#I want to strangle some of you lot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellecdc · 24 days

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Surprise! We're Making Love

6.8k words

this is my first real like... real smut fic? so do take that into consideration [and please be nice to me lol] but also feel free to send me a message if you have any feedback or pointers.

this is a fic based on this trope that was sent to me by @bobluvbot like a million weeks ago and became my hyper fixation for far too long. I finally decided to put it into words. thanks to @unstablereader for championing me as I wrote this and convincing me it was decent enough to post lol

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

CW: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coming inside of someone, AFAB reader, reader is a Pureblood Slytherin, has hair long enough for Rem to feel it on his shoulders when you're straddling him, reader has hair texture that sticks to you when wet, mentions of smoking weed and being high, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of arranged marriages, use of mudblood and blood supremacy

Remus doesn’t know how exactly this thing started for him.

Perhaps it was the day after a full moon when he forgot to lock the door behind him to the Prefects Bathroom and you let yourself in, nearly fully stripped before you realised he was sitting in the steaming, bubbling pool-sized tub with a spliff hanging lazily from his mouth.

“Circe’s tits!” You screeched as you hastily pulled up your towel to keep your modesty. “You didn’t think to alert me to your presence, Lupin?” You sneered half-heartedly at him as you tried to regain your composure.

“Sorry.” Remus chuckled, voice gravelly from a mixture of last night’s howling and tonight’s smoking. “My brain is moving a little slowly right now.”

You looked between him and the spliff and sighed. “Think you’ll be much longer?” You asked him quietly, cautiously, reticently. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you look so dejected.

Slytherin princess; though you never really let that dictate how you treated people, just that it levelled you with a certain notoriety within the school. You were the only one who could talk sense into Barty Crouch Junior; Pandora Rosier’s biggest defender and advocate; Snape, Mulciber, and Avery’s biggest adversary; the one who encouraged Regulus Black to reach out to his estranged older brother; and the least likely to enact revenge on the Marauder’s for their pranks.

Though Remus had never shared more than a few words with you in passing, he knew a lot about you. In addition to the aforementioned qualities, you were a Pureblood, the eldest daughter and heiress to your family’s name and fortune, Prefect, received top marks in Charms and Transfiguration, and hated the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Knowing all of that made Remus rather rueful that he hadn’t spoken to you before now.

“Listen, this tub is nearly the size of an Olympic swimming pool.” Remus started, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion. “It’s big.” He clarified. “I don’t mind...sharing if you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable; otherwise, I’ll pack up and leave it to you.”

He didn’t really want to leave; not whilst he was still nursing his post-moon hangover and the warm water was finally starting to relieve some of the tension in his bones. But you looked forlorn, and damn Remus and his bleeding heart, he’d give it up if you needed it.

“I don’t want to kick you out... you were here first.” You murmured, apparently weighing your options in your head.

“I will leave if you want, L/N, but I’m more than willing to share.”

You searched his eyes for what, Remus wasn’t sure, but you seemed to come to some decision. You threw your head back and let out a strangled groan which Remus was certain was more for dramatic effect than it was indicative of any real ire.

“Fine, turn around.”

Remus smirked at you and tried to ignore the protesting of his joints as he stood in the pool and turned to face the opposite wall, allowing you to drop the rest of your clothes and your towel and sink into the water.

“Okay...” You whispered quietly. “You can sit back down now; thank you.”

Perhaps it had begun then; he’d offered you a puff from his joint, causing you to move closer to him. He was a gentleman and avoided noticing the way your breasts sat high on your chest, buoyant in the bubbly and fragrant waters.

He ignored the feeling of your elbow brushing against his. He ignored the way your hair, damp from the steam and humidity, stuck against your skin. And he definitely ignored the way that as the weed started to affect you, you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

What he couldn’t ignore? When you asked him what you could do to help him.

“Help?” Remus asked you bemusedly, jostling his shoulder and forcing you to sit up and return his gaze.

“Yeah; you seem tense, stressed.”

Remus let out a confused chuckle from his nose. “That’s really not anything you need to worry about.”

You laughed back at him, nudging him with your elbow. “Lupin.” You chided. “You were willing to give up your private pool time, you’ve shared your weed with me, and you’ve let me intrude on your bath; let me worry about it.”

