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writingbyshiloh · 7 months

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Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan.

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan.

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying.

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress.

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words.

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them.

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend.

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her.

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all.

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table.

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way.

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window.

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too.

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go.

You stand and straighten out your dress.

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself.

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up.

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is.

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting.

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it.

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.”

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going.

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest.

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking.

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near.

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again.

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible.

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit.

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan.

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest.

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall.

#I read it once for spelling and flow then released it to the world #jordan li x reader #jordan li x y/n #jordan li imagine #gen v x reader #gen v x y/n #gen v imagine #whew this got out of hand #time to talk about jordan

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luv4kozume · 9 days

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💋 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 — MATT STURNIOLO

— # ❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥…

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 ! ❞ 🎧 ₊˚⊹

Homewrecker!Matt x Married!Fem!Reader

Contains: Swearing, hella plot/slow burn, mentions of financial abuse and an unhappy marriage, pet names, flirting, teasing, age gap (reader is 26, matt is 21), drinking alcohol, cheating, praise, spit, handjob, oral (both ways), missionary, leg lock, drunk sex, unprotected sex, creampie. Semi-proof read!

Synopsis: A story in which you and your next door neighbor, Matt, have some underlying attraction towards each other. But there is just one teensy little obstacle standing in the way… your “loving” husband.

Word Count: 7,975

a/n: part of the TRIPLE THREAT EVENT with sienna and maggie!! BE SURE TO READ THEIR FICS TODAY TOO!! 💗💗

a/n(2): this plot popped into my head at the most random time and it was so good that i had to take ‘cheating’ off my guidelines in my request rules??? 🤯

a/n(3): @rootbeerworshiper this was the little plot twist i told you about since the song is about a guy convincing an older woman to get with him (i really had to dissect those lyrics). hopefully i lived up to the expectation of the song lmaoo

*:･ﾟ✧ 💌 *:･ﾟ✧

It was hardly 10:06 A.M. on a weekday and your husband, John, was already starting the day off in a sour mood.

John had worked for a large advertising company and had held the title of the household’s ‘breadwinner’ rather proudly.

Perhaps a bit too proudly.

For the longest you’ve wanted to branch out and have something going on for yourself. However, having the luxury of financial freedom had never been in the cards for you, since he would always dismiss any notion of yours.

He would always say that ‘a woman should stay in the home’ or ‘it would make him seem less of a man if his wife was making money’.

He often hid behind the ‘traditional man’ role, as if that made up for his misogynistic and narcissistic behavior. Not that there’s anything wrong with being traditional, in fact you’d prefer some of those aspects of him.

But in reality he wasn’t ‘traditional’ in the slightest. Just a financially abusive asshole that you had been married to for the past six years.

You don’t even know how you’ve made it this long in the relationship, yet here you were, sitting at your white vanity in your shared bedroom. Face to face with your tired reflection in the dainty mirror.

A white bath towel wrapped tightly across your chest and draped over your thighs. An array of water droplets laid across your chest and shoulders from your previous morning shower.

As John was getting dressed in the next room for a meeting, you were doing your makeup for absolutely nothing.

Your days at home were rather boring. Usually consisting of binging your favorite shows, cooking, or reading.

Recently you had added tanning to the brief list now that it was finally warming up for summer. You enjoyed going out into the backyard and sitting by the pool, taking in the fresh air and a good book in hand. Your husband didn’t particularly like this new activity of yours.

Your eyes dropped down to the various makeup products scattered across the countertop. You grabbed ahold of your eyebrow brush, bringing up to your face and flicking the hairs up with the soft bristles.

“Y/N!” Your husband shouted from the bathroom, the sudden harshness of his voice had made you jump in your seat.

“Yes?” You huff, bringing your hand down away from your face and resting your elbow against the surface.

You straighten up your posture as you heard his footsteps press down into the carpet, making their way towards you in a rush. The bathroom light illuminated in the distance, giving his dark suited silhouette a slight golden hue as he stood in the doorframe frantically adjusted his collar.

“Have you seen my favorite tie?” He groaned in annoyance as if you had purposely hidden the piece of clothing in a form of pettiness.

“No, I haven’t.” You reply shortly before reverting your attention back towards the mirror.

You heard him grumble something under his breath before he started yanking at the dresser drawers in attempt to find another tie. But you chose to ignore his desperate plea for attention.

It was best to not even engage whenever he would get like this, so you completely tuned out his presence and continued your makeup routine. Once your were satisfied with your brows you went in for the primer.

Usually doing your makeup made you feel better about staying home and rotting away, but having his presence so close to you at the moment was spoiling everything. You couldn’t even enjoy yourself with your own husband around.

You couldn’t decipher if you felt more agitated or guilty in this moment. All you knew was that you just couldn’t wait for the very second he’d leave for his meeting and you’d finally have some time alone.

“Found it.” He mumbled, slowly dragging his feet along the carpet towards you. He stood over you as you moved on to the next step in your routine, concealer. He watched as you pressed the product into your cheeks. “You know I prefer you without all that, right?”

This was his lame attempt in striking up a conversation between the two of you. Most of the time they reign unsuccessful and resulted into a petty argument instead.

“I don’t do it for you.” You muttered under your breath, but your were certain he had heard you anyway. You didn’t care either way at this point, why wouldn’t he just leave you alone? Couldn’t he tell that you were upset?

John let out a sigh before recollecting his thoughts, you could hear the gears turning in his twisted head as he articulated what he should say next.

“Are you going to the pool again?” He asked, his tone hinted with just the slightest bit of irritation as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah?” You say, glancing up at him for a spilt second before dropping your eyes down to grab your bronzer. “Why does it matter? You’re out all day for hours at a time and I have nothing to do.”

“Because I don’t like that kid next door.” He snapped back.

“Matt?” You say innocently. The sound of the neighbor’s voice rolling off your tongue so smoothly had him sick to his stomach.

“Yes, Matt.” He retorted in a mocking tone. “I don’t fucking like him.”

“Well first of all, he’s a grown man, not a kid.” You huff out in annoyance. “And he’s just a friendly neighbor, he’s harmless.”

His eyes dropped down to your left hand before bringing them back up to your tired expression before muttering, “Right. Well, make sure to have your ring on while you’re out there.”

Your brows furrowed together and you straightened up in your seat. Your lips parted slightly to speak but he was already stomping down the steps and rushing to the front door.

“I was in the shower..” You mumbled in defeat as if he could still hear you. All while staring down at your bare ring finger.

*ೃ༄

It had been a couple hours since your husband had finally left and you were already starting to feel a lot better. The blazing June sun shone down brightly, giving the pool a shimmery look as a few waves began rippling.

You laid yourself across one of the white lounge chairs your had with a bikini on and one of your favorite books in hand. You had read it at least three times at this point but you just couldn’t get enough of it. Besides, what else were you left to do? At least you were getting some fresh air.

The pages had you lost in trance until the brash noise of a door slamming shut caught your attention. You straightened up your posture, looking over towards the right where the noise had derived from. Just over the brown, wooden fence that separated your yard from your neighbor’s.

The same neighbor that your husband absolutely despised. He had often complained that the fence wasn’t high enough and that he even caught Matt peering over at you while you tan.

The mere thought of that was flattering but you truly believed that everything he did was harmless. Matt never made you feel uncomfortable so you didn’t particularly mind his wandering eyes or suggestive words. Especially when you weren’t getting much attention from your husband anyway.

“Matt!” You shouted with a smile, wrapping your thin covering up over your chest slightly. You extended your arm out to wave at him, grinning ear to ear like a little school girl with a crush when he smiled back at you.

You tossed your book into the seat and slipped into your flip flops. Making your way through the grass to lean over the fence to get a better look at him.

Matt lived alone and it was quite obvious that his entire place lacked a woman’s touch. You often teased him about his backyard, as it was littered with various wild flowers and weeds. Not to mention the overgrown grass that he was in the process of cutting at the very moment.

“Hey, peach.” Matt smirked, rising up from the ground to get a better look at you.

You glanced down at his lawnmower, the old beaten up machine surely had seen better days.

“Finally mowing your grass?” You tease.

“Yeah.” He sighed with a playful shrug. “It looks like it’s about that time, what do you think?”

“Yeah, definitely long over due.” You laugh.

Your hands nervously fell to your side as Matt rested his forearms against the fence. Dirt covered gloves wrapped around his hands, along with a red tee and chain dangling over his chest. You nearly had to squint at the miniature silver horse as it shimmered in the bright sun. His shaggy brown hair spewed out from the sides where his red cap didn’t reach, the bill of it resting on the back of his neck.

His striking blue eyes flickered down to your figure, taking in the way your bikini left little to the imagination. Wrapping around so snuggly in all the right places.

You were fairly older than him— and married. Something that you would often say. But it felt as though you were trying to convince yourself of the fact rather than giving him a gentle reminder.

Personally, Matt wouldn’t give a fuck if you were married, engaged, or single. And he certainly didn’t mind the fact that you were a tad bit older. To him, age was just a number.

He knew exactly what he wanted and he was going to continue pursuing until he got it. You didn’t seem too opposed to this either. He wasn’t an idiot, he caught onto the way you’d blush whenever he was around or how you would find the silliest excuse to talk to him over the fence.

The attraction could be sniffed out from a mile away and he was certain that his feelings were mutual. He just had to pull them out of you. However, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. All he had to do was patiently wait for that green light.

But that didn’t completely stop him from dropping ‘subtle’ hints.

“What about you?” Matt nodded his head up with a smirk. “What are you gonna do today?”

“Oh, nothing probably.” You sigh, you could feel your face heating up with embarrassment.

“One of those days again?” He replied.

You nodded, “Mhm, John went out for another meeting this morning. So it’s just me at home.”

“I’m sorry, peach. I don’t like that he leaves you alone in that house for so long.” Matt replied, pursing his lips to think about what he should say next. Whether it was appropriate enough for him to say aloud, “You know I’d never do that to you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Is all you could mumble out. A shy smile creeping up on your face, earning a chuckle from him.

“How long is he gonna be out for?” He asked.

“He should be back sometime this evening. I’m not sure the exact time since his work schedule is so sporadic.” You explain, trying your best to play off the disappointment in your voice with a laugh.

Matt clicked his tongue in thought, knowing exactly what he desired most at the moment. Just the mere thought of you all alone in that house prancing around in that tight little swimsuit of yours—or better yet, nothing at all—had his dick pressing through the rough fabric of his jeans.

You had his mind racing with lascivious thoughts. However, it would be best if he didn’t voice these ideas, but you were just dying to know.

“What?” You inquired, slightly tilting your head to the side.

“Nothing, peach.” He laughed, dropping his head to hide his flushed cheeks. Matt has mentioned a bundle of scandalous things to you before— to which you always brushed off as if they never happened. However, his sudden meekness this time around had caught you off guard.

What was on his mind this time may have been the most outlandish thing of them all. He didn’t know how you would react, how you would handle such words. It was best to keep them to himself. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel upset or any discomfort from his own doing. He would never forgive himself.

But this didn’t stop you from still wanting to know what was on the brunette’s mind. He could only hope that a watered down version of what he originally wanted to say will suffice.

“I was just gonna suggest…” He began as he sheepishly rose his head back up. His primal gaze locking in with your shy eyes. “…that maybe you could come in with me.” He says pointing his thumb back towards his brick house behind him.

“Just so you won’t be so lonely.” He added in hopes to reel you in, watching you nervously shift on the heels of your feet.

Unfortunately, your mind and your heart were not on the same page, therefore the only correct answer would be, “I… don’t think I should.”

Matt couldn’t help but drop his eyes lower, seeing that your ring finger was still bare. He had noticed that you stopped wearing your wedding ring a couple weeks ago.

You always came up with the most outlandish excuses as to why you never wore the damn thing. Eventually he stopped pestering you about it, assuming that there was a deeper meaning why it was never around your finger. He didn’t want to force that information out of you, he could only hope that you’d tell him in your own time.

The way your smile slowly dropped from your face tugged at his heart, he didn’t like seeing you so upset about it. Maybe he should have articulated his words a bit more carefully.

“It’s okay, don’t beat yourself up about it.” Matt reassured you with a soft chuckle, “I gotta get this thing started, but you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Matt.” You reply.

*ೃ༄

Hours passed since you last spoke to Matt— or anybody for that matter. The sun was beginning to set for the evening, the sky turning various colors of soft yellows and pastel pinks. The golden rays from the source shone through your livingroom window, giving your home’s interior a gentle glow.

You had changed into some more comfortable clothes earlier and were now snuggled down into the plush cushions of the couch with a large blanket draped over you.

The television was on but you weren’t paying it any attention. You tuned out the white noise of the characters speaking as your scrolled through the apps on your phone.

You hadn’t been able to get Matt’s words out of your head, “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

A frustrated sigh seeped out from you. You knew that it was immoral of you to be thinking of another man under your circumstances but there was this longing for him that you just couldn’t shake.

Something about him was just so comforting… so alluring. You wanted to have deep and meaningful conversations with him rather than just brief, friendly talks over the fence.

You wanted to dissect his brain, to learn him inside and out. What he liked and disliked. What he does in his spare time. If he thinks about you as often as you think of him. You craved for his presence and you ached for his attention.

Your phone buzzed in your hands, pulling you out of your thoughts. You felt your stomach churn with dread as you realized it was your husband who had texted you instead of the person you needed the most.

John

‘I won’t be back until late tonight. Going out to dinner with coworkers.’ at 7:12 p.m.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you and John had been out to dinner together.

You weren’t sure if you should be feeling more angry or ecstatic over his message. This was the official green light that your heart had been waiting for since the day you met Matt.

But your brain was screaming the complete opposite. John was your husband and pursuing anything romantic or even sexual with Matt would be cheating. How would he handle that? How could you live with yourself after the fact?

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard to reply to his message, until another notification buzzed at the top of the screen. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach when you noticed it was Matt who texted you.

Matt :)

‘Shameless, huh?’ at 7:14 p.m.

You look up from your screen, eyes now glued to your tv in front of you. His text referring to the show you were watching. You looked out the window over to your right, seeing that Matt was standing on the sidewalk just inches away from the grass in your front yard.

What perfect timing.

He was still wearing the same clothes as before, this time he wasn’t alone though. He had his dog, Trevor, with him. You smile as you point towards your front door, beckoning for him to come meet you at the porch. To which he happily complies.

The heavy door creaked open as you pulled it in towards yourself. A bashful smile crept on your face once you locked eyes with your neighbor, “Hi.”

“Hey,” He spoke, mirroring your happiness. “You changed your mind yet, peach?”

“Maybe.” You reply with a playful shrug. “But… I’d be more comfortable having you come in with me instead of the other way around.”

“What about John?” He asked, his brows furrowing together in confusion.

“He went out to dinner with some of his coworkers.” You explained. “He won’t be back until later tonight.”

“Okay, cool.” He smirked. His eyes flickered down to the ground where Trevor was, giving the leash attached to his collar a gentle tug. “Just let me put Trev back in the house and I’ll be right over.”

You nodded and watched them both step down from the steps of your porch before you shut the door.

*ೃ༄

“Do you drink by any chance?” You ask Matt, your sweet voice coursing through him as it echoed from the kitchen.

He sat perked up on the couch, his back straight up against the cushions and his thighs slightly parted from each other. His eyes shot over to you, your back faced him as you rummaged through your silver fridge.

“Anything you wanna do, I’m down.” He replied, you didn’t have to look at him to know that there was a cocky grin plastered across his face. You could hear it in his tone.

“Red wine then?” You reply, turning around as you waved the nearly full bottle of alcohol in your hand.

His smile only grew larger as he nodded in agreement, his cheeks flushing up to match the same rosy color as the beverage. Your feet shuffled across the floor as you reached up in your cabinet to grab hold of two empty wine glasses.

His eyes never left from you as you made your way back towards him on the couch. The cushions sank in deeper as you plopped down next to him, setting the glasses gently onto the low coffee table in front of you.

Matt grabbed the bottle of wine from your hand, twisting off the tight cap with ease. It was a simple gesture really and you mentally cursed yourself for getting so worked up by it, but you found it endearing.

“Excited, huh?” He joked, feeling your aura practically bouncing off of you as you watched the red liquid pour into the shape of the cup.

“Just happy.” You say, catching a glimpse into his sensual gaze before shyly looking away.

There was no way in hell that you expected Matt to keep his lecherous thoughts and curious hands to himself tonight, especially with alcohol now being thrown into the mix.

It was going to be torturous for him to stay on his best behavior.

*ೃ༄

About half an hour had passed and the two of you nearly drank the entire bottle, both of you now having nearly two full glasses of wine in your systems.

Matt quickly learned that you became a little giggle box the moment you started feeling a bit tipsy. He thought it was the cutest thing and made it a point to continue speaking so that he could hear your voice over and over again.

You sat up on the couch with your knees up to your chest, your fingers still slipped underneath the roundness of the glass. Matt had called it quits just a few minutes ago, his empty cup now sitting on the coffee table.

He could give a fuck less about the alcohol anymore, all he wanted now was a taste of you. He slumped down into the couch, much more relaxed now that the wine soaked its way through his system.

His hair was a fluffy mess now that his hat was finally off. He stared at you intensely with lazy, hooded eyes, grinning ear to ear seeing that you were so happy with just his presence.

“Okay, my turn.” You hiccup, finally setting your cup down for the first time tonight.

“Shoot.” He replies nonchalantly.

You adjusted your seating to where you were little bit closer to him this time. Your legs folding together as you place your jittery hands in your lap, “Why do you call me peach?”

“Uhh.” He huffed out with a bashful smile, his palms coming up to his face as if to rub away the embarrassment he felt. “It’s a long story.”

“I got plenty of time.” You reply, playfully tapping his shoulder. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Remember when we first met last year?” Matt asks, finally drawing his hands away from his face to look you in the eyes again. You nod. “Well, I remember you were in your backyard and you were taking care of your garden. …

…I was like, ‘damn, that lady has a ton of plants’, but I was just so intrigued by you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. …

…Anyway, you didn’t notice me looking your way until you started watering your little peach tree. You looked up at me and smiled, then you started talking my ear off about peaches. Now every time I see one, I think of you. So I just started calling you that.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, you never realized that there was a deeper meaning behind the little pet name all this time. You had actually assumed it was for another reason entirely.

“Ohh.” You say in realization, bringing your fingers up to to your flustered face. “I’m so embarrassed…”

“Because of what I said?” He asked, his brows knitting together.

“No.” You laugh. “I thought you called me that because of something else.”

“Why did you think I called you that?” He questioned, a curious smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Because of my butt.” You reply rather bluntly. “That’s why John got so upset when he found out that you were calling me that. He thought you were checking me out.”

“Firstly, John’s an idiot.” Matt slurred out, earning yet another giggle from you. “And second, yeah, I do.”

“Do what?” You ask, your brows furrowing together in slight confusion.

“Check you out.” Matt admitted with a shrug, “You have a nice ass. Nice and round, just like a peach.”

Although the alcohol was running its course through him, he was still in somewhat control of what slipped out of his mouth. The only difference was that his sober mind would have preferred to keep that last bit of information private, in fear of making you feel uncomfortable.

But, you had felt the exact opposite. You had found his slurred, drunken speech flattering. You nervously shifted your weight between the cushions, trying your best to contain this giddy feeling that bubbled up inside you.

Your eyes shot up to look at him as he cleared his throat, hoping that he didn’t accidentally step over any boundaries.

“My turn.” He finally spoke in a raspy voice, ready to change the subject.

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you ever wear your ring?” He asks.

“Well,” You began, drawing in a breath. “That’s another long story.”

“I’ve got time.” He grinned, mocking your previous tone, to which you sarcastically laugh.

“It’s about you, actually.” You reply, hoping that would drive him away from the conversation but it only intrigued him more.

“Now I gotta know, c’mon spit it out.” He chuckled.

“Alright, alright.” You giggled nervously, “We had gotten into a really heated argument a few weeks back…”

All of a sudden a heavy lump started to form in your throat and you could feel warm tears starting to prick their way through the corners of your eyes. No way, you were about to cry in front of Matt.

You raised your hand up to your face, quickly wiping away any forming tears before they had the chance to roll down your flushed cheeks. He took your shaky hand in his and gently started to stroke the top of your skin with his thumb. You took a deep inhale before telling him more.

“I won’t go too much into detail about it, but basically he told me… that I should stop talking to you… because it was obvious that you were just trying to use me.” You choked out, as memories of that night began rushing in.

You saw Matt’s brows furrow together, his face scrunching up in protest. His lips parted slightly to give you a response but he could tell that there was more and let you speak.

“He also said that even if you did… you know… you would regret it soon after because I’m older than you. And that you probably weren’t into that sort of thing.” You mumbled.

“That is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” He blurted out.

“Which part?” You sniffled.

“All of it.” He replied. The cushions underneath the two of you shifted as Matt adjusted his weight between them. He sat up straight now, both of your hands resting in the gentle grasp of his much larger ones.

“Peach, you’re the most kind and generous woman I know, you make my day better whenever I see you. You’re beautiful inside and out, and I hate that you let him stomp all over you like that.” He continued, most of his words were a blur as they sloshed together.

You suppressed a laugh as you caught a whiff of the fruity alcoholic scent that still lingered on his breath, he was drunk as hell.

But you didn’t care, the way he held you close and how his eyes locked so intensely with yours made up for it. He was babbling on and on about how shitty of a husband John was, yet your focus was set right on his lips— the most taunting of pink. You couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel pressing tender kisses into your skin. You want to feel his lips on yours, you needed to know what that felt like.

