiting for you…forever.”

Before you can respond, he clears his throat and continues, "I got here at 9 and waited in my car when I knocked and you didn't answer.”

At your bewildered expression, he sighs and elaborates, "I just wanted to see you get back home safely. But when I saw you get out of that cab I needed to come check on you.”

Your brows furrowed as your sobering self tried to do the math in your head. Zayne can practically see the steam coming out of your ears and smiles lopsidedly, chuckling under his breath at how adorable you were being.

"You waited for 7 hours?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide.

His grin deepens and you can see his eyes sparkling with laughter , "You are drunk. Why are you drunk?”

You purse your lips shut, unwilling to speak. With all the overwhelming emotions swarming your mind, you knew if you started talking now you would surely never stop.

At your silence, Zayne prods gently, "Talk to me, Y/N.” His voice is deep and commanding in a way that almost always gets you to listen to him.

You zip your lips shut and turn away, doing your damn best to not give in. But Zayne’s touch, still on your cheeks, forces you back towards his eyes.

"Be a good girl,” he demands softly, his eyes searching yours for answers.

Blowing out your cheeks like a child, you’re unwilling to give up the attitude, "I’m drunk because I was drinking.”

"Did Matthew take advantage of you?” Zayne’s jaw is locked and the intensity in his eyes is blinding, damn near dangerous.

"No! Zayne, no. I went to a bar to drink alone, after our date,” you try to hide the embarrassment from seeping into your voice.

"Why? Did he do something to you?” His voice is still threatening, and you sigh at the unrelenting questions. You knew Zayne well enough to know he wasn’t going to let up, so it would just be easier on you if you told him everything that happened.

"Matthew was amazing,” you don’t notice the way Zayne’s eyes darken at your praises for the intern, "The date was fantastic. And after, we saw the sunset.” His expression is still unreadable and you start to fidget under his intense gaze, not knowing in the slightest what he was thinking.

"And then he kissed me. We kissed. And that was it. I went to the bar and he went home. End of story.”

Zayne’s fists ball so tightly his knuckles turn white, but he keeps his gaze steady. He doesn’t speak, and you’re scared of the tense silence that falls between you two.

"He couldn’t at least accompany you? Make sure you were safe?” You can tell Zayne is angry by the way his feet taps uncharacteristically erratically against the floor, "Driven you home?”

His questions make it impossible for you to forget about your horrifying mistake today and you just feel so incredibly bad for Matthew. The regret and embarrassment gnaw at your mind like parasites. And so against your better, albeit slightly still drunken, judgment, you finally blow.

"He left because I was thinking of you, okay? Matthew was a gentleman, he was funny, kind, and charming. And yet I was thinking of you the whole time. And so he left and I went to a bar and got drunk all on my own, okay?”

"You were thinking of me?” Zayne’s voice is an annoying mix of bewilderment, intrigue, and what sounds like mockery, which just infuriates you.

"I am always thinking of you Zayne! I thought about you at dinner, I thought about you when we watched the sunset, and I thought about you when he kissed me,” you burst, your drunken lack of inhibitions leaving nothing unsaid.

Zayne’s face is unreadable again, but there’s a heat in his eyes that makes you tremble in your seat, "You were thinking of me when he kissed you?”

Unable to bear his unrelenting repetitive questions anymore, you explode, "Yes Zayne! And when he kissed me I called out for you!” The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think twice about it. It takes you a second to realize what you’d just blurted out and you bury your face in your hands, wanting nothing more than to scream at the top of your lungs. Unfortunately it was 2am and you had neighbors that most definitely would not appreciate that.

You feel his strong hands grab your wrists gently, prying your hands away from your face, wanting to see you, "You called for me?” His tone is as amused as it is intrigued and it frustrates you to no end, the shame weighing heavily on your mind.

"Don’t tease me right now Zayne,“ you warn weakly, "I am always thinking about you. But you…” your voice trails off to a shallow whisper, "You don’t seem to think about me.”

Zayne is silent but his eyes are as intense as you’ve ever seen them, staring into your soul. The silence is thick in the air as you refuse to be the one to break it.

Finally, he speaks, voice clouded with indiscernible emotions, "Is that what you really think? That I don’t think about you?”

"Do you really think I waited for 5 hours, in my car, for you to come back because I don’t think about you?” Your breath catches in your throat at the pure and raw growl in his voice.

Before you can respond, he continues, "I think about you every second of every day. I thought about you all day, thought about you on your date with Matthew.”

Zayne shifts so that he can cup your face with both his hands, drawing his face closer but not close enough, "I thought about him getting to hear your voice, getting to touch you…to kiss you. It drove me insane.”

Your feelings churn in your stomach and into your chest, making it hard to breathe. The way Zayne is looking at you, his hands holding your face so possessively, threatens to stop your heart altogether. You’re drawn to him all over again, only this time it feels like he might be drawn to you too.

"W-why?”

Zayne doesn’t speak, and you watch as his eyes flutter to your parted lips as you pant out your breaths, eyes fighting to stay open amidst all the tension enveloping the two of you.

"Why did you push me to go with him then?”

His eyes force themselves onto yours, as if unwilling to leave your lips, "I made a mistake.”

His revelations quickly sober you up, and you’re left feeling vulnerable but bold. You softly grab a fist full of his tie, pulling him closer. You can faintly hear him groan under his breath, but he lets himself be guided towards you. Your lips are so close to each other that you’re inhaling each other in, and you beg gently, "Kiss me, Zayne.”

Zayne wastes no time at all, threading his fingers from your cheek into your hair, pulling your face the remainder of the distance to his own.

Your first kiss with Zayne is nothing like you’d daydreamed it would be. You’d imagined the patient and reserved surgeon to be soft, gentle, taking his time with you. You’d expected it to be passionate but reserved, like the handsome raven haired man himself.

And while the passion was undeniably there, what you didn’t expect was the bruising claiming heat that came with it. Zayne’s soft lips marked you as his own, a lifetime’s worth of emotions evident in the way he molded himself against you. With every twitch of his lips, Zayne laid claim to what was his. He kissed you like you might disappear at any moment, as if this was all a dream.

And when his tongue swiped across the parting of your lips, asking for permission to enter, you gladly relented control and authority. After all, you were his. You think you had been for some time.

You hadn’t expected your first kiss with Zayne to be like this, and yet it was everything you wanted and more.

When you shift yourself to climb on top of him and straddle him on your couch, Zayne reluctantly pulls away, hands still gripping the back of your head, "Y/n, we should stop.” But he can’t stop his hands from leaving your soft hair and resting on your hips, almost like a reflex. His words say one thing but his hands just can't seem to pry themselves off of you.

You’re taken aback by his words, unable to stop the insecurity and hurt that paints your face. Zayne notices instantly, one of his hands leaving your hips to stroke your cheek, hooking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into his hand, the whiplash starting to exhaust you as much as it kept you on your toes.

"I want to,” he whispers hoarsely as you squirm on top of him, answering your unsaid thoughts, "I can’t even convey how much I've fucking wanted to. But you’re drunk. And the first time I finally take you...I want you to feel every second of it.”

Your eyes flutter at his words, stomach clenching in anticipation. Having fully sobered up a while ago, before he even kissed you, you can’t help but beg a little, "I’m not drunk anymore. And even if I was… I want you. I’ve wanted you…forever.”

Zayne swears, his eyes going full doctor mode, and you can tell he’s inspecting every inch of you to try and discern if you’re truly sober or not. You fidget nervously under his intense stare, to which his hands grip your waist painfully tight to keep you in place.

"Stop,” he grits out forcefully, as if in pain. You do your best to still in his lap, and that’s when you feel the unmistakable bulge of his erection underneath your parted dress that had ridden up to bunch at your hips, right against the pantyhose against your cunt.

"Are you sure this is what you want?” He groans as your body presses deeper into his lap, "Because once…we start I won’t be able to stop.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, the heated warning doing nothing but arousing you to your core. Through your hooded eyes, you nod eagerly at him, "M’sure Zayne. Won’t want to stop.”

He smirks at you, a heart stopping smile that melts your brain and cunt simultaneously into a leaking mess, "You asked for it love.”

Before you can even have the chance to physically combust at the affectionate pet name, Zayne whisks you into the air, scooping you under your exposed knees effortlessly. You yelp, clutching onto his neck as he carries you like a bride into your bedroom, navigating your apartment like he owned it. He bent down to capture your lips with his again, like he couldn’t physically wait to get you to your bed before claiming you again.

You feel the cold press of your sheets against your spine as Zayne sets you down gently, and settles in between your thighs on top of you. His eyes absolutely devour you whole, raking up and down your exposed satin clad skin, "You look beautiful. I’ve been wanting to tell you all night.” His praise is throaty with desire and it makes you squeeze your thighs together against his body in anticipation. Your face heats at his words, and you run your palms up and down his abdomen, the material of his dress shirt feeling like silk against your burning skin.

Zayne grins and chuckles, mostly to himself, but the sound catches your attention and you find yourself pouting in self-consciousness, "What’s funny?”

Zayne’s long fingers trace the outlines of your body under the satin dress, eliciting soft moans from you that please him to his core, "You just look so beautiful.” His fingers reach the bottom of your dress and begin to stroke the fabric of your pantyhose, inching up under your dress, so torturously slowly, "You wore this for him, yet I'm the one that’s going to tear it off you.”

Your body trembles at his words, the pool between your legs growing wetter. You can feel yourself growing impatient, only wanting his body to press onto yours, to suffocate your.

"Zayne please, don’t make me wait any more,” you murmur as you sit up on your elbows, pressing your forehead against his. You heartbeat is quick and your rapid breaths fan across his face.

His eyes darken at your pleas, the hazel hues appearing almost a light brown, "Fucking hell Y/N, you’re going to drive me insane.” He sits up on his knees, loosening his tie before undoing it completely and discarding it on the floor next to your bed. You bite your lip as you watch him undo the top three buttons of his shirt, his toned chest on display under it.

Leaning back down, he presses a bruising kiss against your swollen lips. His hands wander to the thin straps of your dress, gently tugging until they slip off your shoulders, letting him tug your dress down until your breasts are exposed. His tongue against yours is unrelenting, marking every inch of your mouth as his.

Detaching himself from you, he buries his face into your neck, his cold lips incredibly soothing against your lust burned skin. You cry out when you feel his teeth softly sink into the skin of your pulsepoint, as he suckles on you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

"Zayne,” you gasp out, his tongue and teeth working in tandem to have your mind filled with nothing but his mouth on you, "Please.”

He trails down your neck and collar, inhaling you into his lungs at every opportunity. You feel his smile against your skin as he reaches your breasts, your nipples pebbled from the lust. He voice is muffled against you, "Please what, my love?”

"I…” you’re too mortified to say the things you want him to do, so the silence overtakes you. Unhappy with your hesitation, Zayne bites into the supple flesh above your pert nipple, eliciting a string of moans and squeals from you. He’s instantly using his tongue to soothe the pain away, quickly replacing it with waves of raw pleasure.

Zayne lifts his head, staring at you expectantly, "I can’t continue if you don’t tell me what you want.”

His unrelenting teasing drives you to the edge of madness, your arousal evident by the way it leaks through your panties and your pantyhose. But you’re stubborn, still refusing to speak.

"Good girls listen to their doctors don’t they?” He places fleeting kisses onto your goosebump riddled areolas, careful to purposefully neglect your increasingly sensitive nipples.

"Should doctors really be this intimate with their patients?” You retort like a brat, wanting to dish back all of his incessant teasing.

He smiles at you, thoroughly amused at your insolence, "I suppose not, but am I really just your doctor?” With that he captures your waiting nipples into his mouth. You cry out at the incredible feeling of his cold lips on your breasts but his warm tongue on your nipple, your lower body thrusting up uncontrollably into his crotch.

He groans into your chest as you brush against his throbbing erection, restricted by the confines of his pants. Against the heat of your womanhood, Zayne hardens impossibly further, feeling like he might actually explode against the constraint. The sounds of your pleasure and your cries for him make it difficult for him to concentrate.

Switching to your other nipple, Zayne uses one hand to undo his belt, letting it fall to the ground with his tie. He undoes the button and zipper his pants, yanking them down with such feral urgency. When his cock was finally free, he broke away from your chest, hissing in relief. You look down and you’re met with the realization of why he was in so much pain.

Zayne was large. In a way that terrified you to your very core. You could imagine that the restraint of his briefs alone would be uncomfortable, painful even, when holding something like that back.

Zayne catches your stare and he grips your chin between his fingers, guiding you to his eyes instead, "It’ll fit baby, don’t worry.”

You fight to keep your lip from quivering, trying not to get lost in his green eyes, "Will it?”

"I'll make it fit, but first let me prepare you love,” he says Matter-of-factly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. The certainty in his voice turns you unbelievably on and you find yourself needing to please him. Your hand seeks out his erection, grasping it firmly into your fingers.

He groans at the slightest touch, knees buckling into the bed beneath you. You start with languid and deliberate strokes, feeling every vein pulse under your fingers. Your thumb finds his large engorged head, already leaking with pre cum, feeling every smooth surface of his cock under your touch. While Zayne writhes on top of you, you revel in his glorious manhood, everything about it utterly perfect and terrifying.

As you touch him, Zayne leans into the crook of your shoulder, laying claim to your sensitive neck. He marks every inch of bare skin he can find, leaving a trail of red and wet bruises in his wake.

Your entire palm is wet with his leaking arousal, as he moans so closely into your ear. Gently, he pries your palm away from him, sitting back up onto his knees, smirking satisfyingly down at the marks he’d left, "God, I've waited so long to have you.”

You reach down to shimmy out of your pantyhose and black evening dress, leaving you in your black lace thong, naked, willing, and pliant before him. You see him gulp harshly, his eyes hazy with need, and you sit up to level with him, "So take me Zayne.”

A low growl rips from his throat, as he pushes you back onto the bed, setting your head against your wooden headboard. Zayne tortures you, kissing down your collar, your chest, your naval, and finally down the soft mound of your pelvis.

Zayne seems almost feral as he looks at your lace covered cunt and back up at you, "Did you really wear this for him?”

"N-no,” you whine, "I wouldn't have ever l-let him. He wasn't you.”

Zayne seems somewhat placated by your response, hooking his cold fingers into the waistband, his voice a low grumble, "That’s my good girl. No one will ever see you in or out of these, but me. Right?”

Your brain fogs over as he slips your soaked panties down your legs, his breath hitching seeing the string of clear slick clinging to your cunt.

"Fuck.” He’s lost in his stares, in absolute awe of the meal before him, carving every single perfect centimeter into his memory. You squirm under his intense stare.

"Zayne please don’t make me wait anymore,” you wine, crying out as he bends down and his lips graze the apex of your slit.

His voice is incredibly smug, "You are so beautiful when you beg for me.” You sigh in frustration as his lips and fingers continue to just barely graze your needy body.

"Zayne, please,” your body thrusts into his, but he holds you back down, almost impatiently.

"Behave yourself, Y/N. You can do that for me, can’t you?” His voice is full of command, making you back down instantly, shivering at the suspense of his words.

"I didn't wait this long to have you just to rush all the things I want to do to you,” he all but purrs, as his lips find your soaking slit.

The room is filled with your lewd cries as Zayne’s tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your throbbing hole. As your doctor, Zayne knew the ins and outs of your body but you never expected him to know you like this. Like his tongue was designed for nothing else but to deliver you the most unimaginable pleasure in this world.

Zayne groans when his tongue enters you for the first time, the quivers resonating straight to your core. His nose brushes against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, the vibrations of his own lust filled grunts bringing you closer to releasing all over his skilled mouth.

Your thighs clench against his face, and you almost worry you might suffocate him. You try to pry them away from him, but he only grips them with his strong hands, bringing them closer to his face, wanting nothing more than to be yours, wholly and irrevocably.

"You taste better than I ever imagined,” he moans out, staring into your eyes from between your legs. You blush at the filth of his words and the glistening slick smeared across his lips and chin.

"Did you – ahh hah – think about me often?” You tease between the sounds that spill out of your mouth uncontrollably.

He doesn’t answer, instead capturing your entire clit into his lips, sucking in earnest. You feel his smirk as you squeal out, hands digging into the fabric of your sheets and tugging hard. His hands knead your ass as he continues to eat, positively starved.

"Z-Zayne I-I can’t take much more,” you slur, your toes curling against his sides as he goes back to spearing his tongue in and out of you, using the tip of his nose to massage your clit, inhaling the smell of your arousal into his lungs.

"Yeah? Is my girl gonna make a mess for me?” He breathes into you, his hands reaching up to toy with your nipples. You cry in response, feeling the coil in your gut tightening beyond belief, the pleasure threatening to make you explode.

"Cum into my mouth love, let me taste you,” he whispers breathlessly into your cunt, slipping his middle finger inside of you, the wet sounds of his skin pounding into yours filling the room. You come done instantly, screaming as your back arches off the bed and you release all over Zayne’s waiting mouth, hands ripping at his soft hair.

"That’s it baby, look at you cumming from just one finger,” he muses, working you through your orgasm with just his middle finger. You let out a stream of broken moans, unable to form any words.

"Fuck you’re this tight around just one of my fingers?” He murmurs before dipping back down to devour everything you give him.

He laps up your spend eagerly and diligently, not letting a single drop go to waste. Refusing to relent against your twitching clit, Zayne devours you until the overstimulation lights your pussy on fire. He’s always had a sweet tooth and it looks like he’s found his absolute favorite dessert, unwilling to give it up any time soon.

"Such a messy girl,” he mumbles to himself, the clear strings of arousal sticking from your wet thighs to his chin.

Your thighs tremble at the discomfort of overstimulation, doing your best to back away from him, "Mmm Zayne, s’too sensitive. No more, please.”

He relents reluctantly, looking utterly displeased with having his treat taken away. As he sits up, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans forward into you, tapping your lips with his thumb.

"Open,” he commands forcefully, bringing his soaked middle finger up to you. You part your lips obediently, welcoming the taste of you on his skin. His eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a deep heated moan at the feel of your tongue on him, tasting everything he got to taste. His cock literally felt like a ton of bricks needing to be pleased.

Releasing his finger, you reach for his length again, "I-I want to make you feel good too.”

Zayne presses his cold lips to yours, simultaneously undoing the buttons of his shirt. He pulls aways to shrug the clothing off his broad shoulders, giving you an eyeful of his glorious physique. He shivers, letting you jerk his erection up and down, but pushing you down when you try to get on your knees before him.

"Next time. We have all the time in the world,” he whispers, pushing you against the headboard, holding your cheek in his large hand, "But right now I need to be inside you.”

The smoldering fire in his eyes makes your mouth dry, and you nod meekly. The promise of a ‘next time’ is enough to have you ready for him again. Your cunt still quivered, recovering from your previous orgasm, but pooling at the hoarse need in his tone.

As your head lays on a pillow against the headboard of your bed, Zayne lifts you from the small of your back and shoves another pillow behind you, so that you’re elevated towards him, served on a silver platter.

"Spread your legs for me,” he growls, the urgency in his voice leaving little room to protest. And so you obey, widening your legs for him, watching as he admires the area between your thighs like it was

His hand reaches to cup you, clit caught against his palm and fingers toying with your hole, "Who does this belong to?”

But you can’t hear him through the searing pleasure of his touch against your over sensitive body, the blood pounding in your ears like drums. Looking at where his hand meets your body, you cry out at his ministrations against you, your thighs trembling in shivers.

With his free hand Zayne grabs your chin, slipping his thumb into your mouth, harshly forcing your eyes to his, "Don’t look away. Be a good girl and answer me.”

Although his words are driven with lust, they remind you of the emotional turmoil you’d been weathering because of your feelings for the man in front of you.

"M’yours Zayne, always been yours,” tears well in your eyes and you hope he can understand the weight behind your words, behind all the lust and arousal filled craze.

Zayne stares back at you, and his eyes hold an entire galaxy of emotions that match the colors of his irises: desire, devotion, awe…and love.

"And I am yours,” his words strike your heart and you lean up to slot your mouth against his. As he kisses you, he lines up his thick length with your cunt, teasing your clit with his engorged tip, his pre cum mixing with your spend that still leaked out from your prior climax. You cried into his open mouth at his teases, your back arching off the pillow and further into his cock. At your movement, his head catches onto your throbbing and waiting hole, eliciting a deep grunt from him.

He pulls away, groaning, "So impatient, you want it that bad?” You whimper, burying your face into his neck and latching onto his pulse point to save yourself from having to answer.

"P-please…” you whisper into his ear. He groans, fishing through the pocket of his pants as he pulls them off of his legs.

"Please what, love?” He smirks at you, pulling his wallet out, now just in his briefs pulled down to let his massive erection free.