And he doesn’t know how you did it, he’s not even sure he remembers how the rest of the conversation went – one moment the two of you were sitting an entire swimming pool apart and pretending the other wasn’t there, and the next moment he was sitting on the edge of the pool with his hands tangled in your hair as you took him in your mouth.

“Christ, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He tried warning you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

Like the watery siren that you were, all you did was moan and take him deeper, and in another moment, he was spilling down your throat.

Remus was sure he looked absolutely wrecked; naked, soaking, exhausted, a few fresh wounds from last night, and his permanent eye bags a more dramatic purple today on account of his lack of sleep last night.

Not you though; somehow even though you’d just done all the work, you looked ethereal. Wet hair pooling in the water around you as you sunk into the suds up to your collarbones, your lips swollen and glistening from your fantastic work if you asked Remus, and eyes a mischievous magnet nearly luring Remus back into the pool completely against his will.

“Godric, you’re good at that.” He breathed embarrassingly. Thankfully, you only laughed at with him.

“I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, Lupin; but it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a whore.”

Remus cackled at that, thankful that his time in the water eased the soreness in his ribs before doing so.

“If you give me a few moments, I’ll return the favour dove.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You offered, moving back to the other side of the pool to retrieve the book you’d deserted in favour of pot, and then in favour of cock. “I’ll just take an I.O.U.”

Or maybe it started at the Ravenclaw afterparty following their win against Hufflepuff. You showed up with your friends fashionably late and clearly having pre-gamed to some extent if Barty’s uncoordinated movements were anything to go by.

He noticed you every once in a while, flitting around the party with various friends, dancing to various tunes, participating in various games over conversations; but something was different about you. You weren’t as...glowy.

Your smile never met your eyes, and your laughs weren’t carefree – not like they were in the tub. Not like they ought to be.

But hey, you helped him when he needed it, and he did technically owe you.

He brushed past you and gently pulled on your elbow as he continued moving. When you turned back to see what had happened, he nodded toward the exit.

He didn’t bother turning around to see if you were following him, he just carried on down the stairs of Ravenclaw tower before turning the corner to an empty corridor.

“Oi, Lupin; your legs are longer than mine. Slow down!” You called.

He didn’t realise at that time how much it meant to him that you had followed; hindsight being 20/20, and all.

“Where are we going?” You queried as you caught up and walked in step with him.

“You’ll see.” He said simply, cutting across the hall and opening the door to an empty classroom.

“Going to teach me how to translate Ancient Runes, Lupin?” You joked, though your affect was clearly lacking.

“I’m going to help.” He responded simply, leaning backwards against the professor’s desk.

“Help?”

“Right.”

You smirked and raised a singular perfectly manicured eyebrow at him, looking him up and down with a suggestive glance.

“What exactly are you to help me with?”

“You seem worried, tense.” He repeated your exact words from the tub a little over a week ago.

You offered him a half smile that, once again, never met your eyes. “That’s not something you need to worry about.”

He offered you a soft smile in return. “I do owe you, though.”

Remus doesn’t know what it was that convinced you to accept his offer. One moment he was leaning casually against the professor’s desk as you watched him warily from the door to the classroom, and the next moment he had you splayed out on the desk before him with the skirt of your dress bunched up around your waist and his head between your legs.

Now, it’s important to note that Remus is a humble and modest person. In fact, he’s really quite self-conscious. He didn’t come from a notable family and compared to his friends he was basically a pauper, he was scarred and tall and lanky, and due to his lycanthropy, he avoided meaningful relationships; meaning that whilst his friends all enjoyed relationships and situationships, he stayed religiously single.

All that being said, there was something Remus knew to be true that he felt worth bragging about.

He was fucking good in bed.

So his ego was properly stroked when you threw your head back so hard that it made a painful whacking sound against the wood of the desk with just the first stripe of his tongue through your folds.

Like a man starved, he buried his face between your legs and hardly ever came back up for air. He pulled your hips flush to his chest with your legs thrown over his shoulders and his arms hugging your thighs that he used as earmuffs.

Remus could easily call this one of his new favourite places to be, especially with the sinful sounds escaping your mouth.

He used his thumb to tease your clit, thrusting his tongue in your hole a few times before bringing it back out to run through your lips.

“Oh, Merlin!” You cried, causing him to chuckle, which caused you to flinch slightly at the feeling of his cold breath against your cunt.