However, you were soon pulled out of your sinful thoughts once you felt the warmth of his hands vanish. You watched him throw them up in disbelief as he continued on, “I wouldn’t even be surprised if… nevermind.”

“What?” You question, “Go on, say it.”

“Nothing, peach. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged off, growing embarrassed as he realized just how carried away he had gotten.

“C’mon, Matt.” You whine, your palm falling on top of his thigh. The sudden contact had caught him off guard and you could feel the muscles in his leg tense up below you. His eyes shot up to your glassy ones, hoping that he wasn’t the only one who felt a burning desire brewing inside of him. “Please.”

You could feel him relax a bit once he drew in a sharp inhale, thinking of what exactly he should say next without coming across as too vulgar.

“Does he even..” Matt began, being sure to choose his words carefully. “Does he even please you? Like, really satisfy your needs?”

“Like… sexually?” You muttered, being sure to get the clarification out of the way to make sure that you weren’t misinterpreting his words.

“Yeah,” He replied, his speech started to slur again as he mumbled, “Since he wants to keep my name in his mouth. I’d show you that an old man can’t do your body like I can.”

Matt was rambling again. If he hadn’t stepped over any boundaries before then he most definitely has now. You pulled your palm away from him, resting both of your hands back down in your lap. Shit, he was sure he had fucked this up now.

“Sorry.. I’m just really drunk right now.” He groaned. “You don’t have to answer tha-”

“No.” You interrupt, catching him by surprise. “He doesn’t.”

“Are you serious?” He replied, his brows raising up in shock. You nodded, to which he laughs in disbelief, not even knowing what he should say next.

“You want me to show you?” Matt spoke, his suggestive words came tumbling out as if he had them stored in his mind the moment he walked through your front door.

“Show me what?” You ask, slightly confused by his offer.

“What real pleasure feels like.” He coaxed, “How good sex can feel when it’s with the right person.”

Butterflies fluttered all through your stomach and your mouth went dry, bringing your shy gaze up to his primal look. His eyes spoke for himself, you could feel the desire radiating off of him and the feeling was overwhelmingly mutual.

Your fingers wrapped around his arm as you shifted over, as if there was some magnetic pull that tempted you to get even closer to Matt. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, the tips of your noses grazing against each other’s ever so slightly.

You brought your stare back up to his, feeling tingles trickle down your spine before whispering, “My age doesn’t bother you? You really don’t mind that you’re younger?”

“Of course not.” He coaxed. “I’m a young man, but my dick’s grown up.”

“Yeah?” You reply, inching your lips dangerously close to his. He nodded, “Then prove it.”

The elastic band of the arising sexual tension had finally snapped the moment he smashed his lips into yours. Wasting no time at all as he kissed away at you as if you were to slip away from his hands.

But you wouldn’t dare, you hadn’t felt this eagerness—such passion—from a man in what felt like ages. You were like a dry savanna awaiting for the smallest droplet of water.

You could feel the lust radiating from him as he made sure to show it in every action. That’s when you had finally realized just how long he has desired to have you in his grasp.

It was exhilarating.

You melted into his soothing touch, feeling safe and content in his arms. The soft pads of his fingertips slid up past the hem of your top, his warm palms resting right at the dips in your waist. He was testing the waters, seeing how far you would allow him to go. He’d be lying if he still wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of taking this “too far”.

But it was much too late for that now.

You craved Matt in all the ways imaginable.

One your hands dropped down lower, your delicate fingers grazing along the rough material of his jeans. You eased your palm down, pressing gently against his thigh. You could feel the muscles in his leg beginning to tense up once again.

You pulled a low groan from the brunette as your curious hand inched up closer and closer towards his groin—agonizingly slow.

By his body language and constant noises you could only assume that Matt wasn’t the type to enjoy being teased. But the way he squirmed underneath your touch had only encouraged you to want to do more.

You made sure to swallow each little plea that slipped out from him. Your palm now glued to the growing, aching erection in his pants.

There was nothing left to focus on, no distractions or obstacles standing in your way to keep the two of you apart. You had finally managed to have him all to yourself.

Matt was unbearably hard now. His fingers dug into your skin as he shamelessly started grinding himself against your hand. He knew without a doubt that if you kept this up, he’d have an embarrassing spill that he would never be able to live down.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the living room grew stuffy and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Your bodies were ablaze and your clothes felt restricting against your flesh.

The warmth of his hands disappeared as they slipped out from underneath your shirt. His fingers came to the surface of your top, pinching at the soft fabric of the hem before finally pulling away from your luscious lips.

“Is this okay?” He whispers in a husky breath.

“Yes,” You reply with a huff, “Take it off, please.”

Your top was gone in an instant as Matt eagerly slipped it over your head and tossed it onto the plush rug lying on the floor. His lips curled up into a flustered grin, taken by surprise at the lacy, black bra that squeezed tightly around your breasts.

He would have never guessed that you were wearing such scandalous lingerie underneath your oversized tee. Now having the knowledge that you were wearing it during the entirety of the conversation had his dick twitching in his pants.

He couldn’t wait to get his hands on your baggy sweats to reveal the answer to his burning question: if you had matching panties on underneath.

“You wore this just for me, peach?” Matt whispered, leaving you shuddering as the warmth of his palms traveled up past your ribcage. The delicate material of the lace intertwined between his fingers as he cupped both your tits in his hands.

“I want to take my time with you,” He begins with a muttering tone. His dark strands of hair brushed against your chest as he brought himself down lower, “But you’re making it really hard for me… makes me want to tear your clothes right off.”

You whine at his lewd choice of words, combing your fingers through his scalp. You pulled your bottom lip behind your teeth as Matt pressed sloppy, tender kisses against the swelling tops of your breasts.

You squirmed with each kiss that he gave you, his lips sinking down into your warm, plush skin. He continued fondling them in his hands, being sure to stay a man of his word and take things slow.

Although there was a voice in the back of his mind that screeched at him to claw away at the rest of your clothes he chose to ignore it. You were special to him, he wanted to cherish and savor this moment. And he wanted to be sure that you were aware of that.

His glossy eyes flickered up at you, adoring your rosy cheeks and hooded gaze. He pulled yet another whine from you as he flattened his tongue against your chest, licking a stripe up from your exposed cleavage and stopping right at the most sensitive bit on the side of your neck.

He left a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat before pulling away and giving your lips the same attention.

His large hands slithered back down to squeeze at your waist. This kiss was far more hungry, more desperate than before. A heated mess between slippery tongues and clashing teeth.

Even though you admired and appreciated him for taking things slow, you couldn’t take it anymore. There was a burning, itching desire brewing up inside of you that only Matt could satisfy.

Deep down you knew it was awful. You should be ashamed by the way you latched yourself onto your neighbor the moment after finding out that your husband wouldn’t be home. But being with Matt now just felt so right—and so terribly good.

Your hand dropped back down to his lap. Only this time, your hand went straight for his belt instead of the very obvious tent that protruded out from his pants.

Your brows furrowed together, letting out a strangled moan. Growing frustrated as your fingers unsuccessfully fumbled around with the silver buckle of his belt.

You could feel him smile against your lips, amused at how desperate you were to get him out of his pants. He finally pulled away from you, letting go of your hips and brought his hands down to meet yours.

The buckle clinked as he easily unlatched it, you watched as he yanked the leather belt through each tiny loop that was placed around the waist of his jeans.

You glanced down as it hit the floor, joining your shirt. It felt like Matt’s movements were excruciatingly slow, you began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose.

Your heart raced against your chest as he finally plucked the silver button out of the slit and slowly began sliding down the zipper—the satisfying noise ringing in your ears as he did so.

He tugged both layers of his clothes just low enough for his cock to spring out. Your eyes quickly fixated on him, widening at the sight.

He was much thicker than you had imagined, longer too. His tip matched the faint rosy hue that spread across his cheeks, twitching just the slightest as the cool air conditioning spewed throughout the room.

You shift nervously against the couch, your breath hitching in your throat as you notice the thick vein that ran along the side of him.

Matt’s eyes flickered up to your meek expression, chuckling lightly as he spoke, “Getting shy on me now?”

Before your lips could part to give him a proper response, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, slowly guiding your hand down to his dick. A low groan seeped out from him as he felt your delicate touch wrap around him so sweetly.

“It’s not that..” You finally reply, running your hand up his length with a weak, timid fist.

“What is it then?” Matt asked, meeting your eyes.

“You’re just…” You began to say, only to quickly avert your eyes away from him, “…much bigger than what I thought you were.”

“What you thought or what you’re used to?” Matt teased. A flustered expression took over your face as you squeezed around his base at his snarky remark towards your husband. “Sorry, sorry.” He joked.

You loosened your grip around him, bringing your eyes over to his. The same smile still spread from ear to ear, “Mhm. I suppose you were right about what you said earlier, then.”

Your sweet, buttery tone ran all throughout his nerves. You could feel his muscles loosening, finally allowing himself to melt into your touch as you slowly started pumping him. Only for you bring your movements to a halt just mere seconds later.

He watched you with lazy eyes as your knees spread apart, getting into a more comfortable position before lowering your head down towards his lap. Your lips now dangerously close to his aching tip.

You could feel your ears growing hot as Matt never took his stare away from you. Although the view wasn’t all that he imagined it would be, since the majority of your hair swept right in front of what he wished to see the most—your face.

He let out a low huff, bringing his shaky hand down towards your head. His thick fingers looped underneath your dangling strands of hair and gently brushed them out of the way by tucking it behind your ear. You glanced up at him with doe-like eyes and flushed cheeks as you spat out a generous amount of saliva onto his tip.

His nose scrunched up and his nostrils flared out, watching your eyes drop back down to what was in front of you. Clear, tiny bubbles trickled down his member, pooling up around his base. Your hand still slowly pumping him like before, making sure to get him nice and saturated before finally taking him into your mouth.

“Fuck.” Matt cursed under his breath, sinking down into the soft cushions.

His brows knitted together as his teeth drew back on his bottom lip, watching as you took him in as deep as you could. You could feel him tense up below you as he felt your tongue slither against him, slowly bobbing your head up and down. Your lips wrapped around him so perfectly and the warmth of your mouth had his fingers clawing into the armrest of the couch.

“So pretty, baby, so fucking pretty.” He mumbles in a drunken slur, his sugary words encouraging you to slightly quicken your movements.

Your back arched at the slightest, the imprint of your spine dipping down as your ass hiked up in the air. Your eyes fluttered closed, palming the rest of him that you couldn’t fit down your throat.

Matt could feel his pulse pounding into his ears, taken away by all the pleasure. Goosebumps raised up from your skin, feeling his fingertips stroke their way up and down you back in an almost loving manner.

It took everything in him to not thrust himself up into your mouth, desperate to know what it would sound and look like for you to gag around his cock.

But if he were being honest with himself, there was no way he was going to be able to last a second longer with the way you were moving.

His heavy breathing becoming more rapid and his noises came tumbling out. You could feel his veins throbbing against your tongue as you continued—he was awfully close.

“Shit… h-hold on..” Matt whined, the hand that was once on your back now tugging you up by the hair, gently pulling your mouth away.

You peered up at him with glossy eyes, a thin trail of saliva connecting your swollen lips down towards his dick.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled timidly, wiping away the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand, “Should we stop?”

“God no,” Matt huffed out with a smirk, “I was just wondering if you would be more comfortable on the bed instead?”

“Oh,” You reply, sitting up straight now. You pondered his offer for a moment before agreeing with a nod.

“Yeah?” Matt whispers, a grin starting to grow on his face to which you nod again with a smile of your own. His fingers dug into the couch, looping under you as he lifted you up with ease and carried you towards the bedroom.

*ೃ༄

“Fuck, Matt..” You whine, “..don’t stop.”

Both of your clothes were scattered along the floor in a matter of seconds, not even bothering to shut the bedroom door in the process.

The soft amber light from the lamp gave your nude bodies a golden, angelic-like hue as you were both entangled between your silky bedsheets.

Matt’s large hands were wrapped around both of your thighs, spreading them apart so that his face nestled right where you had craved him the most. His tongue moved in a sensual rhythm, sucking and swirling against your swollen clit.

The alcohol still lingering in his system gave him the courage to peer up at you, his primal stare admiring your flustered face that was twisted up in pleasure. A sense of pride washed over him, feeling proud of himself—and rather cocky—knowing that he was able to make you feel this good while you husband was out doing god knows what.

Your trembling hands made their way towards him, nestling your fingers into his dark, wavy strands. He finally dropped his intimidating gaze, groaning against your core as you tugged away at his hair.

Various moans and cries fell from your lips. Your grip against his scalp subtly grew tighter, but he didn’t mind, in fact it only turned him on more. Your entire body squirmed in his hands, back arching up from the mattress as the elastic band in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment.

Your legs began trembling and your toes curled in against your soles. Your voice now much higher than it was before as you warned him of your arising orgasm.

It wasn’t long before you had released into his mouth, his rough stubble brushing against your inner thighs as they squeezed around his face. Leaving Matt’s cheeks a faint flushed pink, his ears grew hotter by the second as he peered up at you again.

Once you had caught your breath, your legs weakly fell open, allowing him enough space to stay between them as he crawled up towards you. His hands rested on either side of your face as he pressed a few lazy kisses against your lips. You whimpered against him when you felt his tip accidentally brush against your slick folds.

He caught onto your whiny hint, chuckling slightly as his dominate hand slid down between your bodies. His thick fingers wrapped around the base, aligning himself with your entrance before slowly pushing himself inside of you.

Your brows furrowed together as he wrapped his arms around you. A spew of broken moans slipped out from you as he began slowly thrusting into you. Your palms flattened against his back as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, pressing even more kisses down your throat.

His low groans and soft whines filled your ears as kept the same sensual pace. Your thighs shook with each movement he made before you finally decided to wrap your legs around his waist.

The combination between that subtle action and the sweet sound of your voice ringing in his ears was slowly becoming too much for him to bare. His orgasm already creeping up on him.

He picked up the pace of his thrusts, now lazily ramming his hips down into yours at a sloppy speed. His forehead pressed against yours as his eyes locked into your glossy ones.

He smirked knowing that he was the cause of you feeling this way, that he could fuck you better than your own pathetic husband.

“You’re squeezing around so me so tight, baby. Gonna cum for me already?” Matt breathed out cockily through his quick movements, your nails clawing down his back.

He watched as you struggled to form a coherent sentence before dropping his hand down lower. The pad of his thumb pressing against your puffy clit as he cooed, “I know, c’mon and let it out sweet girl.. you’ve earned it.”

“Oh, Matt.. fuck!” You cried out shortly after, your back arching from the bed. You trembled beneath him as you came for the second time tonight.

Your legs remained low around his waist, assisting him with his messy, drunken movements. His lips pressed down into yours, wasting no time to slip his tongue past your swollen lips.

Your nails dug into his back and your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his warm cum gushing out and spilling into you. Your legs tightened around his waist, gently pushing him further into your core, filling you up to the brim with his seed.

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sincerelyneo · 27 days

Text

no judgement | l.mk

“i can be your lover or your shoulder to cry on, you can be whoever you like”

💿now playing: no judgement by niall horan

❯ summary: Mark’s shocked to see you at his front door step crying, but he isn’t surprised. You do this all the time - get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute that asshole dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. And he will. He always does.

❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader (brief mention of yuta)

❯ genre: friends to strangers to lovers? smut, angst

❯ words: 4.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, protected sex, lowkey sub!mark, hookup, rebound sex, glasses kink, big dick mark bc yes, oral sex (m receiving), nipple play, slight begging, yuta is an asshole for the plot, reader is also kinda mean, mentions of cheating (not between mark + y/n), slight unrequited love, use of ‘pretty girl’, reader uses she/her pronouns.

Mark thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. I mean - it would make sense - the last time he’d checked the clock on his desk it was 12:17 am. So, there’s no way the light knocking on his front door is really happening…right?

He tries to focus on the papers in front of him - a work assignment that was due last week that he’d already managed to get an extension on. He knows his boss will have his balls if he doesn’t have it completed and on his desk by 8:00 am sharp tomorrow (today).

However, Mark’s fears of premature insanity are put to a quick end this time when the knocking is paired with an unnecessarily loud yelling through his letter box.

“Mark Lee if you don’t open this door right now, I swear I’ll kick your ass the next time I see you.”

Now that - the sound of your voice - wasn’t in his imagination.

You bang harder, clear that you're using a fully clenched fist to make as much noise as possible. “I’m serious dude, I’ve kicked your ass before, and I’ll do it again. Now open. The. Door.”

Mark knows he should just ignore you, pretend that he’s sleeping and focus on his work; but, he hasn’t seen you in months, and you are supposed to be his best friend after all. He can’t just leave you out on the street at this hour — he won’t — what sort of friend would he be?

He rises from his desk, removes his glasses, and places them gently on the wooden surface before pinching the bridge of his nose.

You knock (pound) again.

“‘Alright alright, jeez, I’m coming,” he says, followed by a small curse as he ushers through his hallway to the front door.

As he swings the door open, he’s almost hit with a nasty sucker punch to the cheek as you simultaneously raise your fist to knock again.

“Woah there, calm down, you’re gonna get me a noise complaint,” he flinches.

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” you point to the house next door, “That woman has been glaring at me from her window since I got here.”

Mark peers out of his house, the cold night air nipping at the tips of his ears, and sees his neighbour looking down shaking her head disapprovingly at him. He raises his hand in a feeble apology, with a tight-lipped smile to ease the edge, but it doesn’t, he knows it doesn’t and he knows he’s going to have to do a lot of ass kissing in the morning.

“Well, Mrs Kim and her husband have just had a baby.”

He watches you shrug then grimace, “How was I supposed to know that? They didn’t have one the last time I was here.”

It’s now when Mark takes in the person standing in front of him, a mere silhouette of his childhood best friend. You’re barefoot, which already raises questions in his mind, and a bottle of wine is in your hand. Your hair is dishevelled and mascara smudged under the bottom of your eye – which makes sense since he can see the faded redness from where he knows you’ve been crying.

“So, you gonna let me in or what? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Well obviously, Mark thinks, you’re wearing nothing but a short black dress, covered by a thin sheer blazer leaving your legs completely bare in the middle of winter. Your teeth chatter and he has to suppress the smile threatening to dance on his lips because it reminds him of when the two of you used to mess around in the snow during winter break back in high school.

But he pushes those memories to the side, just like his front door, as he makes enough room for you to slip into his house. As you step inside, you waste no time making yourself comfortable - old habits die hard you guess - remembering how things used to be.

You remove the blazer you're wearing and walk over to Mark's desk, draping it over the back of his chair. Your eyes fall on the sheets of paper scattered across the surface, partially covered by his glasses. You recall that he had stopped wearing them during junior year, opting for contacts instead - a decision you found disappointing. You had always liked his glasses; they made him look kind of... cute.

“I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

Yes.

“Nah, not really,” Mark shrugs following in from behind you.

“Really?” You ask picking up a sheet of paper as you raise an eyebrow, “Marketing campaign for neo gummies, on my desk Monday 8:00 am.”

There’s a smile on your face as you read it because it’s nice to know that the Mark standing in front of you is the same as the one you grew up with. He was always the last person to hand in his college assignments, and school science projects; but don’t get it wrong, he’d always ace them.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve basically finished it.”

Mark’s lying, and you can easily tell by the way his arm reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. It's a mannerism you've become aware of, noticing how he used to do it when you asked him for his opinions on some of your uglier fashion choices throughout high school.

“You sure?” You add, “I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your boss or anything. Especially now that you live in this fancy-ass townhouse, your mortgage payments must be crazy.”

Mark shakes his head with a smile, reaching for his glasses and putting them back on. “They’re not that crazy…”

You give him a knowing look, his living room alone is practically the size of most apartments in the city. But you didn’t expect anything less from him, he’d always worked hard for everything he had. He graduated with flying colours, found a high-paying job after college, bought a nice house; and you’re sure that one day he’d secure himself a nice girl to live in it with him.

What you’re trying to say is Mark Lee had something to show for himself, which is more than you can say after you took a more leisurely approach to college. Mark had always worked a little too hard for your liking, or maybe you just worked a little too easy for his. Either way, he’s the one with his life put together and you’re just…standing barefoot in his living room, looking a mess, with a bottle of alcohol in your hand.

“Well then, since I’m not imposing, how ‘bout a drink?” You suggest, waving the bottle of wine in the air in an attempt to win him over and distract yourself from your own reality. As shitty as it sounds, you come to Mark to escape the chaos of your own life, so dwelling on comparisons isn't something you want to keep doing.

For Mark though, he knows he shouldn't indulge in a drink – after all, the work assignment on his desk is practically begging to be completed. But he's always struggled to say no to you, and he's well aware that you know that too. It's why you're so comfortable knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning when most of the city is asleep; you know he'll always open up for you.

And that’s exactly why he’s heading into his kitchen and rooting through his cabinets until he finds two wine glasses.

When he comes back into the living room, he finds you standing by the fireplace. It's not unusual, considering you were freezing just moments ago on his doorstep from your attire. However, what catches him off guard is that you're not warming yourself by the fire; instead, you're holding a picture – Mark's favourite one – taken by his parents on the day you got your wisdom teeth removed.

"No way you kept this," you groan, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Of course I did. You were completely out of it on anaesthesia, going on about marrying Lee Taemin," Mark replies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, remembering the way you sent the hot senior you had a crush on in your freshman year a DM in your high state. “Oh gosh, don’t remind me.”