You gulp, staring at the way he stands so proudly against his naval, reaching comfortably to his belly button. His girth rivals that of at least three of your fingers.

The rustling of plastic snaps you out of your shameless ogling. Zayne places a condom packet between his teeth, tearing it with one hand. You gulp at the sight of him, but you protest, "I–i um,” you clear your throat, trying to work up the courage to vocalize what you want, "You don’t have to use that.”

Zayne’s dark eyes catch yours, and the edge in his voice is dangerous, a warning, "Don’t tempt me. I need to protect you.”

Your face burns as you try again., "W-what I mean is, well as my doctor you know I'm clean.” You do your best to stop your voice from wavering, "And I-I um I'm on the pill.”

Zayne’s eyebrows quirk as his irises darken with heat, "How come I didn't know that?

"I’ve been using an online service for a few months,” you say sheepishly, "S-so you don’t have to use that.”

Zayne catches on, a satisfied smirk gracing his features, "Is that so?” He teases his entire length on your slit, practically fucking you along the lips of your womanhood. Using his swollen tip, he taps your clit forcefully, eliciting a throaty yelp from you.

"Tell me what you want.” You shiver at the pure feral domineer in his voice.

"P-please Zayne, I want it. I need it.”

"What do you need baby?”

You groan in frustration, but give into his demands, "I-I need you Zayne, need you inside. Need it so bad.” The way you can see his breath hitch in his throat fills you with confidence, so you lean closer until your bottom lip brushes against his, "Need to feel you inside, please Zayne.”

His jaw locks as he grits out forcefully, "I will give you everything.”

Zayne holds his cock with one hand, lining it up with your entrance. His other hand grips the wooden beams of your bed frame, "Can you take it Y/N?”

If you’re being completely honest, you’re not sure you can. Though you weren’t a virgin, you had never even seen a man so large, let alone attempted. But at Zayne’s expectant expression, you nod eagerly, "Y-yes I can, I-I can try.”

"Good girl,” he mutters, before sinking himself into you. The stretch is so much worse than you imagined it would be, practically splitting you in half. You squealed, clawing at his biceps as he did his best to enter you. Feeling so incredibly stuffed, you look down only to see he’s barely just gotten his tip inside.

The vein in Zayne’s forehead throbs as his jaw slackens, a string of swears leaving his lips, "Jesus you’re like a vice down there. I need you to loosen up love, or else I'll never be able to get inside.”

You pant against him, not knowing what to do but to watch the way he stares intently at your tummy. The heat and desire in his expression arouses you beyond belief, and you unconsciously squeeze your velvet walls in excitement.

Zayne’s knuckles turn white as he grips the headboard for support, the veins in his forearms bulging as he groans out, "Fuck baby please. Are you trying to squeeze it off?”

"Sorry, m’sorry. S’too big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders for support. The stretch is nothing like you’ve ever felt, and you don’t know if you can take much more than what’s already inside you. "Z-Zayne it’s too big I c-can’t,” you pant, doing your best to relax and loosen up your muscles.

"You can, you’re doing so good for me Y/N,” Zayne huffs out, pushing deeper into you, the slick from your forming arousal and his pre cum starting to make the stretch easier. The drag of his cock against your gummy walls starts to feel so torturously delicious, like your body was made to take him in.

Finally, he eases into you, eyes unable to look away from where your bodies connected.

"If you could see how – hah – beautiful you look like this, spread out for me,” he grunts, being as gentle as he can manage, when all he wanted was to ram into your warm and tight cunt, squeezing him so tightly.

"Been waiting for the day I could – shit – finally be inside you. Drove me fucking insane thinking about you and Matthew.”

His words are enough to have you leaking all over your joined bodies, the slick dampening his pelvis and your thighs. As he seats himself in you as deeply as he can, his tip brushing against your womb, he lets out a shaky breath of ecstasy.

"Is this what you – hah – thought about? When you were with another man?” His words are claiming, making butterflies explode in your gut and your cunt to flutter around him. You can only moan and drool as his body thuds into yours, over and over.

"Sweetest little princess cunt I've ever felt,” he swears, languidly withdrawing from you before pushing back in, knocking the breath out of you. With your head leaning against the back of your bed frame you can see every second of his glistening length burrowing in and out of you, like it absolutely owned you.

"Z-Zayne,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders, "Please.” You don’t know exactly what you’re begging for, but you can’t stop the words from coming.

"Hah, if you want something you have to – fuck – ask for it love,” he pants, doing his best not to get lost in the pure pleasure of finally getting to be inside you.

His words send you reeling, the ecstasy increasing with each deliberate and hard drag. You fight through the fucked out haze, vision blurred from your hooded lids, "Hah - harder please.”

At your request Zayne stutters for a brief second, your cunt squeezing so tight he could barely move, "Anything for you.”

With his hand clutching the frame, he uses his other hand to rub harsh circles onto your swollen clit. His pelvis smacks against your thighs and ass so hard that the bed posts knock into the wall repeatedly, the skin slapping sounds mixing with the sounds of the wood against the plaster.

At the added stimulation your eyes roll into your brain, your eyelids weighing down heavily. Zayne leans in until his chest presses against your breasts, your breaths heaving in tandem. His eyes follow yours, forcing you to hold eye contact with every deep thrust into your soul. Against your will, your eyelids flutter as the pleasure starts to overcome your fighting consciousness.

You can vaguely make out Zayne’s smirk, as his hand leaves the frame to cup your chin in his palm, "Don’t tell me you’re already worn out, love.” His fingers flick against your clit.

You yelp out, nails digging into his back with one hand while the other hand smacks his shoulder gently. You pout, "You’re so mean to me.”

He leans down to kiss your shoulder, his pace never faltering. He chuckles against your skin, "But you can take it, right? You always take me so well.” The double meaning of his words makes you clench in excitement, the praise making your chest tighten.

He groans as you clench down onto him, threatening to make him blow, "Hah so fucking tight. You like that huh baby? You like it when I praise you?” He thumbs your clit with more intensity, wanting to see you come absolutely undone for him.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, nodding eagerly in response to his words. Zayne’s thrusts only grow in intensity, as if he’s trying to reach your esophagus from your cunt. You’re a mess of uncontrollable moans and mewls, unable to stop your eyes from rolling back and your tongue from hanging out as he fucked you into oblivion.

"Look at you,” he grins arrogantly, voice husky with desire and raw possessiveness, "Going on a date with my intern just to end up with my cock stuffed in you.”

You whine at his words, simultaneously not wanting to think about Matthew but also being so turned on by the dominating undertone of his words. His fingers abandon your clit, much to your disappointment, to trace the bulge his cock makes in your tummy. His other hand pulls your chin down so you can watch him.

"Look how deep I am, love,” he grunts. You watch in awe as the small bump in your stomach bulges and disappears with the rhythm of Zayne’s thrusts. With every withdrawal, Zayne’s impressive cock glistens with slick, the throbbing veins bulging enough to make you drool. Absolutely entranced, you fit your hand under his to stroke at his cock as it pushed through your tummy.

Zayne swears as you caress his cock through the bump in your tummy, throwing his head back to catch his breath. His hand goes back to paw at your clit, trying to stop himself from blowing his load into you right there.

As the climax builds in your gut, you throb around his impossibly hardened length spearing in and out of you, to which he twitches inside of you. The sounds of your combined whimpers and grunts, the lewd smacks of his damp slick dampened skin against yours, and the bed slamming against the wall overwhelm your brain until you can only think about Zayne, his cock inside you, and the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

"Zayne, I-I’m close,” you cry, hand abandoning your stomach to loop around his neck, digging your nails into his damp skin.

"Fuck – I know love, I can feel you trying to squeeze it out of me,” he grunts, body slamming into yours so hard that your body smacks against the headboard.

"I’m gonna – gonna cum,” you cry, nails digging into the taut muscles of his back.

"No,” he demands, and you do your best not to gape at him. He gasps through his next strokes, "Be a good girl and wait for me. I want to feel you finish all over me when I cum inside you.”

"O-okay,” you say, but you’re honestly unsure if you’ll be able to wait, the waves of pleasure crashing into you so roughly it threatens to overtake you right then and there.

"That’s my girl,” gripping your chin, Zayne leans in to kiss you again, his tongue claiming your warm and waiting mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut and your body tenses as you try to quell the raging tides of the impending climax, moaning endlessly into Zayne’s mouth.

You pull away to breathe, your lungs needing as much oxygen as possible to withstand the ecstasy. Zayne’s hand grips the wooden beams above your bed again, his knuckles turning white as he watches the pleasure contort your beautiful face.

"I-I can’t – ”

"You can, baby. I’m – hah – almost there, just hold on a little longer for me,” he grunts. The pleasure and pain of his edging threatens to knock you unconscious, but you nod and throw your head back as your eyes roll backwards again.

Through your fucked out haze you can vaguely see a strange icy sheen forming on the wooden beams of your bed’s headboard. You follow the path of luminous crystals and realize they’re forming from Zayne’s hand that grips against the frame so tightly his knuckles are pale and taut, as he comes closer to exploding inside you.

Unable to shake yourself out of the pleasure, you can’t find the words to warn Zayne. You continue to watch in awe as the beautiful iridescent flakes frost over the dull old wood. His palm is covered in a layer of snow white frost, the tiny snowflakes dancing around his skin as it grips the furniture so forcefully. You realize he’s losing control of his evol, because of you. And the idea of that threatens to push you head first into your second orgasm of the night.

It happened so fast. As Zayne bullies himself in and out of you, thrusting as if his life depended on it, the wooden beams of your headboard cracks in his hand, the wood turning brittle against his icy evol, and shattering under the force of his bruising grip.

Zayne shields your body with his own as frozen wooden splinters fly everywhere, his thrusts stuttering as the sound of cracking wood pierces the air. You can tell he’s scared, constantly worried about losing control of his evol around you like this. His hands clasp together, massaging his wrists and trying to calm the unpredictable storm of his evol. You can feel him about to pull away, to get away from you and keep you safe.

You hug him close to you as he tries to pull away not wanting him to stop, not caring the least bit about the splintering wood falling into your hair. The worry and disgust with himself is evident in his eyes, and it tears at your heart so you do your best to comfort him, "S’okay Zayne, it’s not a big deal, I promise.”

But his eyes are far away, thick with emotions that make your chest lurch. You hold his face in your hands trying to get him to look at you and not the splintered mess of furniture above you. You lock your knees around his waist. "Zayne baby,” you soothe gently, "Look at me. Look at me please.”

His frantic eyes meet yours under the guidance of your palms. You watch as the storm in his eyes calms down ever so slightly when they meet yours. You brush your thumb against his cheek, whispering, "Don’t stop, please. M’so close. I need you.”

But Zayne is hesitant, only filled with worry for you, his thrusts halting altogether but still thick and solid in you. His jaw clenches down, "Did I hurt you?”

"Not at all,” you reassure, hand stroking his anguish laced face, "I don’t care, please make me cum Zayne, want to cum for you s’bad.”

Zayne continues his thrusts slowly, trying to shake away his anger at himself, "Hah – I'm so sorry Y/N, I'll buy you a new one, okay?”

"Y-yes whatever you want, but please just fuck me,” you plead, not wanting your climax to slip through your fingers, "Please don’t stop.”

Your begging is enough to have Zayne going feral again, slowly regaining the vigor in his thrusts. His hand dusts the wooden fragments away from your hair. Your head sinks deep into the pillow, and falls back to peer at the gaping hole in your bed frame, slightly in awe of his sheer primal strength. It honestly turned you on unbelievably, edging you closer and closer.

"Zayne I c-can’t wait anymore, m’sorry m’cumming,” you wail, your nails digging through his back as the ecstasy explodes in your body, from the tips of your curled toes to your fucked out brain. Your walls flex against Zayne’s vigorous thrusts as he continues to chase his own high, briefly forgetting about the furniture he’d ruined in his brief slip of control.

Your eyes pull away from the snowflakes melting on the splintered headboard and fixate on Zayne’s eyes as your vision spots with fireworks, his cock pistoning in and out of you relentlessly.

He lifts your thighs up until they press against his chest, your muscles aching in protest. Your ankles rest on his shoulders as he drives himself into your guts at this angle. He leans down and your body screams at the stretch in your muscles but he hits you so deeply like this you can’t feel anything but pleasure. He hits your g spot at every thrust, your body barely recovering from the previous orgasm as he steers you straight into another.

"Sh-shit,” he groans, his eyes hooded as they bore into yours, "Squeezing me so fucking tight, are you trying to milk me? If you keep clenching down like that I'm gonna – fuck!” He swears at your nails digging into his broad back, dragging deep scratches into him as he fucks you roughly through the pleasure.

"P-please Zayne I want to feel you,” you cry, "Cum inside me, please.” As Zayne pounds into you with no semblance of mercy, stars blur your vision, your body doing your best to accommodate him and the endless waves of overwhelming ecstasy. Your wet release splashes against your skin with every thrust of his hard muscular body.

"F-fuck I'm gonna cum so deep inside you baby,” he groans with his eyes intently staring into yours, "This pussy is all mine.”

"You’re mine,” his voice is intense, a primal growl of urge and possessiveness, claiming you as his with both words and with his body. He bends back down, pressing a wet open mouthed kiss into you, tongue intertwining with yours needily. Both his hands threads through your hair, tugging gently as he rocks into you. He groans into your mouth, body shuddering as he finally releases into you.

Zayne rips away from your lips to rock onto his knees before you and carry you onto his lap, wanting to be able to hold you as close as possible as he emptied rope after rope inside of you. The angle allowed him to literally fuck his spend up into you. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands around his neck, unable to even squeal at the sudden movement, only able to drool out against the crook of his neck.

His spend is so deliciously hot inside of you, as your pussy quivers at the warmth, squeezing him even more. He forces his tongue into you again, wanting to be attached to you in every way as he pumps every thick rope into your waiting womb. As he tugs on your bottom lip, body still pressed on top of your legs, cock hitting your sweetest spots, you release all over him again.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your cunt pulsates uncontrollably, pulling more and more of his essence into you. Zayne’s thick muscles shake under you, the waves of his orgasm rocking his entire body into yours.

You pant as his bounces slow, his unending stamina finally coming to a halt as his sweaty chest heaves against your trembling breasts. He presses gentle kisses to the deep hickeys he’d marked onto your skin, using his broad hands to caress your bruise splotched throat.

The sound of satisfied pants and soft moans blankets the two of you as you snuggle into him, never wanting this moment of post sex bliss to end. Your collective spend begins to leak down onto Zayne’s lap, your poor cunt physically unable to hold the copious amount of spend inside of you.

As his member softens it begins to slip out of you uncomfortably, so you squeeze in an effort to keep him in you as long as physically possible.

Zayne swears, his eyes heated and his gentle grip on your throat tightening just slightly, as he warns you darkly, "Behave. Unless you want me to take you again.”

And though the idea of him bringing you to orgasm again, and many times after, sounds like heaven on earth, you don’t think your poor cunt can possibly handle any more pleasure for tonight. He chuckles when you ease up, stroking the curvature of your naked spine with his icy fingers.

"I’m sorry about your bed, my love,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, falling softly backwards onto the bed and guiding you down with him until you rested on top of his hard muscular body, his softening erection still nuzzled deep inside you. He’s careful to lay the two of your joined bodies away from the destroyed headboard, holding your head protectively against his chest. "I will buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

His free hand roams every inch of your body, from twirling the strands of your hair to gripping the supple flesh of your rear.

"S’okay Zayne, it’s not necessary,” you murmur sleepily, tracing the contours of his taut muscles, "I don’t need a new frame.” Honestly the idea of Zayne breaking your bed in pure primal lust was enough to have the heat collecting back in between your thighs.

"I would rather you take me on a date,” you smile into his skin, "Since you ruined the one I had today.”

Zayne chuckles, the sound so warm and beautiful to your ears you think you might melt right into his solid frame, "I suppose I did. Will you let me take you out tomorrow?”

You lean up so that your chin rests on his chest and you can peer at him through your lashes, giving him your best begging face, "Only if you beg.”

He looks up at you, the amused lopsided smile on his face just begging to be wiped off, "Please? Let me take you to dinner.” He lifts your chin off his chest with his index finger, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He smirks when you shiver at his fleeting touch, watching you bend to his very will.

"And then after…” he trails off, fingers leaving your face to trace against the side of your exposed breasts, and up to your hard nipples. You bite your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of moaning out.

As he incessantly fiddles with your skin, you finish his thought with a joke, "After you can come destroy my new bed frame too.”

Zayne’s eyes darken with mischief and amusement, "You shouldn't write checks your body can’t cash, my love.”

The filthy promise in his words coupled with his cold fingers pressed deliciously into your pebbled peaks rip the whimper you’d been holding back out of your lips, your cunt clenching in anticipation despite your crippling exhaustion.

But it seems Zayne knows your body as well as you do. "But for tonight, just sleep,” he mumbles into the top of your head, pressing his lips into your hair.

"Mmm stay here with me, please,” you murmur into his chest, letting the sleep take root in your pleasure numbed mind.

"I'll be here when you wake up,” he reassures, his voice falling deeper and rougher with exhaustion and hands shifting to cover your bodies with your comforter. His hands then wrap around your waist, holding your body against this, as if scared you’d disappear from his arms. "I won’t ever leave you.”

Your heart flutters as the unconsciousness claims you. "G’night Zayne,” you mumble, kissing his chest.

"Good night my love.”

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

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milkpup · 9 months

Text

｡⋆ʚ♡ bad luck comes in threes (and in me)

›› nsfw 18+ / 3 part fic

@ace_343 on twt

ch 2 ♡ ch 3

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› naoya zenin x f!reader ›› megumi fushiguro x f!reader ›› toji fushiguro x f!eader ›› naoya x f!reader x megumi / megumi x f!reader x toji ›› naoya x f!reader x megumi + toji ›› started: 1/12/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are close friends. He invites you to his family's estate where you start to notice how bad your luck really is.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, pseudo-incest (they all want y/n, not eachother), harsh language, abuse, power imbalance, dubious consent / rxpe / noncon

‹𝟹 tags: AGED UP CHARACTERS!, au - no deaths, au - toji and megumi are part of zenin clan still, power imblance, degradation, choking, loss of virginity, name calling, pet names, some fluff and LOTS OF SMUT, slight angst, all the zenins want you basically, vaginal, blow jobs, cunnilingus, face sitting, 4some, mdom, fsub, pseudo-incest, meet the family, breeding, cum as lube, cum swapping, light blood, aggressive choking, will update tags as more is added, praise, being called a good girl

‹𝟹 notes: this is a long time in the making. i probably started this fic over a month ago >< i've been working on it more than my lfls fic that i like more. just smthn abt naoya...... (usually i prefer naoya to be subby but this fic is diff oopsies :3!). lmk what y'all think.i'll be updating my other fic real soon but for now, crumbs of this i guess LOL. i was originally going to do a oneshot but it was already starting to get long and i hadn't even progressed much in the plot i have written up x-x so i figured i'd do 3 chaps since it's like the theme >:3 hope y'all like it!!!

i'll be updating tags as it progresses. i'm super excited abt this fic even tho it's like 99% smut. (idk how to write stuff w/o smut oops) what can i say??? 🤌

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 1: Exposed

“So, do you think you can make it?” Megumi asks, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at you inquisitively. “To my family event, the reunion thing, I mean.”

You hadn’t thought about it much. Sipping on your tea, you contemplated. You’ve never met Megumi’s extended family; you had no idea what they would be like. Megumi’s family is huge, and it would be a multi-day event held at their estate. “Oh, what the hell. I have nothing better to do during winter break anyways.”

His face lights up a bit at your confirmation, but Megumi tries his hardest to hide it. You can see the blush creeping across his nose, his cheeks, even reaching the tips of his ears. He was like a little puppy, excited to see you.

“Make sure to bring any nice clothes you want to wear, but there will be pajamas and toiletries provided to you.” He finished his drink and moved to throw his away. “Are you done too?”

You felt bad, you had a little bit of your tea left and he was patiently waiting for you to finish to throw your trash away for you. You hurriedly suck up the remainder of the tea through the straw, and hand him the empty cup. “Thanks, Megs.” You chirp.

Megumi blushes and looks away as he takes your cup from your hands.

You’re back at your house, frantically packing last minute before Megumi comes over to pick you up. You’ve always been an overpacker, and you have no idea what to expect. You throw all sorts of garments into a pile that you want to take: casual clothes like leggings and hoodies, dresses and formalwear, and intimates. You blush, picking up matching sets of underwear and bras. You decide to toss them onto the pile anyways, better prepared than not. You didn’t know who you were “preparing” for, but felt your cheeks flush anyways. I’m meeting my close friend’s extended party and I’m packing lingerie, am I a fucking creep? You shake your head, trying to shake the thoughts out too.