“Come now, L/N; you know that’s not my name.”

You let out another cry as he wasted no time diving back in, his nose rubbing at your clit as his tongue continued its assault.

Remus’ efforts were rewarded in the form of you cumming on his face and your body falling limp below him.

He allowed you to catch your breath as he fought to catch his own, ignoring his knees crying in protest from having spent the last however long supporting his weight on the hard stone floor.

“Oh gods.” You breathed finally, opening your eyes and stealing a shy glance at Remus, still stationed near your core.

He smiled wolfishly at you. “Better?”

You laughed; a real, hard laugh that had been missing from you all night. “Much.” You agreed readily, accepting his outstretched hand and sitting up on the edge of the desk and pushing your skirt back down to cover yourself. “Thank you, Lupin.”

Remus shrugged nonchalantly as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a snap of his fingers, pushing open a window with a flick of his wand. “What are friends for?”

You snorted inelegantly; a far cry from the proper Pureblood heiress you’d been raised to be as you pulled your panties back on and took careful, albeit slightly wobbly, steps to join him at the window.

“Are we friends now?”

“Were we not friends before?” He countered, offering you a drag from his smoke that you easily accepted. He was sure his lips, tongue, and now the end of his cigarette still tasted like you.

“I didn’t think your kind was supposed to be friends with mine.” You offered, not looking at him as you passed the cigarette back.

“Blood status, really L/N?”

You scoffed derisively. “Please, Lupin. Give me some credit.”

It seemed to Remus that you looked almost hurt at his insinuation.

“I meant Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s.”

“Perhaps we can be the first.”

“Do many of your friends see you naked, Lupin?”

Remus grimaced at that. “Honestly? More than I’d like, yes.”

And there it was again, that uninhibited laugh. Remus felt vindicated in his task for this evening.

“Alright, friends then.” You agreed, reaching out for his cigarette and taking a long drag before returning it to him. “Let me know when you might need my help again, Lupin.”

“Likewise.”

And maybe it was the day that he had Avery pinned against the wall by the collar of his shirt for calling a first year Hufflepuff a Mudblood.

There was blood dripping from Remus’ nose onto the collar of his uniform shirt from an elbow to the face as he spat various threats promises of pain and maiming, when he felt a gentle hand on the small of his back.

Due to the tension radiating through Remus’ body considering how close it was to the moon, his first reaction was to throw an elbow behind him. He thanked every deity possible that you were shorter than him when you ducked expertly to dodge his assault.

“Let him go.” You said simply.

Remus felt his brows furrow as he let out a protesting grumble.

“McGonagall is coming.” You continued.

Remus looked from you back to Avery who was now smirking at him. If Remus left now, Avery would tell McGonagall what Remus did; if Remus stayed, he could tell McGonagall what Avery had said.

“He won’t say anything.” You argued - as if you had heard Remus’ internal conundrum - causing Avery’s face to fall and both boys to whip their heads to you.

“And why the bloody hell won’t I, L/N?” Avery spat.

Your eyes moved from Remus’ to Avery’s where they took on a horrifyingly cold quality, no doubt the result of your cold and indifferent parents raising you like a proper Pureblood heir.

“Because I know where you sleep.” You spat lowly.

Remus watched as Avery fought to remain defiant, but as he heard the sound of McGonagall’s footsteps approaching, let out a frustrated groan.

“Fine. Sod off.” He barked, pushing Remus away from him roughly and stalking off towards the Slytherin dungeons.

Remus angrily picked up his book bag and began stalking down the corridor in the opposite way.

His blood was boiling, the tension in his shoulders and neck was starting to give him a headache and every step he took aggravated the matter.

He turned hastily around a corner when the strap of his book bag was pulled off his shoulder.

“What?” He hissed when he turned to see you with the other end of his strap in your hand.

“This way.”

“L/N.”

“Lupin.” You countered severely, voice intoning no nonsense.

Remus allowed you to drag him by his bookbag like a dog down a seemingly abandoned corridor and into an empty classroom before you locked the doors and threw up a silencing charm.

“What are you doing?” He muttered admittedly far more petulantly than you presently deserved from him.

“Helping.” You answered simply as you began undoing your school tie.

“I’m fine.” He spat, plopping himself down roughly into a chair.