But truthfully, that's not the sole reason Mark kept that picture, or why he still chooses to display it despite having hundreds of clearer, better ones of the two of you together. He treasures that particular photo because it was the day you told him you loved him – although you never brought it up again. Mark pins it down to you not remembering from the anaesthetic, but that photo, it’s the last slither of hope he has left.

“Well, I must say, Mark Lee, you have had quite the glow-up since your high school days,” you laugh putting the picture back on the fireplace.

Mark can't believe his cheeks are warming up as if he were that same teenager – pathetic, he thinks. And he wants to say the same about you, but he hardly recognizes you. You're a completely different person from the girl in the picture, and while he loves you, truly, it doesn't change the fact that you're a mess sitting before him.

To his defence, it's impossible not to notice it; he saw it the moment he opened the door and saw your smudged makeup and raw eyes – you’re defeated. And even though he knows precisely why, he still asks.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?"

You swallow, “Can’t I just come and see my best friend?”

“No, you can’t.”

His words carry a double-edged sword, both an accusation directed at you and an expression of the hurt he's experienced from your repeated instances of ghosting him over the last few months.

You begin pouring yourself a generous glass of the wine you brought along. If you were going to have this conversation with him, you weren't about to do it sober.

“Yuta broke up with me.”

And there it is. You always do this – get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute the asshole in question dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces.

And Mark hadn't forgotten the name Yuta; in fact, it had been seared into his mind ever since you posted a picture with him on your Instagram account, looking all lovey-dovey. And then Mark had gone into full stalker mode – because of course he did – he always did. But the thing with Yuta was that he was one step ahead. One particularly awful day at work, when Mark wanted to check your account, he found himself blocked.

Honestly, Mark doesn’t blame Yuta, he’d be lying if he said all his thoughts about you were completely innocent, but you’d never blocked him over a guy before. He's accustomed to the isolation, the ghosting, and the personality changes that come with you getting a new boyfriend; but being digitally blocked by you was a new low. It's safe to say Mark had already formed his opinion about your new ex-boyfriend: he was definitely an asshole.

"Why did he break up with you?" he asks, not out of genuine concern, but rather out of selfish relief. Still, he knows it's the right thing to do.

“He found someone else, or I found him fucking someone else,” you spit bitterly, “and do you know what? That fucker didn’t even give me a chance to grab my shoes before he kicked me out.”

You take a long gulp from your glass, the liquid burning slightly as it goes down your throat, and then you flop back on the sofa. Your movements are heavy, weighed down by more than just the alcohol in your system. As you sink into the cushions, a wave of emotion crashes over you, threatening to engulf you completely. It's a moment of vulnerability that you've been holding back, and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. You try to fight them, push down the rising tide of emotions, but it's futile.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassures, quickly taking a seat beside you on the sofa and resting a gentle hand on your thigh, where he begins to rub small, soothing circles into your skin, just like he used to do. "You can stay here tonight."

You groan into your hands, you can’t believe you're acting like this – pathetic – and it has you immediately defensive. “Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, so quiet Mark almost misses it.

“Like what?”

“All judgy.”

“When have I ever judged you, Y/N?” he questions, his tone gentle, “I’m always your shoulder to cry on, we’re past the judgement stage,”

"I don't cry that much," you protest weakly.

“Well…” he starts, that teasing look in his eye you love.

In response, you push his chest playfully, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Because you’ve missed this – missed him.

And that’s the part that always stings the most: how effortlessly you two slip back into each other's company. Despite not speaking for a couple of months, it's like you didn’t lose any time. And perhaps that's why Mark finds it so easy to keep forgiving you, and why you find it so natural to slide in and out of his life and then expect him to mend your broken heart.

Mark grabs the hand you used to push his chest and looks at you seriously but gently, “Seriously, Y/N, you can just be yourself with me, just like it’s always been.”

His words resonate with you, stirring something deep within the pit of your stomach. You meet his gaze with glossy eyes, and in that moment, you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion. Without hesitation, you lean in and press your lips to his.

It's a tender kiss, soft and sweet just how you expected Mark’s lips to be. And he melts into it just as much as you do, if not more so. It’s like he craves it, like he’s hungry for it. And he is because you – his first-ever crush, the girl he’s been in love with since he could remember – is pressing her lips to his. The teenager in him is jumping up and down right now.

Just as you're about to deepen the kiss, your face bumps into his glasses, causing both of you to pause as they sit askew on his face. Mark blushes and begins to fumble with them, but just as he's about to take them off, your hand wraps around his and stops him.

“Mmmm. Keep ‘em on,” you bite your lip as you reposition them on the bridge of his nose. “I like them.”

“I didn't realize you had a glasses kink,” he teases.

“Neither did I...just like them on you.”

That triggers something inside of him because his tongue lightly sweeps over your bottom lip where he nips it with his teeth. One of his hands reaches up to cup the nape of your neck; the other finds its way to the hem of your dress, intrusive fingers brushing over your bare skin, making you gasp.

He stills.

Did he just fuck this up? Was he reading it wrong?

There’s a fraction of a beat where you just breathe against him, and Mark feels a twinge of self-consciousness. And just when he’s about to apologise, you dive into him and all reservations are thrown out the window as you give him the green light.

His hand wraps around your waist and he pulls you over his lap to straddle him. It gives him all the access he needs to grab your thighs and lift you up as he stands. He keeps your lips connected as he wraps your legs around his waist, pressing into you just enough to feel the swelling in his crotch.

If you thought he was hungry for it before, now he’s starving.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your breasts crushing against his chest. Your hips start to move against him without any control, almost like it’s instinctual. You suck on his tongue and he groans. And God if it isn’t the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he says into your mouth, “Are we really doing this?”

You smile against his lips, “We’re doing this.”

You both take that as a confirmation to go harder, kissing like you’ve been starved of each other for years, and Mark supposes you have. His body moulds to yours and you feel his hand wander to your ass making your dress lift as he carries you out of the living room.

When you see him heading for the staircase you know exactly where his head is at, and when he opens his bedroom door with you still in his arms, you feel wetness pool right between your legs.

He drops you on the bed so gently and carefully not to hurt you – because even though he’s so goddamn horny right now – he’s still Mark. When your back hits the whites of his sheets it gives you a moment to look at him, his chest is heaving, lips swollen and cheeks flush. His hair is tousled and it makes your blood run cold.

He looks like pure sex. Hot sex. Good, filthy, all-night-long sex. And you want him, more than you’ve ever wanted any man before in your life.

Mark kneels on the bed in the space between your legs, coming close enough to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, and you wonder if he sees you the same way you see him right now. He brushes your cheek gently with his thumb and you lean into his caress and plant a small kiss against his palm.

His lips meet yours again as his hands slip between you two. They glide up your leg, to your stomach to under your dress, where he finds you not wearing a bra as your nipples pebble under his rough hands.

Instinctively, your arms stretch over your head, reluctantly breaking the kiss so he can tug the material off and over you, lips crashing back together as you roll your hips into his with desperation and need.

Mark groans when he pulls away to look at your naked chest in front of him, it’s a picture he thinks. One that needs to be hung up in an art gallery or some shit – actually now that he thinks about it – he hates the idea of you being on display like that for someone else.

His fingers wind themselves in your hair, a delightful shiver skittering along your body as you soften into his touch. You can’t help but grin suggestively as you look him in the eyes, top teeth holding down on your lower lip as your hands creep low enough to hook into the band of his pyjama bottoms.

Mark practically whimpers as your hand teases at the elastic, “Please.”

The plea has you smiling wider, knowing exactly what he wants. You remove his bottoms without a second thought, the same time he strips from his t-shirt. His cock springs free, thick and long and straining so eagerly for you.

You get a thrill knowing you’re the one who’s made him this hard and that makes you want to please him badly. So you do, taking control and flipping him over to be underneath you. He gasps at the motion and then he almost cums untouched at the sight of you kneeling between his legs, lowering yourself down just enough to kiss the tip of his cock.

The teasing touch sends a chill right through him. He leans back on his arms just to see you, eyebrows strained as he concentrates, glasses slightly fogged – he wants to remember exactly what you look like like this. You’re intoxicating, strong enough for him to get drunk on.

“So pretty,” he murmurs under a soft breath and you blush.

You lick your lips, focusing on his cock, flattening your tongue from the base all the way up to his head, where the slit is leaking with pre-cum. You hear him suck in a breath and it makes you smile.

You like knowing he’s needy, teasing him to ignite small reactions, but continuing to do so would only be hell for you; because right now you want nothing more than to suck on his cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever taste.

You wrap your hand around his shaft and don’t waste another second before your mouth is sinking to suck on him. You manage all you can – there’s a lot of him – and use your fingers to move up the length you don’t swallow, stroking him painstakingly slow.

As you kiss and lick at him, Mark is going mad because it’s your mouth. Your mouth is wet and hot and currently wrapped around him good enough that his thighs have started trembling.

It’s not long before his hands find your hair and he helps you to slide more of his cock inside, knowing exactly when to stop instead of making you take too much. But he’s big and thick and your mouth barely covers him – which he hates – it feels like a reminder that he’s not made for you.

The thought has him letting out a growl, which catches you by surprise from the whimpering mess he was seconds ago. The grip he has on your hair tightens.

“Fuck, Y/N, suck me harder…” The dirty words sound dominant at first, but they trail off as you continue sucking on him, a lot like you’re melting him, and you fucking love that idea.

The thought of having him be so desperate for you is making you wetter and needier. And it’s that need that has you reaching up to graze his nipples with your fingers. Mark finds the chill of your cold digits distinctive, responding with a mewl that rings between the walls of his room.

You can't believe such a small touch makes him so…responsive.

Every tug on his sensitive peak is enough to pull a sound from his pink lips, enough to make him writhe his hips and edge his cock further into your mouth.

You twist and pinch and watch as Mark’s face twists in the feeling, mouth dropping open to release a stuttered breath. It’s so sensual - so carnal.

You pull off his cock with a sickening pop, looking up at him with spit-covered lips. “Who would have guessed your nipples would be so sensitive?”

Your hand stays at a steady pace, stroking him slowly as you speak. Mark shivers from the loss of your warm mouth around him, but there’s still a part of him that’s glad you stopped. But not because he doesn’t want this — he does, so badly — but because he was starting to feel his cock’s overwhelming urge to twitch with his orgasm. And there was no fucking way he was going to cum before he’d even buried himself inside you.

In a cooling breath, he replies, “Only sensitive for you.”

Warmth flushes on your face, and the arousal soaking between your legs begs to soak his cock. He’s so cute when he is all red-faced and whiny, eyes closed tightly as his brows knit together. And you suppose his own state of neediness triggers yours.

“Want you inside of me now, Mark,” you pant, “Need it.”

“Fuck~” his voice drips like honey as he moans, hands moving to grab at your waist to flip you under him.

You push yourself further up the bed and he crawls after you. It’s only now he realises the lace barrier still on your skin standing between you and his cock. Your panties are dark blue and they look so pretty against your skin.

He leans down, kissing the inside of your knee, letting his fingers slip up your ankle to cradle your smooth calf.

“Sometime tonight,” you tease.

But Mark likes to go slow, he likes to savour in your sight, study your body to remember every detail for his next late-night fantasy. He wants to bask in you being so bare and so ready for him — not your ex-boyfriend — him.

He skims his hands further up your bare legs until he slides your underwear down and disregards them somewhere on the floor. Then, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, pressing your chests together skin to skin. He likes it like that — being so close and so intimate with you that it's almost raw.

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom. You don’t take your eyes off him once as he rips it open with his teeth and rolls it down the entirety of his length. Heat pools in your stomach because this is happening — and that makes your pussy throb.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside of you, breathless. You can’t help but sink your head back into the mattress, eyes closing.

“Eyes open.”

You lazily blink them open.

“Eyes always on me pretty girl,” he demands, thrusting into you.

You’ve never felt anything like him. You feel so full. He’s everywhere. Even your lungs and head are filled with him.

“Taking me so well pretty,” he groans.

His praise has you gushing, whining with the feeling of him stuffing you. It’s not awkward like the first time having sex with someone can be. It feels like you’ve always been doing this.

“You’re okay?” he asks.

He sounds calm, but you can see the restraint that he’s barely holding on to by the tightening in his jaw, and the tension in his brow.

“More than okay. Just fuck me, Mark. Please.”

He brushes his lips over yours and whispers, “Oh I plan to.”

You smile, but it’s quickly gone as he starts to move, fucking you slowly, then quicker and quicker, and harder and faster. The headboard is banging against the wall, surely denting it, and you know if the neighbours weren’t already pissed about your knocking they’d definitely be pissed now.

And selfishly, you can’t find it in you to give a shit because he’s like a machine, working thrusts into you at all the right angles to elicit sweet moans from your lips.

You’re panting and groaning like a bitch in heat. Mind fuzzy with euphoria as your flesh slaps loudly together. If college you knew that Mark Lee, your best friend, was about to give you an orgasm she would have laughed in your face.

But, God, the man can fuck.

He urges you onto his cock harder, clit rubbing against his pelvic bone, each time your hips connected in powerful thrusts.

“Oh God, Mark,” you try your best to keep your eyes open, but the pleasure is threatening to consume you.

“That’s it. Cum on my cock pretty girl. I won’t come until you do.”

The idea makes you want to hold off forever, let him fuck you for hours just to bask in the feeling of your closeness. However, your body disagrees with that sentiment, and suddenly you’re cumming hard.

“Shit,” he hisses, feeling your walls flutter around his length.

Mark doesn’t slow down though, he fucks you through your orgasm like a madman, hammering deep to the hilt to chase his high.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N…shit…fuck…” He growls a sound so erotic in your ear, you feel like you might cum again.

He sags onto you, his body heavy but not crushing, his skin warm against yours. You touch your fingers to his cheek.

“I don’t think I can move,” he says, breathless.

“So, don’t.”

The tips of Mark’s ears turn red at the suggestion, but eventually, he figures he needs to move — much to his dismay. He eases out of you, catching hold of the condom and pulling it off his cock. He rolls off of you and out of bed to put it in the trash before he’s back next to you, arms engulfing you in a hug.

You look up at him and he presses a kiss on your lips before pulling back. “Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I asked first.” He says.

“I’ll stay if you want me to stay.”

Liar.

Mark swallows, “Okay well, I’ll get us breakfast in the morning then, yeah?”

He says it but he knows come the morning you’ll have slipped out in the middle of the night because this isn’t the first time he’s had sex with you.

Mark has always been your rebound. Yes, he’s your best friend, but he’s also your favourite hookup call when your boyfriend’s being an asshole.

And he knew that when he first heard you knocking on his front door. He knows you'll never change – and strangely, he's content with that, he’s accepted it. Because even though he knows you'll move on again, he doesn't mind keeping your secrets safe until the next time when you want a man to heal your heart.

Because Mark will settle for being a pity fuck if it means he gets to be a constant in your life.

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #mark lee smut #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct imagines #nct hard hours #kpop smut #nct oneshot

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swanawil · 2 months

Note

sooo can I request some (romantic) Adam x reader w/Adam being insecure? Thank you💙

Adam's insecurities

A man that's lost two wives to the same man is bound to have some insecurities

Your first wife leaving you for the most hated man on the planet, and then your second wife cheating on you with that same most hated man on the planet tends to make one insecure.

Yet, you weren't sure if Adam just hid the insecurities, or if the insecurities just bounced off of that giant ego of his.

You froze when walking into the room. Usually, when entering a room Adam was in, whether you were alone or in public, you'd get a catcall from Adam. But you got nothing when walking into the main room of the apartment you guys had.

You looked at him on the couch. He was lazing on it like usual, his gaze fixed on the tv.

“Adam.” You spoke up, your voice stern.

“Huh?” He looked at you, “Oh, hey.” He looked back at the tv.

You looked down at your clothes. They were casual, obviously, you were at home. But the shirt you wore was pretty revealing, and it usually always got some type of compliment from him.

“Adam,” You said again.

“What?” He asked in an annoyed tone.

“What's your problem?” You asked.

“I don't have a problem.” He replied in the same annoyed tone.

You sighed, staring at him. You walked over and sat next to him on the couch.

“What's got my husband so down in the dumps, huh?” You asked softly, slowly moving a hand towards his mask, giving him more than enough time to protest before you slipped it off of his head and tossed it off of the couch into the floor. He had that annoyed scowl on his face.

“Look at you,” you smiled softly, giving him a few soft pecks on the lips as you let your hands wind into his hair, “my handsome man.”

He grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into his lap so you were straddling him, also pulling you deeper into the kiss. You kept your hands in his hair.

You knew he very well wouldn't stop, and this would transpire into more. And you would love that, you would. But you wanted to get to the bottom of what his problem was. Adam had a tendency to just use sex to get away from his problems and distract from them.

And that also meant you getting your guts pounded by him every time something frustrated or upset him.

You gave him a few pecks as you pulled away.

“So?” You asked.

“So what?” Adam asked, a bit upset you pulled away.

“What's your problem?” You asked again.

“Don't have one,” he responded. He leaned in to kiss you again. You didn't even indulge him with a peck, knowing he'd just refuse to let you pull away again.

You moved your hands to his cheeks, stopping him before he could kiss you again.

“Stop avoiding it, you obviously have a problem.” You gave him a knowing look.

He scoffed, looking away.

“Adam,” your voice was soft. He didn't reply. You moved his head to look at you again and you put your foreheads together. “Is it the wife thing?”

“I can't believe that ugly ass fucker took them,” Adam grumbled, looking into your eyes as you pulled your forehead away from his. “I mean, c'mon, what the hell do they see in him? Him! The most hated man ever. They chose that asshole over me? What the fuck!?” He threw his hands in the air.

“They were dumb,” you told him. You trailed a thumb across his cheek. “They were dumb then, and they're dumb now.”

“You're right. They are dumb!” He agreed. “Fuck them!”

“Yeah, and hey,” you caught his attention again. “You got me now. And I'll never leave you. Not in a million years.”

He stared at you for a moment. The tv started to take up the silence.

“God you make me so hard,” he smirked, “so, what's up sugartits?” There he was. The normal, cocky, and honestly kind of disgusting Adam.

“Ew, okay, ruined the moment,” You told him, beginning to get off of him. But you were pulled back down onto his lap by his arms around your waist.

“C’mon babe,” he smirked, whispering in your ear, “I'll show you just how much better I am than Lucifer.”

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel

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planeteroticaaa · 1 month

Text

"I WEAR YOUR SPARKLE, YOU CALL ME YOUR MAMA. LET ME PUT ON A SHOW FOR YOU, DADDY."

series m.list! — ♱. erotica

content warnings ! : cheating husbands, vulgar language, reader manipulating(?)/seducing men, reader walking these men like dogs, sexual descriptions, manager is an asshole & threatens reader with sex (doesn’t happen), pet names: daddy, baby girl, ma, mamas, etcc, overexaggerated ideas of torture (also doesn’t happen) because again, sukuna is a bad man, drugs, alcohol, stripclub/stripper, “bandz a make her dance” (like literally), sukuna’s kinda mean, but when isn’t he?? summary ! : It was another night at Planet Erotica. You were trying to make some extra money for your upcoming rent payment only, tonight wasn't really your best night. At least, it wasn’t until you were booked for a private dance by a mysterious man. word count ! : 4300+

You wore your signature sparkling, rhinestone littered red one piece halter lingerie set—the low neckline stopping a little below your belly button, the piece hugging you body, perfectly highlighting all your curves while the sides only covered enough to hide your nipples and made your breast sit up nice and pretty for the horny audience of men.

It left little to the imagination, though that’s what these men wanted, some going as far as to travel miles just to see you seductively run your hands up and down your body and teasingly bending over in front of them, the thong bottom tightly cupping your pussy whose essence they all wanted dripping down their chin or creaming all over their tiny dicks.

Your plump glossed lips puckering when you blew a kiss on your way out, or when you’d crawl on the stage floor up to the closest man and let him drag your bottom lip down with his thumb as he shoved a stack of bills in your boob. Anything to get a feel, right?

They weren’t able to take their eyes off you as you slowly twirled around the pole, flipped upside down with the back of your knee holding you up on the metal bar. Then when you’d let your arms fall back and switch to both hands on the pole, legs spread wide into a split. Or maybe you’d show off a bit—left leg close to your body while pushing against the pole, toes pointed and head back. It didn’t matter what you did, you always put them in a trance. A trance so deep they were willing to empty their pockets, risk their reputation, marriages, and everything else good they had going for them. Anything to catch a glimpse of “Scarlet”.

You smiled, blowing a kiss at the audience like you always did when your show was over and listening to the roars of the crowd. To say you didn't enjoy the idea of disgusting old men drooling and getting their dicks hard to the sight of you would be an understatement, however it was worth it seeing the money come in as being a waiter definitely didn't pay enough.

You picked up the cash, making sure not to leave a single bill on your way out and while it seemed like a lot in hand, you were rather disappointed once you started counting in the locker room. It wasn't necessarily bad, but you've had way better nights. You frowned, staring at the stack of bills in your hand and thinking over any possible way to make more. Maybe you can ask your boss if you could perform another show or entertain the married men? Because as much as you didn't like sitting on their laps, humping your pussy on their hard on while whispering filthy things into their ear, face in your tits as they moved their hands up and down your body, though never enough to actually place their dirty fingers anywhere near your cunt, you knew it was your second best option.