You finish stuffing your clothes into your bags, packing some makeup and skincare that they probably wouldn’t have available. Just as you finish zipping your second bag, you hear a loud knock on the front door. It’s Megumi.

You open the door with a soft smile, greeting Megumi. “Thanks for picking me up Megs! Can you help me with my other bag?”

He looks down to where you’re gesturing, noticing the other bag. “Jeez ____, it’s a 3 day party. How many clothes do you need?”

You blush, sheepishly. “I just want to be prepared… y’know?” Megumi huffs and groans before picking up both bags. A lady should never have to carry her own bags, and he noticed it seemed like you were struggling with how heavy these bags were, being packed to the absolute brim.

“T-thanks, Megs.” You croak out as you follow behind him to his car. He doesn’t reply, hoisting your bags in the trunk before slamming it shut. You open the door and sit in the passenger side, buckling your seatbelt with an audible click. He gets in shortly after you, adjusting his seatbelt and turning the car on.

The silence is thick, but not awkward. You and Megumi were comfortable around each other, not requiring a word to be said as you sat in comfortable silence on the drive to his family’s estate. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you ask Megumi, breaking the silence, “So what are the plans for the event? How big is it going to be, anyways?”

Megumi answers you, not taking his eyes off the road. “It will have pretty much my entire family, extended family, and family friends. There’s lots to do at our estate, from the gardens, movie room, bar room, and more. As for planned events, music and lots of food, maybe dancing?” His tone ends questioningly, he knows his family isn’t particularly fond of frivolous activities like dancing, but there might still be some as more people loosen up.

You nod, taking in his answer. This sounds almost a little exciting. Much better than spending time holed up in your room, studying or watching youtube.

Megumi pulled up to the grandiose estate. “Wow Gumi, I knew your family was loaded…. But not THIS loaded,” You gasped in awe. The entire property was large enough to be a mini village. You were shocked, to say the least. The beautiful landscaping, trees, the koi pond that connected into a river surrounding the main building… it was all too beautiful.

“Yeah, they are wealthy on a whole different level,” he responds, as he pops the trunk and retrieves your bags. “Usually they have servants around, but I’ll show you around the estate myself instead.” He starts walking towards the front entrance, you follow him closely behind, not wanting to get lost.

Megumi doesn’t even have to open the door, servants inside let him in as soon as he approaches. He briskly walks along the pavilion, turning left towards a long corridor. You try to match pace, but his long legs gives him an advantage. You take this moment, a few paces behind Megumi, to admire his raven locks bouncing as he walked.

As you’re walking, you pass an entryway, seeing a few figures to your right. Someone clicks their tongue. “I see my cousin Megumi understands,” he starts, eyes following your figure as you walk past him, “that a woman’s place is three steps behind a man’s.” This mysterious man, related to Megumi, smirks as your figure disappears.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s so full of shit it’s festering,” Megumi spits out. He seems to really hate whoever that guy was. Megumi leads you to a room down a quiet corridor and opens the door. “This will be your room for the next few nights,” He announces as he enters the room and sets your bags down. “My room is on the other side of the estate. These are the guest rooms. We can check mine out later, if you’re interested.” He flushes at that last part, looking down and uncomfortably shifting his weight. “Anyways, I have to clean up before dinner in an hour. I’ll be back to see you soon.’

Megumi retreats from your room and closes the door behind him. You decide to unpack, putting things in the drawers and hanging some items in the closet. The room was quite spacious, with its own bathroom attached and adjacent to this room.

You haven’t finished unpacking yet but decided to take a quick shower just to freshen up. You scope out the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind you. Turning the shower on to a scalding hot temp, you wait for it to heat up as steam fills the bathroom. You strip and enter the shower.

He stalks the hallway you were walking through but a moment ago. He’s insanely curious as to what you look like up close, intrigued by your fleeting form as you walked by behind Megumi. He wondered if you were his toy, you following Megumi like a puppy definitely gave off that message.

He can still smell a lingering scent of citrus and flowers. He knows it’s you, because women of the clan are usually not permitted to walk this side of the estate anyways. He’s following your trail, like a predator following its prey. He sees the faint glow of light coming from the crack of a door and approaches it.

He knocks once. No response. He knocks twice. Still nothing. Naoya Zenin believed he was a gentleman, but he had his limits. This was his future estate, he believed he had every right to know every single thing going on under this roof.

He lets himself in, and immediately sees the cracked bathroom door, a bit of steam escaping. He hears you humming while taking a shower, and smirks. He silently closes the door, and makes his way towards your plush bed. He sees a bag open, clothes strewn about. Something frilly and lacy catches his eye, and he walks towards the table instead. He picks the article of clothing up, noticing he was holding a black thong, laces and bows, adorned with gems along the thin waistband. He licked his lips, unholy thoughts flooding his brain.

He hears you shut off the shower, and quickly pockets the garment, swiftly moving to sit on the edge of the bed. A few moments pass, and the door of the bathroom swings open. Steam floods your room, quickly dissipating. You have a towel wrapped around your body, still humming as you walk towards your pile of clothes. You had set a specific set on top to put on after your shower. You could have sworn the thong was there, but as you rummaged through your bag the garment was nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for these, little miss?” You gasp and turn around to see a man sitting on your bed, holding up your thong with 1 finger, while smirking and eyeing you down. You nearly drop your towel, but regain composure.

“Who are you?” You ask, unsure of why a strange man you’ve never seen before let himself into your room.

“My apologies, doll, I didn’t mean to scare you. My name is Naoya Zenin. I’m set to be the next heir of the clan and estate,” he smirks, “And I figured I should personally introduce myself to you. It would be impolite of me not to do so. Who are you?”

“I’m _____, Megumi’s friend. He invited me over to meet all his family.” His ears perked up at you mentioning your friendship with Megumi, a devious thought crossing. You were still in your towel, cold air further cooling your already wet skin.

“You didn’t answer my first question, little miss. Were you planning on wearing these?” He practically spins the panties around his finger, staring you down intently. “I didn’t think such a good girl would bring something like this to wear when meeting her friend’s family…” He trails off.

A blushes creeps along your face, you didn’t think someone would know. You didn’t think someone would barge into your room, look through your clothes, and tease you about it. You couldn’t even look Naoya in the eye, shame clearly on display on your features.

“Don’t worry, woman, I won’t tell anyone. You wouldn’t want your close friend, Megumi, to know about this right? I won’t tell; however, my silence has a price.” He finishes his comment, smirking at you. His sultry gaze was locked on you, scanning your body from head to toe. He grinned and licked his lips, thinking about how he could manipulate you.

“What do you mean?” You look up at him, confused and unsure about the situation. “What do I have to do?” At that question, Naoya lifts himself from your bed to make his way towards you. His gaze never once leaving yours, making intense eye contact that sent shivers down your spine and left you trembling. You felt like prey being stalked by a predator.

Naoya is right in front of you now, as he grabs both wrists with his hands and lifts them above your head. You’re startled but have no time to react as he pushes you against a wall, wrists pinned above you. You can feel Naoya’s hot breath tickling your cheek, making you lose all sense of rationality. He grins at you, looking down as he has you in a position you can’t easily free yourself from. Your head hangs low, looking down, trying to stifle your heavy breathing. You don’t want him to know his actions are affecting you.

“I know women are dumb, but seriously, how can you not know what I mean? At least you’re pretty….” He leaves his sentence unfinished, bringing a cold hand to your chin and tilting your head to look at him. “Little miss, I’ll explain it to you once, in an easy way to understand. I want to use you. Your body, specifically. Will you be a good girl and let me? Or do you want me to make you.” Naoya’s tone drops a bit, almost grunting at the end. Thoughts about what “using you” entails floods your mind. You’re inexperienced, but not entirely clueless. Your blush deepens as you look into his eyes, now peering down at you.

You didn’t think being degraded and praised in the span of a few seconds would entice you as much as it would. Normally you’re a very independent woman, fully capable of realizing your own dreams and pursuing your own goals. But something… something about being put down but also called a good girl sent you driving up the wall with insanity. You were hooked near instantly.

“Yes sir,” you meekly respond, looking up at Naoya. Your emotions and lust are on clear display for him, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Good girl.” He smirks. “Just to be clear, I have very specific tastes and like to be pleased in a certain way. Try and make me proud, you dumb whore.” Your cheeks flared red at the insult. “Open your mouth, cunt.”

You made no hesitation to fulfill his command. He still had a firm grip on your chin, leaning down as he spit into your mouth. “Swallow, princess.” He instructs as he pushes your mouth closed. You comply, feeling more heat pooling between your legs. “Good girl,” he purrs as you open your mouth to show him.

He leans back into you, lips crashing into yours. He nips at your bottom lip, drawing a tiny bit of blood as he goes back to kissing you. He can taste the blood mixed with both of your saliva as he forces his tongue into your mouth, trying to push his way into every part of you he can. His hand previously at your chin is moving down toward your neck, resting into a firm grip across your neck. You can still breathe, but the firm pressure while he’s sloppily kissing you elicits a few soft moans from you into his mouth. You can’t tell, but he’s grinning as his grip increases a bit. He pulls away before taunting you, “Do you like that? Huh? Are you a masochist or something?” He’s not relenting, grip strengthening as you’re looking up at him, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

You’re unable to speak, so you try to nod your head to show him that he’s right. He notices and loosens his grip before moving his hand towards your chest. “Good girl,” he praises you. “I like that.” He leaves kisses in a trail from your lips to your neck, kissing over the faint marks his hands left before. You’re still against the wall, hands above your head, and he released his other grip before picking you up and carrying you to your bed.

“Next time, I want to see you wear that slutty fucking lingerie you brought. You’re such a dirty girl.” He peers down at you as you’re left exposed on your bed. He’s crawling above you, pushing you into the mattress. He gives you a few impatient kisses before moving back to your chest, grabbing one of your breasts while his mouth moves to the other. His other hand is fervently roamed your body, moving down your tummy towards your hips and eventually resting on your thigh. His hands were soft but rough trailing along your skin, as if he was searching for something.

Naoya’s hand slips to your inner thigh, just shy of your exposed cunt. He lightly grips it as he starts leaving a trail of kisses down your body as he took his hand from your breast and pushed your thighs apart. He left love bites and marks as he made his way to your cunt, stopping to look up at you. He grinned as he spit on one of his fingers, prodding its way through your folds to find your clit. He’s been with many women, and although he has an arrogant attitude, he does know exactly how to please a woman.

He rubs circles around your clit as his mouth leaves a little bite mark against your inner thigh. You softly moan at the pain as Naoya’s eyes flick up to meet yours. Although you can’t see it, you’re sure he has that asshole smirk of his. Your suspicions are pretty much confirmed when he says “Are you some masochist? Some dumb bitch who likes to be hurt. For real?” You think you heard a laugh as he moved his finger down to your hole, spitting some more before he fucked you with a finger. You didn’t need any more lube, you were practically drenched. He pushed his finger in, feeling how tight your hole was with only one of his fingers.

“You have the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt. I’m impressed. Are you a virgin too?” He looked up at you, expecting an answer.

“Yeah..” You tried to hide your face with your hands, embarrassed at your lack of experience. Naoya saw it differently though. His cock twitched in his pants as you replied, and he started moving his finger inside your tight cunt. He loved hearing the little moans you make as he slipped his finger in and out, a lewd wet sound filling the room. He was trying to get you used to it, but he was getting impatient. He was already working harder for any woman he’s ever been with.

His mouth moved above your clit, tongue flicking around the sensitive bud as he slipped in another long finger into your hole. He curled and scissored his fingers, trying to stretch you as his fingers fucked you faster. Your face was flush with embarrassment as you still tried to contain some of your moans. One more finger slipped in, stretching your walls while he moved above you, face aligned with yours.

He kept fingering your cunt as he aggressively kissed you, biting your lip before he shoved his tongue into your mouth. You could feel yourself come closer to the edge, your core tightening. You were moaning into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck pulling his body closer into yours.

“Fuck... Naoya…” you whined out as you felt the thread about to snap, “I’m gonna—cum!!” His fingers slammed into your cunt as he was leaving marks along your neck. You felt your walls tighten around his fingers as he expertly prepped your cunt for the main event.

“You’re such a good girl… I almost feel bad taking your virginity. Almost.” Naoya takes out his fingers, sucking on a few of them to taste you. He pushes one of his fingers into your mouth, commanding you to taste your own cunt. “Next time I’ll taste you myself… but I can’t wait any longer,” he says as he’s taking off his shirt and pants, pulling down his briefs to expose his large cock. He moves up above you again, grabbing your legs by the ankle as his body is pushed against yours. He’s putting you in a mating press. He moves the tip to your entrance and spits on his cock before slowly pushing inside, feeling your tight walls around his girthy cock.

He gives you time to adjust, but it isn’t nearly enough. Naoya has been kind enough, but he always takes what he wants. Still, he will be nice one last time. “I’m gonna fuck you how I want to now, okay whore? You’re gonna be a good girl and take it anyways, right?” He gives you no time to prepare as he slams into you, bottoming out, forcibly deflowering you. The pain hurts, but Naoya is relentless. He pulls out and briefly gives you a moment of respite before slamming his cock back into your cunt. Despite the pain, the feeling is like never before as his body is pushed against yours, cock ramming in and out of your hole. Your cute moans are like music to his ears.

He leans down towards your face, seeming like he’s going to kiss you but instead spits on you. He moves a hand to grasp around your throat as you’re looking up at, unable to make any sound as his cock abuses your hole. The pressure and lack of air make your head feel dizzy as he spits again, degrading you. “You like that too, huh, stupid slut.” He hips pick up speed, pulling out before repeatedly bottoming out into your cunt. He lets go of your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. He would never admit it, but the sound of you struggling to breathe drives him insane.

He spits on his hand and moves it to your clit, fervently rubbing your bud, bringing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. You feel the waves of pleasure overwhelm your body as he’s raw dogging your cunt and relentlessly abusing your clit. Your moans are laced with pleasure, dripping with your ecstasy as you cum over Naoya’s cock, tightening your walls around him.

Naoya mercilessly fucks your virgin hole like he deserves it, like it’s owed to him. Whatever he wants, he gets. He’s grunting as moaning as he picks up speed, fucking you like an animal. “Hey bitch, ah fuck—I’m gonna cum in you. You’re gonna take it like a good girl alright?” He lightly slaps your face as he’s finishing his sentence, bottoming out for the last time before he slams back inside your cunt and paints your insides white. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you; there’s so much of it that it leaks out, a lewd sight before Naoya as he looks down at where you’re both connected. Before he can pull out and clean himself, the door to the guest room slightly creaked open as if it had been left ajar, not fully closed. Naoya cursed himself for not closing and locking the door.

Megumi had been standing there for not even 5 minutes when he went to check on you and bring you to dinner. He was approaching your room when he heard faint moaning coming from your room. He was confused and curious, stopping in front of your door as he noticed it was left slightly open. What he saw left him shocked and speechless, unable to move or avert his gaze through the crack.

He heard you more than he could see you clearly, but your moans that are more beautiful than a symphony of angels was more than enough to make Megumi’s cock strain in his pants. He peered closer, unable to see who was fucking you but still able to see your bodies colliding. He couldn’t deny how erotic it was to see you get fucked, but a twang of jealousy and pain struck his heart that he wasn’t the one making your body shake in pleasure.

He hears a voice, it sounds familiar although he can’t quite place it, telling you he’s about to cum. Megumi leans forward more, slightly pushing the door as he watches the other man breed you. Just as the door squeaks, the man’s head whips to see the door and he makes eye contact with Megumi.

“____, what are you doing?” Megumi questions as he practically stumbles into the room. You lift your head to see Megumi looking at you and Naoya in horror. Shame and embarrassment overcome you, and you move to cover yourself with some blankets as Naoya got off of you and faced Megumi,

“I think it’s more appropriate to ask what are you doing, Megumi?” Naoya’s staring daggers into Megumi; he’s unaffected that his family member caught him in a compromising position, almost as if he’s used to it.

“I was coming to get ___ for dinner… I didn’t realize she was busy being a disgusting fucking whore and sleeping with my family though.” He looks over to you, making eye contact as he sees tears form in the corners of your eyes. He doesn’t actually think you’re disgusting, quite the opposite in fact. But he’s so upset that someone else got to be with you first, and Naoya of all people. As if that scum deserved to be with someone like you.

Naoya could instantly tell what was going on here. He can read Megumi like a book, and smirks as he grabs fistfuls of your hair and pulls you against his chest to taunt Megumi. “Looks like you lost. This is why I’ve always been superior to you. You wanted this little slut, huh? Mad that I broke her in first, aren’t you?” His voice is laced with amusement as he provokes Megumi. He pulls your head to be almost level with his as he spits onto your face. “Your little friend is quite the slut, I had a lot of fun using her like the whore she is. She probably wouldn’t even mind if you joined in, isn’t that right bitch?”

Despite the predicament you were in, you couldn’t help but feel aroused at Naoya’s manhandling and suggestion of Megumi joining in. It had never crossed your mind, although Megumi is quite attractive, you didn’t think he was interested. You were only able to mutter out a small “yes” as you look over to Megumi, noticing the flush in his cheeks reaching all the way to the ends of his ears, and the straining bulge in his pants.

“I’m sorry, ___... Be good for me, please?” He was almost pleading as he was walking over to the bed, already starting to strip.

“You can hurt her and call her names, that dumb whore likes it.” Naoya says, moving aside to let Megumi have easier access to you. You’re still lying on your back, barely recovered from getting your guts rearranged only minutes before. Megumi stands in front of you before kneeling down to get at eye level with your cunt. Naoya hadn’t been able to get up since Megumi stumbled into the room; because of this, your womb was filled to the brim with Naoya’s hot cum leaking out of your small hole. Megumi’s eyes were immediately locked on at the lewd sight before him when he used both hands to grip your thighs and spread them apart.

He moved a slender finger past your leaking hole, scooping a bit of cum up with his fingers as he dragged his finger across your clit. The sharp inhale and moan you made sounded absolutely divine to Megumi, urging him to keep going. “Good girl…” he purrs, as he moves his long fingers down to your hole again, once again scooping another glob of cum. “Sit up, slut,” He commands as he stands up. You comply, not willing to play any games in a situation like this. He shoves his cum covered fingers into your mouth; you lap it up and suck his fingers without having to be told anything. Megumi grins. “Good girl, ____. Such a good girl.”

“I bet you like that, don’t you slut?” You hear Naoya’s remark from aside you, he’s watching all of this unfold right before him. Megumi takes his fingers out of your mouth, Naoya grips you with fistfuls of hair and forces you to look at him. “Answer me, bitch.” He glares at you intensely.

“Yes… yes sir… I do.” You try to look anywhere except him but Naoya isn’t having it.

“When men are speaking, you show them the respect they deserve. That means you answer clearly and fucking pay attention. Got it?” He tugs your head to face him, leaning in closer until he’s only a few inches from your face. “Open your mouth, bitch. And don’t swallow until I tell you to.” You comply and he spits into your mouth, before closing the gap and letting his lips crash into yours. He bites your lip, drawing blood. The metallic essence mixes with his spit before Naoya leans back and instructs you to swallow. It feels perverse and humiliating to admit that it turned you on.

Megumi dropped onto his knees again, this time pushing his slender fingers into your cunt. It feels different this time for you; he’s gentler as he stretches you open. He takes his time adding more fingers, taking in every moment and feeling.

“Let’s change the position, yeah Megumi?” Naoya says it more as a statement and less of a question as he’s already moving to rest on the bed against the wall, pillows propping him up. He pulls you away from Megumi while simultaneously flipping you onto your tummy. He pulls you into his lap, supporting your arms until you’re able to prop yourself up above his cock. One hand grips the back of your head and pulls you closer to his thick cock. He pulls you by your hair, aligning your mouth with the tip of his cock as he forcefully shoves your head down. You nearly gag, pushing against him as he tries to use your mouth. Despite your resistance, Naoya doesn’t seem to care and is chasing his own high using you to get him off. You take him into your mouth, inexperienced but trying to adjust quickly. Naoya gives you barely any time to try and settle within the rhythm he’s created. You basically gag on his cock every time he plunges it slightly deeper than the last, but this only enhances Naoya’s pleasure.

While Naoya’s aggressive use of your mouth is going on, Megumi is taking his time to explore you from behind. His fingers are touching every part of your body he can get to, settling on your ass that he starts to spread apart. He’s entranced by the glistening of your cunt in the light, lost in thought about how lewd you look taking Naoya’s cock while bent over for him like a full course meal. He’s done with his “inspection” and moves one of his slender fingers to your entrance. He slips it in easily, listening to you moan with a cock stuffed in your mouth. Naoya pushes your head down farther along his length, trying to hit the back of your throat. You try to control your breathing in time with his rhythm.