“Right.” You said sarcastically. “And you wouldn’t have continued to punch the first arse you saw on your way back to Gryffindor, huh?” You asked as you started pulling off your top and exposing your lacy black bra. “And I may not be an expert, but you’re a long way from Gryffindor tower which means your chances of running into an arse were really rather high.”

Remus held his hands up to his face and pinches at his temples, trying to stave off the incoming migraine and the overwhelming urge to tell you to fuck off, which he knew he really didn’t want to do.

Suddenly you were in nothing but your bra and panties, kneeling before him and fussing with his belt.

“This really isn’t necessary, L/N.” He offered without much fervour.

“What are friends for?” You asked quietly as you pulled his belt from the loops of his trouser.

“You don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked pointedly, pausing your movements and looking up at him. You were giving him a choice; an out. Did he want to blow off some steam, or did he want to spend the rest of his day pissed off and tense?

Did he want you to stop?

“No.” He admitted.

Your eyes softened, though everything else about your face remained impassive as you undid the button and zip to his trousers and began encouraging them down his legs.

He decided to give up on his temper tantrum and assist you in the unenviable task of disrobing him and pulled you up into his lap.

“I don’t need anything.” You squeaked as he had you straddle his lap, your hair falling over your shoulders and tickling his own from your place above him.

“I’m not going to get in a fight and be a selfish lover all in the same day, L/N.” He said in faux admonishment. “Friends look after each other, yeah?”

And he’s not sure what swayed you. One moment he had you perched precariously above him as he gently nipped at your neck, and the next moment he was brutally thrusting up into you with no lack of desperation.

“Fuckin’ hells you feel amazing.” He grunted as you mewled above him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes screwed shut causing Remus to worry momentarily.

“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly. You moaned in response and dropped your chin onto his shoulder.

“Hey, dove, you okay?” He asked again, pulling you from him and slowing his movements.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Lupin.” You barked before you pulled his face to yours by the ends of his hair for a searing kiss.

He grinned somewhat maniacally into the kiss and lifted you from his lap as he stood with his cock still lodged deep within you and perched you on the edge of the desk.

“You’re a bossy girl, aren’t you?” He taunted, pushing roughly into you from this new angle and causing you to cry out. “You like telling men what to do, dove?”

You gasped as Remus found the magic little spot he’d been searching for and he doubled down in his thrusts with renewed vigour.

“That’s okay.” He continued, brushing a strand of hair away from your face that had gotten stuck in some of your lipgloss. “I like being told what to do.”

“Please! Please, please please.” You whined, a pretty sheen of sweat dusted your skin and began to pool on the divot of your collarbone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me.”

“Working on it.”

You were apparently coherent enough to laugh at that which was torture for Remus who was currently hanging on by a fucking thread as your giggles caused your cunt to clench torturously around his cock.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come on, cum for me, yeah? You’re close; I can tell. Cum for me.” He started chanting, moving his hand that was currently holding your knee up near his ribs to rub circles around your clit.

“Cum for me, L/N.”

“Oh fuck.” You shouted as your orgasm tore through you; Remus felt almost sick from the effort not to follow you over the edge immediately, wanting to help you ride out yours to fruition, but your walls pulsating around him left him very little control over the matter.

“Fuck.” Remus growled, and unfortunately that was the only warning you got before slammed into you once more, twice more, and was then spilling inside you causing your cunt to grow impossibly more wet and warm.

You let out a desperate breath and fell forward into Remus’ chest; he was ashamed to admit how much he relished in the intimacy - ignoring the very intimate act that had already taken place.

“Fuck Lupin, you’re an animal.” You breathed out with a laugh.

Remus let out a surprised bark of laughter as he looked down at you.

“You have no idea.”

And if it wasn’t any of those, perhaps it was a few weeks later, when Remus saw a regal looking owl fly into the Great Hall over the Slytherin table, and with a grand war cry dropped an important looking letter in front of you, causing the rest of your table to fall silent.

Remus watched as Regulus Black’s jaw tightened and Barty Crouch Junior’s spoon fell back into his porridge as they watched you open it.

Remus watched as all colour seemed to drain from your face and your jaw fell slack, though not open.

The rest of the Hall seemed completely unaware of the turmoil taking place over at the Slytherin table; everyone but Remus and, apparently, Sirius Black.