And so you went, many hungry eyes on your figure as you searched for tonight's plaything. You settled on a man who looked to be in his mid 40s. He had a wedding band visible adorning his left ring finger, an expensive black patterned suit and tie that made you guess he was coming right after work—probably told the wife and kids he'd be working a late shift like most slimy businessmen did.

He left the top 3 buttons of the white button up underneath the black blazer undone, showing the bush of hair he had covering his chest as he sat with his legs spread in the middle of the soft, black leather couch. His hair was thinning and he had a thick cigar between his lips, smoke blowing from his nose and open mouth as he talked to his colleagues. The rest of the men around him seemed just like him—rich, horny, and gullible and you could tell from the way they whistled and pointed their chins at you seeing you walk in their direction. You had your target, but fuck, did these guys make it easy.

"Hey boys, you enjoying yourselves?" you asked, hypnotizing them with the sway of your hips and seating yourself on your chosen guy's left leg. He quickly went from his leaned back spot on his phone, to sitting up, arms wrapped around your waist and pulling your body closer to his. He gazed up at you, smirking at you in a way that flashed all his gold teeth. A vile smirk that made your stomach churn—how could someone be so sickening?

You placed your hands on his shoulders and kicked your legs over his other leg, looking down at him from his spot against your breast. You watched as they circled around you, one even going as far as to sit close enough for your feet to be slightly touching him. "Hey sexy," the guy said, a hand now gripping your thigh.

"You looked so good up there," a guy standing behind the couch put his fingers under your chin to turn your head so that you could face him. He smiled at you, teeth stained by the tobacco he was chewing. It took you a bit when you first started to get used to the rather gross atmosphere clubs gave off because they definitely weren't like the movies and when your mind started to wander and notice every gross detail, the money became the only thing keeping you there.

You used to be unable to contain the faces you made when the men touched you with dirt under their nail or when they'd brag about how much better you were than their wife, but now you'd just cover your mouth and let out a short giggle and maybe playfully slap their arm after.

"You really think so? I feel like I could've done better," you looked up at the guy holding your chin big eyed, a pout forming on your lips. "Did those assholes up there not give you your money's worth, mhm?" he dragged this thumb across your bottom lip, watching you shake your head all doe eyed.

"Want daddy to take care of it?" the guy whose lap you were sitting on said to which you gave him your attention again and caressed his check, feeling the hair of his thick beard between your delicate fingers. "Please daddy, please take care of me," you laid your head on top of his, taking the same hand that caressed his cheek and dragging it down his chest. "Please make me feel better," you whispered, playing with the button of his shirt.

You watched him and the rest of the men around you search their pockets for their wallets and that was when you knew you had them. You let their rough hands grope your body, you let them run their credit cards dry on buying drinks for you that you didn't finish, but rather took sips of and poured it down their throats because the drunker they were, the more they ran to the ATM and came back with stacks in their hands to keep you with them longer. You let them put their noses in your neck, taking in your intoxicating scent as they left sloppy, wet kisses just below your neck, stuffing more bills inside your lingerie piece or into your open hand.

"Hey, want to make a hundred grand?" asked the guy beneath you in your ear, slurring his words with his hands gripping your waist to grind your clothed cunt on the tent in his dress pants. You let him drag his tongue and leave a trail of kisses from your collarbone up the behind your earlobe and as disgusting as his chapped lips felt against your skin, all you heard was him giving you the opportunity of a lifetime. "A hundred?" you repeated in a hushed voice.

"That's right, baby. And all you have to do is be a good girl for daddy," he whispered in your ear, his chest against the bare back as his fingertips faintly bushed against your clothed cunt. Oh...that's what he wanted.

Your manager hardly liked you doing what you were doing now, but sex with a customer? He'd be fucking livid—hell, he might even tell your boss. Though...then again, this was a hundred grand we were talking about. You bit your lip, contemplating what to do.

This man was absolutely vile—his hoarse voice in your ear, the stench of his breath his mint gum couldn't even suppress that was most likely the result of a lifelong supply of cigarettes, his dirty fingernails, his gold teeth. He was an unclean, unkempt man and his wedding band that shined in the dim lighting made your sick to your stomach as your mind filled with ideas of a beautiful wife at home taking care of a kid or two, clueless of the fact her husband wasn't working late like he said he would be.

You wanted to get up, take the bottle of beer he was drinking from, douse him over the head with it, and slap him right after. Though...you had bills that desperately needed to be paid and the money from before just wasn't going to cut it.

You turned your head to look him in the eyes and the smirk on his face plus the lust-filled look in his eyes told you all you needed to know. "I want fifty first and the rest after." "Make it twenty-five and you got yourself a deal," he said, his hand holding your chin to ensure your eyes don't wander elsewhere. "Thirty-five or nothing," you frowned and the man just chuckled.

"You make it so hard for me, baby girl," he whispered in your ear before cupping your pussy. You watched him take out his phone and go to his bank account, your heart racing at the idea that this could actually be happening. Hell, with thirty-five grand, you won't even need to fuck him. "How do you want me to send it?" he asked and before you could answer, you heard your manager calling out for you.

"Shit. . ." you cursed watching the pissed man walk up to you once he saw you. "Been looking for you for over half an hour and this is what you're doing?!" he said furious and all you could do was sigh, collect the stacks you were accumulating for the past hour and walk off.

"What I tell you about doing that shit?!" he shouted at you in a hushed voice, following alongside you as you left the group of men, not even looking back when the guy asked you if you'd be back. You didn't answer him, instead shutting him up inside the locker room when you split a stack in half and pushed it to his chest, shoving the rest in your black duffle bag.

"You were saying?" you crossed your arms over your chest, an eyebrow raised watching your manager try and count just how many twenties you handed him. There were many times you should've been fired for doing this, after all he was supposed to tell the boss anytime a rule was broken such as this one, though you always kept him quiet with money men gave you that were almost, if not, higher than his own monthly salary. It was either that, let yourself be fired, or offer up your body because he too was just as infatuated with you as the rest of them.

"This is less than what you normally give me," he frowned. "You say this after you just fucked my chance of thirty-five grand? Oh, you're lucky I gave you anything at all."

"And you're lucky I don't call the boss right now and have you fired or—" "Or have your way with me right here? I wish you would." The two of you glared at one another, the tension in the room thick as your hand gripped the pocket knife deep inside your duffle bag. With how dangerous Las Vegas was, you'd be stupid not to carry around anything for self defense. It wasn't called Sin City for no reason.

You watched him step back and sigh, folding the bills in half and shoving them in his back pocket. "You got a request for a dance," he sat down on the leather couch in the changing room. "That's what you're chasing me around for? I thought you said the boss stopped offering those," you sat down in one of the many makeup chairs, fixing yourself up.

"He did, but this isn't exactly someone you want to say no to." "Why?" you turned back, eyes slightly widening seeing the serious face your manager was making. "Because he'd probably sit and watch on some throne made of human bones as his minions skin me alive. Besides, the boss called and told me to approve it," he said, showing you his phone for proof which made you laugh.

"I'm serious Y/n! He's a very powerful man who could get away with whatever he pleases." "And what makes you think I'd want to give a lap dance to someone who—from the sound of it—would kill me if I didn't do it a certain way?" you asked, playing along with the bullshit spewing from his mouth. A throne of human bones? Torture? How many brain fucking drugs has this guy taken pervious years before you met him?

"He specifically requested you. I mean, who wouldn't?" he mumbled the last bit and you watched him look you up and down with red tinted eyes from whatever he was smoking all night. You spun back around in your chair, leaning forward to fix your lipliner and lipstick, rolling your eyes.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, seeing your manager walking up to you. His chest was against your bare back, leaning down to whisper directly into your ear despite you leaning your body to the side in an attempt to back away.

"He's offered me ten g's alone to ask you so whatever he's willing to give you for even going in there will be much more than that measly thirty-five thousand you were bitching about," he said, his words making you freeze. "That's absurd," you frowned, but were quickly convinced when he showed you the transaction in his bank account.

Your heart raced as you made your way to the private room and you started to take him a little more seriously seeing two tall, well built men in black suits and shades standing on either side of the door. Bodyguards to go to a strip club? Though maybe they were henchmen.

You reached your hand to knock on the door when one of them roughly grabbed your wrist, the other reaching his hand behind his back. Was he about to pull a gun on you? "What do you think you're doing?" he asked, gripping your wrist tight enough to potentially leave a bruise. "I was requested, you asshole! Now let go of me," you tried pulling your wrist back to no avail and before the guy could say anything, somebody opened the door.

"Hey, let her go or I'll break your wrist. You know he doesn't like to be kept waiting," someone said, playing a hand on the guy's wrist. You watched the man quickly unhand you, looking absolutely terrified of this person who was way smaller than him. They had white hair with a distinct thick reddish-pink line running horizontally across it. Their eyes were this pretty dark pink, adorned by long lashes, thin eyebrows furrowed from being visibly pissed off.

"Now apologize," they said, expression serious. "S-sorry ma'am! I didn't know you were her, I-I swear!" the man practically begged for your forgiveness, leaving you completely stunned. What the hell was going on?! "O-oh um...don't worry about it," you stammered, worried that if you weren't to forgive him something may happen to him.

"Thanks," you look at the person though they only smiled and nodded at you before letting you inside the room. On the velvet couch in the middle of the room sat a man. His head was leaned back, cigar hanging from his lips with his legs spread.

He had on a black suit jacket over a dark red, silk button shirt, the top 4 buttons undone revealing a bit of his hard chest, paired with black trousers and dress shoes. His strong jaw line, dark red eyes, and tattooed littered face was adorned by messy spiky light pink hair. He had a large, rather veiny hand on his lap, a hint of another tattoo on his wrist showing as his other arm was behind his head. You watched him tilt his head up, low intimidating eyes staring into your widened ones.

To be fair, you weren't expecting an attractive, tatted man who looked to be in his late 20s to early 30s effortlessly manspreading on the couch, a smirk now taking form on his lips upon seeing you that showed his pearly, and a bit pointy, white teeth.

He looked expensive—hell he smelled expensive. Though his presence almost made you feel...small. A menacing aura that made those around him scared that he might harm them in some way, but at the same time, something about him obviously made others respect him and his authority.

You assumed it had to be money from how nice his suit was or how rich his cologne smelled, but no, it must've been his status. But how high of a status did he have for your stubborn, rule abiding boss to give him special exceptions? Though maybe his looks had something to do with it too because as much as you didn't wish to admit it, you'd let this man do anything he wanted to you no matter how crazy it may be.

"Uraume, close the door on your way out," his deep voice rang through your ears and you watched them utter a "yes, of course" then exit the room. What was this? "Come, sit," he said, patting his lap to which you nodded and slowly walked over.

He took one last hit of his cigar before burning it out in the ashtray placed on the arm of the couch, smoke blowing in your face as his large hands went on your waist when your own hands held his shoulders to steady yourself, sitting with your legs on either side of him.

“No touching, it’s the rule for private dances,” you said, not noticing how fast your heart was racing upon looking into his dark red eyes. Truth be told, you couldn’t care less about any of the rules this club had, everyone knew that. However, this man’s touch left a lingering, hot sensation on your skin that you weren’t sure just how much more of it you could take.

He chuckled in amusement, but played along, his arms spread back behind the couch like before, looking you up and down while awaiting your next move though you remained frozen. “What’s wrong, Mamas?” he asked, an arrogant smirk on his face as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“N-nothing,” you stammered despite trying to keep your composure. None of the men out there, even the more attractive ones who came every now and then had the ability to make you as nervous as this one did and it shocked you to your core.

“Can I ask you a question?” he sat up a bit more from his slouch position, moving with such ease even with you on his lap. You hummed, the grip of your hands on his shoulders slightly tightening due to your nerves. “I watch you every night after your shows let even the filthiest of men touch you for your own benefit even though it’s never much and goes against the “code of conduct” I know you couldn’t care less for yet speak about,” he said, words making your eyes widen and your heart sink to the pits of your stomach.

The mysterious “bad man” basically just admitted to stalking you with a straight face and eye contact so intense, so intimidating that you felt helpless. Your eyes slowly darted around the room, though it didn’t last long before his left hard went from behind the couch to rather harshly grabbing your chin to keep your eyes in him.

“No touching. . .” you said, voice barely above a whisper, though he didn’t listen this time. “What makes you think I won’t benefit you more than those old fucks out there?” his eyes slightly narrowing at you when you didn’t answer, at a complete loss for words.

“One of my men overheard you making a deal with someone. What was it?” he asked, almost demanding an answer. You were so used to men being submissive towards you, falling to their knees just to kiss the tip of your feet that this guy’s dominant demeanor had your cunt dripping and pulsating from his words alone.

“Thirty-Five—” “That’s it?” He laughed loudly, that arrogant smirk coming right back when his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to him, your chest against his. “I’ll give you three times that plus a tip if you quit acting like you abide by the rules and give me the ten thousand dollar dance I paid for.” he said, his voice now low with a hand rubbing up and down your bare back. Over a hundred grand without you having to get naked?

“Impossible,” you voiced exactly what you were thinking, frowning at the man before you. Though he didn’t say anything, instead directing your attention over to a black bag residing underneath the black wooden coffee table. “Mind if I see for myself?” you turned back to him, still in disbelief, but he just moved his arms back behind the couch, bouncing his right leg and your body along with it.

“Seriously? Show me some credit,” he scoffed, “dance for me. just one song and you can take the bag and go.” Really? That easy? To say you were skeptical would be an understatement, but still you stood up, flipped through to CD options for the vinyl, chose a sensual five minute song, and took a seat back on his lap.

With your hands back on his shoulders, you whined your body against him to the rhythm of the song, your hips grinding back and forth against his lap as your hands explored each hard bump on his strong chest and abs. He smirked, pulling another cigar from his pants pocket, placing it between his teeth, and lighting it before you.

With his lighter put away again, his hands went to grab your hips once your hands went behind you to hold onto his knees. He guided you in his hands, the friction of your clothed sexes bumping against one another causing him to occasionally grunt and grip you tighter while you bit down on your bottom lips.

“You’re so good at that, Ma. . .” he whispered, his eyes on your body against his. You didn’t verbally acknowledge his praise, but he knew it did something to you when you started showing off your best moves and touching him more than before. When his hands moved down to your ass, you pulled yourself up.

Your arms were now hanging behind him over the couch, your knees digging into the soft cushion when you lifted yourself up every now again to press your body against him. One of his strong arms wrapped around your figure to keep you pressed against while he kept a free hand squeezing your ass to which you gasped.

You stared down at him, lips parted and eyes darting around his face to take in each of his features—his chiseled jawline, his low, dark red eyes that continued to intimidate you, smoke blowing from his nose when he took one final hit before sitting it down for a minute, eyebrows slightly furrowed and lips forming a straight line as he studied you up close. His many dark tattoos, each lined and shaped with intent adorning his face made you wonder if he had any underneath his expensive suit.

Your heart continued to race and he could tell you were nervous from the way you absentmindedly nibbled on your lip. Though to be far, he put you in a trance much like how you did to the rest of the club with your shows. Something about him made you want to know everything there was to know about him. Where did he get his money from? What do the lines and symbols his tattoos create mean? Why does he have men at his every beck and call? Why did he watch you, call you specifically? What was his name?

“What’s your name?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You were stunned by the suddenness of his question. Why does he care? As curious as you were about him, it was also clear he was a dangerous man so anything he knew about you needed to be minimalized. “Scarlet.”

“That’s your stripper name.” “I know.” “Why can’t you tell me your real name?” “You don’t seem like the type of guy I should entangle myself with.” “I’m not, but that didn’t stop you from coming in here did it?” “You threatened my boss.” He laughed at this, shrugging in response.

“And yet you probably want to know more about me, don’t you?” he asked and this time you shrugged in response. “Touché,” he smirked at you, grabbing his still lit cigar from the ashtray beside you, placing it between his lips and letting the smoke fill his lungs. He then placed it back down on the ashtray and harshly slapped your ass after.

He let out a satisfied hum when you gasped and smirked at you for the nth time that night, his pearly white teeth flashing at you. “Next time, it’ll be Sukuna requesting you and I expect you to come faster,” he said, his voice low, smoke blowing in your face with each word.

“LIKE A DRUGGIE, LIKE I TOLD YOU. . . YAYO, YEAH YOU, YAYO.”

a/n: i hope you guys like this first chapter because after tumblr kicked me out mid reread, i gave up proofreading😁! — ♱. erotica

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kanekisfavoritegf · 11 months

Text

Shameless

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI you will be blocked!🩷

@indigoballad and I were being messy after i came up with idea…

warnings: smut, cheating, multiple positions, kinda manipulative, infidelity.

Toji was a sick man. Sick enough to shake hands with your husband Sukuna as he congratulated you on the pregnancy. Eyes never leaving yours as he talked to your life partner. He had no shame. Eye fucking you as he held a conversation with the alleged father of your child. But Toji knew the truth.

He had no shame the night he decided to breed you on the very bed you share with your husband.

He wasn’t home, though, it seemed he never was anymore, and after a whole three hours of arguing, Sukuna let out a mumble of divorce before leaving you alone in the apartment.

Truly that man has no shame. Not as he cooed in your ear, “Stop crying, baby. You are too pretty for this.” wiping the few tears that slowly ran down your face. You could feel the heat coming from his body, from how close he was.

“Toji, he’s leaving me. Sukuna is actually going to divorce me.” You sobbed.

“He is an idiot and an asshole.” Toji would smoothly say like he wasn't a long-time business partner with your husband. Moving a braid away from your face, feigning any true care for what Sukuna did.

“I just wanted a baby. A child of our own, like little your Megumi. He is adorable.” You let out a shaky breath. “I thought he was ready. But then he started coming home later and later. So when I pointed it out, he snapped at me.

“If you want a little Megumi, I can give you one.”

“Excuse me?” Who does he think he is?

“I mean, I can give you a baby.”

“Do you not have any shame?”

“No.” He smirked. “Think about it, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby.” He only rolled his eyes.

“Just think about it. Sukana is leaving you anyway. And you want a baby.”

You weren’t an idiot, you knew he had a habit of lingering touches and wandering eyes. But you wanted to hear him say it out loud. To your face. “And what do you get out of it, huh?”

“You.” He said without hesitation

“Oh.”

“I want you. Let me give you a baby.” His face was now inches from yours. His breath fanned your face.

You’d be a fool to pretend you weren’t attracted to Toji in some kind of way. But this? It was different. He inched his hand up your lap and was now gripping your thigh awaiting your response.

It would be okay, right? If Sukuna is leaving you, then who cares? You can say you got a surrogate and divorce him.

And Toji wants you.

No. Toji needs you.

Needs to be in you.

So who were you to deny him, or yourself?

You don’t know how long it has been. Or what room Toji had dragged you into next. But you were bent over a desk. And Toji seemed to have made it his goal to fuck you in every room. All Eighteen…

Making you suck his dick in the cinema.

Fucking against the bookshelf of your personal library.

Bending you over your antique piano in the music room.

And now you lay over your husband’s desk in his home office as Toji plowed into you like a madman. It was like he had limitless stamina. In fact, it seemed like he was gaining more energy with each thrust. The way he was fucking you was inhumane.

He had one goal. And that goal was to breed you until he physically couldn’t keep moving.

And that he did.

By the time he was done with you. He had tears in his eyes, his pubes were drenched in both of your fluids, and he lay flat on his stomach, fingers scooping the cum that oozed from your beaten, raw cunt, right back in.

“I have to make sure it sticks. My love.”

Toji paid for someone to clean up the mess the two of you made, not wanting the regular maids to come and report back to Sukuna right away.

Toji reassured you everything would be fine if you got pregnant. He’d take care of you as soon as Sukuna left you.

But what Toji didn’t know was that Sukuna had no intention of leaving you. Ever.

Paranoia AKA Pt. 2

#cat writes ★#toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji headcanons #dilf toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen smut #black reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader

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bonefall · 6 days

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Mapleshade Discourse O'Clock

It's that time again!!! SO I just kinda want to jot down all of my various thoughts about it as a story and just generally weigh in about Mapleshade.

I like the idea of Mapleshade more than the actual Mapleshade that is used throughout the books.

She has a really good gimmick-- to haunt Applekin though the generations. I don't like how they turn her into a generic "cat satan" for Tigerclaw's Fury and keep making her appear as a vain lackey demon.

I like her characterization in Mapleshade's Vengeance the most, of all her appearances.

But, I don't think my reading of the character depicted in MV is what the author intended.

See, I like MV as a story with no hero. The only blameless characters are the kittens who drowned and Perchpaw, while everyone else is some flavor of selfish, cruel, or vengeful. Everyone thinks they're in the right, but no one truly wins in the end.

Nothing about it was noble. Every tragedy that happened was utterly avoidable. In the end, everyone bears some responsibility for the pain and suffering that happened the day those children drowned.

BUT I'm pretty certain that the intended reading was that Mapleshade would be the one clearly in the wrong the whole time, as she justifies her own actions like a villain does.

Especially knowing how poorly the writers thought of similar female characters like Squilf and Leafp lying about the three, or Nightcloud being jealous her crummy husband is acting strange around another woman.

I feel justified in assuming that when Mapleshade is not happy she's being cheated on, or when she refuses to correct Frecklewish's record knowing it's unsafe if her kits are revealed as half clan, the writer really does think you're not supposed to take her side.

Because women should just not have emotions about being cheated on or something, and lying is unspeakably bad even if the truth puts you and your children in danger.