Megumi slips another finger inside, stretching your cunt. “Fuck, ____, I didn’t think you were this tight.” He groans as he starts fucking you with his fingers. The lewd sounds he forces out you vibrate around Naoya’s cock. His other hand is grabbing fistfuls of your hair, face fucking you harder as your dripping cunt takes another of Megumi’s fingers. Megumi picks up pace, bringing another hand to your clit to add extra stimulation, but mostly so he can see you writhe and squirm under him while trying to hold yourself up.

“Will you be a good girl for me and cum, ___?” Megumi coos, stringing you along with his praises. “You look like such a dirty girl right now, already about to cum with just my fingers. So cute.” He finger fucks you harder now, making lewd wet noises as his fingers slam back into your pussy. His other hand is toying with your clit, drawing circles and rubbing the little button to bring you closer to your ecstasy. You can feel the knot tightening in your stomach, feeling yourself be pushed over the edge with his fingers alone.

Naoya thrusts into your throat, choking you and momentarily leaving you without air as Megumi pushes you over the edge. You feel your cunt tighten around his fingers as the waves of pleasure wash over you, the lack of air adding to your heightened senses. You moan as you’re cumming, giving just enough sensation to Naoya for him to creampie your throat. His cum is being forced down your throat, yet there’s still so much that some leaks from the corners of your mouth as his cock is pushed against the back of your throat. He finally shows mercy and pulls out as you’re coming down from your high. You force yourself to as much as you can before gasping for air, panting as you trying to calm down again.

“You did a good job taking all of me, slut.” Naoya grins as he lifts your chin with one of his fingers, leaning down to give you a kiss as you share his cum in your mouth. You didn’t think he’d be into some perverted shit like that, yet he’s basically tongue fucking your mouth still full of his cum. He pulls away, a long string of saliva and cum still connecting you two.

Megumi watches you two, his cock throbbing so intensely it almost hurts. He wastes no time in pulling his pants and boxers down before spitting in his hand and lubing his cock up. He’s shuffling behind you, lining himself up with your cunt before he pushes in at full force, giving you no time to adjust to his monstrous cock. You let out a yelp, air evacuating your lungs at the surprise intrusion. He’s balls deep near instantly in your tight hole, stretching you open with a cock that is even girthier than Naoya’s.

Naoya is watching you, grinning, and lazily stroking his cock. You have no idea how he’s able to keep going for multiple rounds, only a little bit of time in between. But you don’t care. The man in front of you is irresistibly hot even though his attitude is garbage. You would do anything he asked no matter how degrading it is in hopes that he would manhandle you again. As these thoughts cross your mind, Megumi reels you back into reality as he pushes so deep into your womb you’re sure he probably bruised your cervix.

“Your pussy is amazing, sweetheart. You have no idea… hah.. how long I’ve been wanting this.” Megumi praises you, unable to control his breathy moans as he continues fucking you with full force. One of your arms is pulled to your side, Megumi interlocking fingers and holding your hand as he drills into you. Even in a situation like this, he can’t help but do some cute shit.

His other hand lightly smacks your ass as you whimper in pleasure, unable to hide the fact that you like it a little rough. Megumi lets go of your hand as you feel both his arms snake around your waist, pulling you up and against his chest as he fucks you. Your back is to his chest, on full display for Naoya in front of you. His shiteating grin is plastered on his face as he has a front row view of Megumi’s cock sliding in and out of you. He gets up from his seated position to face you. Megumi’s arms are still wrapped around your body, supporting you as he drills into your cunt. You can feel his breath against your neck and hear his soft whimpers in your ear. “You’re doing so well, slut. Such a good girl for me huh?” He whispers into your ear. His words send chills down your spine as he keeps ramming his cock into you, abusing your poor hole.

Naoya moves closer to you, his face only a few inches away from yours. He kisses you slowly, before aggressively trying to fill your mouth with his tongue. He pulls away, spits on your face, and lightly slaps your face. “You love taking your friend’s cock, huh? Didn’t think it would be that good, did you? Who knew you’d be the family’s fuckdoll.” He chuckles at his degrading joke, but you couldn’t help but internalize his words. You have no idea how you got to be in this situation, but you were definitely not complaining. Something about multiple men of the same family using you how they liked made your cunt drip at the mere thought of it.

Naoya moves his mouth to your neck, leaving little marks on your skin to prove he was there. Little bruises of his lust for you, marking your skin like you’re property. Megumi start pulling out with only the tip left inside, before bottoming out into your cunt. He groans beside you, lost in the addictive pleasure that is you. Megumi was no virgin, but he believed you were the best person he’s ever fucked, your body insanely attractive and your personality catching and reeling him, unable to resist you.

Naoya moves back before bringing a hand to your neck, gripping your throat and momentarily cutting off your oxygen. “Megumi… fuck this bitch harder when I choke her, okay? She fucking loves it.” And he wasn’t wrong, you did love it. He gripped your throat, a smirk planted on his features as he watched you helpless and at his mercy. Some drool started dripping out of your mouth and you could feel your vision starting to haze around the edges. Megumi fucked into you harder, pulling you closer to his body. Naoya let his grip loosen a bit around your throat, enough to allow some air to fill your lungs again.

“I’m close, baby. I’m gonna fill you up okay? Be a good girl and take all of it for me.” Megumi purrs beside you. Naoya takes this moment to strengthen the grip around your throat, cutting off your air. You feel Megumi’s speed pick up, him desperately chasing his orgasm. You can hear his staggered whimpers as he empties his load into your cunt, filling your already full womb even more. Naoya releases his hand from your throat, making you choke and gasp for air. He’s looking down at you with sadistic satisfaction as you struggle to catch your breath.

Megumi pulls out and lets go of your waist, and you plop down onto the bed absolutely fucked out. Naoya is quick to get off the bed and start dressing. He finishes so quickly it’s as if he was speedrunning it (he has done this many, many, MANY times before). He gives you a quick peck on the lips and gently rubs your cheek before starting to walk towards the door. “See you soon, slut,” he says as he walks out, closing the door behind him this time. Megumi returns with a clean towel, gently cleaning you up as you just lay their like a limp fish.

“You did so well for me. Thank you,” he says as he kisses your cheeks and then your lips before pulling away and picking up some clothes for you. He tosses you a simple outfit to wear and begins dressing himself as well. “Ready for dinner? You’re gonna meet the rest of my family now.” You nod your head yes, anticipating who else you’re going to meet.

‹𝟹 notes: this was originally suppsed to be a oneshot, but i felt like it was getting too long. i have plans for all of them and wasn't going to be able to execute it in just a oneshot. let me know what y'all think!

feedback is always appreciated!! thank you all!!!

ch 2 (soon)

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

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mpileons · 7 months

Text

behind the goal posts | alexia putellas x reader

> chapter two

A/N: this is the first fic ive written in a while so bare w/ me as i get back into the motion of writing :) also construction criticism & suggestions are always welcome <3

+ this going to be a multi chapter story, please patient w me and ill try to make it worth your while :,)

—

Summary: Everyone knows Alexia Putellas. Star football player and the face of Barcelona. However, what they don’t know is that she is been in a secret relationship for years, and that relationship is slowly slipping out of her hands.

Word Count: 1.9K

Chapter 1

A Year Ago —

It all started on a regular Wednesday, I was getting ready for my morning shift at Lever & Bloom. It was all very normal, I woke up extremely late as per usual, and had to rush out of my apartment complex without doing my hair or my makeup which was once again, per usual.

As 10am hit, I was getting into the motion of making drinks and chatting with customers. Although being a barista is quite a mundane job, I thoroughly enjoy every part of it, especially talking with the regulars and forming those relationships that never fail to bring a smile to my face. As I went to take my break, I saw a distinct blonde head of hair enter the cafe premises. Everytime she enters the cafe (which is very often) my intrigue seems to rise more and more. She seems to always come in at 11 on the dot, every weekday. Not that I’m keeping track or anything. Definitely not. Conveniently, as she goes to the counter I decide to save my break for later. Definitely not anything to do with her.

"One large ic-" The tall blonde starts to speak, but I'm quick to interrupt her. "A large iced americano with an extra shot of espresso, I know, it's coming right up," I say, a small smile creeping onto my face. I turn to see the same expression reflected on her face, a shared moment of understanding passing between us.

For some reason, I feel an impulse I can't ignore. With nervous yet hopeful determination, I grab a napkin and hastily scrawl down my number along with her order. With trembling hands, I slide the napkin across the counter, our fingers brushing for a fleeting moment, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

"Thanks," she murmurs, her voice soft and tinged with warmth as she takes the napkin. I watch her as she takes a seat by the window, her eyes fixed on her phone as she waits for her drink.

My heart starts to pound in my chest, anticipation mingling with apprehension. What if she doesn't text? What if I completely misread everything?

I push all the thoughts out of my head as I prepare her iced americano, my hands tremble slightly, betraying the calm facade I try to maintain around her. When it's ready, I take a deep breath and walk over to her table, setting the drink down with a shaky hand.

"Here you go," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, hoping she can't hear the rapid thumping of my heart that I'm sure is about to explode.

"Thanks again," she replies, flashing me a dazzling smile that sets my heart aflutter. And then, to my surprise and delight, she adds, "By the way, I'm Alexia."

The sound of her name sends a shiver down my spine, and I can't help but return the gesture. "Nice to meet you, Alexia. I'm Y/N," I say, hoping she can't hear the increasingly rapid thumping of my heart.

We exchange a few more words before I have to return to my duties behind the counter, but her presence lingers in my mind long after she leaves. And as the days turn into weeks and then months, we start to form somewhat of a routine that consists of Alexia coming to get coffee every weekday morning, some light-hearted flirting, then I constantly think about her until I see her the next day.

Present Day –

The soft chime of the café's door announces Alexia's arrival, as it does every weekday morning. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her, as it usually does, alongside a familiar pang of longing mixed with resentment tightening in my chest. I watch as Alexia approaches the counter, a radiant smile gracing her lips.

"Hey, Y/N," Alexia greets, her voice warm and inviting.

"Hey," my tone lacking its usual warmth. I start to busy myself with preparing Alexia's usual order, my movements stiff and mechanical. Whether Alexia is paying attention to these details or not is completely lost on me.

As I hand Alexia the cup, our fingers almost touch but Alexia pulls away quickly, further spiralling my conflicting emotions.

"Thanks," Alexia says with a tight smile.

I somehow manage to force a smile in return, but it feels hollow, fake. As Alexia takes her usual seat by the window, her attention is focused on her phone. The sight stirs a flicker of jealousy within me, a bitter unwanted reminder of the countless admirers vying for Alexia's attention.

The minutes tick by, each one stretching out into what seems like an eternity as I try to manage my emotions. I want to reach out to Alexia, to tell her how I am truly feeling, but the words stay stuck in my throat, still suffocated by the weight of the secret I have no choice but to keep.

As Alexia finishes her drink and prepares to leave, my resolve quickly crumbles. "Alexia, wait," I blurted out, cringing at how my voice is tinged with obvious desperation.

Alexia turns to me, concern flashing in her eyes. "Is everything okay babe?"

I start to hesitate, my heart pounding like an alarm in my chest. I try to open my mouth to speak, but the words elude me.

"Never mind," I murmur, forcing a weak smile. "Just... take care, okay?"

Alexia's brow furrows in confusion, but she nods, concern etched into her features. "You too, Y/N."

As Alexia leaves the café, I am left alone with my thoughts, the weight of secrecy pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. I begin to wonder how much longer I can keep up the charade, how much longer I can pretend that everything is okay when it's anything but.

I return back to the counter with my heart pounding like a drum inside my chest and my thoughts racing. As the day drags on and my return back to Alexia and I’s shared apartment is approaching, I know something has to change. The weight of secrecy was slowly crushing me and if this goes on any longer, I do not know how much there will be left of our relationship to salvage, or if there will be anything left to salvage. Whether I had the courage to confront this and risk the comfort we had built is another story.

10 Months Ago —

My phone flashes with a message as I am sitting at my desk pouring over textbooks.

Alexia: Be ready at 6, dress comfortably.

As I went to respond, I couldn't hide the bright grin growing on my face. Ever since that day two months ago, Alexia and I had been texting nonstop, talking about anything, everything and all that's in between. I couldn't help but feel as if the universe had dropped a gift into my lap. Alexia was unbelievably attentive and rather charming, further adding to my ever growing feelings for her. As we kept talking nonstop, we found that we were completely different. She's a professional footballer, I do not know a singular thing about football. I study film with a minor in astronomy, she is not very well versed in either of those. However, we are similar in every aspect that matters. Although I couldn't shake the feeling that this was all too good to be true, she is undeniably attractive, charming, funny, the list goes on and on. Why would she settle for an overworked university student with a mundane part time job?

I push all those thoughts away for later as I start to get ready, considering this will be our first date, if it even is a date. I needed to be prepared, but not too prepared.

Hours pass and I am now in Alexia's car as music softly plays from the console and her hand is lightly resting on my thigh, as if it was always meant to be there.

“Pretty pleasee just tell me where we’re going” I turn to her with the biggest puppy dog eyes, which seem to not work as she just chuckles and shakes her head. “We’re almost there, just a little patience baby” She murmurs and kisses my hand as a way of apologising.

Alexia starts to put the car into park and quickly leaves the car to open my door, ever the gentlewoman. She intertwines her hand with mine as she leads me into a very familiar building. “Uhm Alexia, why are we at the astronomy club?” I look to her with a very confused frown as she looks to me with the softest smile that completely melts my heart, “I got us tickets to a private rooftop stargazing event hosted by a local astronomy club” She speaks with excitement lacing every word, she couldn't even get the words out before I jump into her arms and squeeze her into the tightest hug known to man as a way to try show a glimmer of the feelings taking over my heart due to her unexpected attentiveness. She just smiles at me and gently kisses my forehead as if I am the softest thing in the world, I think I will just melt into a puddle of gush right then and there because of all her actions.

She once again takes my hand as we ascend the stairs to the rooftop, my heart races with excitement and anticipation. The night sky stretches out above creating a vast canvas of twinkling stars and constellations.

Upon reaching the rooftop, we’re greeted by a cosy setup complete with blankets, pillows, and telescopes. Soft music plays in the background, a realisation hits me suddenly. This is the song that was playing when I gave Alexia my number two months ago. The pure amount of consideration, care and thought that Alexia put into this date is making my eyes water, Alexia takes notice of this and immediately comes to engulf me with a hug as she lightly peppers kisses on my head. How did I get so lucky?

She starts to lead me, according to her, to the prime stargazing spot. She snakes her hands around my waist as her chin rests in the crook between my shoulder and neck while I peer through the telescope. “Alexia, you need to see this!” I excitedly tell her but to my surprise she shakes her head “I’d rather stay here with you” I turn to her with the biggest grin as I kiss her cheek and tell her various stories about all the constellations.

As the night wears on, we find ourselves lost in each other's company, our laughter mingling with the soft strains of music and the rustle of the night. With each passing moment, my heart swells more and more with a sense of warmth and belonging, a feeling I had never imagined I could find in another person.

And as the night starts to draw to a close, Alexia leans in, her movements slow and deliberate, as if savouring every moment leading up to the kiss. As I was thinking that the anticipation was going to be the death of me, I felt the warmth of Alexia's breath against my skin as our lips meet in a tender embrace, the world falling away, leaving only the sensation of Alexia's lips against mine, incredibly soft and inviting. My fingers instinctively tangle in Alexia's hair, pulling her as close to me as humanly possible. In that fleeting moment, everything feels right in the world.

#woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #barca femeni x reader #woso community #fcb femeni #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #Alexia putellas x reader #Spotify #woso #woso fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x you #alexia putellas x y/n #woso blurbs #woso couples #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona

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annwrites · 4 months

Text

epilogue

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: your first meeting

— tags: things coming full circle

— tw: none

— word count: 493

— a/n: writing this has been a journey all in its own. i honestly don't even know where it came from. when i started it, it'd been a minute since i'd even watched stranger things, but it just hit me out of nowhere & once the words started to flow, there was no stopping them. and for the first time ever, i completed a multi-chapter fic. something i have struggled for numerous years to do.

i want to thank everyone who has interacted with this story or me in any way. it has meant more than you can imagine. this one is for all of you.

“Who’s that?” Nancy asks, looking behind you.

You look up, brows furrowing. “Hm?”

She glances to you, then back behind you once more, nodding her head in that same direction.

You turn your head, looking over your shoulder, and catch sight of a blue Chevy Camaro pulling into the school parking lot, and then a tall young man with dirty-blond curls and a mullet, dressed all in jeans, looks at you as he steps out the driver’s side, stopping for a moment, just staring.

You give him a small, welcoming smile, and he smirks then, closing the door to his car, turning away.

You turn back to Nancy, shrugging. “He must be new.”

She continues to study his vehicle. “His plate says California.”

You listen as the bell rings, beckoning you all inside. “Long way from home,” you remark.

When you enter English class, you see that the new guy is now seated directly behind you. You walk over, ready to welcome him to the school—to Hawkins in general—but he speaks before you can bother opening your mouth.

He leans forward, flashing you a brilliant smile, even winking…and you now know he’s the flirtatious type. Great. While all you want is to be left alone.

He extends his hand toward you. “Billy Hargrove.”

You set your things down on your desk, sliding your hand into his, ignoring the way your heart skips a beat when you do so. “Y/N. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Hawkins,” you say with another smile.

He pulls your hand toward him, to his lips, pressing a firm kiss to the back of it, looking up at you from under his lashes. “Pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure.”

You tuck your hand back in your pocket then, to hide it now shaking from nerves.

You go to begin organizing your things for class and he speaks again. “So, doll, you already spoken for?”

You drop your pencil, blinking up at him. “W-what?”

He leans back, folding his hands behind his head. “Are you?”

“You move awful quickly, don’t you?”

He shrugs. “I’m a pretty confident guy. Besides, you know what they say: no time to waste. And I plan on livin’ life to the fullest. So?”

You lean down, picking up your pencil, then standing again. “It…needs sharpened.”

You turn your back to him, heading up front to the pencil sharpener and he smirks. He can already tell that you like him. That’s he’s made you nervous. He likes how you didn’t just give an answer right away. Hard to get. He can work with that—play that game. Even if he knows he’ll inevitably win.

You glance back to him and he blows you a kiss and you frown, looking away again.

He chuckles, looking to the boy seated beside him with perfectly tousled brown hair, who looks back at him with a raised brow of interest.

Billy nods toward you, smiling. “I’m gonna marry that girl one day.”

#fic: stranger things (billy hargrove x reader)#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

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defectivevillain · 5 months

Text

a heavenly, hellish housemate

pairing: Adam/Reader

The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.***

summary: “If you’re my guardian angel, then why are you so…?” you break off. “Devilishly handsome?” The angel winks. “I was going to say ‘sleazy,’” you frown. “Okay, that’s not the right way to say ‘Wow, thank you so much for saving my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Adam, you’re so sexy and badass.'” He scoffs.

After Adam acts up yet again, Sera decides to assign him guardian angel duty. Adam is pissed, but he goes along with it and starts to look out for you: the human he’s tasked with protecting. He has no intention of ever actually meeting you, but when he saves you from death, he finds himself stuck on Earth with you.

warnings: near-death experiences, emotional manipulation, suggestive humor

author's notes: ***The reader is referred to as “dude,” and “bitch” (you can thank adam for that, lmao) but i typically use those terms with the intent of them being gender-neutral… The reader also uses cologne (but, again, smelling nice isn’t gender-specific, i don’t think…)

This fic won’t be canon compliant. Also, some of the story itself is going to be underdeveloped—in the sense that I still want this to be a “oneshot,” not a multi-chapter fic. Some big-scale things like how Adam gets to Earth and how he will return to Heaven are overlooked.

anyways, onto the fun stuff:

It’s been a long day, you think to yourself as you walk down the sidewalk. Work wasn’t particularly eventful today, but you’re still rather exhausted. You’re contemplating what you’ll fix for dinner when you see a car approaching out of the corner of your eye. You blink and your heart races as you realize it’s veering off the road and heading right towards you. It’s going far too fast and suddenly you’re frozen, trapped as the car speeds towards the sidewalk and heads straight for you in painful slow-motion. At the last possible moment, you’re shoved to the side with unnatural momentum. You fall to the ground and the car crashes into the wall—right about where you had been walking mere moments ago. You stare at it in disbelief.

You have scrapes on your knees and you get the feeling you’ll have bruises on your elbows and arms, but otherwise, you’re unharmed. It’s a miracle—there’s no other way to explain it. By all means, you should have died in that car crash. You weren’t able to move in time… until that weird sensation, as if someone unseen had just shoved you out of the way.