“Shit.” Sirius whispered under his breath quietly, alerting neither Peter nor James who were currently in a heated debate about whether pumpkin pasties or sugar quills were the better treat from Honeydukes.

“What is it?” Remus asked him quietly. Sirius seemed nearly surprised that Remus had noticed, though schooled his expression quickly.

“Marriage announcement, she’s been betrothed.” He sneered the word, his nose actually wrinkling in disgust. “‘Sold off’ is a more appropriate term. It’s too bad, I quite liked her.”

Remus didn’t really like the feeling that settled in his stomach when he considered you being married off, but he didn’t have time to think on it too hard before he watched you storm over to Avery, Mulciber, and Snape before grabbing the former by the nape of his neck and slamming his head down into the table.

Remus was up and over to you in an instant with Sirius close behind, beaten only by Barty and Regulus who had the advantage of proximity.

“You miserable fucking wanker! You’ll fucking rot for this!” You screamed as Regulus fought and nearly lost in his battle of holding you back as Barty began sparring with your newfound enemy.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this Avery! You watch your fucking back!” You screeched. Regulus - for what reason, Remus couldn’t know - thought now a good moment to put you down, and as you launched yourself once again for what he was sure was Avery’s jugular, Remus threw you over his shoulder and took off out of the Great Hall.

“Put me down!” You shouted.

“No.”

“Fuck off, Lupin.” You cried, grabbing at his jumper and slamming your fists into his lower back as he took the stairs two at a time.

“You’re fine, L/N.”

You squealed and began kicking your legs out, causing him to use both arms to pin them to his torso.

“Stop it.”

“Put me down!”

“Stop it. Stop fighting me.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s fine.” He said, though it felt anything but. But he knew, you weren’t really mad at him, you perhaps weren’t even really mad at Avery.

“I hate you.” You said quietly this time.

“That’s alright.”

You had given up on your fight by the time Remus got to his destination. He was sure his shoulder in your stomach was causing you issues and the blood had to have been rushing to your head, but you remained placid as he hoisted you back up right and set you down on the floor of the Astronomy tower.

Your face was wet and your hair was a mess as you took gasping breaths.

This was beyond Remus’ wheelhouse when it came to you; he was good for eating you out, blowing off some steam, quickies, and the odd toke or two, but this? This was beyond his area of expertise.

He decided to sit down beside you - both your backs pressed against the cold stone of the castle in a way he was sure felt good against your skin that was sizzling and crackling with fury. He didn’t say anything; there was nothing to say, nothing that he could say, and nothing he’d really know to say at a moment like this. Perhaps he should have left you to your friends; to the Purebloods who got it. Though, Regulus seemed willing to let you help Barty kill Avery, so perhaps it was better that you were up here with him instead.

That's what he’d tell himself for now.

It could have been minutes or even an hour before you finally took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Remus asked quietly.

“Stop me.”

“You stopped me first.”

You let that sit in the air as you looked out into the horizon.

“What do you need, L/N? What… what can I do?” He begged desperately.

Remus was certain the entire school could hear the sound of his heart breaking at the devastated expression that graced your face when you turned to make eye contact with him; your eyes seemed to beg Remus for something but he couldn’t decipher what it was that you were asking of him.

“I want to…to forget.” You sobbed. “I want to not think, I want to turn it all off for a fucking, god’s damned minute. I want it all to stop.”

“Okay.” He offered readily.

“I want it to stop.”

“Okay.” He repeated, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m right here.” He encouraged you. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to forget.”

“Okay.” Remus said again, pulling at your hand and encouraging you into his lap. “I’m right here; take what you need.”

And Remus wasn’t sure what went through your mind as you searched between his hazel eyes. One moment you were carefully perched above him in his lap; tear tracks staining your cheeks and eyes full of sorrow. And in the next moment, your uniform skirt was hiked up and panties pulled to the side, and Remus’ belt was undone and his trousers were pulled low around his thighs as you bounced up and down on his cock like it was the solution to all of life's problems.

Remus wished it were true, he really did. But if all he could do at this moment was help you turn your brain off and forget the unpleasantness waiting for you back in the castle for just a little bit, then that’s what he would do.