But. Y'know. We can all use the braincell for a moment and see that this is fucking stupid

SO when the book goes on to have Mapleshade ignore all the warnings about the swollen river, show both ThunderClan and RiverClan being obscenely cruel to her, and then walk across that bridge while insisting in her head that the deaths weren't her fault, I think the implication is obvious AND SHITTY.

Ergo I reject it completely. I can see what the book wants to say, and I think it says something trashy.

In spite of how badly the writer wants it to be Mapleshade's fault the kittens died, I say it was the asshole who threw a bunch of kittens out into the rain for being mixed race, actually.

Oakstar had the power here. Ravenwing had some power as well, but he makes it clear it wasn't his suggestion to throw the babies out into the woods.

And when it comes to Bridge Discourse, it was at least the afternoon, raining heavily, and Mapleshade was trying to get to RiverClan Camp. A straight shot across the stepping stones.

I think it is ridiculous to imagine an extremely emotional parent managing three very scared children, attempting to get out of the rain and dangerous wilderness before nightfall, would be rational enough to realize a large detour would be safer.

MAYBE the distance from ThunderClan Camp to the Bridge is equal to the distance to the Stones. But the distance between the bridge and RIVERCLAN Camp is longer.

I hope this goes without saying; but Frecklewish didn't deserve the Dark Forest.

Even in Banana World logic where she was sitting on the bank watching those kids doggy-paddle. Do not fucking jump in to save drowning people if you are not trained to do that.

I'm dead serious, this is the first thing you learn in any kind of water safety course. They WILL panic, you WILL get dragged down, you WILL become another liability someone else has to save instead of helping your initial target.

And that isn't even mentioning this being a flooded river. That's POOL safety.

In spite of how I think Mapleshade was right to lie, I do think Frecklewish being that upset and angry was understandable.

You're entitled to your feelings, but not how you treat people. She still attacked Mapleshade and called the kittens a slur.

That's what makes her interesting, though.

I don't think she deserves the Dark Forest, but Frecklewish's anger is an interesting trait. I don't like how a lot of defensive interpretations of her character end up downplaying how she acted at the exile

why does a woman being rightfully angry suddenly strike people as "unsympathetic." Girls can also say things in fury they don't fully mean. OR girls can rationalize their unjustified, ballistic response post-hoc out of pride.

Idk let girls be mad. Admit they were wrong without deserving HELL. I don't like the woobification impulse.

It's not really a hot take anymore I think, but Frecklewish is definitely only in the DF because the writing team judges women characters more harshly. Oakstar threw babies out in the rain in fury, and Ravenwing didn't stop it. But somehow only Frecklewish, a normal warrior, gets DF'd.

But what really rattles around in my head about the whole story is the way that the in-universe culture is able to suddenly value ethics like peace, forgiveness, and tolerance when MAPLESHADE is ready to throw those things out, but BEFORE then, it's well established that Clan culture is violent, vengeful, and intolerant.

One of our earliest scenes is Rainfall snarling at Mapleshade that he loves the way Birchface and Flowerpaw drowned. He's threatening that he'll kill even more ThunderClan warriors.

Over in ThunderClan, everyone is itching for revenge against Appledusk for those deaths, even though it seems to have been an accident. Oakstar even hates RiverClan well into sequel books for this.

But then later on, everyone acts Shocked Pikachu that Mapleshade actually went and GOT revenge.

And like, let's be real. This is a battle culture. Yes, by OUR standards Revenge Is Bad.

But in these books, so full of war and clan conflict...?

What I'm saying is that I wish the books let Mapleshade be a little more "controversial" in-universe. Like some cats actually frame the story very differently, and you can learn a lot about a person by who they think the hero is.

And how RiverClan responds to the drowned kids bugs me a lot tbh

We just established over in ThunderClan that there are people who think the babies were born filthy for being HalfClan.

We know everyone there stood by and watched as Oakstar threw them out into the rain-- only Ravenwing even seemed uncomfortable.

AND we know very well that in a few generations, TigerClan will rise. Which openly executed a HalfClan cat and wanted to kill 2 apprentices.

We KNOW the bigotry in Clan culture is deadly and unfair.

But then they go over to RiverClan and Darkstar is sad these three kids are dead? And RC is furious with Mapleshade for that?

Again, YES, you and me with OUR morals know that this bigotry is insane and spiteful. What I'm getting at is that IN-UNIVERSE half clan kittens and their parents face extreme discrimination. Even within this book.

It's odd to me that Darkstar refuses to let Mapleshade bury their bodies, sends her away for the death of the kids while saying it's "not the season for losing warriors" to Appledusk, and it's meant to come across as delusional that Maple thinks her babies were buried dishonorably

I wish more women in WC got so pissed off at the absolute injustice of it all that they went on a girl rampage. Perhaps it's my own taste, but I like it a lot more when the villain isn't entirely wrong and there's several angles you can read the story from. If she didn't do what she did, she would have been the only one who saw any consequences for anything that happened.

Anyway in conclusion uhhh idk murder is wrong. But Mapleshade's allowed to do it because she's a silly billy. Her greatest crime was not killing Oakstar also

#bone babble #Mapleshade #Mapleshade's Vengeance

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wholoveseggs · 2 months

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hello gorgeous! i got another idea! How about reader going through a divorce where the husband is really an arrogant asshole, permanently making fun of her etc. And then she meets Elijah, and they start getting close and he helps her gain her confidence back and shows her how she should be treated. And maybe a few months later, after the divorce, she meets the ex-husband somewhere again and he tries to humiliate her again but Elijah is there and he puts him in his place. Smut is very much welcomed. 🫶🏻

Change

I hate Antoinette, but they were hot together

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Your marriage causes you to feel trapped and worthless. Until you meet a handsome stranger at a café and he shows you how much more you can be.

♡♡ Thanks for the request lovely @msveronicag, I hope you enjoy it! ♡♡

5.8k words - Warnings: angsty, smutty, reader has low self-esteem, husband is verbally & financially abusive, cheating, car sex, Elijah being a bit of a rascal.

When you first got together with John, he was just so charming and you couldn't help but fall for him. It was hard to say no to him, and you were in a haze of love for a long time. He was such an extrovert, loud and funny, and you felt like you couldn't live without him.

But over the course of your marriage things started to change, his mask slipping and showing the real John underneath. At first it was just a comment here and there, you told yourself he was just having a bad day, but then it just kept getting worse.

The day you stopped loving him, was the day he had a bad day at work and decided to take it out on you. You cooked his favorite dinner, trying to make him feel better, and when he came home, he told you to order takeout instead. You were in the middle of making it, so you just told him it would be done soon, and tried to ignore him.

He took the food and threw it in the sink, and started yelling. You were so stunned, you just stood there and let him. He said the most terrible things, telling you how worthless and pathetic you were, that no one would ever want you if they knew you were like this.

A part of you started to believe him, because no matter how hard you tried to be a good wife, you just weren't. John was so kind and charming to everyone else, so it clearly had to be your fault.

You slowly stopped talking to your friends and family, you were probably annoying them anyways.

John eventually cheated on you, and then you found out he was cheating with multiple women. He would disappear for days at a time, off with someone else. You didn't even care, you didn't love him anymore.

Abuse is insidious like that, you become numb to it all, your brain normalizes it to help you cope, until you don't realize that you are being abused. Until you think it's your fault...

You woke to the sound of yelling, your usual alarm clock these days. John was a loud and obnoxious man, and he had no problem screaming at you whenever the mood struck him.

Today's argument was over you sleeping in. You wanted to stay in bed for a little longer, and John couldn't stand to wait another moment. So he went ahead and had to make his own breakfast, and then came upstairs to berate you.

"You really are a lazy slob! I bet you didn't do any of the laundry either. Get up and clean the house!"

You slowly got out of bed, lately your coping mechanism was ignoring him. If you didn't say anything perhaps he wouldn't yell at you. It wasn't a great coping mechanism, but it was the only thing keeping you sane.

"Are you fucking stupid? Answer me!" John yelled as you walked into the bathroom, closing the door in his face.

That didn't stop him, he yelled through the door, and you turned on the shower. Perhaps you would stand there for an hour, just to piss him off.

Just when you started to relax under the warm water he started banging on the door.

"You've been in there too long, wasting the water I pay for. Get out!"

You didn't have a job, because John told you he would take care of you. You were young and naive, you learned the hard way that being financially beholden to any man was a bad idea.

You finally turned off the shower and dried off. You put on a baggy shirt and sweats, and opened the door. He was gone, probably downstairs watching tv.

You got dressed and headed to your craft room, you spent a lot of time in there. You enjoyed painting intricate scenes on canvases, it was the only thing that gave you joy anymore.

When you painted, your mind would go completely blank, and you would lose yourself in the art. Sometimes you would paint for hours and not even notice.

You put on some music and started working on a landscape. You didn't realize how much time passed until the door opened.

John must of had a day off work because he was still home, he usually left by this time. He stood there and watched you for a moment.

"I'm bored and hungry. Make me lunch."

"I'm not your maid. Make it yourself," you mumbled, not taking your eyes off the canvas.

"Why the fuck do you even waste your time with that? Do you think anyone cares about your mediocre shit?" He snapped.

He's right, no one would care about your paintings, even if you shared them. You weren't that talented, it was purely a form of escape. But a small part of you dreamed of being able to sell your artwork and live off the income.

You set down your paintbrush and sighed.

"I don't do it to show off, I do it because I enjoy it. It calms my mind and makes me happy," you answered.

He laughed, a cruel and mocking sound. He had no appreciation for art or culture, he only cared about money and power. He stepped forward and ripped the canvas off the easel, and started tearing it to pieces.

"How's that for making you happy? Do you still want to paint? Be a famous artist? Real Picasso you are!" He sneered, laughing at his own joke.

You didn't want him to see you cry, so you just got up, grabbed your things and walked out of the house. You felt so weak, such a pushover, unable to defend yourself against his cruelty. A little voice in your head told you that you deserved it, no one knew you better than John, so if he said you were worthless and pathetic, then you must be.

There was a cafe near your house, you always went there when John was being too much for you to handle. It was a cute little spot that doubled as a vintage book store. Dark wooden bookshelves that went from floor to ceiling, plants in every corner and a cozy seating area with large comfortable couches and chairs. It also displayed paintings from local artists on its walls, you enjoyed the ambiance of the place, it made you feel at peace. You would buy a coffee and sit in there for hours reading.

You had seen the same man there a couple times, and his striking appearance caught your eye. His dark hair was perfectly styled, his brown eyes piercing, and his strong jawline was covered in stubble. There was something about him that drew you in, but you were far too shy to ever approach him. What would you even say to a man like that? Hey, I think you a stupidity beautiful? Is the book you're reading good? What do you do for fun? It all sounded so pathetic in your head, so you stayed away.

You noticed that he was always nice and polite to the waitresses and he tipped generously. You wondered if he was like John, that it was all just a facade and that he was secretly cruel underneath his mask of civility. But his face was always soft, his voice gentle, and the way he held the door open for other people gave you hope that he was a genuinely nice man.

You would never see him in anything other than a three piece suit, which was unusual for this neighborhood. His dark blue, or sometimes black suits, fit him so well and complemented his skin tone. He wore crisp white shirts and you could tell he was muscular underneath, not bulky, but lean.

You would sip on your coffee, reading, and stealing glances of him out of the corner of your eye. It was probably pathetic, but the way he looked and carried himself made you feel good, so you let yourself.

One day as you were reading your book, you noticed him reading the same book. Perhaps it was the extra espresso shot you added to your coffee or the fact that it was the first sunny day in weeks, but you found the courage to get up and introduce yourself.

"Hey, uh, I see you have excellent taste in books," you smiled at him, your heart fluttering when he made eye contact. You fought the urge to run away, his gaze was intense, but not harsh.

"It seems you do as well," he returned the smile, his voice was like velvet. He gestured to the seat across from him. "Please, join me."

You felt butterflies in your stomach as you sat down, trying your best to maintain eye contact and not blush.

"What made you choose this particular book?" He asked, gesturing at it.

"Honestly, the cover. The art style is really appealing," you told him, blushing a bit. The way he was looking at you made your breath catch in your throat.

"Interesting, I thought the same thing." He chuckled, closing his book and holding out his hand. "I'm Elijah, by the way."

"Y/N," you introduced yourself, taking his hand and shaking it.

"What do you think of it?" He asked, leaning back in his armchair, your gaze lingered on his arms as he crossed them.

"What?" You said, feeling your cheeks heating up. Why did you have to be so stupid all the time?

"The book, what do you think of the book?" He chuckled, tilting his head and smiling.

You talked about the book, the writing, the characters, and how you thought it was going to end. You ended up talking for hours, he was easy to talk to. You found yourself getting more and more relaxed around him.

Elijah had this aura about him, an air of confidence that was oddly comforting. He was polite and charming, with only a hint of a mysterious accent that intrigued you.

"I can't believe we've been sitting here for so long," you laughed. "I didn't mean to keep you, I'm sure you have other places to be."

"No, I have nowhere I need to be, I'm enjoying your company," he said softly. You noticed his gaze lingered on your lips.

You glanced down at your watch and saw that it was nearly 11pm. "Wow, I should go, my husband is probably wondering where I am." You got up and dug around in your purse to pay the bill.

"I would love to see you again," Elijah said as you pulled out your wallet. "Here, let me." He pulled out his own wallet and handed the waitress some cash.

A giddy, almost school girlish, smile spread across your face. "Oh, okay. Thank you, that would be great." You stuttered a bit, blushing and putting your wallet away.

"Have a lovely night," he said softly, getting up and kissing the back of your hand.

Your heart fluttered, and you couldn't wipe the silly grin off of your face as you left. You hadn't felt this feeling in so long, and the thought of seeing him again filled you with joy.

The next few weeks felt like a dream, every day you would go to the cafe and read. You would sit in Elijah's section, and after a while he would show up and sit across from you, drinking his coffee.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said the first time. "I just enjoy your company."

"You're not interrupting," you blushed, putting your book down. "I enjoy your company as well."

As time went on, the conversations got more and more personal. He asked about your job, your life, and your husband. You didn't want to talk about John, it was hard to admit you had been in a bad marriage for so long. You told him a little, about how you both fell out of love, and were basically roommates.

Elijah would listen intently, and would always ask the right questions. He was very good at drawing information out of you. But whenever he got too close to the truth you would change the subject.

It was obvious that he was a good listener and had a kind heart. You wondered why he bothered with you, a nobody, when he was clearly such a sophisticated man. He could have anyone, and yet he was sitting with you.

One day he brought you a gift, it was a tiny ornamental bird, painted a beautiful shade of green. It was just like the one in the first book you both read, and you had told him how much you liked it. You were speechless, it was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You decided to make him a gift, and spent all day working on it. It was a bookmark with an image of a forest painted on it. You used a mix of acrylic and watercolor, the greens and browns blending together.

John walked in on you finishing up, and sneered at your painting. "Are you trying to impress somebody with that? No one's gonna want that ugly thing." He said, scoffing.

Your heart sank and you felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He was right, who would want it? It was nothing special.

You were going to give it to Elijah anyways, but you kept second guessing yourself. He wouldn't want it, it was a stupid idea.

He came into the cafe a little later that day, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. Your stomach twisted into knots, and you felt your palms starting to sweat.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound normal. "How are you today?"

"I'm well, how are you?" He replied, sitting across from you.

"I'm good, thank you," you nodded. You decided it was now or never. "So, I made this for you," you blurted out, holding out the bookmark. Your face was hot, and you wished you could hide under the table.

Elijah's face lit up, and he gave a wide crooked smile. "This is wonderful, thank you," he said.

You watched as he picked it up, admiring the artwork. He traced the pattern of trees with his finger and he seemed completely enamored with it.

"You are very talented, do you sell these?," he asked. He looked up and saw the expression on your face.

“Oh god no, I don't know about that, I mean, I just do it for fun, and..."

You were interrupted by your phone ringing, it was John.

"Sorry, one moment," you said, answering the call.

"Where the hell are you? It's past 8pm, and I'm starving, come home and cook dinner," he growled.

You felt your cheeks heat up under Elijah's gaze, shame and embarrassment washed over you.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry, I'll be right home," you whispered, you felt so small.

"Hurry up, lazy ass," John snapped before hanging up.

You put your phone away, and forced a smile.

"I'm sorry, I have to go, I forgot my husband was cooking dinner," you lied.

Elijah nodded, his brow furrowing a bit. "Alright, have a lovely night," he said.

"You too," you mumbled as you quickly grabbed your things and left.

You cried all the way home, feeling like a such a loser, a complete failure. Why couldn't you have someone like Elijah in your life? Someone who listened, someone who cared, someone who didn't berate you every second of the day.

You wondered what Elijah thought of you, did he see you as pathetic and weak? A fool that let her husband walk all over her?

It didn't matter, he was so out of your league, you were just a stupid, fat nobody. He would never want you, no one would.

When you showed up to the cafe the next day you noticed a fancy sports car with tinted windows parked out front. It looked very out of place on your street, the only people around who had cars like that were old rich people, and the occasional drug dealer.

Before you reached the door you heard your name being called, and turned around. You saw Elijah waving at you from the driver's seat of the car.

You approached the passenger seat window, and he smiled, beckoning you to get in. You sat down and he handed you a cup of coffee, you smiled at the gesture, he knew your order.

"Thank you," you said, taking a sip.

"I want to show you something," he said, pulling on to the street.

"What is it?" You asked.

"It's a surprise," he said, smirking.

You had no idea where he was taking you, but you didn't mind. You were excited to spend some more time with him.

When he pulled up to the local community centre you were very confused. You couldn't imagine why Elijah wanted to bring you here, maybe it was part of the surprise.

You both got out of the car and entered the building. Inside there was a craft show going on, local artists had set up tables displaying their wares.

His thoughtfulness touched you deeply, he had taken the time to bring you here because he knew you loved art.

The next couple hours were spent perusing the aisles and admiring the paintings, sculptures and crafts. Elijah seemed to have an interest in all of it, asking lots of questions and complimenting the artists. He had a way of making everyone feel comfortable, it's something you admired about him.

"You could get a booth here, sell your art if you wanted," he suggested.

"Oh, I don't know about that, this is just a hobby," you said, brushing off his idea.

"Why not?" He pressed.

"I...well, no one would want my stuff, I mean, they're just little paintings," you sighed

"I would, I think you're very talented," he said softly.

Your heart swelled at his words.

"Thanks," you smiled.

After the craft show, he drove you home, you made him park at the end of the street. You knew how jealous John could get, and the last thing you wanted was for him to see you getting dropped off by a handsome stranger.

"Thank you, Elijah, this was fun," you said.

"The pleasure was all mine," he replied.

"You can't tell anyone about this, I mean, if John finds out, he'll..." You trailed off, feeling stupid.

"He will what?" Elijah's eyes were full of concern.

"Oh, he just, gets jealous easily," you said, fumbling over your words.

"Are you not allowed to have friends?" His brow furrowed, and his eyes hardened a bit.

"No, I mean, I can have friends, I'm just not, uh, supposed to have guy friends," you admitted.

"That doesn't sound like a healthy relationship," Elijah said, his voice sounding slightly deeper than usual. "How about business partners?"

"What?" You were confused.

"If I could help you with your art career, get you a booth at the craft fair, promote your work, would that be allowed?"

"Uh, I guess so," you said.

"Excellent, let's meet tomorrow, discuss what needs to be done," he smiled.

"Okay," you smiled, a warm feeling spreading through your body.

When you got home you decided not to tell John, the last thing you wanted was an argument. Maybe if you were successful and sold a lot, then he would be happy for you, but that was just wishful thinking.

You and Elijah had been meeting up once a week for two months, discussing your art, and ways to improve your sales. He was an expert at marketing, and had already gotten you some commissions.

It was nice to have something else to focus on, instead of constantly being reminded that you were a failure. And for the first time in your life you were making your own money, it felt good.

You started to feel more confident in yourself, Elijah was always saying how talented and special you were, and it was beginning to stick.

Today was the craft fair, and you were nervous, what if no one bought anything? What if they all hated it and thought it was ugly?

Elijah pulled up in his fancy car, and greeted you with his usual warm smile. You both had gotten so much closer in the last couple months, and he had become your best friend. He was the only person in your life that made you feel like you mattered.

Your feelings for him were beyond friendship, but you couldn't risk losing him. It was better to have him as a friend, than nothing at all.

The craft fair was going well, you had already sold two pieces, and were chatting with some customers.

"Oh my goodness, this is gorgeous," one of the customers, an older woman, exclaimed.

"Thank you," you beamed.

"How long have you and your husband been selling these?" She asked, gesturing to you and Elijah.

"Oh, uh, we're not married," you blushed.

"Sorry, I just assumed, your ring..." she trailed off.

You glanced down at your hand and saw your wedding band, the simple gold band John had given you so many years ago.

"I am married, just not to him, we are just business partners," you smiled awkwardly.

"Oh, my mistake," the woman said, returning your smile, her gaze lingering on Elijah.

"It's okay," you blushed, trying to busy yourself by wrapping the painting she had purchased.

"You'd make a lovely couple," the woman said, handing you her credit card.

Your face burned, and your palms began to sweat. You had tried your best to not think of him that way, it wasn't fair to him, or to John. But the thought was always in the back of your mind.

"Thank you, have a nice day," you managed, handing her the wrapped painting.

"You too dear," she said, winking.

You sold out quickly, and decided to celebrate with a drink at a nearby bar.

"I'm very proud of you," Elijah smiled. "You have a natural gift."