“Don’t get paid enough for this shit,” someone nearby mutters. You’re about to get up when a large shadow overtakes your vision. You look up to find a figure cloaked in white staring down at you; after a second look, you realize that he’s wearing a mask over his face. He’s looking down at you with a strange combination of interest and scrutiny.

“…Hello?” You choke out, once you manage to accept just what you’re seeing. This guy—whoever he is—is ridiculously tall and looks entirely unfamiliar. In fact, he doesn’t look human at all—he has a bright halo over his head and wings extending from his shoulders.

He stares at you in disbelief when he notices that you’re looking back at him. “You can see me?” He asks, clearly surprised. “What the fuck?!”

“Are you my guardian angel or something?” You ask, unable to hide your suspicion. You never thought guardian angels were even real; and, even if you were to think about it, you would expect a “guardian angel” to be clothed in blinding white. This guy has grey horns, golden wings, and a positively dangerous smirk. He does have that white halo, though…

“Ugh, fucking fine,” the guy scoffs, clearly annoyed. You’re not quite sure how he’s sick of this conversation already, when it hasn’t been more than a few moments. “Yes, I am. You’re welcome, baby.”

“Okay,” you remark, still a little unconvinced. Admittedly, the pet-name throws you for a loop—especially when you realize the guy is rather attractive, with shaggy, dusky brown hair and gleaming golden eyes. Averting your eyes, you take a look around you, only to find that everyone seems too preoccupied with the car crash to notice you talking to this strange “angel”—if that’s really what he is. Or, even more frightening… you may be the only one able to see him. You try to collect your thoughts and one question immediately comes to mind. “If you’re my guardian angel, then why are you so…?” You trail off.

“Devilishly handsome?” He winks.

“I was going to say ‘sleazy,’” you frown.

The guy crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, that’s not the right way to say ‘ wow, Adam, thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re so sexy and badass.’”

You stare at him in disbelief for a few moments, before deciding to push yourself to your feet. Even when you’re standing in front of him, the height difference between you both is stark. You squint at him for a second. “Are you sure you’re an angel?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. The guy seems a little too profane to be from Heaven. But, who knows?

“Damn right,” the guy asserts confidently, blowing your assumptions right out of the water. “I’m the angel. Adam’s the name, pulling bitches is the game.”

While you want to focus on that horrid last part of his statement, your attention is captured by his name: Adam. Is he the first human—that Adam? “You’re the Adam?” You question. “Like, Adam and Eve?”

The smug grin on the angel’s face promptly vanishes. “Ugh, this was going so well,” Adam groans raspily. “Don’t fucking mention my ex-wife, dude. She’s a real piece of work.”

“If you say so,” you acquiesce. This entire conversation is giving you whiplash. You wonder just how you got yourself into this situation. And while you’re grateful that this guy saved you, you hadn’t expected to be stuck in an interaction with him. You really just want to go home—this day has been a nightmare, and you want nothing more than to jump into bed and sleep.

“I do say so,” he preens. Wow, this guy’s ego is extremely inflated. You’re not sure you’ve ever met someone so cocky and arrogant before.

“Well… Thanks for saving my life, I guess?” You remark uneasily, taking a casual half-step backwards and hoping he doesn’t notice. You’ve been patiently waiting for the conversation to end, but somehow it’s still going—and you’re nearly at the point of just walking away and ignoring him.

“You’re fucking welcome, shrimp,” Adam responds. You ignore the dig. The guy is unnaturally tall—far surpassing the height of even the tallest humans. He must be eight or nine feet tall, at least.

“Well, I have to get home, so…” You give an awkward wave and turn to walk away. You don’t make it for more than a few steps before you notice a presence behind you. Adam is following you, you realize with dread. “Um, what are you doing?” You ask.

“Following you, dipshit,” he scoffs, as if the question is stupid. “This has never happened before. I don’t know how to get back up to Heaven yet.”

“Great.” You groan, resolving yourself to a chaotic day.

Why am I doing this again? You ask yourself as you stare at the angel walking around your apartment. You don’t realize that you utter that question aloud until you hear Adam speak. “Because you’re nice and hot and smart and totally my type?”

“Nice try,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and resolutely pretending that his remark doesn’t make your heart race. He’s the type of person to flirt with anyone—hell, anything —that has a pulse. “Flattery won’t get you very far.”

“It’s true, though” Adam insists confidently, “And you can take my word for it, ‘cause there are some real nasty bastards up in Heaven.” You watch as he continues to inspect your apartment, opening your cabinets and drawers and ultimately having zero respect for your privacy. You’re suddenly immensely grateful that you don’t have much to hide—your apartment is pretty ordinary-looking.

“So… when do you go back?” You not-so-subtly ask, as he continues looking around without permission.

“Trying to kick me out?” He grins, seeing through your rather pathetic attempt to hide your irritation. Adam shuts the drawer he was searching through and shrugs. “Not sure. I’ve never been to the human realm before; this shit blows.” He punctuates the statement with a heavy eye-roll.

“That’s not helpful,” you frown concernedly. It may be no big deal for him—he has all the time in the world to return to Heaven, considering he’s already in the afterlife. But you have a life, a job, and things to do. You don’t have the time or energy (or patience) to stumble through reorganizing your entire life just to fit an angel in it.

“I don’t fucking know!” He practically screeches, a sudden switch into extreme defensiveness. Adam must notice you watching him, because he turns around and meets your gaze. “For once. Maybe even the first time. But I know everything else, so don’t get used to it.” He’s quick to add. You’re starting to worry that your eyes will get stuck in the back of your head—from how much you’ve been rolling your eyes at his inane comments.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?” You mutter darkly.

“Without lubrication, yeah.” You don’t bother dignifying that comment with a response. You instead shake your head relentingly and tell him you have a pullout bed on the couch, to which he complains incessantly before you offer sleeping on the street as an alternative.

Still processing everything that happened, you tell Adam you need to be alone and lock yourself in your room. Just a few hours ago, you were living your life as normal. Your guardian angel saved your life, but now he’s living here with you. You don’t remember signing up for any of this. You rub a hand over your face and try to fight off the exhaustion that has been setting in since you left work.

Eventually, it’s late enough for you to go to bed—and you fall asleep hoping that you’ll wake tomorrow morning to an empty apartment, blissfully free of a certain angel.

But the universe is not so merciful, and you see Adam sleeping on the couch when you walk out of your room and towards the kitchen. You try to move quietly—so as to not disturb him—but he must be a light sleeper, because suddenly he’s up on his feet and chastising you for being too loud. You head to work already feeling tired, which doesn’t bode well for the rest of your day.

The longer Adam stays at your apartment, the more you learn about him. For example, you learn that Adam is an incessant flirt (although that was clear from the first few moments you met). You also learn that he enjoys scaring the absolute shit out of you. Sometimes, you’ll get home from work and find yourself in an empty apartment. You’ll forget that you’re housing a goliath of a “guardian angel,” until said angel seeps out of the shadows and screams at you, cackling maniacally as you regain your breath.

Adam isn’t a great roommate, either—he’s messy, doesn’t have very many boundaries, and has no qualms about invading your personal space. He has a ton of annoying habits. Even so, you suppose it’s not the worst situation you could find yourself in. Plus, as much as you hate to admit it, it’s kind of nice to have company when you get home from a particularly long day at work. You can vent to him about some dumbass you work with and he won’t hesitate to insult them with you.

Although… Adam doesn’t pay you. He doesn’t have any human money. You’re not even sure if Heaven has currency, and you keep forgetting to ask. All you know is that he’s living here for free—practically mooching off of you. And, for the first few weeks, it really does feel like he’s taking advantage of your kindness—as he eats all of your groceries, never cleans up after himself, constantly plays your Nintendo Switch without asking you for permission… The list goes on.

After more than three weeks of that rather grating behavior, you sit him down at the table in the dining room and try to establish some ground rules. If he is going to continue staying with you, he has to: (1) clean up after himself, which includes everything from washing the clothes you bought for him at the thrift store to doing his dishes; (2) write what he wants on the grocery list, so you won’t come home to an empty fridge and pantry; (3) use his own separate account for your Switch, which you so graciously made for him; and (4) limit how many times he scares you to a few times per week.

You think these demands are perfectly reasonable, but judging from the way he stares at you for a moment before laughing in your face, Adam has never respected someone else’s rules. You don’t break eye contact with him, despite wanting nothing more than to look away from his increasingly intimidating gaze. Eventually, Adam must sense that you’re not budging on these points, because he mutters something about bossy landlords—to which you snarkily remind him that landlords have paying tenants, and that he is living under your roof for free. He shuts up after that.

After that conversation, things get better. Slowly but surely, Adam begins to adjust his behavior to be moderately less annoying. You get the feeling that being annoying is one of his core personality traits, but at the very least you’ve prevented that from affecting your lifestyle. Unsurprisingly, the angel doesn’t follow all of the rules perfectly. Ironically, it seems that Rule No. 4—limiting how often he scares the life out of you—is the most difficult one for him to follow. The fucker is constantly appearing behind you and ripping the breath from your chest. But, you respect that Adam is trying, and the two of you gradually learn to live with one another.

But things come to an unfortunate boiling point one evening as you’re getting ready to go out for dinner. You’ve attempted to tame your hair into something slightly more styled than normal and you’ve used your rather pricey cologne [a miniscule amount of it, admittedly]. You have your keys, your pepper spray in case your date goes awry, and your phone. You’re inspecting your closet in an attempt to decide on an outfit when you hear Adam enter the room.

You turn around to face him, realizing that he looks skeptical as his gaze inspects your form. “Where the hell are you going?” He asks, evidently noticing that you’re preparing to leave. You suppose it is rather unusual for you to be leaving home in the evening like this—typically, once you leave work, you stay home for the rest of the night.

“I’m going on a date,” you respond, picking out a shirt and pants and folding them over your arm.

“A date?” Adam scoffs. “Your ugly ass? Please.”

You don’t bother acknowledging that remark, instead moving to the bathroom. You change and brush your teeth, before walking back out to your room. You’ll just pretend that your giant angelic roommate—the one who still doesn’t pay rent, by the way—isn’t here. Unfortunately, you don’t get very far, because Adam continues speaking the moment you exit the bathroom.

“Hey, there isn’t-” Adam begins, turning around to face you. Whatever he means to say fades to obscurity as he stares at you. For a painful moment, the two of you are trapped in a tense silence. Just as it grows to be unbearable, Adam scoffs. “This is for him? Fucking Tom?” Wait… How does he know your date’s name? You squint at him suspiciously, before realizing that he’s holding your phone and evidently looking through your messages.

“Hey, give me that-” You say with wide eyes, reaching for your phone.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”Adam recites, scrolling through the messages from the guy you’re going on a date with. There’s a cruel amusement gleaming in his eyes. “There’s no fucking way.” He cackles.

You stare at him in shocked silence, forced to listen as he rips apart this guy you haven’t even met yet. “Are you done yet?” You eventually ask, when it seems like he’s losing steam. “I have to go, give me that-” You hiss, annoyed and frustrated. His grip is inhumanly tight as he clutches your phone; you have no idea how he hasn’t broken it yet.

“No way, sweetheart,” he grins, a malicious and cruel smile. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years ,” he says, continuing to scroll through your conversation, “Besides, why are you meeting with this guy if you don’t even know him in the first place?”

That’s the whole point of the date: to get to know Tom. You try to take a deep breath and remain calm. “You’re my ‘guardian angel,’ not my mother,” you feel the need to say, when his eye contact is growing a bit too intense and prolonged.

“Wow, strange, that doesn’t sound like gratitude,” Adam frowns, tapping a finger against his chin.

You grit your teeth. Unless you’re able to sneak around this nine-foot fucking demon looming in the doorway—because really, he’s not acting like much of an angel right now—you’re going to miss your date. You try to make a grab for your phone one more time, but Adam’s grip remains steady. There’s no way you’re getting it back, judging from both his immensely strong grasp and the determined smirk on his face.

Defeat sets in, followed by prickling embarrassment and fury. “You know what?” You say, your voice cracking in your frustration. “Fine. Fine. You win. Okay?” You leave your room and head out to the living room, desperate for some privacy. Adam either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he follows behind you. You feel tears falling down your face before you can stop them. You feel so helpless. This guy swooped into your life and fucked everything up, just for his own amusement.

“Are you crying because of that loser?” Adam asks, surprise coloring his voice.

“I’m crying because of you!” You seethe, glaring at him. You wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve. “You ruined my night. And I genuinely wanted to get to know Tom, but you’ve fucked that up too!” This is like an emotionally manipulative relationship, you think to yourself, but without the relationship. So really, it’s just emotionally manipulative. You don’t give Adam a chance to defend himself, instead pushing past him and going back into your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

You flop onto your bed and curl onto your side, unable to stop the tears sliding down your cheeks. You know it’s a somewhat insignificant thing to be upset about, but you can’t help it. The way Adam just completely decimated your plans, with all the confidence of someone who has never once been questioned, someone who has always been looked up to and venerated and-

You huff and push yourself back up to a sitting position, grabbing the nearby tissue box and blowing your nose. You’re still furious with Adam, of course, but you’d rather just not acknowledge him right now. Even the mere thought of him now is enough to send new tears slipping down your cheeks.

You lie awake a bit longer than usual that night, feeling unspeakably restless. Frustrated, you stare up at the ceiling and try to think about something other than the horrible evening you just had. Eventually, you drift off into sleep—albeit with dry eyes and anger still prickling at your core.

Against all odds, you manage to have a relatively restful sleep, and you wake to the smell of pancakes wafting through your apartment. That immediately concerns you, and you get out of bed with fear drumming in your chest. Did you leave the stove on? Is something burning? You stumble out to the kitchen, only to find Adam standing with his back to you, looking down at a griddle that you don’t remember purchasing.

“Adam?” You ask, blinking traces of sleep from your eyes. Adam stiffens and turns around, an uncharacteristically weak smile flickering on his face before it’s replaced with his trademark wide grin.

“Hey,” he remarks, turning around to flip a few pancakes. When Adam turns back around to look at you, you realize that the apron he’s wearing says Kiss the Cook. You feel a disbelieving laugh crawl out of your throat before you can stop it.

“Where’d you get that apron?” You ask, knowing damn well you don’t own an apron like that.

“Don’t worry about it,” he grins, which naturally just worries you more. You take a deep breath and go back to your room to change. When you return to the kitchen, there’s a stack of pancakes on the counter—evidently for you. You grab a few pancakes, a plate, and utensils, before settling at the table and beginning to eat. You keep yourself occupied throughout the meal with Youtube videos, but you’re still unable to avoid the tension settling in the air.

When you finish eating, you do your dishes before thanking Adam for the meal. Before you can retreat back to the solitude of your room, Adam takes a deep breath as if preparing himself to speak.

“So…” He starts, “This is hard for me to say………” His voice is almost entirely devoid of emotion. Before you can think about that any longer, he continues speaking. Is he about to apologize? Somehow, you doubt it. “I’m not sorry for what I did.” And there it is. You’re not surprised; you’re just disappointed. You immediately move to leave and his eyes widen. “Wait. No, that’s- Hey, I’m trying to apologize here!”

“Apologizing typically starts with ‘I’m sorry,’” you say, glaring at him.

“Fine,” Adam says with an eye-roll, “I didn’t want you going on that date. Okay?”

“Why?” You ask. You deserve to know the rationality behind his actions—if there even was any. The angel’s eyes are gleaming (with what emotion, you’re not quite sure).

“I’m your guardian angel,” Adam reminds you, “I’m supposed to protect you from harm.” That’s a load of bullshit. You turn around again, fully intent on barricading yourself in your room and never coming out. “Hey, hey, hey-!” He sputters. Adam takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Damn it! Fine. I didn’t want you to go on that date because you’re out of his league.”

That statement only confuses you further. Tom was an attractive guy, and he seemed nice. Why would you be out of his league? “Then who’s in my league?” You sputter, feeling extremely lost. “You?” You scoff.

“Yes!” He exclaims with so much vehemence that it startles you. “I mean, no! Fuck, why is this so difficult? Okay. Listen… I rescheduled your date with Tom. You’re gonna meet with him today, and wear that sexy ass outfit you had on yesterday.”

“Really?” You ask, still skeptical. You want to believe the angel, but you can’t help but think of his actions last night—the unflappable determination on his face as he wrecked your plans for the night. Adam got some sort of thrill out of ruining your night, and that still concerns you.

“Really,” the angel assures you, tossing you your phone. You completely forgot he had it. You remember trying to wrench it out of his grip; when you stormed off to your room, he must’ve still had it. “Check your messages.” You obey and open the text conversation.

Yesterday, 2:45 p.m. Tom: Looking forward to it. Yesterday, 4:42 p.m. You: Hey, I hate to do this, but do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow? My roommate got sick and I need to look after him. Tom: Sure thing. Same time? You: Sounds good.

“Oh,” you remark aloud, lost for words.

“So go on your date and have fun,” Adam continues. “With- with Tom.” The latter statement is spoken with a decent amount of venom, and Adam averts his eyes with a surprisingly irritated expression on his face. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you busy yourself with preparing for the date, equal parts anticipation and something frighteningly similar to appreciation warring in your chest. You shouldn’t be holding any sort of appreciation for Adam’s actions—he was just righting his own mistake. Even so… You sigh and push aside any thoughts of Adam, instead busying yourself with preparing. When you’re finally ready, you walk out of your room and head for the side table—where your pepper spray, phone, and keys still remain from the night before.

You glance around the space, finding Adam sitting in front of the television and playing video games. “I’m heading out,” you decide to tell him.

“Have fun,” the angel says, not bothering to look away from his game. You take a deep breath and leave your apartment, locking your door behind you. Your date is waiting outside, supposedly.

The night passes by frighteningly fast; two hours later, you’re unlocking your front door, shutting it behind you, and trudging into your apartment with severely dampened spirits. You’re unsurprised to find Adam still playing games on your Nintendo Switch. His back is turned and you feel your throat burning. “Hey,” he says, focused on the game. “How’d it go?”

“You called it,” you murmur frustratedly. “You were right. I should’ve listened.” Your eyes are burning now too. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

It evidently takes Adam a moment to process what you just said, but you immediately notice the moment he comprehends it. The room falls eerily silent and you watch the television screen for a moment. (Meanwhile, Adam is staring ahead in complete shock, surprised as to how someone could have fumbled the bag so badly.) Adam then turns around, his game entirely abandoned. “What did that bastard do?” He hisses. “God damn it, I’m going to murder him. He’s going straight to Hell!”

“It’s- I don’t know,” you choke out, placing your hands on the back of the couch. Tears are falling down your face now, despite your best attempts to keep them in. “Maybe it’s my fault.” You murmur.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely not,” Adam declares with an unreasonable amount of confidence. “You’re the closest fuckin’ thing to perfection; there’s no way in Heaven or Hell that it was your fault.” You want to believe him, but you don’t. You can’t—not after how badly the night went.

You’re still reeling, so you decide to sit down next to Adam on the couch. For a long moment, the two of you stare ahead silently as the Animal Crossing: New Horizons music plays in the background. Eventually, Adam continues playing and you watch as he controls a purple-skinned avatar with golden eyes, black wings, and a white halo.

Sharing the silence with Adam is nice, but you soon find it more and more difficult to stay awake through it. You’re growing tired—your exhaustion from earlier catching up to you—and your eyelids are starting to sting from fatigue. You’re leaning back against the couch cushions, dangerously close to leaning on Adam’s shoulder. Your limbs feel as heavy as bricks and within moments, you’re surrendering to the urge to succumb to the darkness and the magnetic sensation pulling you to rest your head on the angel’s shoulder.

The next morning you wake up in your bed, despite having no recollection of walking back to your room. That particular mystery quickly fades to the back of your mind once you arrive at work, however. The day seems to drag, but finally, after a seemingly infinite amount of time, you finish your work and can go home to relax.

“Hey,” you say as you enter your apartment after work, surprised to find the living room empty. Typically, you’d see Adam watching television at this time. “Adam?” You ask. There’s no response. You shrug off your jacket and hang it on your coat rack, before walking through the living room and into the dining room.

To your surprise, you find your table candlelit, with boxes of takeout from your favorite restaurant scattered around its surface. “Hey, you’re back.” Adam says. Despite the fact that he probably didn’t mean to scare you, the sudden reveal of his presence is enough to send your heart racing—if only for a brief moment. You still can’t quite believe what you’re seeing; noticing your confusion, Adam continues—sounding almost apprehensive. “I thought… you deserve a nice dinner, since your date didn’t go well.” He breaks off for a moment, a truly murderous expression on his face. Adam shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, before motioning to the takeout boxes and looking at you expectantly. “Did I get your order right?” You squint at the boxes and nod; he grins. “Hell yeah! Am I the fucking best or what?”