"Thanks," you said, feeling yourself blush.

He leaned in close and took your hand, tracing your wedding band. "This doesn't suit you," he said.

"Excuse me?" You squeaked, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering madly.

He ignored your reaction and just grinned, his fingers intertwining with yours. You stared at your hands, his thumb lightly caressing your knuckles. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" He said, his gaze fixed on your face.

"Sure," you whispered, unable to take your eyes off of him.

"Why didn't John show up to support you?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Your heart sank. You had purposefully not told John, not wanting to hear him complain about it, or belittle you.

"Well, um, I didn't really invite him," you confessed.

"Why not?"

"Because, I knew he wouldn't care," you sighed. "And I don't want him to know I'm earning my own money,"

"Because you plan on leaving him." It wasn't a question.

"Y-yeah, eventually," you stammered.

He leaned forward and kissed the back of your hand. "Good, you deserve better," he murmured, his lips still grazing your skin.

You didn't know what to say, your head was spinning and you felt hot all over.

"You never talk about him, but I can tell you are unhappy," he said, sitting back.

"It's complicated," you whispered.

"You can talk to me," he said.

You paused for a moment, trying to collect your thoughts. You had never talked to anyone about your feelings for John, it was too difficult.

"Well, we used to be happy, when we first got married, but now he's not the same," you said, trying to keep the emotion out of your voice.

"How so?"

"He's controlling and possessive, and he yells a lot. He doesn't love me anymore, and I'm not sure he ever did," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. "He cheats on me regularly and controls the finances. Selling my art is the first opportunity I've had to earn money of my own, and I'm terrified of what he'll do if he finds out."

You felt yourself begin to cry, and tried to wipe the tears away, ashamed that your life had turned out this way.

"You hold all of this pain inside, it's not healthy," Elijah said, his face was unreadable.

"I know," you sobbed. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying, it's so stupid."

"It's not stupid, you're not stupid," he said, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

You looked into his eyes, his face full of concern. He cared about you, and it was a relief to finally have someone to confide in. You feared that Elijah would reject you, see you as pathetic, but he didn't. He stayed by your side, listening and offering comfort.

"If you ever decide to leave him, you are more than welcome to stay with me," he said.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course, you're my friend," he smiled.

You threw your arms around him and buried your face in his neck. "Thank you," you mumbled.

He froze for a moment, before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You inhaled his scent, a mixture of cologne and whiskey. He was solid and warm, and you felt safe in his embrace.

"Thank you, for everything," you repeated, beginning to pull away, but he held you in place.

You felt something stir deep inside, something primal and raw. The heat from his body, the way his strong arms felt around you, and the closeness of his face was overwhelming.

He kissed your cheek as you pulled back, and his lips lingered there for a moment. Your skin tingled where his lips had touched, and you could feel the warmth from his breath.

You sat back and looked at him, his eyes were dark and full of desire, your fingers intertwined with his. The air was thick with tension, and the electricity between the two of you was undeniable.

"I should get home," you said softly, not really wanting to leave.

"Of course," he said, his voice was deep and raspy, his grip on your hand tightening.

You paid the bill, and walked out to the parking lot. Elijah stood close beside you, and his hand brushed yours a few times as you walked to his car.

Before you could open the passenger side door you felt his hands on your hips. He spun you around and pressed you against the car, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. You gasped as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring and tasting you.

Your arms snaked around his neck, and your fingers ran through his hair. His hands slid down your hips and grabbed your ass, pulling you flush against his body.

His kiss was passionate and needy, and he moaned softly into your mouth. The sound sent a wave of heat through your body, and you felt your panties getting wet.

After a few moments, he pulled back and rested his forehead on yours, both of you panting.

"Right, okay," he said, his breathing heavy.

"Yeah," you breathed, not really sure what to say.

He pulled away and went to open the passenger door for you, but you stopped him. You felt bold and daring, and the alcohol gave you a confidence boost. You motioned to the back door, and he smirked, pushing you up against the car and kissing you again before opening the door.

You climbed in and he followed, his hands grabbing your waist as his lips found yours again. You moaned into the kiss, the heat between your legs intensifying.

The windows fogged up as you undressed, you were grateful for the tinted windows. You moved onto his lap in just your bra and panties, running your fingers through his hair. He kissed your neck and whispered your name.

"We shouldn't do this," you murmured, closing your eyes and tilting your head back.

"I know," he replied, his lips brushing against your ear.

Elijah placed feather-light kisses down your throat, his hands running up and down your back.

"Tell me to stop," he said, his voice thick with desire

"No," you breathed, clutching him tightly.

He reached around your waist and unclasped your bra, gently removing it and tossing it into the front seat. He ran his tongue across your breasts, circling each nipple before taking them into his mouth, sucking gently.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands running up and down your back, cupping your ass and pulling you closer.

You blushed, your heated skin flush against his, feeling his hard cock between your legs.

"So are you," you breathed, kissing his neck and grinding against him.

Elijah groaned, his hand coming down to grip your hip and help guide your movements. You were so turned on, it had been so long since you had sex, and John was never a generous lover. You wanted Elijah so badly, you felt like you were going to combust.

His lips found yours, and you kissed him with everything you had. The heat between the two of you turning into a raging fire.

Suddenly the moment was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. You both tried to ignore it, but it just rang again, and again, and again.

You broke the kiss and grabbed your phone, seeing it was your husband calling. "Fuck," you cursed, and you answered it.

"Why haven't you been answering your phone?!" He demanded.

"I've been busy," you replied. Elijah began kissing your neck again, a smirk on his lips as he listened. You suppressed a moan as he began to guide your hips, helping you grind against his hard cock.

"Busy doing what?! Who are you with?!" John shouted.

"I'm just with some friends, don't worry about it," you gasped.

"You don't have any friends," he spat.

"I do," you insisted, trying not to moan as Elijah's hand dipped into your panties.

"What are their names?" John questioned angrily.

"Elijah," you moaned as his thumb brushed your clit.

"The fuck!" John yelled, going completely into a rage. The kind that always frightened you, he always had a short temper.

Elijah could see the fear on your face and took the phone from you, tucking it under his neck as he continued to pleasure you.

"John, is it?" He asked, his voice cool and calm. "This is Elijah, I'm going to need you to calm down, you are scaring your wife," he said.

"Listen, whoever the fuck you are, don't think I won't track you down and fucking kill you," John spat, his anger reaching a boiling point.

Elijah chuckled, slipping a finger inside you and making you moan, you quickly covered your mouth, but Elijah moved your hand away and gave you a wicked grin, still speaking into the phone.

"That's a little violent, don't you think?" He murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Besides, I'd love to see you try," he smirked.

John went silent, you could hear his ragged breathing.

"Why do you pretend like you care John? She told me you fuck other people, I mean, who would blame her for finding a real man?" Elijah goaded.

You were shocked by his words, but couldn't deny how hot it was, or how aroused they were making you.

"Listen here motherfucker," John snarled, "she's mine, and I will not allow her to be touched by anyone el-"

Elijah hung up the call and discarded your phone, his eyes dark with lust as he stared at you.

"Now, where were we?" He asked, pulling you closer and kissing you deeply.

"I can't believe that just happened," you said, panting as his lips trailed down your neck.

"You don't need to worry about him anymore," he growled. "You are mine now."

You giggled, rolling your eyes at his possessiveness. But a part of you liked it, it made you feel desired, wanted.

"And I am yours," he added, his lips finding yours again, a deep and passionate kiss.

It started to rain, you could hear the droplets hitting the roof of the car. Making everything seem more intimate, as if it were just the two of you in the entire world.

You reached down and fumbled with the zipper of his pants, he lifted his hips and helped you get them down, his cock springing free. You wrapped a hand around it and began stroking him, his moans sending a thrill through your body.

"You don't ever have to go back to him," he whispered.

"I won't," you promised, your lips finding his once more.

He guided your hips, his cock teasing your entrance, and then you slowly eased down into him. He felt so good, a rush of pleasure coursed through your body. You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and rocking against him.

The fire between you grew, the windows completely fogged up now. Your skin slick with sweat as you rode him slowly. Foreheads pressed together, you moved in perfect unison, a steady rhythm of passion.

You knew this would change everything, and that things were about to get very complicated. But in that moment, none of that mattered. All you cared about was being with Elijah, the only man who had ever made you feel loved and worthy.

John had taken everything from you, and had made your life miserable for the last ten years. You were trapped and made to feel it was what you deserved. But not anymore.

Elijah had shown you that you were worth more, that you deserved to be loved and cherished. He gave you the tools you needed to leave John, and the strength to do it. You would have never left him without Elijah.

And as you looked into his eyes, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, you knew this was right, what love was supposed to feel like. You could see the emotions reflected in his eyes, the intensity of his feelings for you, the same intensity you felt.

You felt his muscles tense and knew he was close, his cock swelling inside you. You moved faster, chasing your own orgasm, wanting to come together. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his, and when the waves of pleasure finally crashed over you, it was intense, and he came with you.

The sounds of your moans and heavy breathing filled the car, the rain pattering against the windows. You clung to each other, hearts racing, trying to catch your breath.

As the high slowly faded, you both started laughing, giddy and sated. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and he returned it, a smile playing at his mouth.

"I love you," he breathed.

"I love you too," you replied, kissing him again.

He held you tight, his lips finding yours in the darkness. You were finally free, and the world was yours for the taking.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

Note

With AOTs last episode… Imagine if rumors spread that musician!Eren and Mikasa had something going on in the past. Then reader gets wind of it and they breakup!! I couldn’t imagine what was going through Eren’s head when the media hears about this shit!!!!!

ayooo! I swear, y’all are geniuses fr. I was thinking of something like this. And here I was needing a little drama (I’ll definitely have to do this as a full fic in the future but I gotta talk about thisss sksksjs!!)

content + themes: infidelity(?), angsty vibes, lots of drama, mentions of sex, alcohol mentions

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ── ･

“Let’s get into this tea, honey. Cause it’s HOT! So boom, (influencer name) this girl right here..is engaged to this man, EJ The Don. This lady here is Mikasa Ackerman, or formerly known as MikaASH. Who is also the manager for both of them. Welllll, girl. Allegedly, she was over here hunching on Mr. EJ behind Miss (y/n)’s back! Mind you, miss girl got a whole HUSBAND herself—“

“Y’all already know what we’re gonna talk about so just buckle in. I could not believe this when I heard it. So word is going around that EJ the Don, Mr. Underground God, the Living Dead Boy..whatever the fuck his name is has been cheating on his girl. And if you don’t know who she is, this is (y/n) (l/n), leader of the Pole Assassins. Gorgeous, gorgeous woman..but this asshole decided to not only fuck around on her but with their manager nonetheless!—“

it was inescapable..every other scroll through TikTok’s feed was some person with a pair of earbuds, speaking over the static wafting through the microphone as they stood before and floated in front of a green screen..pictures and articles of the story plastered behind them. What was the latest topic of discussion and juiciest gossip for the masses; a sure fire way to get themselves circulating in the algorithm was your sad reality. A reality that you wish was all made up.

two people you loved and cared for deeply betraying you in an indescribable way. The woman who’d all but given you your start in this industry. Acting as that of a sister rather than a manager as she helped you navigate fame. And the man..you loved more than life itself. Who showed you what it meant to be happy for the first time in your life. Sleeping together behind your back…you had never felt pain quite like this. There were physical pangs in your chest, your stomach in knots and all of the air feeling as if they had dissipated from your lungs. At that moment, you wanted to disappear into nothing..fade away and never be seen again. But life went on!..you had obligations, business affairs, everything you’d work so hard to achieve. Meanwhile, your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Missed calls and texts from them both, constantly sounding off back to back because lord knows if you answered, you’d only end up saying or doing something you’d regret. Much like you had hours ago when you stormed out of you and Eren’s home, bags packed with him running after you..tears in his eyes and the promise that nothing had ever happened. But there was proof. Pictures of them all over each other; Mikasa sporting her leather clad, skimpy attire she would wear on stage and him happily grabbing her hips as she bent over. It made you sick to your stomach. Physically ill even..it was too much for you to bare. Apologies, no matter how frequently and loud they were, would never absolve that hurt. The thought of them touching, kissing and doing god knows what behind your back..in your bed!

“Please (y/n)! I know what this seems like but that was from years ago. We were drunk, probably even high. Somebody took those of us, thinking they had something they could sell off to TMZ but you’ve gotta believe me when I tell you..nothing ever happened. I would never come between what you and Eren have—“

“Girl, please. Spare me the tears. If you wanna fuck him, he’s all yours. I’ll be damned if I ever compete for my spot. You got it.”

as much as you were trying to wear the brave face, you were torn apart and seeing her in full blown hysterics, trying to plead their case. But you were having none of it. As for Eren, he was in no better shape. He was devastated..heartbroken. More so than anyone could imagine. He wasn’t even going to bother heading to social media to clear his name as other accused cheaters had done so in the past. Rather, he downed the various bottles of liquor, stowed away in the studio’s cabinets. Angry and frustrated. More so importantly confused.

“Aren’t you going to go get her back, Mr. Jaeger? She can’t possibly believe that’s true. You guys would never..”

“Well she does and when she gets her mind set on something, there’s no changing it…”

how in the hell had a rumor like this started anyway?! Who was so bored as to drudge up old photos and post them, claiming that they had slept together. And most of all?….

how could he face you again..not knowing if it was true himself?

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yesihaveaobsession · 12 days

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I Hate You

Alastor x ex wife ! reader

Summary: We all know what Alastor did when he was alive and one time he cheated on you, well you meet your ex-husband in Hell.

Warning: mention of Al killing and cheating and language.

A/N- I know he's ace but shush, THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE

You and he were married back on Earth. He would often leave in the middle of the night, citing work. You believed him. However, one night, you discovered that your daring husband had cheated on you with a girl from a jazz club. This was the same daring husband who had assured you on your wedding night that he would never cheat.

Now, here you were in hell, and you saw him. Your instincts urged you to walk the other way, and that's what you did. Alastor saw you and followed. You found yourself speed walking. His tall legs made it easier for him to catch up, and he grabbed your wrist, his large claw covering your delicate hand.

"Let me go," you said, fighting him slightly. But he didn't. The deer demon pulled you and turned you towards him. Your ex-husband still loomed over you as you looked up into his red eyes. He leaned down until your faces were close.

"You lied," you whispered. Alastor just looked at you. "You said on our wedding night that you would never cheat on me, and on top of that, you lied to me about where you went every night." He remained silent.

"Asshole," you said, hurt evident. You managed to turn away and escape from his grasp, walking away again.

"Wait..."

"Fuck you," you said, not even stopping to look at him. You had thought he was the man of your dreams. After all, you two were high school sweethearts, and this is how he treated you?

"Just hear me out," he said, still with his radio filter and a smile he didn't want right now. He wanted to frown, but he couldn't. "I married a serial killer." You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. Those words stabbed him right in the chest; they stung.

"I can't change the past," he sighed. You shook your head. "And you cheated on me," your voice filled with venom and hurt.

"If I could go back, I would," he said. Did he regret all the things he did? You didn't believe him and kept walking. Alastor grabbed your arm again.

"Alastor, I swear to—" you began, but he cut you off, pulling you closer. You looked at him, and he leaned in closer until your faces were just inches apart.

"I hate you," you said, breaking the silence.

"I know," is all the deer demon said. Your eyes searched his, and you saw something, maybe nobody else could, but you could.

"Were you planning on hurting me when we were alive?" you inquired. He stayed silent, which stabbed you in the back. "Al?" you said.

"Yes, dear?"

"You were?"

He hesitated, but eventually nodded.

"You would hurt your dear wife?" you choked, stepping backward, but he only took another step toward you, causing you to crane your head back to look at him.

"I was going to," he said with a sigh.

"Why? What did I do?" Tears welled in your eyes. He knew he broke you.

"No," he tried to wipe your tears. "I was the problem," he said.

"I tried to help you."

"You did, and I love you for it, but I never deserved you," he said, trying to lift your chin. You looked into his red eyes, then at his lips. Alastor found himself leaning in closer, placing his claws firmly on your hips. You paused.

"Are you still killing people?" you asked.

The Radio Demon nodded. "For a good cause."

"How so?" you asked, genuinely confused.

"Rehabilitation."

"You're helping Charlie?"

Alastor nodded, and you found yourself backed up and pinned against the side of a building. He leaned in so your bodies were touching. You looked at his lips. Alastor leaned in and placed his lips on yours, and you kissed back.

He looked into your eyes. "Please, just one more moment with me."

"What do you mean, Al?"

"Just one more kiss, then I'll let you go," he said, his breath fanning against your face.

"No, I don't want you to let me go," you whispered.

"You're mine, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good." He pulled you closer, and you two kissed again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SONG I WAS LISTENING TO:

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #i have an obsession #Spotify

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satocidal · 6 months

Text

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ “Stacey’s Mom has got it going on” — Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: You can’t help eyeing your daughter’s pretty boyfriend when he’s just so sweet, and he can’t help himself either when you’re the best he would ever find.

— word count: 4.2k

— A/n: idk if this qualifies as dc (I don’t think so) but it has like, idk age gap and cheating concepts so take care

— warnings: smut!! MDNI!! Age gap (Gojo is 20 and you’re bordering late 30s); cheating; sort of asshole representative? But how else would something like this work; hair pulling; body worshipping; oral (f! Receiving); dub-con (slightly?); Satoru is a shit boyfriend to your daughter; hinted domestic abuse; mentions of scars; almost subby! Satoru? (There’s no definite concept of who’s dominant- and if satoru then a lot of soft dom); slight spitting; riding; simultaneous orgasm

21-7, Shinjuku 3-chome, Shinjyuku, Tokyo.

He had the address memorised, down to the number of windows in your house and the exact shade of the monotonous white your husband had deemed “minimalist”.

19 he was now, you stood at an elegant 37—arriving in the vicinity at an estimated 5 years ago, your husband’s property, he’d guessed.

Gojo Satoru was 14 when he first saw you, puberty making its way into the young boy’s mind—you did none but encourage the certain downfall in the way you tapped his cheek when he offered to help you in carrying the many bags.

Over the years, Satoru saw you a lot, and also, didn’t at all.

Satoru saw you in the afternoon haze, dealing with the heat—staring obnoxiously when you took off your floral shirts, standing in front of him in those tight leggings and tank tops—but he also saw you at times that you didn’t know about.

And when he didn’t see you physically, you were present on his mind.

At least up until his 18th birthday, you knew of his presence when he would come to meet you.

What had begun as an innocent tap on his cheek for being adorable had developed into an innocent friendship on your accords, smiling wide every few months when he would zoom past your house on his cycle.

The routine was simple then, left-right-right-left, 15 minutes of a way from his house, and there he would be, at your gate—somehow always when you had grocery to carry.

The routine was simple now too, 11 p.m. he would sneak out of his dorm room, a smirk on his face as he used his infinity—making his way into your house, all so quietly, to watch your pretty face as you slept—sometimes even snickering when he caught you being fucked by your husband, snickering at that bored expression on your face, knowing just how much better he could treat you.

He’d never been inside however, general courtesy to be shown, not as a kid—never yet as an adult.

Back then you’d giggled when a 17 year old Gojo had brought his shy friend to meet you, both their cycles parked outside your house as you tended to their boyish smirks, he doubted you’d giggle knowing that the same friend, Geto, was the one he sent your pictures to when he found you sleeping.

But Satoru wasn’t dumb, he knew you’d realise at some point and so, he did what he had to.

In his head, it was all your fault too, so oblivious to everything that he had to choose the second best, your daughter.

“I know she’s like hot and what not but you gotta let her go dude,” Suguru’s voice was a drag—partially dry from all the alcohol he’d consumed.

Satoru’s 20th birthday was approaching, a week left, the celebrations of course had to last a month.

Satoru chuckled beside his best friend—almost wasted he noted—“it’s not like I wanna fuck her or something,” he grinned, he knew wanted to, he knew he possibly couldn’t, “it’s just, I could treat her so much better you know? That stupid little house-”

Suguru smirked, “-don’t bring money into it you pervert,” his eyes bore into his best friend’s, “her daughter ain’t that bad ya know,”

Satoru snorted at that, “which is exactly why I went for her too,”

Just at that, Geto snorted too—mindlessly, shamelessly, both of them.

-ring!!

Slow, both their eyes panned onto Satoru’s phone, ‘my love’ the screen flashed, Suguru snorted again, “Ironic,”

With a roll of his eyes and a short smirk, he shook his head—knowing she’d only be calling because she was needy, at least that’s all he remembered her to be.

“Mmhmm baby, gonna drop by in half an hour yeah? Yeah, yeah, miss you too, bye,”

He always sounded sweet- that was what your daughter rambled about, Satoru Gojo was the sweetest guy ever, and you were glad mostly, a little jealous? You weren’t sure.

It just wasn’t something you ever had.

As Satoru got up to leave though—“you ever let your girl go though, hit me up alright?”

Satoru eyed his best friend with a grin- that was something he could do—“have our own fucked up family eh?”

“Satoru?” You smiled, “long time honey,”

‘For you’, he thought, smiling smugly, “I keep you in well wishes all the time so, not so much Ma’am,”

You chuckled at his words—ever the gentleman he’d been, “that’s adorable, is that how you charmed my daughter too?”

His heart ached at that—only a little however, no, it was all only for you, all the charm—all for his only woman.

Thoughts flashed onto his own girlfriend, he remembered the night well—it wasn’t much, her 16th birthday, he’d just turned 17 too— he’d dropped by, getting you those medicines you’d requested a week or so ago—they were only found near his vicinity, he could only oblige.

Curiosity often killed ended up killing the cat.

He’d racked his brain, he thought of it for endless nights—he didn’t want to accept it, not so easily, not when you made it seem simple.

Each of what you’d asked him to get was a pain killer.

He’d disliked your husband before, but since after, he was sure he hated him.

That night, he’d sat outside your house with your daughter, she was smoking—he was used to it, he hated the smell.

“Aren’t you too young to be smoking?” He’d teased, exactly how he used to Suguru and Shoko—except she didn’t entertain the jokes, never had, never would.

However, before a mean retort could fall off of her lips, a crash sounded all too loud.

Not accidental, Satoru knew that.

He was quick to get up, he was no hero, but his life be sworn if he let you suffer such—a hand held him back.

“Don’t get into it,” she warned, your daughter did.

He didn’t, it wasn’t his place to.

Your husband cheated that night, as he had countlessly, your daughter found her first boyfriend—you wept that night, Satoru’s heart did too.

“Can’t lie I keep a special bank reserved for my uh…mature ladies,” a wink he passed, he made you feel young, alive.

A shake of a head you passed and a knowing laugh.

You noted his lingering gaze, the bruise on your forearm ever present, never you said a word- never him.

The silence engulfing and nauseating.

“Your uh,” his words were rough, “anniversary yeah? Round the corner isn’t it?”

You giggled, almost as if it mattered, “So he remembers? And your own, isn’t it?” A look of slight confusion masked your face, he grinned, “a week after yours, it’s my birthday though, on the same day that is, you always mess it up,”

An apologetic smile you passed this time around, “why, I’m sorry, let me make up by baking you a pie honey?”

A thin smile adorned his face—shaking his head, he ushered you back in, waiting patiently for your daughter to bounce back, to remind him of his reality.

But just as you did turn, “wait, by the way,” his eyes lay stuck upon the bruises you didn’t care to hide, “how’re things going?”

His eyes gazed upon the sheer material of your shirt, “how’s…Mr Y/l/n?”

Almost a sneer, as if, you stared, “perfectly fine, Toru—how’re things with Y/d/n?”

He stared blankly this time around—“perfectly fine Ma’am.”

“Pass me the lighter,”

Satoru stared at his best friend’s outstretched hands—your daughter’s pretty smile as she handed him hers—the same smile that had intrigued Satoru to even look at her, the only feature on her face that resembled you.

“What are your plans for the anniversary?” The words registered in Satoru’s ears—he wasn’t sure who the speaker was, he didn’t exactly care, “I could help around your house,” a mutter, as if unsure to why—but certain that he wanted to.

Cocked brows looked at him confused, “…isn’t it your 20th birthday though?”

He nodded.

“Who wastes their 20th birthday helping around random houses?” Suguru’s tone was almost annoyed, as if he knew—or could’ve guessed why.

Satoru’s girlfriend laughed, “You know he’s screwed a little right? Can’t stop him if he doesn’t want to,”

Satoru nodded again—it gutted him onto how well she bothered to know him—and yet, he perhaps didn’t even bother knowing her favourites most of the time.

“No no,” head shaking, a grimace fell onto Suguru’s face, “pretty boy here can do whatever he wants,” a knowing look they both passed—“but 20s don’t happen again, go big or go home,”

Satoru chuckled, of course he had it all planned out, “I’m going big and going home,”

Another charming smile, another wink—just something you couldn’t become a fool too.

A slight frown rested on your lips, “You sure hon? You don’t have to waste your evening like this…”

It was almost motherly, the way you showed concern—in ways Satoru had barely experienced.

He scoffed, “Time well spent is never wasted,”

“You’re going to mow a lawn baby,” you chuckled, “y/d/n isn’t home either- you know her sleepover- I don’t see how-”

“-anything to please and help you is almost the best kind of work I could do,” you’d have smiled usually, at his words—a tiny flirt you always deemed him—laughing about it to your husband, even though he barely cared.

You didn’t care of it either, an empty marriage, so be it—hollowed from both ends, slow.

But this time, this was different.

This time you’d perhaps bask in his help—no husband to taunt by complimenting little Satoru, no daughter to tease by complimenting little Satoru.

Satoru wasn’t all so little, you realised—your daughter and husband weren’t home—just you, Satoru and his praises.

6 p.m. — 7 p.m. — 8 p.m.

Satoru didn’t remember a time to the when he’d done all so much work for his own mother- but he was content, with a pair of earphones and a creative little mind, he was intent to impress you.

It amused him, to actually how big of a lawn you actually did have—and he wondered at the almost pristine look of it if you managed it yourself.

Even if you did, he would be your helping hand now—he grinned ear to ear as he thought the countless many scenarios.

‘Desperate’ , a little voice in his head called—“my pretty good boy” your voice, the one you used in his thoughts, fought away all doubts.

But all to quick his train of thoughts paused, “you missed a spot there Toru’”

And most of the time, he’d be pissed on to anyone who dared to correct him—with you he’d nod obediently and carry on—but normally, even your normally, you didn’t step out in front of him in just a small, pretty pink towel wrapped around you.

Satoru Gojo had pretty eyes, a decent imagination too—he’d thought about you plenty of times.

Naked, spread open, on your knees, having him between your knees—many and every and any position but absolutely nothing could’ve compared to the way seeing you covered just enough—in a small towel got him hard.

Satoru Gojo had pretty eyes and for a second they were wide as saucers.

His eyes panned onto the spot you pointed at—he had indeed missed a spot—he nodded slowly.

The music rang in his ears—

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Ironic.

“I’ll get to it, going for a bath?”

It shouldn’t have been that casual—him asking you your schedule such—you let it be so.

“It’s getting late, want to stay the night? And yeah—yeah, a bath,”

Stay the night.

There the offer lay and his temptation—he watched the careless way you held the towel, all so small that decency was the only thing that stopped him from staring shamelessly at your exposed thigh.

“I don’t know-”

An attempt, simply a stupid attempt to save him and you—“-I insist and what song is that?”

He stared blankly, “Stacey’s mom,”

“How I love that song,”

Of course you did- he watched you walk away as the song continued playing.

Stacy, do you remember when I mowed your lawn?

Your mom came out with just a towel on

I could tell she liked me from the way she stared

And the way she said

"You missed a spot over there"

Down the drain, his character, perhaps yours—then relationships you’d held, everything.

Another nod.

“I’m staying the night Suguru,”

“Hah?!”

An eye roll, an obnoxiously pitched questionnaire, “The fuck? It’s your damn birthday tomorrow—why did you make me get that damn cake?”

Jaw clenched, he stared at the recently mowed lawn—10:00 p.m.

It was too late.

“Better get a taste of her damn pussy if you’re staying the night fucker,”

Satoru shook his head, a smile, “Shut up, talk about her nicely,”

“I’ll talk to her nicely when your girlfriend talks to me nicely when I’m dicking her down, really got yourself a brat huh?”

The smirk was evident in his tone- Satoru wanted to feel betrayed, he couldn’t.

“You’re such a bloody fucker,” he muttered through, “Take care of her,”

“Always have—you take care of her damn mom,”

And he always had too.

10:15 p.m.

He found it simply, weird, that you were in the shower all so long—shaving?

It was your anniversary tomorrow, a loyal wife, a good wife—you’d present yourself well—he thought.

He wasn’t entirely wrong either, was he?

Foggy, your bathroom mirrors stood as you prepared yourself just right, shaven smooth—a guilty heart panged in your chest.

You watched the many scars lingered upon your body, natural, provided—all yours and you doubted it, doubted the mere fact that Satoru would even think about touching you the way you fantasised.

It was wrong—just a fortnight ago and he was the sweet boy you used to adore and having by, just a week ago he was the boyfriend of your daughter that made your relationship all the more insecure, just tonight he was growing into his age.

Head hung back, you stared at the ceiling- so wrong and so right.

Almost melancholic, your train of thoughts was, and his too as he sat by the window of your room—“Please clean these windows too,” you’d said with a smile, breasts pushed together as you held your hand in front of you—the little pink towel did nothing, you knew that.

His hard-on was obvious, you’d had that effect on guys all the time—but then, maybe it wasn’t for you, maybe he just saw the sight and it reminded him of- maybe-

“God~ fuck-!”

Your ears perked up, maybe that was a moan.

Not maybe, it was—it was all too certain a breathy moan.

And before the better judgement was to be passed, there you were, the pink towel wrapped around all the more perversely as you twisted the knob of the door—entering your room to the prettiest sight in a while that you’d seen.

“Satoru?”

Eyes all so wide, the ministrations came to an immediate halt—“Mrs- Mrs- I- shit,”

You watched him scramble about, struggling to get the pants that he’d pulled down to his ankles, back in place—pale cheeks tinted with the embarrassment he held-“I’ll leave right now,” and you knew your figure standing about, almost naked, did not help.

A giggle you passed, “Satoru, it’s fine baby, what’re you so embarrassed about?”

That, he didn’t expect, neither did you.

A low ‘huh’ dropped from his mouth,a hardened cock hanging out for you to ogle at.

“Yes I mean,” you continued, slowly moving towards him, “it’s all…natural isn’t it? You’re a big boy now too,” your voice was sweet as honey, pulling him, reeling him in.

He watched, estranged, as you swayed your hips, moving in, pulling him—pushing him and there he lay in your bed.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“Tell me Satoru,” you whispered, nimble fingers grasping the hem that covered you—“are you all grown up? Still my big boy?”

A silent nod, your towel fell.

A smile etched across your face as you saw his mouth widen-“l-like what you see?”

A slight stutter, you were nervous too—just as him.

And it was entirely a surprise to you then, when his were the hands that grasped your hips rough—flipping the both of you over so he was on top.

Lips attached to your neck—his hands ran wild as they explored every bit of you—“So much, so so much, you’re gorgeous,”

Frenzied moans, hefty touches—it was almost as he’d been dying to touch you—and he had.

His lips moved fast—faster than his fingers, moving across every inch of you—a slight tingle you felt as wet and sloppy kisses he left across your shoulder blades, your hands tugging at the white tuft of his hair.

“So soft,” he murmured against your skin— “so fuckin pretty,” he was skillfull, almost, in the way he managed to completely disregard your needs in the moment.

Not a single brush of his fingers or crotch against your pussy—a tease.

You wanted to cry, pleasure hit you hard—and in the way he lingered seconds too long upon every scar that your husband had given you, at every bruise that you held—in the way he handled you so carefully, not as if you were fragile but as if you were his desire personified.

“Tell me, Satoru,” you snickered, at the breathy moans he let out, “how long have you waited for this,”

“Forever,” he breathed out—the crystal blue eyes finally met you then, “God forbid I just- please, please let me?” A whine he let out still, so desperate.

“Always this needy hm?”

He shook his head fast, “Only for you,”

And you knew that just there he was begging all so easily.

“Please- ple-ase,” his voice was a drag, as if afraid that he’d lose this moment all so soon, “please let me…let me touch you- feel you,”

A twinkle in your eye, “if you’re good, yeah?”

He bobbed his head at that- “on your knees for me baby,”

And that he did, so obedient, “Show me how much you’ve yearned,”

It was a dynamic, if anything—you held the control surely, and you lay naked too—sprawled out as your head rested upon the pillows steadily, his between the plush of your thighs.

An airy gasp you let out as you felt him spit upon it, “fuck you’re glistening,” he whined, “So wet from just the thought of me?”

You felt his fingers spread your folds out, he felt so cold against the warmth of your pussy, “Didn’t even need me to spit huh? But had to mark you didn’t I? Remind you that I am the one who gets you this way- has your husband ever gotten you this way huh?”

His words seemed almost feral, a growl with every word as he kept lowering his head— he focused upon your clit.

Your legs lay spread wide open for him, one his hands resting upon your thigh, rubbing soft soothing circles—while the hand finger fucked you.

His finger slipped in so easily, a groan both of you let out together, “so fucking warm I- your pussy’s pratically begging to be ruined,”

You squirmed at his words—already dumb at the way his middle and ring finger pumped inside of you,

“More please,” you moaned out, “need more,”

A smirk he held as he lowered his lips, nipping at your pussy lips, “More what Ma’am? More of what hm?”

A loud whine you let out at his word- “Fuck Toru’ not tonight, please just touch me—want you,”

Enough encouragement, in fact it was all he needed before landing his tongue flat upon your clit, swiping it back and forth upon the little nub.

“Scream my name please,” rough hands pulled at your legs—resisting you from closing your legs—“Arch your back and scream my name, let your neighbours know I’m the one in your silly fucked marriage that gets you so worked up and not that fucker,”

His words barely registered in your head—thrashing at the liable pleasure he held onto you, “Sh-it Toru’ I- right there! Yes please,”

He grinned as he looked up at your face briefly, before diving right back in, suckling at your hardened clit as his fingers prepared your cunt to be ruined by his cock.

“God I should film you being so needy for me,” another groan as his tongue lapped upon your core—“should teach em how to please the perfection you are,”

You whimpered at his words, eyes rolling back at the way he provided just the right kind of pressure- until you weren’t.

A loud whine and groan as he pulled out of your cunt, he grinned, “Want you to cum on my cock when you do — wanna feel you clamp down hard,”

You looked into his eyes, hesitant? Neither of you.

“Taste yourself,” and before you could pull away, shoved into your mouth were his two fingers as you sucked onto it—“Fuckin’ delicious,” he muttered as he pulled away the fingers too.

Needy, he wanted you needy.

Slow, he moved about, rising about and pulling you with him as he kissed your arms—“someday, I’ll leave such pretty marks on you, those are the ones you deserve,”

You bit your lips hard- he did too, as you straddled his lap—“please,” he whimpered and you giggled, “how many times do you think about this?”

All the time.

Any and everytime he was alone, just you on his cock bouncing to chase your euphoria.

You cupped his face as you stared at him, such a pretty innocent look he held—you grinned devilishly as you lined your entrance upon his tip.

"yeah. 'think about it a lot. want you to use me, please, just have me. i'm y — ohhh god, oh fuck me, y-yes please — fuck i'm yours!" his words, bound to be a mess now that you've lowered yourself to meet level with his cock.

It throbbed inside you, it looked so pretty, when you imagined sucking on it— with that curve you always felt pressing against your walls when he would be balls deep inside your pussy- just as now.

“Tell me Toru,” you but down in your lips hard, red, “how many times do you think?”

He gulped hard as he watched you move, unable to hold himself as your warmth spread all over his cock, “J-just some- sometimes, when I- I miss you, when I c-can’t get enou- oh god- can’t get enough,”

He moaned softly, head fallen aback and eyes shut close as you rode him slow, rolling your hips—it took your all to just not give in and fuck yourself dunb over his cock.

“In the shower…after- after practice,”

You giggled at his words, oh how you felt like a filthy girl in the moment, “all sweaty and dirty? Think bout fuckin me in shower?”

“Yeah…” his voice lay a rasp, “think bout you when I’m alone,”

Your words, actions—he was dizzy with pleasure, legs squirming beneath you—toes curling in pleasure and hips stuttering as he reeled in for more.

“Think of you when I fuck your daughter too,” and just at that he thrusted harshly into you, gripping your hips as he moved you fast—“you’re too slow,” he grunted.

A low moan escaped you at his words—him too.

Filthy.

Wrong.

You didn’t care.

"d-you think of me too, when- when you can’t touch it? When it- it d-doesn’t feel right?" his question almost sounded innocent, eager to hear your response.

"Course’ i do. think about my pretty boy all the time. i miss this cock so bad sometimes, 'can't get off the same with any of my toys."

He groaned at that—you could feel him twitching inside you.

11:55 p.m.

You weren’t sure when or how you lost all that time- it didn’t matter.

It was your anniversary in 5 minutes and his birthday.

Your hands grabbed his face and pulled him close—your boobs thrusted into his face, “cum with me ok? Hold on just a pretty while yeah?”

Your words were a lullaby to him, he nodded mindlessly, attaching his lips onto your nipples, swiping his tongue over your nipples.

Your soaking cunt engulfed his cock as you bounced upon it, head hung back as you chased your high—his hands kneaded your skin—one pinching your nipples while the other massaged your ass.

If you could, you’d have seen the adoration in his eyes as you fucked your self onto him—breathy moans and shy grunts, the smell of your sex wafted through the air.

Just another minute.

“S-So good to me-” He stutters, nails latching onto your skin to bounce you more aggressively on his cock as his flustered state slowly dissipates.

So close, both of you—a babbling mess underneath you,Satoru was purely pussy drunk—and just like that, the clock strung 12:00 a.m.

You both drew each other’s orgasm.

You stay there on top of him for a second, panting and heaving you both lay—nuzzling as his fingers drew circles on the small of your back.

Circles, you weren’t aware, those circles were actually his name crafted carefully upon your skin for he knew you were finally his.

“You good?”

A slight smile on your face as you asked him, he lay beside you in your bed—“Happy Birthday Toru,”

“Best birthday I’ve had,”

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

— Taglist: @illogicallyx @rizzmin @immurrsed @bbytamaki @abitoldschool

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daisynik7 · 11 months

Text

Résumé

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: porn without plot, implications of cheating, office sex, boss x employee power dynamic, potentially corrupt business practices, sexually explicit content/smut – PIV sex (doggy, cowgirl), cunnilingus, fingering, sex without a condom, dirty talk, degrading language, lingerie

Summary: Today is your anniversary and unfortunately, your husband forgot. Luckily, there’s a potential new hire you’re interviewing who will surely appreciate the special lingerie you’re wearing. Author’s Notes: This is partially inspired by this incredible soundgasm I listened to (listener discretion is advised, put your headphones on before you listen!), but I changed up a few details. Reblogs and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Hearing directly from you is highly encouraging and keeps me motivated to keep writing! Thank you for reading! Divider created by @/saradika!

There’s a knock on your door. You sit at the desk in your office, glancing at the bottom left corner of the computer screen, checking the time: 12:05 PM. He’s late. The potential new hire you’re interviewing today was supposed to arrive by noon. If you weren’t already in a bad mood, you’d dismiss it.

Today is your wedding anniversary. Half the day has passed, and your husband still has not mentioned anything about it. At this rate, you’d bet money that he forgot. He’s messaging you like normal, no indication that he remembers this special occasion. You could be the bigger person and gently remind him. In his defense, he’s been stressed at his job, and sure, it’s easy for things to slip in his jumbled mind. But your wedding anniversary? How could he forget that?

A second knock comes. You refocus your attention to work, burying your marital dilemma in the back of your mind. “Come in,” you respond, patting flat any wrinkles on your blouse.

In comes a handsome man, brunette hair tied into a fashionably messy bun, outfitted in a dark suit and tie, a light pink dress shirt underneath. He flashes you a smile, still holding the handle, closing the door. “Sorry I’m late. No one was out there to assist me, so I got a little lost finding your office.”

You clear your throat, shuffling the stack of papers in front of you, momentarily taken aback by his striking appearance. “I sent everyone to lunch, so it’s just you and me in here.”

“I see.” The grin remains on his face as he reaches into his backpack, passing you a sheet of paper. “Here’s my résumé.” He takes a seat in the sofa chair facing you, setting his bag on the floor next to him.

You scan the document quickly, starting from the top, reading aloud the first couple of lines. Your mind keeps wandering to your husband, so you fail to retain any of the information shared on that piece of paper. At the end, you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Are you alright?” he asks, leaning forward in his seat.

“I’m just…I’m a little distracted right now. My mind is all over the place and I didn’t prepare for this interview. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay. We all have stuff we’re dealing with. Do you want to talk about it?” He looks at you with concern in his eyes. More emotion than what your husband has given you all day. At least this guy sees you.

You lay his résumé to the side, setting your palms flat on the surface. “Well, I’m not sure how appropriate it is for me to tell you this.”

He smirks. “Hey, I won’t say a word. Everything said in here is between you and me…boss.”

You raise a brow at him. “Promise to keep it a secret?” He nods, miming a key locking his mouth shut and tossing it over his shoulder.

“Well, my no-good husband forgot that today is our anniversary.”

His eyes widen, surprised. “Wow. Really?”

“Yup.”

Scoffing, he replies, “What an asshole. How could he forget that?”

“You tell me.” You relax into the seat, feeling more at ease with him listening to you with intrigue. “You want to know what the worst part is?”

“Tell me.”

“I’m wearing something special for him right now, and I won’t even be able to show it off.”

The bump in his throat bobs, swallowing hard. “Something special?”

“Mm-hm,” you hum, propping your elbow on the desk, knuckles tucked under your chin. “How awful, right?”

He sinks back into the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. You do your best not to glance at his crotch, prominently displayed in this position. “Very. That prick doesn’t deserve to see you in that.”

You gaze at each other, the sexual tension thick and heavy in the air. Before you get carried away, you snap out of it and retrieve his résumé, clearing your throat. “Anyways, you’re definitely qualified for the job, based on your skills and previous experience.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“Are there any other skills you have that you didn’t include here?”

He smirks. “I have quite a few, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to list them on a formal document.”

“Oh?” You eye him curiously. “Can you tell me one of them?”

He thinks for a couple of seconds, choosing his words carefully. “I’m really good at appreciating people.”

This catches you off guard. You weren’t expecting an answer like this. “Appreciating…? Can you elaborate?”

He strokes his chin, contemplating before explaining, “Well, for example, I know that I can truly appreciate that special something you’re wearing. More than your lousy husband can.” There’s a wicked smirk forming at his lips.