You smile and shake your head in disbelief. You move to sit down, but Adam tugs you back. “Hey, hey, not so fast,” he admonishes you, before placing a hand on the chair and pulling it out for you. You roll your eyes fondly and sit down at the proffered seat. Moments later, Adam takes a seat across from you. The two of you quickly dig into your food and you fall into idle conversation about your day.

When you’re both finished eating, Adam clears his throat purposefully. “So,” he starts, “I know I was kind of a dick, but you should go on an actual date with me.” He sounds forceful, but you’re pretty sure he’s just uncertain.

“Sure,” you agree rather easily. Despite all you’ve been through—all the missteps Adam has made, especially when you were trying to date other people—you like the thought of being in a relationship with him. Adam is frighteningly easy to be around, and underneath that prickly, jerkish exterior is a person who genuinely cares about you. At least, that’s what you hope.

“Oh hell yeah!” He fist-pumps, making you chuckle. “You’re about to get wined and dined, bitch. Get ready for a four-course meal—I’ll be the perfect fucking gentleman. Chivalry and all that shit.”

“You do realize chivalry has been dead for, like, centuries,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Adam groans dramatically. “You know what I fucking mean,” he chastises you. And, surprisingly, you think you actually do know what he means. He wasn’t referring to chivalry in the antiquated sense, but more in the sense that every person deserves to be treated nicely. That’s a surprisingly decent perspective, coming from him of all people. “I’m going to be so fucking nice, you’re going to be falling at my feet.” You both know that is definitely not going to happen. You don’t let Adam always have his way—you don’t let him step all over you. And, maybe, that’s one of the reasons he likes you. Maybe, just maybe, he needs someone who is just as independent and stubborn as he is.

You find yourself looking forward to learning more about this mysterious guardian angel of yours.

endnotes: oh my god, they were roommates.

y'all, i can't believe i wrote 5k words for this bastard.

thanks for reading! <3

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#defectivevillain #anyway #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Adam x reader #Adam x gn reader #Adam x male reader #transmasc reader #gn reader #male reader #etc etc

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fayes-fics · 8 months

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 4 - Le Rideau Tombe Avant La Fin

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is reader and Eloise's farewell to Paris. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Paris, September 1939

The next three days are a blur, fleeting but at once memorable, lived on borrowed time.

Knowing the inevitable is happening - that you will need to leave Paris soon - you give notice at work; so sad to have only been there for a matter of weeks rather than the planned months. On a brighter note, however, you are able to spend the days with Benedict, showing him all you have learned about art in the city in the short time you have had. Many a happy hour is spent in galleries. Both of you tripping over your words to share what you know about the art and the artists in a breathless, excited fashion. Kindred spirits in your appreciation of the works. Sometimes lost in a reverie as you stand in front of a canvas as large as your entire living room, the scale and complexity literally dumbfounding.

And, of course, a little of your heart is stolen with each moment together - the first person you have ever met who truly seems as enthused as you about the subject matter. That it's all wrapped up in that handsome face adds more complexity and confusion. You can't deny the skip in your pulse when he looks at you, weighted, a touch of reverence, so focused as you speak passionately on the subject you love. And you are certain your face is a picture of devotion as he waxes lyrical, too. You know you are getting swept up into the almost cliched romance of it all - the city of love, a handsome stranger, the no doubt impending invasion giving a sense of urgency and finality to every hour- it's a powder keg that feels dangerous as it is intoxicating.

—

Early evening of the second day, as you wander back from the Louvre, you pass by the offices of the cruise company you came from America with.

“Oh! I should speak to them about swapping my return ticket,” you comment, seeing the men standing outside in the smart red livery of the company, speaking in English to crowds of people inquiring about escaping France.

“See if you can move it to the day after tomorrow,” Benedict counsels. “That is the day we are due to set sail. We can all go to the coast together on the train.”

“That would be nice,” you admit, realising it will be lovely to have someone to wave farewell to, even if there is a little stab in your chest at the idea you may never see Benedict again. Or, of course, darling Eloise.

So, a couple of hours later, after an early dinner, you are back on this same street, your ticket in hand, waiting patiently to speak to one of the young men in uniform.

“Mademoiselle?” he beckons you forward.

“Good evening. I have a ticket to New York for eleven months, hence, 12th August 1940. I am hoping I can swap to a sailing in a few days? Ideally, the day after tomorrow?”

The men exchange glances, and there seems to be a swirl of excitement as they crowd around you.

“A real ticket?” one of them pipes up, an excitement in their tone which strikes you as rather odd.

With a nod, you hand it over, and they all seem to confer, then grab a pad of tickets and transfer some details.

“Not a problem at all, Mademoiselle. Here, this is for a sailing two days hence. Thank you for travelling with us!”

They seem inordinately pleased as you walk away clutching your new ticket, a mix of emotions swirling. The finality of your time in Paris suddenly so real, the date on the newly issued ticket, ink still drying, sinking in.

—

When you push open the door to your apartment, still with a tinge of melancholy, you are taken aback by the whirlwind you encounter.

“How did I amass this many mugs?” Eloise decries, standing amidst a complete bomb of possessions scattered all over the surfaces of your apartment.

“Well, you can't take them all home,’ Benedict points out wearily, “you have your case, and that trunk there, Eloise, and that is all.”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “Well aware of that brother…” holding a blue and red mug in each hand, assessing which she likes more.

“I suppose I'm lucky I've only been here a matter of weeks,” you pipe up as they both turn to look at you, Benedict shooting you a lopsided grin as Eloise barges forward and loops your arm in hers, dragging you across the room.

“Just the person I need!” she declares. “Help me! What mug screams, ‘I had a life in Paris once, and it was amazing’?” She gestures to the array of drinking vessels she has pulled out to the cupboard.

You ponder the question with a thoughtful pout. “Why not just leave them all for the next tenant? I'm sure Solene would appreciate the ability to rent out the apartment with kitchen supplies?” you try to be diplomatic.

“Yes, I know that,” Eloise sighs, “there were mugs when I got here. That, of course, got mysteriously broken after a few days, which is a blessing as they were all hideous…”

“You broke some perfectly good mugs?” Benedict frowns disapprovingly.

“Do you live here?” she shoots back pointedly, raising an eyebrow, “I am only seeking the counsel of those who live here… not a squatter,” she sniffs.

You share a look with Benedict - yours contrite, his bemused - as if this is just another day with Eloise. Which, to be fair, it sort of is.

“If I had to choose one…” you point to the cherry red earthenware mug that looks French in a way you can’t quantify; it just does.

“You’re right as always,” Eloise grins, seizing it. “Much better help than that one,” she adds, sticking her tongue out at Benedict as she wraps the chosen item in yesterday's newspaper.

“Packing going well?” you breeze, your eye again meeting Benedict’s as he pulls a face that makes you giggle hard.

“You try cramming nine months of freedom into a teeny trunk,” Eloise grumbles, heading towards her bedroom.

“I am just taking my clothes…” you admit. You only have a few additional items you purchased since you arrived in Paris that should all fit if you pack smart enough.

“That’s yours, by the way…” Eloise gestures to Benedict’s painting on the wall before she disappears out of sight. “I have no room for it, and it seems strange to carry a picture of a house I'm headed to…” she calls out down the corridor.

“I would love it…” you inhale, looking at the artist imploringly as if somehow you need his permission.

“Y-you want it?” Hesitant, disbelieving almost.

“If you will permit me,” you confess, clasping a hand over your heart.

“It is yours,” he replies, his face a mixture of pleasant surprise and humble acceptance.

You rush forward and take the painting off the wall, reverentially cradling it between your hands.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, a little fizz in your stomach at the idea he wants you to have it. Like you will always have a piece of him with you once you are apart.

“I can paint you others...” he offers quickly, in a rush of exhaled breath. “Whatever you want…”

Something in the tumbling sincerity of his words has your heart beating fast.

“I can think of nothing more appealing than a wall full of your works…” you confess while trying not to think that room would be thousands of miles away.

He blushes adorably, casting his eyes down until suddenly, his head jerks up again. “Wait I…I have something I want to give you, actually,” He scurries across the room and gathers a sketchbook. “I'm sorry it's not framed, but here…”

He carefully tears out the page from his pad. And your heart stops.

It's you from two days ago. Sitting on a bench overlooking the Seine, the Eiffel Tower over your shoulder as you read a book. You wondered what he was doing sitting a few feet away that day as you took a lunch break. Now you know. It's a perfect pencil rendering of the scene, each sketched line a wondrous recreation of that sun-soaked afternoon.

“Benedict….” all other words fail.

“I want you to have it,” he murmurs, “your time in Paris may have been unexpectedly brief, but you deserve a memento of the happiness you found here, however fleeting it had to be.”

Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes; you want to rush to him, to throw your arms around him, thank him profusely, but you are scared to. Scared that in the moment you would get carried away, press your lips to his…

“Thank you...” is all you can struggle out, inadequate and awkward.

“De rein…” Again, that perfect accent has you practically swaying

But the spell is broken when Eloise reappears, complaining loudly about the size of her trunk, and part of you is grateful for it. Guilt floods your being as you think how bad of a person you must be to covet your best friend’s brother when you have a fiance back home. One you will, in fact, likely see in a matter of days now… tamping down that disquiet, you excuse yourself to your room, placing your ticket on the mantel and refusing to look at it as you pick up a book to read.

—

Solene’s hug is so tight you feel like she is crushing your ribs. Or perhaps it's that you feel a little too fragile today.

“I shall miss you, ma cherie,” she mumbles into your hair before pulling back and seizing your jaw. “You will come back when this is all over, oui?”

“Oui,” you agree, knowing it’s more of a wish than a promise.

Once again, she pulls you in for a tight hug before turning to Eloise and clinging to her just the same, lingering longer.

“Souviens-toi, ma sœur,” she reminds Eloise, having told you the previous night that her sister lives just outside the port city of Le Havre should you need a place to stay for any reason.

It's two days later, the day of your departure, and your eyes ping around the now-tidy apartment, only furniture left where once there was a jumble of life. It looks much less like home, making handing over your key a little less painful. One final wistful glance at the Eiffel Tower out of the window is all you can manage before picking up your case and walking out, scared to look back.

Benedict is loitering in the corridor outside and shoots you a sympathetic glance as you exit, eyes glassy.

“You will return,” he offers solemnly, even as you both know it's just a platitude, before turning his attention to the apartment door. “Hurry up, Eloise, we need to get to the train…” he calls.

You start to move towards the sweeping staircase, preferring a long amble down its winding loop than the lift, your case feeling much heavier than when you arrived mere weeks ago…

—

You watch the puffs of steam float past the window as the train picks up pace, pulling out of Gare Saint-Lazare. Perhaps aptly, it begins raining soon after, streaks of water lashing the glass as you rest your head back into the seat.

“I can't bear to look at it,” Eloise sighs, closing her eyes so as not to see Paris slipping away.

You reach over the table between you and grasp her hand, and her eyes open to give you a nod of thanks before closing again.

“Why do you have to be American?” she whines. “I would do anything to have you come to England. We could get a little place together in London…” She winds her feet around yours like a vine, needing the connection in your last few hours together.

“If only…” you agree, a weight akin to a heavy boulder settling in your stomach at the idea you will soon be back on Long Island, a world that seems so…. staid to you now.

Benedict shoots you a sympathetic look across from his seat next to Eloise on the aisle but says nothing, going back to reading his book as it's your turn to sigh, the city now a blur outside the window as you speed towards the end of your time in France.

–

Half an hour later, Eloise is sleeping, her head lolling lightly on the glass with the gentle rocking motion of the train, now following the meander of the Seine just outside Poissy.

“She didn't sleep well last night,” Benedict observes, looking up from his book and following your line of sight. “I don't think she wanted her last night in Paris to ever end.”.

His words take you back to just hours ago, a rousing evening in your favourite local bistro filled with wine, camaraderie and song. Benedict didn't accompany you and Eloise, preferring to stay home and read, he said, but part of you wishes he was there to help commiserate and toast your final night chez Paris.

“You should have come out,” you opine with a slight pout, which makes him chuckle.

“It's not me who had to have the fitting farewell,” he points out with a sympathetic smile.

“Still, it would have been nice if you were there…” The idle thought is out of your lips before you can think about how that might sound, and you know you are blushing when his mouth opens a fraction in surprise, a dot of colour on his cheeks, too.

“I'm sure you still had a wonderful time,” he placates demurely.

You smile and nod, feeling a little twinge in your ankle from all the dancing you have done.

“Are you excited?” he asks, changing the subject.

You frown. “Why would I be excited to leave Paris?”

To be reunited with your fiance?” he answers slowly, a look of puzzlement on his face that it had not occurred to you.

“Oh…” you pause, your mind recalling Stanley’s smile, although somehow it seems faded now, like an out-of-focus photograph, as if you cannot wholly remember it now. “I… I suppose…”

His face is a picture of concern again. “You do not sound certain…” he hedges.

“I am not, to be honest,” you sigh for what seems like the hundredth time today. “These few weeks have… shown me so much of the world,” you explain, “I have had so many novel experiences, met so many wonderful new people…” you can't help but let your gaze meet his as you say it. “It makes my life before seem… small? Parochial?” you are clutching for the right words as his hazy eyes track your every facial move.

“Like an old shoe that used to be comfortable but now suddenly feels too tight?” he offers a metaphor that is so apt you can't help but nod.

“Exactly!’ you agree, enthusiastically waving your hand.

There is a quiet moment where your eyes meet again, a tingle over your skin, a pulse of energy so enlivening.

“Do you feel there is perhaps something out there better for you?” his ask feels loaded, a quiet murmur that carries so much hidden meaning but is nearly lost in the rhythmic sound of the train clattering over the tracks. So much so you could likely pretend you didn't hear, but you don't.

“I just might…” you answer softly, even as you are unable to look away. Something about this man makes you daring, unwilling to do anything but be bold.

Long, elegant fingers reach out over the table and are about to brush the back of your hand when Eloise suddenly startles awake between you. His hand disappears rapidly, pulling back as if burned. All you can concentrate on is the ashy taste of regret at your best friend’s timing.

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laura1633 · 8 months

Text

Fic list and introduction Thought I would add a pinned post as a bit of an intro and also to provide a list of some of my stories (which are contained below the cut). My blog is mostly Lestappen related although I do post other F1 bits and pieces from time to time. I am a huge Max Verstappen fan so I am always happy to talk about Max, although only in a positive sense because I want to try and keep away from negativity as much as possible on this blog. I also adore Charles and not just in a Lestappen sense. I love Charles' racing style and I love it most when Max and Charles are battling on track. There are various other drivers I like such as Oscar, Fernando, Alex and more.

My ao3 name is - LaurawritingF1 I have written far too many stories to list them all here but I have included quite a long list of Lestappen fanfics I have written below the cut. I have tried to organise them into bottom Charles, bottom Max, omegaverse, silly, cute and drama. Feel free to send my any questions you have about any of my stories but please know that I am really still practising and learning so please try and be nice. Also please check the individual tags on each story on ao3 as there is a large variety. It's not a full list and doesn't include the other pairings I have written for (inc Landoscar, Maxiel, Max/Oscar), all my other fics can be found on my ao3 page.

Feel free to send me any questions about anything x

********** Links to various ao3 fics:

Bottom Charles: Good Boy - Multi Chapters - Trainee sub Charles and soft Dom Max. All the gear, no idea - Large cock Max, Size queen Charles. My first time - Virgin Charles. Daddy - Charles accidentally calls Max daddy. Curious - Charles' first experience with rimming. Princess - Max giving Charles the babygirl treatment. Nice Guy - Max comes to Charles' rescue when he is handcuffed to the bed Jealous - Max cuckolds Charles and Charles realises he is jealous of his girlfriend My Pretty Princess - AU -Multi Chapter - F1 driver Max and Camboy Charles. Safe - sub Charles safe words out of a scene, Dom Max gives him aftercare. Two Minutes - Charles tied up and vibes whilst Max is in a meeting. Solo - Charles lets Max watch him masturbate. Keeping warm - Charles cock warming Max to help him relax. Wake up call Charles riding Max whilst the Dutchman is asleep Like a Prayer - Sexy Priest Max and sex in a church I do - Multi Chapters - Angst with happy ending - Sex in a church Save a Bull, Ride a Thigh - Charles rides Max's thighs after a padel game How to properly care for your boyfriend’s thighs; A lesson by Charles Leclerc Red - Angst - Max fucks Charles in front of Charles' boyfriend Two Things - A developing relationship told through sex. No way at all - Max and Charles in a M/M/F threesome but interested in each other.

Bottom Max: Sounds from above - Charles hears Max having sex in the apartment upstairs The Sweetest Deal - AU - Sponsor Charles/Driver Max - Babygirlification Favourite Activity - Developing relationship told through sex 50 shades of red - Charles praises Max and makes him blush Pretty Cute - Charles telling Max how pretty he is The Auction - Dom Charles/sub Max - Charles bids on a night with Max All Yours - Multi chapters - ongoing - Dom Charles/sub Max 5 times Charles helps soothe Max to sleep - inc non sexual bondage Picture perfect - Max and Charles get Grindr Fast learner - Virgin Max Knock Out - Charles walks in on Max masturbating Can't even get it started - Frustration for Charles means he can't perform You play the role so well - Virgin Max Your hands on me - Charles chokes Max as he fucks him Earn it - Bratty sub Max and Dom Charles Late night question - Max is horny so goes to Charles - topping from bottom Pretty in red - A history of Max's experiences wearing panties Still Pretty in Red - Max in panties (again) A not so private show - AU - Camboy Max / Driver Charles Feel nothing. Feel something. Feel .... Charles is upset and needs to fuck it out A Late Night Snack - Charles eats Max out. Sweet like sugar - AU - Sugarbaby Max and Sugar Daddy Charles Other: Misunderstanding - Hand job - Max is oblivious to Charles' flirting with him An outfit fit for a surprise Charles in a crop top and Max masturbating over his waist Practice makes perfect - Max help Charles practice his blow jobs Pens, fingers and most definitely cock … - Max has an oral fixation Fia approved stress relief - Charles uses a sex doll that looks like Max, Max watches You're Hot - Charles praising Max in front of the mirror and giving him a blow job The Impact of errors - AU - boss Max spanks secretary Charles Red, Don't leave - Max providing Charles with aftercare Coming together - Soulmates - AU Porn start Charles and F1 driver Max Omegaverse Stories - List can be found here Tentacles: Don't touch what isn't yours - Max fucked by a tentacles sex toy Beautiful, unique and made for pleasure - Max has tentacles

Cute: A million times over - Max wakes from an operation and hits on his husband Charles Carburettor - Max and Charles have to look after a baby doll as part of grill the grid Tomato Soup - Max helps Charles prepare for his dinner date. Compliments -Max'f girlfriend never compliments him but Charles does. Falling in love - Love Confessions through a game involving a series of questions Just Pretend - Fake relationship trope - Angst with a happy ending A Different Kind of Hook up - Max asks Charles back to his to cuddle Caregiver Charles and Cute Little Max - Fluff - Multi chapters- Age regression

Silly: Zombies - Max gets scared by a zombie movie whilst at the cinema with Charles Heartbeat - Max is dressed up as a nurse and it's really affecting Charles' health. A shower, a spider and ...- - Max and Charles scared by a spider

Drama: On the line - Angst with happy ending - Charles gets his drink spiked In the morning - Angst with a happy ending - Max gets his drink spiked. Birthday Drunk - Multi Chapters - Falling in love over a series of Charles' birthdays Like a cat - Charles has a panic attack and Max looks after him I wish you could have known the person ... - Angst with happy ending - Coming out Not quite ready - Angst with hopeful ending - Max is outed against his will Drag me to the show - Charles shows Max his dresses - Supportive Max A love song - Angst with hopeful ending- Max comforting a stressed Charles Hitching a ride - Very Dark themes - True Crime AU - Hitchhiker Charles Enough for now - Angst with a happy ending - Max pining for Charles Red and Blue - Soulmates - Asexuality - Angst with happy ending Holding on to you - Charles navigates his relationship with asexual Max

The other Lestappen pairing: Firsts - Multi Chapter - Virgin Arthur - Falling in love - Max/Arthur Leclerc Threesomes/Foursomes/Groups involving Max/Charles: A Handful of Winner's Medals - Multi Chapter - Max fucked by multiple drivers The Anatomy Lesson of Dr Wolff - AU Anatomical model Max - Max x multi drivers An Unconventional Surprise - Top Max, Bottom Pierre, Bottom Charles Sleepover in 816 - Top Charles, Bottom Max, Top/Bottom Oscar Two's company; Three's even better - Pierre/Max/Charles - Free use bottom Max A weekend away - Foursome - Max/Charles/Carlos/Lando Three - Max/Carlos/Charles - Threesome from three perspectives with a twist Both so good - Lando and Charles give Max a blow job The Show - Carlando are stuck in a closet and watch Lestappen fuck Naughty or Nice - Competitive Threesome for Max's attention- Daniel/Max/Charles Double Date - subs Lando and Max with Doms Carlos and Charles A Lot to Handle - Max is too much for Daniel to handle alone - Daniel/Max/Charles A Little Bit of Max Time - Poly Daniel/Max/Charles There are other stories on my ao3 page <3

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ofsappho · 1 year

Text

Summertime Sadness (part 2)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

Second chance romance, heavy angst, hurt/very little comfort

Ten years ago: the first time you met Simon

Today: the first time Ghost meets you

Tags: mental illness, therapeutic boarding school, self harm, suicide attempt/suicidality, self harm, abuse, parental abandonment, much the same as last chapter. This fic is unedited because I don’t feel like editing it lol. If you see spelling/grammar issues, no you didn’t.