You give him a small laugh, amused by his response. “Oh yeah?”

He shifts in his seat, biting his lower lip, nodding. “If I was your husband, I’d fucking worship you.”

You squeeze your thighs together, pussy throbbing between your legs, aroused. Heat rushes into your cheeks, flustered by this sudden turn of events. This is bad. Very, very bad. You’re married and today is your anniversary, the last thing you should ever do is cheat on your husband with this random stranger. Especially one that you’re interviewing to hire. You’re better than this.

On the other hand, he hasn’t bothered to call you today to wish you a happy anniversary. Based on this, it doesn’t seem like he cares about the sanctity of marriage, so why should you? You have this man before you, actually willing to appreciate you. And, with the office empty, who would know if you stepped into the dark side just this once?

With your decision made, you stand up, stepping towards him, leaning against the front of your desk. He watches you attentively, waiting in anticipation for you to make the first move. You start to undo the top button of your blouse, asking, “Do you really think you can keep this a secret, Eren?”

The sound of his name on your sultry lips has his cock twitching beneath his slacks, aching to be touched. “I definitely can,” he answers, gulping down the spit collecting in his salivating mouth.

You slide your skirt down, slowly revealing your sheer thong, outlined in black lace, embroidered with a delicate floral pattern across the mesh fabric. His eyes are carnal at the sight, watching your little strip tease intently. Twirling to reveal the backside, you turn your head to see his reaction. He bites his fist, gaze focused on your bare ass, the string of lingerie nestled between your cheeks.

He curses under his breath, running his fingers through his hair, nervous and excited. “You’ve been wearing this all day?”

You unbutton the rest of your top, matching bra gradually coming into view. “All day long. It was supposed to be a surprise for my husband, but I guess it’ll be a special treat for you instead.”

“Lucky me.” He licks his lips when you shrug your top off, lingerie on full display now. His expression is hazy with lust, eyeing you up and down repeatedly, letting this image of you sink into his brain, cock strained inside his pants, desperate for release. He can’t take it anymore; he needs you.

“Sit there and spread your legs for me,” he demands, getting up from his chair to tower over you. Following his command, you hop on, ass pressed to the smooth laminate, thighs splayed for him. “I’m going to give you what you deserve.”

He bends down, grazing his lips on the embroidered flowers. Chuckling, he tips his chin up to peer at you. “You’re such a fucking slut, wearing this to the office. What would your employees say if they find out about this?”

You smirk at him, tugging his hair with your fist, shoving him closer to your pussy. “They won’t. This is our little secret, remember?”

His laughter vibrates against you as he sucks on your clit through your panties, the fabric thin enough to feel him on you. “Whatever you say, boss.” He laps at your bud until your underwear is wet with his drool, shiny with your cum. With his thumb, he teases your entrance, slipping past the thin string of your thong.

“Fuck, Eren,” you swear, throwing your head back.

“I love it when you say my name,” he muffles, fingers now gripping your panties to the side, eating you out sloppily. He pulls off to dribble his thick saliva on you, latching on again to smear it on your clit. His thumb is pressed to your entrance, prodding into your slippery cunt ever-so-slightly. You climax, his lips puckered tight on your puffy bud, suckling relentlessly until his thumb is coated in your cum.

“Look at this creamy pussy. All for me.” He runs his tongue along your sticky mess, collecting it in his mouth to swallow. You lower your legs, draping them over the edge of the table, weak and unsteady from the intense orgasm. He straightens up to kiss you, lips glossy with your cum. After a few more clumsy kisses, he peels off your lingerie, rolling it over your skin until it’s coiled in on itself down at your ankles, bunching it in his fist. “These are all ruined now. Your husband will never see these. It’s for me and only me.” He places it in his pocket, then sits on the sofa chair, patting his thighs, beckoning you to sit. Before you do, he quickly unbuckles his belt and unzips, letting his pants drop around his ankles as he whips his hard dick out.

You step towards him, straddling his lap, nodding, “Only for you.”

He cups your cheek, thumb gently brushing your skin. “Forget about him. Focus on me. It’s our day now, isn’t it?”

The low growl in his voice has you mesmerized. “Yes. Oh god, yes.” It’s all so wrong, but in this moment, you don’t care. All you can think about is being bounced on his cock, milking him until you’re stuffed full of his load. So much that it spills and stains the cushions, a constant reminder of the obscenities that are about to occur in this office.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he says, glancing at your arousal. “Bet your husband never ate you out like that. Has he ever fucked you in this office before?”

Desperate to feel more of him, you grind your hips, eagerly watching his pretty cock ooze with precum from the tip. “Never.” You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, revealing your breasts to him.

“Fuck, so I’m really the first to christen it. Already putting me to work, huh?” Fingers wrapped around his shaft, he taps the head of his cock on your clit, laughing when you whine from the contact. He rubs it across your swollen bud, his other hand fondling your tits, thumb caressing your peaked nipples.

“Oh fuck,” you groan, gripping his shoulders to lift yourself onto him. “I want it, Eren. Give it to me.”

“So eager, can’t even wait,” he grunts, lowering you onto him, cursing when your pussy squeezes his length. “Fuck.”

You ride him slowly, his hands grasping your waist, guiding you lazily while you do most of the work. He fits perfectly inside your wet cunt, gliding in smoothly with each bounce, hitting your sweet spot deeper and deeper. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth, drool leaking from the corners of your lips, fucked-out and in total bliss.

“My new boss is being such a slut for me. Is this what you expect when you hire me? For me to fuck you stupid every day until you’re leaking from all your holes? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He skims your lips with his thumb, wiping away your spit.

“Fuck, Eren! Yes, I want that!” you cry out, the chair creaking beneath you as you spring up and down.

“I bet your husband doesn’t know how much of a fucking whore you are. You nasty slut.” He pulls you closer to him, mouth hot on your ear. “He doesn’t deserve you. Doesn’t deserve this gorgeous fucking pussy.” He holds you snug, thrusting his hips up in tandem with you. You come like this, cradled in his arms, coating his cock in your slick. You catch your breath, relaxing on top of him.

Nuzzling his nose on your cheek, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You smile, giggling softly. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Soon, you’re bent over your desk, being pounded by him from behind. His and your moans echoing off the walls of your office, along with the wet slaps of his pelvis smacking your ass. “Fuck! Right there!”

“You’re so fucking bad, cheating on your husband with me. Letting me fuck this unfaithful pussy,” he growls, slamming his hips against you. “If he were me, I’d fuck you so good you wouldn’t even think about anyone else. Make it so that you’re addicted to this cock. Can’t go a single day without it balls deep inside you.”

He continues to spit filth at you, firing backshot after backshot until you orgasm again, this time with him, spilling every last drop of his load inside you. He slowly pulls out, moaning when he sees his warm cum gush from your slit. “God, that was amazing,” he says, grabbing the tissue box next to your computer, wiping the mess dripping down your legs.

You’re too exhausted to respond coherently, crumpled on the desk, listening to him pick up all the discarded clothing scattered on the carpet. When he’s done changing into his professional attire, he slides his hands around your waist, carefully hoisting you up into a standing position with him behind you. “You okay, sweetie?”

You crane your neck to kiss him, smiling. “Mm-hm.”

He offers to put on your clothes, first the bra, then the blouse, one sleeve at a time. Squatting down to help you step into your skirt, he slaps your ass playfully. You have no choice but to go commando, your ruined panties still in his pocket. The two of you look at each other, giggling at your glazed expressions from the aftermath of sex. You reach towards him, fixing his collar. He flips his wrist, checking the time on his watch. “I should probably head out now. It’ll take me a while to get to the other side of the building.”

“Yeah, and you know how Levi gets.” You wrap your arms around your husband’s shoulders, giving him a smooch on the cheek. “You’ll never hear the end of it if you’re late for the interview.”

“I’ll blame you then,” he smirks. “Besides, I’m a shoo-in.”

“Don’t be so cocky! Levi isn’t going to hire you just because you’re friends.”

“But you’d hire me, right?”

“Absolutely not. You’re a fucking menace.” And you mean this whole-heartedly. After all, this was his idea. Once he found out that he got a job interview at your company, under a separate department run by your mutual friend, he came up with this fantasy of you, his sexy boss wife, being fucked by him, the potential new hire, during the interview. And when it just so happened to be scheduled on the day of your wedding anniversary, he couldn’t help himself, adding the element of cheating into his twisted, dark role-play of his. You give yourself some credit, though: The lingerie really was a special surprise for him, which worked exactly the way you wanted it to.

He feigns a shocked expression. “I can’t believe my own wife wouldn’t hire me! How rude!” He pulls you into a hug, kissing you along your neck. “Maybe you need another good fuck to change your mind.”

You laugh, shoving him off. “Get out of here! Seriously, you’re going to be late.”

“Okay, okay. I’m leaving. I’ll call you when it’s done,” he says, kissing you on the forehead. “And don’t forget we have reservations at six tonight.”

“I remember. I love you! Good luck,” you tell him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

He gazes at you, smiling. “I love you, too. And happy anniversary.”

#eren smut #eren jaeger #eren x you #eren x y/n #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x female reader #eren x fem!reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #eren jaeger imagines #eren yeager #eren aot #eren jeager x y/n #attack on titan #snk smut #snk eren

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lemonlover1110 · 7 months

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 6] Same Old

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Talks of Abortion, Toji being a major asshole, Talks of Cheating

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You feel awful during the week. Nothing to do with pregnancy symptoms but the fact that your husband– Rather, ex-husband is just the biggest scum that you’ve ever come across. You knew that he didn’t want kids, and you should’ve expected his response to be an abortion. You just didn’t expect him to react happily at the thought that he finally trapped you, meaning that he doesn’t care about the fact that you’re having a baby, he just wants you unable to go anywhere.

You’ve grown to resent him even more. And you’re growing to resent yourself because you can’t stop loving him. You wish you could rip your heart out and get rid of your feelings, alas, it isn’t that simple. You’ll have to learn to move on slowly, and balance the love and resentment that you hold of him… The father of your child.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you should get an abortion so you’re not tied to him for the rest of your life. But you also want to be a mother, even if it means that you’re stuck with Toji one way or another.

Your personal issues leave you absentminded at work. You barely hear the phone ringing, and when you do, it’s almost too late. You luckily pick it up. That’s your only job, answering phones, it’d be a shame if you couldn’t do that correctly.

“I’m here to talk to–” You hear a very familiar voice, and you feel a sigh leave your lips as you look up at him. You finish the conversation on the phone, and when you hang up, you clear your throat to ask,

“What are you doing here, Toji?” You make it clear that you’re not exactly pleased with his presence, and he rolls his eyes at your reaction. He isn’t here for you either way. He opens his mouth to speak but you do it before him, “Will you please leave me alone? I think we need a lot of time away from each other before–”

“Toji!” You turn your head to the woman that calls out his name. A manager in your workplace. She walks over to Toji, and you watch as they share a hug, one that lasts too much for your liking. They’ve known each other for some time, that’s clear, but Toji hasn’t come around in the time that you’ve been working here. She looks at you and orders, “Tell my assistant to cancel all my meetings.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You respond, watching as she walks back to her office and he follows behind. You do as she says, dialing the extension and telling the assistant that his boss is occupied. You feel your blood boil, even though you don’t care about Toji’s romances. If he has something going on with that woman, it obviously started while you were together.

Your chest feels heavy, thinking about the one time you chased him around thinking that he was cheating, but he was just working. Maybe he didn’t have to go elsewhere because his job had all he needed. Maybe you trusted him too much. You shouldn’t care, you’re already separated anyway. But you have to know.

You obviously can’t barge into the office and demand answers, matter of fact, you still don’t really want to talk to Toji. You try to not pay any attention to him, and to do that you decide to look at baby clothes. You shouldn’t, you don’t have the money for it right now, there’s other things you should figure out. It doesn’t hurt to look though.

Someone knocks on the reception desk, making you look up and away from the computer screen that displays the cutest onesie. It’s the assistant, Nanami. You smile at him, tilting your head to the side before asking, “How may I help you?”

“Why did she cancel?” He asks, and you shrug.

“She’s with Toji. Probably fuc–” You keep the thought to yourself. You don’t want to be inappropriate at work. Nanami’s brows raise.

“You think there’s something going on there? She’s just really flirty and he returns it because he’s trying to sell something to her.” He tells you, and you sigh. You want that to be the situation because you can’t stand the thought of hating Toji but knowing that he’s been cheating might be your final straw. “That’s what some people say though. I have no idea. Others say that they’re together.”

“It’s none of our business in the end, I guess.” You say and he hums in response.

“Are you two on a first name basis or what? Never heard someone refer to him as Toji, not even my boss.” Kento says, and you’re taken back by the question. You didn’t really expect that question especially since the man in front of you isn’t all that talkative; he’s bored and has nothing to do but he still has to stick around.

“We have a long history together.” You answer, not bothering to give more details. He isn’t going to pry. He nods his head in response, and since he has nothing more to ask or say, he leaves reception and goes back to his desk.

For the rest of the work day, you find yourself looking at baby clothes, growing excited over the fact that you’re growing life inside of you. Even if it’s Toji’s child.

The biggest sigh leaves your lips when you’re finally home after a long day at work. You luckily have the night off from your second job, and now you have the time to lounge around and be lazy. You were planning on leaving your second job once you got the chance to move out but since you’re pregnant, you have to save up your money so you can take some time off when your baby comes– Additionally, all the costs that come with a baby. You’re not counting on Toji.

A groan leaves your lips as you stretch. You get up from your couch and walk to the bathroom to turn on the faucet and fill the tub with water. You need a nice long bath to unwind, and hopefully it’ll help you to get your mind off Toji and the fact that he may have been cheating on you while you were married. You want to believe Nanami, but he’s oblivious to pretty much everything that’s going on around him.

You get undressed and soak yourself in the tub when it’s full. You allow yourself to relax in the warm water, shutting your eyes, trying your best to not fall asleep in the water. You have to open your eyes when you catch yourself drifting off. You grab a bottle of your bath bubbles and pour some into the water so you can entertain yourself like that.

You begin to play with the water to make bubbles, and when your bath is filled with them, you hear a knock on the front door. It’s rather aggressive, so it’s hard not to notice. You get out of the water, irritated as you grab a towel and dry yourself off. You don’t have enough time to run to your room to change into clothes so you grab your bathrobe and wrap it around yourself.

When you approach the door, the person knocks again, even harsher than before. You open the door, and you aren’t surprised to find your ex-husband standing before you with a bag that contains what you assume is food. You cross your arms, tilting your head to the side and ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Thought we’d have some dinner together after the awkward events from earlier.” He says, trying to disregard the fact that you’re just wearing a bathrobe with probably nothing underneath. The thought alone drives him wild.

“Why would I want to have dinner with you?” You ask him, letting it be known that you’re not exactly pleased with his presence. You don’t understand why you have to make it painfully obvious that you don’t want to be near him, he should know at this point. He’s just ignoring what you want for his own selfish reasons. You shouldn’t be surprised though, you married him knowing how selfish he is; you didn’t expect to divorce him though, and you didn’t expect his selfishness to affect you while you’re separating.

“I could tell you were upset when I left… So why not?” He responds and you don’t budge. He tries to weakly smile, and it comes off awful. “And you’re pregnant so I got you your favorite.”

“Fine.” You end up agreeing. You’re hungry and the thought of eating your favorite food brings joy to your heart– Except you’re not even sure if Toji bought the right meal, he doesn’t know you that well. You don’t think he does. But you’re hungry anyway. “You can set the table while I put on some clothes.”

“I don’t know–” He begins but you cut him off before he can finish his sentence.

“You wanted to have dinner with me, you can figure it out yourself. It’s not that hard.” You give him attitude before you walk to your room, leaving him to figure it out. Going through all the drawers isn’t that hard, he’s still a bit annoyed that he has to do so. He can’t really argue with you though since the last thing you want is for him to be at your apartment. You walk back, asking, “Did you find everything?”

“Yeah.” He answers, walking over to the table to organize the plates and utensils. You take a seat while he handles that. You watch as he does a task that he never did while you were married. You never really minded though, you had an agreement: you take care of the house while he pays for every bill.

When he takes a seat, you waste no time in serving yourself food. A small smile comes to your lips when you realize that he, in fact, did get your favorite food. You wipe it off your face before he can see it. You don’t want to give him that satisfaction of seeing you smile.

You quietly begin to eat when the food is served. Toji doesn’t like the silence, even if it’s what he wanted a couple of months ago. He clears his throat before asking, “So… Why were you upset?”

“I wasn’t upset.” You answer with your mouth full of food. You don’t want him to think that you’re upset, even though you so clearly are.

“When I left, I tried to talk to you but you couldn’t even look at me.” He points out, and you continue eating in silence.

“You should leave. Megumi already spends a lot of time alone.” You try to change the topic and kick him out of the apartment but that won’t work so easily on him. He takes a deep breath, standing up from the chair and walking to your kitchen to grab himself a glass of water.

“Why were you upset?” He asks, and you decide that suppressing your feelings isn’t really going to solve much. You sigh.

“Were you cheating on me while we were married?” You finally ask the question that’s been bugging your mind all day. Toji chokes on the water that he drinks, punching his chest as he coughs it out. You wait for his response patiently, watching him as you eat the food that’s in front of you.

“Why would you even suggest that? Do you not trust me?” He sounds deeply offended by the question, making another sigh leave your lips. You should’ve known that would be his response.

“I don’t. You did it once, you might do it again.” You tell him, and his brows furrow.

“That happened months into our relationship and you decided to stick around. I never did it again, I swear to you on my life.” He argues, which doesn’t really help you. You can’t bring yourself to trust him, at least not now.

“Then why was that lady so… Touchy. A little too close.” You remind him, and a smirk comes to Toji’s lips. He tilts his head to the side before asking,

“Are you jealous?” Which makes you roll your eyes. You don’t care to answer that, of course you’re jealous but you won’t admit it to him.

“Answer.” You order, and he puts the glass down. He walks back to the table and takes a seat. It feels like forever as you wait for him to answer. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest as you wait for a response.

“Flirting comes with the job sometimes. Flatter her, secure the company’s business.” He answers, and your eyes widen.

“I–” You open and close your mouth a couple of times, trying to figure out what you say. You’re hurt by his actions, and it leads you to say, “That’s cheating, Toji.”

“No it isn’t. I never wanted anything to do with her.” He points out, which doesn’t really help you. You feel nauseous and you have to stop eating before you throw it all back up. You have to take a deep breath before speaking again,

“Imagine if I started flirting with some random guy just to secure a good tip–” You begin but he cuts you off.

“If it’s your job, I wouldn’t care. You��re making more money for us.” He says, making you take another deep breath. You can’t believe this is the conversation you’re having with him.

“Right… You wouldn’t care. You wouldn’t even care if I was flirting just for attention.” You respond, and he crosses his arms. He clicks his tongue.

“What are you trying to say?” He asks, which makes a sigh escape your lips. You have to look away from him because you feel the tears well up in your eyes.

“That you’ve never really cared about me like that Toji. You wanted someone to fill the role of your wife, and that’s what I did essentially. You never cared for me as your lover though, you couldn’t care less about what I did as long as I continued to play wife.” You tell him, and he rolls his eyes. He’s tired of listening to this.

“That’s not true.” He responds. Of course. He’s not going to admit his faults, he never will.

“And if I told you I slept with someone once while we were together… Would you feel jealous? What if I told you I was seeing someone else now?” You bring up, and his brows raise. He finds himself speechless, completely unsure of how to respond to that. He ends up chuckling before saying,

“I wouldn’t feel jealous because I know neither of those things are true.” He knows you better than you think. But that’s not the reaction you want to see. “Let’s drop this. I was never cheating on you, now that that’s settled–”

“Maybe it isn’t cheating but it certainly hurts my feelings.” You respond, not wanting to drop the subject yet. “You couldn’t even bother giving me that type of attention, but you could do it to other women.”

“Why are you so overdramatic?” He scoffs.

“You’re right, Toji. I’m overdramatic. Yet you’re the one here that refuses to leave because for some stupid reason you think we can get back together.” You slightly raise your voice at him, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Why do I have to constantly show you that I love you? Do you not believe me?” He proceeds to ask which nearly makes your eye twitch. You can’t believe how long you stuck with this man.

“No! I made it clear that I don’t trust you.” You waste no time in answering. “Plus I’ve never been sure of your love in the first place.”

“I do love you.” He responds. You’re tired of hearing the same lie over and over again. You don’t see the point, he can just find another woman to play as his wife.

“This feels like the same conversation. We have this conversation every single time we talk.” You say, focusing back on eating. “Let’s not. Let’s change the topic or finish eating in silence.”

“Right.” Toji ends up sighing. “I’m covering half of your rent and your bills. I want you to leave your second job.”

“Huh?” You’re not sure if your ears are deceiving you. But he repeats it and you’re right. “What about your gambling addiction? Can you handle that?”

“Don’t bring that up. I don’t have an addiction either way.” Toji responds. But you’re not leaving your second job. He isn’t reliable. Even if you want to leave your second job to have nights off and be able to relax. “I guess… It’d be ideal if you moved back in but you’re not doing that.”

“Why are you doing this? Do you suddenly care about the pregnancy?” You ask. You don’t want him to be doing this simply because he wants to win you back, but knowing him he might be doing this just for that.

“I guess I have no other option. It’s my baby too.” He ends up saying, and you have no idea if you’re supposed to feel good about it. You have mixed emotions over it. “I can’t be a shitty father.”

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