TEN YEARS AGO

Reader POV

It’s intake day.

Intake day happens once a week, always on Wednesday.

You don’t know why they pick Wednesday. It seems pretty arbitrary, doesn’t it?

On intake day, the nurses and counselors make all the current residents of the inpatient program line up to greet the newbies. You actually look forward to intake day. Everyone here is so boring and routine; your roommate never speaks unless spoken to and she always keeps her earbuds in. On intake day, the hope that someone nice will be admitted survives for the few hours of the intake itself.

It usually dies right after. There was one polite girl who smiled when you waved last week, but she was transferred to a different facility that night before you could learn her name.

You’ve been here for three weeks, so that’s three intake days.

You’re not sure why you’ve been here so long. It seems a little excessive; you’d think by now they’d realize your stuff isn’t so bad and maybe you could transition to outpatient appointments?

It’s a little dissociation and some minor depression. Not bad at all.

But your doctors agree, albeit gently, that you should stay for the full five month course.

The program isn’t so bad. The facility sits on a sprawling multi-acre property in the British countryside, where everything is beautiful and verdant and always chilly. It’s lovely. The tea is good. You’re getting used to how they take it here. It’s nothing like the sweet tea you drink back home.

You suppose that’s another reason why they won’t let you go home even though you’re okay; there isn’t a home to go back to. Your dad hasn’t looked you in the eye since Mom left. At least the orderlies here greet you in the morning.

(What Dad doesn’t know is that before she left, she told you she loved you and to wait for her. Soon, she’ll take you away from this place and you’ll never have to see your dad again.)

Before you head to the foyer, you check your hair in the mirror of your room’s suicide-proofed bathroom. A young teenage face stares back at you with cheeks flushed red from the sun. You trace your deep smile lines with the tip of your finger, then practice smiling. You would have feel better about moving to a therapeutic boarding school if you’d been greeted with a smile.

At first, you think the newest crop of poor souls will be uninteresting at best. Listless rich kids detoxing off Mommy’s coke, frightened preteens who’ve never been away from their parents for an extended period of time, and a few teenagers straight from an ER, IV bags and all.

And then you see him get off the bus last.

He’s tall, towering over everyone else. A lanky, almost skeletal build, with a bored, aloof expression on his face. He hides the Zippo lighter he was playing with in his sleeve before the nurses catch and confiscate it.

There’s something horrifically severe about him. He can’t be more than a couple of years older than you, but he carries himself like he’s a blade and the world is filled with monsters.

His eyes are large and dark, rich brown irises rimmed with pale blonde eyelashes. And they’re kind, even though he would probably hate having that pointed out.

You decide then and there that you’ll befriend him. He could use a friend; everyone here does. He’s beautiful in his sharpness and elegant in his abrasiveness. Maybe you can coax more of that hidden kindness out, show him that it’s worth more than his anger. You wouldn’t be able to stay away if you tried.

You both like playing with fire, though you prefer less literal ones.

TODAY

Ghost POV

Your smile fades swiftly as if it was never there to begin with.

There are two ghosts in this room. That’s what you are; a ghost of the girl he knew.

He watches and waits for you to shift uncomfortably and start blabbering to fill the silence like you used to. “Why’d you make them call me?” Ghost asks when it’s clear that you won’t.

As soon as you explain, he’s out of here. Ghost meant it when he said he never wanted to see you again.

You’re the last living reminder of the past he’s tried so hard to kill. The beeping sounds of your heart monitor spell out his mistakes in a grating, irritating rhythm.

Your answer disappoints his expectations. “I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Ghost doesn’t hear any wistfulness or longing in your voice, anything that would tell him that you’re clinging on to the boy you thought he was. Only a bone-dry and hollow statement of facts.

“What do you want?”

You ignore his question. At fifteen, you were good at that. At twenty-five, you’re better. “You got any cigarettes I could bum? You look like you still smoke them,” You say as you fiddle with your torn, bleeding nail beds with the classic anxiety of nicotine withdrawal.

He does that too when a mission stretches too long without a resupply and he finishes his cigarettes early to stave off hunger.

Ghost remembers fighting with you over the pack of smokes he smuggled into the program. He would hold it way above your head and laugh as you struggled to reach them. But you never gave up - they were bad for him, and you liked him too much to see him die of lung cancer.

He remembers the determination in your eyes and your unwavering faith that he could be saved.

“They’re bad for you,” Ghost echoes.

If you remember that moment, you don’t show it. “You know what else is fucking bad for you?” Your tone is so acerbic that it gives him whiplash.

He can’t resist taking a shot. “What, being a prick?” You just… bring out the worst in him. You make him feel as unhinged and unmoored as he was when you first met.

You roll your bloodshot eyes.

“I wasn’t going to call you out on that. I was going to say benzos and vodka. Also throwing yourself headfirst off a bridge.”

“Oh.”

What is he supposed to say to that?

“Why did you come?” You ask after a long moment of quiet interspersed by that fucking heart monitor.

Ghost grinds his teeth into each other as he reflects. He hates doing that; the inside of his skull is a bad place. “…I don’t know,” He admits. Coming here was a mistake; Ghost understands that now.

The foul taste on the back of his tongue is guilt. But why? You did this to yourself. You brought him here to play games and fuck him up, so why is he the one who feels… bad?

You sigh. “Simon-“

“Ghost. It’s Ghost now,” He cuts you off with more violence than necessary.

Your mouth settles into a tight, pained line. “Ghost. Go away.”

“But you called me here.”

That provokes a reaction.

Ghost sees it and immediately wishes it hadn’t.

You stare him straight in the eye, your dilated pupils peel back his mask and see the face underneath. Your skin is tinged gray and your bottom lip blooms red with blood from where you’ve bitten through it.

He wants back the child sobbing for his forgiveness on her knees, who looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

“And it was a mistake, and I should never have done it, and I just wanted the satisfaction of knowing you weren’t going to pick up the phone. That I was truly alone.”

So the memory of him is a knife you’re using on yourself. Fucking disturbing.

“Oh.”

You raise an eyebrow as you wave. “Bye.”

Right.

That’s it.

Though your dismissal rankles, Ghost does as you ordered and takes his leave of you.

His work phone vibrates a few times.

Only one person calls that it. “Captain,” Ghost greets.

Captain Price clears his throat on the other side of the line. “Lieutenant. When can we expect you back?”

‘Tomorrow’ is on the tip of Ghost’s tongue.

He’s never taken a day off in his career, which means he’s got at least a year or two in built up vacation time. “I’ll be gone for a while longer, sir. Not sure yet how long,” Ghost answers promptly.

It’s only for a few more days, a week at most. Long enough to make sure you won’t try to kill yourself again, long enough for the guilt freezing his blood and choking his lungs to fade.

“Alright, Lieutenant. Keep us posted.”

“Yes, sir.”

TAGGING: @devcica @igotmajordaddyissues @almightywdm @copiasratscheese @nerdyreaderpapi @schmelscorner

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erotic-grope-fest · 7 months

Text

Has this ever happened to you?

You’re moping around your wannabe punk aunt’s shambolic Chelsea flat, James Blake blaring, when you begin to feel a little peckish. You’re blessedly alone and go in search of a snack in the depths of the sofa.

You’ve just caught yourself a nice, juicy rat, but before you can make that first swipe of your knife into the soft, warm, blood-filled neck, your imagination is flooded with delectable visions of blue eyes and bronze curls…

...and you find yourself haunted, not by the wraiths of your ancestral Victorian manor house, but by a thirst you can’t ever seem to quench.

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estrellami-1 · 12 days

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 68 | Part 69

Lmao nice.

Side note- I know I’ve been more active on Tumblr as of recently, though I haven’t been posting more of this fic. I think I needed that hiatus more than I thought I did. Trying to keep up the posting schedule I had was draining me too much, and I was overwhelmed. So I’m going to do things a little different after this fic. For starters, if you’re not following #starambles, please do if you want to keep up with what I’m writing. That’s my writing tag. I also link everything in my masterlist. I’ll have separate fic tags for each multi-chapter fic, but I will no longer be doing taglists. This does not apply to IISS: I will complete this fic with the taglist it’s amassed. However, I will no longer be adhering to my previous schedule. Instead I will post whenever I’m ready to. It may take a while, but I figure if it’s this or no more IISS, the answer would be this. If you would like to be removed from the taglist, that’s completely fine; just let me know! Also someone please confirm this tagged you in the correct way. Thank you for understanding.

Steve takes stock of himself, smiles a little as he says, “I am, yeah.” He’s a little surprised, but only a little. Eddie’s proven himself great at getting Steve out of his head. “Thank you.”

Eddie gently squeezes his hand. “Wanna stay up here a little longer, before we face the circus downstairs?”

Steve hums. “You can go back down, if you want.”

“You do that a lot.”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“You do that a lot. You put everyone else’s comfort before your own.”

Steve shrugs. “I’m good at going without. I don’t need a lot.”

Eddie leans his head back with a sigh. “I’ve got a feeling going back in time will change that. Now you’ve got me and Alli to tell you when you’re being a self-sacrificing idiot.”

Steve winces. Covers it up with a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Eddie looks at him, brows furrowed. “What?”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Steve.”

Steve tilts his head back, squeezes his eyes shut. “Just. It won’t make sense, in this time, because half of it hasn’t happened yet, but you’ve known Dustin for all of a day and I’m willing to bet you already know how he’d act when I don’t know something he does. And-” he takes a breath. It only stutters a little. “Nancy. It was- she meant it in a sweet way, y’know? But she’d tell me, you’re an idiot, Steve Harrington. And… I know I’m not the smartest. I know there’s obvious things that I miss all the time. And I can only blame so much of it on the concussions, y’know? But at the same time… I’m not actually stupid. Impulsive, maybe, sometimes, but I do have a brain that actually works most of the time. So.” He shrugs. “I dunno. I just don’t like being called an idiot.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, Stevie.”

“‘S okay. You didn’t know.”

“No, but I should know better than to call people stupid. Wayne would box my ears for that. In fact, I think I’ll go downstairs right now, ask him to remind me.” He makes to get up, but Steve, laughing, pulls him back down.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve chuckles. “I like your ears un-boxed, thank you.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “I’m not gonna call you that again. How’s asshole sound? Self-sacrificing asshole has a nice ring to it.”

Steve collapses in giggles. “I guess if I deserve it.”

“You do,” Eddie promises him, then grumbles to himself. “Trying to get me to go downstairs, I swear.”

Steve giggles some more. “Okay, I get it,” he swears. “I’d like to stay up here for a few more minutes, then we can go back downstairs.”

“Okay.” Eddie grins at him. “I’ve got a couple ideas on how we could spend a few more minutes.”

“Oh?” Steve asks, leaning closer. “And what would that be?”

“I think you know,” Eddie murmurs, close enough to Steve that he’s practically speaking into Steve’s mouth.

Neither of them mind, clearly, because in the next second they’re kissing, Steve’s hands on Eddie’s shoulders for stability, Eddie’s hands gently stroking Steve’s back, up and down, up and down. He moves out a little and grabs at Steve’s hips, and Steve hums into his mouth. Eddie grins into the kiss, so in retaliation Steve twines a hand into Eddie’s hair.

Eddie gently bites Steve’s tongue, and Steve holds in the noise that wants to come out. He gently pulls back instead. “Eddie,” he murmurs. “We should stop.”

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead on Steve’s collarbone. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Steve snorts. “I’m not. I like what we just did. But I also know we should get back downstairs soon.”

Eddie hums in agreement. “Yeah. Lemme just sit here for a minute and think about, like, grandmas with dentures, or something.”

Steve laughs. “That’s probably a good idea,” he admits. He shifts, rests his back against the bed again, sighs. Smiles when Eddie grabs his hand again. “I’m glad you’re here with me.” He pauses, just long enough for Eddie to start to fidget, before finishing with a smile. “Here at the end of all things, Eds.”

Eddie groans and flops over on top of Steve. “And you know Lord of the Rings? Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Fly?” Steve asks, which causes Eddie to laugh.

“Nah,” he says, rolling so his head is pillowed on Steve’s lap. “I think you could just ask gravity not to work and it would let you fly.”

Steve snorts and cards his fingers through Eddie’s hair. “I think you’re biased.”

“I can be biased and right.”

Steve just hums. “Your hair is surprisingly soft.”

Eddie blinks. “Um. Thanks?”

Steve chuckles. “I just mean it’s surprising because of how frizzy it is.

Eddie snickers. “You want to take care of it, don’t you?”

“So bad,” Steve agrees, also laughing. “Your choice, though.”

Eddie smiles. “Maybe once the chaos has calmed down?”

“Sure.” Steve sighs. “Ready to go downstairs?”

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

Steve smiles. “Then let’s go.”

Eddie rolls off of him so Steve can stand. He then offers Eddie a hand up.

“Wait,” Steve requests, right as Eddie’s reaching for the doorknob.

Eddie pulls back, turns to Steve. “Yeah?”

“Kiss first?”

“Kiss always,” Eddie agrees, and happily leans in.

After they pull apart, there’s a knock at the door, and a tentative voice. “Steve? Eddie?”

It’s Dustin.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove

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Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns

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@l0st-strawberry

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #If I should stay #starambles #I’ve forgotten how to tag #This is pretty much just fluff honestly. Yall are welcome

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kim-jongin-s · 2 months

Text

svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, minwon, multis + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"you don't understand (you should never know)". f1!au. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 team's Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Jeonghan are in the midst of battling it out for the Formula One World Drivers' Championship.

"the necessity of living". omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh. oneshot, 3k. nc-17.

"Jeonghan," Seungcheol says, strangled.

Jeonghan closes his eyes. Oh god, he thinks hysterically. Not this again.

"beginning song". soulmate!au. oneshot, 17k. pg-13. ♡

He’d thought, when he was younger, that his feelings for Jeonghan would eventually fade with time. But time seems to have done the opposite. Seungcheol isn't sure which version of reality might be worse: one where Jeonghan isn't his soulmate, or one where he is.

"ready to love". oneshot, 20k. nc-17.

“Felt nice, right?” Jeonghan murmurs benignly. Warning bells sound in the depths of Seungcheol’s consciousness. He’s attuned to Jeonghan’s brand of troublemaking; nothing good could possibly follow that tone of Jeonghan’s voice.

"eulalia (silver grass)". wolf!au. oneshot, 20k. nc-17. ♡

There’s a new scent in the pack’s hanok. It’s getting under Jeonghan’s skin.

"one step closer". royalty!au. 5 chapters, 132k. nc-17.

The West nations crown prince Yoon Jeonghan loses his position, land, and all of his pride in a war with the East nation's Emperor Choi Seungcheol. The next thing he knows, he's being referred to as betrothed of the Emperor.

MINWON

"miss me?". oneshot, 1k. nc-17.

Where they miss each other.

"here kitty kitty". hybrid!au: cat!ww, panther!mg. twoshot, 26k. nc-17. ♡

Panther hybrid Mingyu visits a housecat hybrid village and causes quite the stir.

"sweet accident". au, age gap, prime minister!mg. 12 chapters, 34k. nc-17. ♡

“Jeon… Wonwoo… age twenty…three…college… student… no… gag reflex. Status…very… available.”

MULTI

"rewind and repeat". s.coups/jeonghan/joshua. age gap, omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh, alpha!js. oneshot, 3k. nc-17. ♡

There is shame, in letting men nearly ten years younger than him tumble into his bed. Jeonghan almost feels guilty.

"synced threes". wonwoo/seokmin/mingyu. oneshot, 5.6k. nc-17. ♡

“This is what you two do on a night without me?”

"cognitive dissonance". jeonghan/svt. au, age gap, professor!jh. oneshot, 7k. nc-17 (pls check the tags!).

“Mr. Yoon…?” Jeonghan looks up again, his stare unfocused. His mouth is so pink Soonyoung can nearly imagine the heat of it against his own.

"it takes three to tango". s.coups/wonwoo/dino. au. oneshot, 15k. nc-17. ♡

There was no room in their love for a third person, of that, Wonwoo was entirely sure, but there was plenty of space for a third in their bed, and Chan would fit quite nicely.

"being a beta". s.coups/jeonghan/joshua. omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh, beta!js. twoshot, 24k. nc-17.

Hong Joshua enjoyed being a beta. Being a beta meant a quiet, simple life without being subjected to biology in the way alphas and omegas often were. Too bad he was deeply in love with an omega who craved an alpha mate.

OTHER

"an appropriate distance". seokgyu. omegaverse: omega!sm, omega!mg. oneshot, 6.6k. nc-17.

It's like this: Seokmin helps out with Mingyu’s heat, but not the other way around. Maybe Seokmin is the one holding Mingyu at arm’s length, but it's better this way.

"i'm sorry every song's about you". junhao. band!au. oneshot, 10k. nc-17.

The bass of their songs is always what sticks with Minghao the most. Junhui sticks with Minghao too.

"sip on your lips". sooncheol. au, age gap, single dad!sc. oneshot, 11k. nc-17.

Soonyoung finds it a little too hard to say no to the hot single dad across the hall.

"of the color gray". wonchan. fantasy!au: demon!ww, witch!dn. oneshot, 16k. nc-17.

Chan accidentally summons and binds himself to a lust demon. It turns out better than expected.

"son of nyx". verkwan. spy!au. 3 chapters, 31k. pg-13.

Hansol Vernon Chwe is eighteen when he decides to follow Seungkwan to the end of the earth, even if it means becoming a contracted agent with no guaranteed future.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic recs #svt fanfic #svt ff #svt fic #jeongcheol #minwon #meanie #verkwan #wonchan #junhao #seokgyu #sooncheol #ot3 #fic rec #as u can see i do appreciate a good poly fic

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leeofthevoid · 7 months

Text

Cold-Blooded Beings- Part 1

Farleigh Start x Reader

a/n: Hey guys this is a multi-chapter thing, a little series I suppose and I'm excited to map it out. Hello! Had a few comments that wanted it changed to Y/N and I got you! Please let me know if I missed a few but I tend to not use the assigned name I did before. Just tell me if you guys also want some name specific Fic for you so I can make one shots! Big thanks to the people who pointed good stuff out!

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Strong language

Word Count: 1777

|| Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Money Makes The World Go Wild

Oxford was a dream come true. It was so difficult to actually get into the school without the help of your family’s wealth and earn your place, it was rewarding to finally get into it.

It wasn’t until dinner time when you felt big arms wrap itself around your shoulders while you ate. “Look who we have here. N/N L/N.” What the hell? This voice was unrecognizable. What does this guy want with you? “I’m sorry um…Did I do something wrong?” The man looked confused and chuckled. “Y/N , it’s me Felix? Felix Catton? Cry Baby Fee?”

You jolted back in surprise and your face turned from a slight scowl to surprise. You didn’t hesitate to jump and wrap your arms around him. “Fee! Holy shit you’re so big now! I barely recognized you!” You both laugh heartily as you pour out your happiness in the embrace. “How I miss you, I miss you so.” You pulled back to pepper his face with kisses and finally sat back down on your seat, huge smiles still plastered on your faces. “You’re so big now Fee! I can’t believe you’re the same little boy I had to carry when you scraped your knees.” Felix cringed slightly at the story but still smiled his heart out. “Well yeah, I’m not the little boy Catton you used to know. It’s so nice to see you N/N. Venetia would be so happy know you go here.” You pause and look around the dining hall looking around for the other Catton sibling. “Speaking of, where is she?” Felix leaned on the table and sighed, “Went to Cambridge in fear that I would ‘ruin’ her university experience.” It was so like Venetia to say that and you admired how they seemed to barely change.

You ended up talking through dinner time about how you got into Oxford the way your family always went in. Felix teasing you about your strict family. How you both grew through the years and realized how you missed each other’s presence ever since your father threw you to Switzerland to attend boarding school after your last summer in Saltburn. You both exchanged numbers and a promise to Felix that you will for sure hangout with him and his friends. With a goodbye embrace that was too long for other people, you parted ways.

It was hard being a Teacher’s assistant. When you settled after a few months into your summer term, your professor offered for you to help him tutor his students which you gladly agreed to for extra credit. You were now stuck in the room with Mr. Ware, this shy scholar kid named Oliver Quick, and another empty seat that the other student seemed to miss every session. It’s their fifth absence now. Oliver was in the middle of reading his essay out loud when you decided to take a quick bathroom break, waking up your professor in the process to at least pay attention to the poor guy. After a few minutes out, you’re met with a new person chatting with the tutor and Oliver sits back quietly. You got a better view of the new presence and saw a nice head of curly hair, fashionable clothes, and…No way. “Farleigh?”

Oliver and Farleigh look up at you from the door and his eyes widen. “ Oh my god N/N!” He stood up and scooped you in a tight hug. Man, these Cattons sure love their hugs. “I thought Felix was fooling us when he mentioned a special childhood friend in Oxford.” He gently puts you down and backs away to sit next to Oliver again.

“My, my. A L/N and a Catton? Oliver, you have quite the company.” Your Professor stated. You saw Oliver slowly back up in his chair more, feeling a tinge of pity for the guy. “Let’s start over, Sir. I believe we all have limited time.” You chime in. You all sat down and proceeded to listen to the essays Oliver was abruptly cut off. His work was too robotic and a little…Boring? You can’t help but try to wake the other two people up from time to time to at least alleviate the embarrassment Oliver had. When Oliver finally finished, you cleared your throat, signaling for Farleigh and Mr. Ware to at least look alive. Mr. Ware shared his thoughts and you did too, “I believe there was a lack of something in it, Oliver. I’m sure you’ll be able to revise it better so don’t worry too much.” Farleigh snorted at your kindness and blatantly told him the truth. It was a tensioned back and forth that you’d much rather not be apart of but what can you do? Farleigh was right but so was Oliver, you looked at Mr. Ware and he simply shook his head. “So! We had quite the session today, lads. Oliver, please take note of the changes Ms. L/N will send you, and Farleigh please write your essay too. Um…Send anonymous regards to your mum too please?” Farleigh winks at him and gives you a kiss on the cheek before he leaves the room. Oliver soon made a beeline out of the room and you followed after getting a few tasks from Mr. Ware.

After a few days, you came across Oliver walking alone through the courtyard. “Hey, Oliver!” He quickly looked around for the source and saw you waving at him. “Oliver! Fancy meeting you around and not in the office.” You smiled at him as you put out your hands out to shake. He took it and gave you a shy smile, “Ollie is alright. Y/N right?” You nodded. “So sorry about Farleigh, he always had a sharp tongue ever since we were kids, can I buy you a few drinks to apologize?”

“No, no, c’mon now Y/N it’s not your fault. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to. I don’t need a reason to treat a friend out?” You smiled at him as he fiddled with his jacket deep in thought. “I suppose you it wouldn’t be bad…” You smiled again “See you later at the pub then. You know where right? Bring your friends Ollie!” Oliver hurriedly walked away with a small bounce of excitement as you slowly backed away bumping into something…Or someone. “Running a charity case, love?” Farleigh chuckled. You look up at him and roll your eyes with a slight smile. “Don’t be mean Far, I just thought he was a decent person to befriend.”

“And where is Farleigh’s invite then?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you both walked. “Since when did you grow so mean? I remember you jumping up and down whenever I complimented you more than Felix.” Farleigh groaned at the memory as you laughed. “You know, being the oldest out of all of us had its perks, such as carrying both you and Fee when you were both so tiny! I felt so big next to you! Now look at you towering over me.”

“N/N, you sound like an old lady reminiscing about her children’s lives, I don’t miss that at all. If you’re coming to the pub with that bore of a person, come by at our table yeah? I’d hate for you to be lonely.” You chuckled as he kissed your cheek to walk off into who knows what.

The pub had a really good atmosphere for a place swarmed with people in their early twenties dying to have some semblance of relief from school. You would even argue that The King of Arms was a decent place to have a date, even dressed nicely to appease the people you’ll hangout with. One problem is that you never anticipated the fact that Oliver could probably have no friends. Well, he had one, Michael, but the thing about Michael is he seemed to be so absorbed in his genius that he never did care to let you or Oliver talk. As much as you appreciate the boys not ogling at you with the usual stares you get from wearing provocative clothing, it was kind of pathetic that they didn’t at least compliment you perhaps?

You excused yourself to get another round of drinks, on you of course. It kind of put you in a bit of a damper mood when Michael didn’t even acknowledge it, at least Oliver did but it still sucked. You approached the Barkeeper to bring you three pints of Pale Ale which he kindly nodded to. “What’s a pretty lady like you doing with losers like them?” You chuckled and looked up at the figure slowly sliding their hand on your waist. “Farleigh.” You lightly warned with a smile, “Cut them some slack. It’s probably their first time going out with people. I was like that when I started my summer term.” Farleigh simply rolled his eyes at your kindness thinking it was stupid. You notice how he seemed to still tower over you and that was something since you weren’t exactly short, five foot ten to be exact. You even had heels on for goodness sake! When did this small tiny boy grow so tall?

You snap out of your trance when the door dings. You turned and saw Michael’s retreating figure, turned and checked the table you were occupying and found no signs of Oliver. Great, you just got ditched. “So…About my offer?” Farleigh’s tone was teasing and you can’t help but give in. With a sigh and a defeated huff you give in. “Fine Far, you win. What about the stuff I ordered?”

He scoffs, “Thank you for buying me some, you’re a doll.” Farleigh says in a sarcastic manner, picks up the tray and brings it to the table while dragging you with him. You notice Oliver’s shy figure sitting beside Felix as Farleigh pulls a chair out for you. Paying no mind to the boy who just walked out of your table, you greeted everyone with a cheery expression even earning some wolf whistles from the guys sitting with you. “Y/N will apparently buy two rounds of drinks for us.” Farleigh teases. Everyone cheered making you roll your eyes at him. At least you get to use that allowance your dad finally said you earned.

After some time on the table, it still pissed you off that Oliver ditched you, he even avoided eye contact with you while talking to Felix. It’s alright, everything will be okay and you should just let this instance slide, you say to yourself. It was just an apology drink from Farleigh’s mean outburst and the subject of the event was right next to you making out with a girl on his other side. Don’t you just love university?

#farleigh x reader #farleigh start #saltburn movie #saltburn fics #saltburn #felix catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #farleigh x you

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milkpup · 9 months

Text

｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 4 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

artist: 百分二之一 / https://pin.it/7suU92k

previous chapter ♡ next chapter

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, AGED UP CHARACTERS, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: ch 5 is being written, however i've taken a break on this while i finish my other fic (it's coming soon :D). this is the most up to date chapter i have on here and my ao3. this chapter is FIREEEEEEE tho !!

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 4: Impulse

Toji took the opportunity to smoke a cigarette while you were taking a shower. The crisp morning air was cool on his skin as he took a long drag of the cig. He puffed it away, lost in thoughts about what you guys should do today.

The clouds were starting to roll in, and it looked serene from Toji’s balcony. They didn’t live anywhere fancy or expensive, but it was nice being able to feel the peace of the breeze and the comfort of the sun’s warmth. He didn’t want to keep taking things for granted. He would accept and appreciate with enthusiasm from now on.

He inhales more of the smoke before snuffing out the cigarette in an ashtray. There were errands for the house you both needed to attend to, but he also wanted to make it a fun adventure into the city.

The steaming hot water of the shower soothed your aching body. You took this moment to think about the past few days and what had transpired. Messing around with Megumi, Toji acting uncharacteristically nice, and the heat of Toji’s gaze as you walked towards the shower. You could feel his eyes glued to your back as you walked away. You didn’t know what to think of it, but your body sure as hell did.

The attention was kinda nice. You liked feeling wanted, even in this fucked up way.

You foamed up your soap before washing your body, quickly finishing up your shower. You still had to get dressed and do your hair and makeup, and you didn’t want to make Toji wait.

You got out of the shower, wrapping the towel around your body. You leave and make your way towards your room, dripping and only covered by a measly towel. The steam escaped the bathroom, clouding the surrounding area.

Megumi isn’t paying much attention to his surroundings as he walks towards his room. Mindlessly scrolling through twitter, he bumps into you. He startles you enough to where your towel shifts in place, revealing your cleavage.

It’s not enough to see anything substantial, but for Megumi, it’s more than enough. He knows what’s under there anyway, and seeing you dripping wet with only a towel to cover yourself was sending explicit thoughts straight to his brain.

He blushes, apologizes, and quickly walks away towards his room, head down in embarrassment.

You shrug, not really putting much thought into it as you reach your room and close the door behind you. You don’t want to dress up for a simple errand run, so you decide upon black leggings and a fluffy, oversized sweater. You can’t choose between fuzzy boots or simple converse, but ultimately choose the latter.

Brushing your hair and putting it up into a claw clip was simple enough for the look. Light makeup, nothing too crazy, maybe a little eyeliner and you’re done soon enough.

You grab your bag and phone, leaving your room. You see Toji waiting for you, sitting on the couch talking about pointless stuff with Megumi. He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and looks up at you.

The contrast between a cute, fluffy, and oversized sweater with tight leggings that hug your hips is extremely pleasing for him. Toji is already getting up, making his way towards the front door.

You quickly walk over to where Megumi is sitting on the couch and rustle his hair a bit. “Bye Gumi, text me if you need anything from me!” You smile at him and walk away, towards Toji.

Megumi notices the exact same details of your body as Toji. Like father, like son of course. He’s thinking back to when he bumped into you, almost dropping your towel and revealing yourself. He licks his lips. And now? Watching you walk away, perfect ass in those tight as fuck leggings? He was already envisioning how he wants to rip those leggings off and take you right there, in front of his dad.

You and Toji are heading into the city, running errands, but also just keeping each other company. You both agreed grocery shopping should be last so you could head home right after; so now Toji is driving you both to the shopping plaza.

He plays “dad rock” (think: Nickelback, Green Day, AC/DC type of stuff), but you find it endearing anyways. Not much needs to be said, you sit without speaking much just appreciating each other’s presence. You admire how nonchalant he seems, one hand gripping the steering wheel as the other rests on the center console. His clothes don’t do much to hide his muscular build, scars covering most of his body. The ruggedness of his scars and the rigidness of his muscles are hard to look away from.

Toji notices you staring, but he says nothing. He lets you have his moment, as he lightly smirks while watching the road. You avert your gaze after what feels like eons, feeling embarrassed at your obvious oogling of the man in front of you. You flushed, looking away. You felt wrong and immoral, “This man is like a father to me” kept replaying in your head, louder and louder. Despite this, you were helpless to control the heat you could feel making its way between your legs. You felt ashamed, feeling this way about a man who was basically your father.

You both arrive at a shopping plaza, numerous stores and shops packed full with other customers. The weekends were always the busiest, especially around lunch time. Toji parks the car and gets out before opening your door for you. “Princess,” he speaks out, his voice sweet like honey. He would sometimes call you that growing up, but it was very infrequent now at your grown age.

You blush a bit at the sudden usage of your nickname and thank him. “You’re always so kind to me, thank you.” You can’t meet his gaze, but you know it’s locked on you. “Where do you wanna go first?” You ask as you step out of the black sedan.

“Wherever you’d like, doll.” Your mind starts racing at the new pet name he has for you, but you try to not let your face turn more crimson than it already has.

“O-okay… let’s just start walking and browse until we find something!” You probably said this more for you, so you could take a few steps ahead of Toji and hide your face. He follows behind you, allowing you to lead the way.

Your shopping spree is pretty uneventful, full of buying some basics like tank tops, t-shirts, leggings, and the occasional plushie. You pass by a lingerie store, and some of the new designs catch your eye. You start gravitating toward the shop’s entrance, telling Toji he could wait in the main area if he’s uncomfortable, but he shakes his head and keeps following you.

Your cheeks are heating up again at the idea of Toji following you around in this intimate setting. You brush it off and keep walking through the displays and counters of bras, bralettes, and other cute lingerie. You pick out a white lacy set of a bralette with matching panties; it’s soft to the touch and dainty.

Toji clears his throat. “Those are nice…. But what about this?” He’s holding up a pink babydoll slip. “It’s cute.” He’s weirdly averting your gaze while holding up the garment.

“Yess!! That’s adorable!!” You take it from his hands, admiring the ruffles and lace adorned with a few bows.

“I’ll get it for ya, if you want, doll.” He’s meeting your eyes again, looking into your soul as you’re practically melting in front of him. You’re convinced you are a blushing mess, and honestly, that’s not the only mess right now.

“Thank you… but you don’t have to…” You’re looking down at the dress again, unable to face him out of embarrassment.

“I want to.” You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw him lick his lips as he made that statement.

You nod. You make sure the size is correct and start making your way to the checkout counter. You’re called to the register as the women greets you.

She tries to make small talk about how cute the set is when she notices the dress. “This is so cute! My boyfriend loves when I wear this too!” You freeze when you realize she assumes you and Toji are a couple.

Toji chuckles a bit. “I see he has good taste as well. I’m looking forward to seeing it later…” He finishes, his voice deepening a bit. You can’t mistake it now, he is definitely playing with you. As much as it confuses you, it excites you tenfold. Thoughts of him admiring you, touching you, maybe more… are rushing through your head making you lightheaded.

He pays for the items and you both leave. The plaza is an open shopping center, and storm clouds had already been accumulating. Shortly after stepping out, it starts to lightly rain. You both rush to take cover next to a building adjacent to the shop you were just in.

You’re both against the wall, with you lightly panting after the slight workout. You’re giggling now, humored that you didn’t read the forecast and thoughts like of course it would rain right now. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. You hadn’t even noticed Toji was no longer by your side until he was right in front of you, hand place above your head on the wall.

He was immensely close, and you could feel his free hand snaking up your body to grab your chin. “You’re so adorable when you laugh, doll.” He reaches down and places a kiss on your lips, gentle and hesitant at first until he gradually increases his intensity and aggression. He’s kissing you like a man starved of affection, like you’re the meal for the last supper, savoring it as if it was the only good thing to ever happen to him again.

You’re shocked at first, but soon melt into the rhythmic pace of the kiss. Tongues meeting each other, swapping saliva as if you were trying to drink each other fully. Toji bites your lip, eliciting a sweet moan from you. He pushes his body against you, moving his thigh in between your legs. You’re unsure if he can feel the heat emanating between your legs, but you know it’s overwhelming intensity.

You can feel his cock pressed against your abdomen through both of your soaked layers. You move your hand on top of his bulge, pressing against it firmly. The rain lessens momentarily, and

you break contact from the kiss only to whisper “please” to him. That was all Toji needed to hear before practically dragging you back to his car.

Toji never forgot his manners, and despite the circumstances he still opened the door for you and laid out a blanket over the cold leather seats of the back of his sedan. However, there was a sense of urgency as he put everything together, finishing and gently pushing you into the back seat. Although the car was pretty spacious, the moment Toji climbed in after you, the absolute behemoth of a man made the car feel pretty cramped. Despite this, he tried to ensure your comfort.

“I know it’s not ideal, princess, but I can’t wait until we get home. And it seems like you can’t either.” His sultry voice teases you, as he starts pulling off some of your wet clothes. He leaves kisses in a trail down your neck, then your chest, and stopping above your waistband. “Do you want this, doll?” He questions as his hands start tugging at the band of your leggings. Your body should be cold with the wet clothes, but you only feel heat radiating in your core. You nod your head, meeting his hands and trying to hurry and take the rest of your clothes off.

Toji clicks his tongue. “Good girls use their words.” You feel a surge of what felt like electricity as the words ‘good girl’ left his mouth.

“Yes.. daddy.. please…” You try to hide your face in your elbow, anything to save you from the embarrassment.

“Good girl.” He whispers into your ear, thumbs hooking the waistband of your pants. “You sound so cute when you say that, doll.” He pulls off your leggings, leaving you with only the thin, but soaked, fabric of your panties.

He plants more kisses on your inner thigh before teasing you with a finger, panties still on. He rubs your wet slit, noting how soaked you are. Your little moans are music to his ears, as he continues rubbing your cunt through the thin fabric.

“Please, fuck, daddy… more…” You squirm under his touch, trying to press against him for more friction.

“Someone’s an eager little slut, isn’t she? You want daddy that bad, huh?” He taunts, pulling your panties to the side in a lewd attempt to expose your cunt. He spits on his fingers before slipping one inside – not that he would need any with how much you’re dripping for him.

His thick finger is about a knuckle deep and he can already notice how tight you are. “Fuck, baby. Are you a virgin?” You look up at him with wide eyes, nodding. He leans down to give you another kiss. “Perfect.”

He is gently fucking you with his finger, trying to loosen your tight hole a bit. He inserts another finger, feeling you stretch to accommodate him. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.” He purrs as he picks up speed, drilling into your cunt with ferocity. His other hand moves to your core, before his thumb flicks over your clit.

He rubs your button, watching as you make the sweetest faces and the cutest noises. He draws circles around it, causing your hips to buck forward as he continues to fingerfuck your hole. He’s watching you intently, studying everything about you and taking you in.

Any pain or discomfort you felt while he was stretching you quickly disappeared and was replaced by mind numbing pleasure, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. His skilled fingers played your body like an instrument, every movement perfect in its speed, angle, and intensity.

“Who’s my good little girl?” He asks you, expecting an answer while looking down at your already fucked out face.

“I am, daddy!” You answer back, not wasting any time. His fingers curl inside of you, pushing a moan out of you.

His hand on your clit pulls away to lift your chin. “You’re what? Answer me fully, slut.” He says as he spits in your mouth. “Swallow it like a good girl, then answer me properly.”

You do as you’re told. “I’m your good girl, daddy.” He smirks at this, before resuming his touch on your clit. His fingers inside of you hit your sweet spot, pushing you over the edge and causing you to tighten around him.

“Is my slutty little girl gonna cum for me? Yeah? It’s that good already?” His words do nothing but edge you on, forcing you to cum harder than you ever have.

You’re panting by the end of it, already dazed at how amazing it felt. But Toji is just getting started. He pulls down the waist band of his pants, with his briefs following right after. His cock springs free from its confinement. He groans as the cold air touches it.

Normally he’d need more foreplay, but playing with your body and the taboo of the situation were more than enough to make his cock leak precum, anxiously awaiting your cunt. “Daddy has been waiting for this… be a good girl and show him that you love him, doll.”

He wastes no time in pushing the head of his cock against your entrance, spitting on his cock before slipping inside. The tip alone is enough to stretch you beyond what you thought were your limits. Despite the size, he makes sure to take his time for you to get used to it. He can tell it hurts with the tears that are forming. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on you, caressing your cheek as he pushes his large cock ever so deeper inside.

“You’re taking it so well already, sweetheart. It’s like you’re made for me.” He groans as he feels you relax around him. He’s about halfway in now. “I know what you and Megs did….” Your eyes grow wide at his comment. “It’s okay, princess, I know you’re a little whore who can’t get enough. I’m just glad I get to be the first to fill you.” He grins as he forces the rest of his thick cock inside. “It’s almost like you were waiting for me, huh? My little girl, so patient for her daddy…” He coos.

The pain slowly subsides, albeit not completely. You’re too heated in the moment to care about the pain as he quickly picks up pace, pulling out and slamming back in. You whimper every time, only driving Toji wilder with how perfect you are for him.

He starts to ram into your tight cunt as he reaches over and places a hand around your neck. He grips it tightly, enough to put pressure but not completely block airflow. “Such a good fucking toy… take it like a good girl, yeah?” He purrs, bruising your womb with the tip of his cock. He releases his grip on your neck after a few moments, letting you catch your breath again.

Toji fucks you faster, groaning at the tightness of your walls. He pulls your legs up to his shoulders as he presses deeper into you, matching your out of breath state. He’s drilling into you, chasing his own end as he feels your walls tighten around him. “Gonna cum again, darling. Such a dirty girl.”

He reaches his hand to your chin again. “Open,” he commands as he spits into your mouth. “Good girl.” His dominance delivers you your second orgasm of the day, and Toji feels your body tense up as you do so. “Fuuuuck baby, it’s like your cunt is trying to milk my cock-“ He can barely finish his sentence as he feels his cum come gushing out. You feel your walls being painted white, getting filled up with his cum.

“Such a good girl,” he praises. “Are you on the pill?” You nod. He probably should have asked that first, but who cares, certainly not you in your fucked out state. He kisses you again before pulling out and and pushing your panties back in place. “Try not to spill any, doll. And just so you know, I don’t mind if my little girl wants to play with Megs. As long as you remember that you belong to Daddy at the end of the day, you can have as much fun as you’d like, doll.”

‹𝟹 notes: ch 5 soon! lmk what y'all think!! feedback is always appreciated <3

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