You had your face shoved into his neck and he was quite sure you were biting down on the junction between his shoulder and his neck - in an attempt to quell your moans, your crying, or just out of frustration, Remus didn’t know, and quite frankly he didn’t care either way. You grinded down onto him and he felt you applying pressure to your clit against his pelvic bone, prompting him to start rubbing it with his thumb.

“You can let go, gorgeous. No one’s here.” He whispered.

You bit down harder in response and began riding him with an air of desperation.

“I’m right here.”

And then he felt it. First, he felt your tears fall onto his shoulder, then he felt your teeth break his skin, and finally he felt your walls clench around him.

You stayed latched onto him; your arms around his waist, your hands clenched into the fabric of his jumper, your teeth on his skin and your cunt on his cock as he thrusted up into you and found his own release with very little effort on account of the aftershocks still shuddering through you.

You sat like that for some time afterwards; the gentle breeze causing goosebumps to cover each of you as the sweat began to cool on your skin, and Remus rubbed circles into your bare thighs with his thumbs.

Unfortunately - for reasons Remus wasn’t willing to ponder on at present - you pulled away, a string of spit connecting your lips to the place on Remus’ neck he was sure now adorned the shape of your teeth.

“Sorry.” You rasped, running a hand over the newest of many wounds now decorating his skin. He didn’t want you to be sorry, though, he thought perhaps this might be his favourite one; it wasn’t the result of some hideous monster who took out its rage on him, but instead marked a tender moment between him and his…friend.

You pulled your wand to cast a healing charm over it when Remus grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t.”

Your reddened and swollen eyes looked at him inquisitively, causing Remus to flush in embarrassment.

“Leave it, I’ve already got so many; what’s one more?” He tried to joke, though he could tell as you looked back down at the bite mark, it fell flat.

“I’m sorry.” You said again, and Remus shook his head.

“Don’t be.”

“Thank you.” You said quietly, looking into Remus’ eyes imploringly, as if trying to convey your gratitude through your very soul. “For stopping me.”

This moment suddenly felt too charged for Remus; it was different somehow, something had happened, though he wasn’t sure what.

Not then, at least.

“That’s what friends do.” He said noncommittally. “It was an I.O.U.”

He managed to force a small smile out of you for that, and he was grateful.

So perhaps it was all of those together, in addition to the many blowjobs, many quickies, many quiet, loud, rough, or awkward fucks the two of you had in between.

But maybe…

Maybe it was the way your smile lit up the room when Barty or Pandora said something particularly outlandish or funny; your laughter echoing through the halls like an invitation to experience a secret joy that only you and your friends knew about.

Or maybe it was the way you seemed to be the only one who could weasel a smile, a laugh, or a fond eye roll out of the notoriously cold and apathetic Regulus.

Or maybe it was how a dimple in your left cheek only appeared when you were particularly proud of an achievement you made or a grade you received.

Or maybe it was the kind way you sheltered the younger Slytherin’s from the brunt of the Marauder’s pranks without impeding their more good natured ones.

Or maybe it was the way you hexed McLaggen for hitting on Lily Evans, and then again for calling her a filthy Mudblood when she refused his advancements.

Or maybe it was the way that you could always tell when Remus was feeling sad or low and needed help, needed something, needed you.

And fuck.

He needed you.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure how this thing started for him.

One moment you were on your hands and knees in his bed and he was fucking into you from behind; his body curled around yours as he rubbed at your clit expertly to push you over that edge for the third time tonight. And the next moment you were spread out and pliant beneath him, head thrown back in ecstasy as he lazily pushed into you.

He didn’t often get moments like this; moments to just sit and admire you.

This thing he had with you, it was delicate, precarious. It was precious. And he wasn’t going to go fucking it up by forcing it to be something it wasn’t.

You were friends.

You were friends who helped each other.

You were friends who have seen each other naked; who have tasted each other’s sweat, skin, flesh, blood, and cum.

You were friends who have spent time with each other, on each other, and in each other.

You were friends.

That’s what you had agreed to, that was the arrangement, that was all this was supposed to be.

And then Remus’ stupid sodding heart had to go and fucking yearn for you.

It ached to sit beside you in the library without it being a precursor for one of you to be on your knees in the stacks moments later.

It ached to ask you about your day for the sole purpose of getting to hear about it and not just as a means to help you take your mind off it by bending you over in an empty classroom.

It ached to watch you, uninhibited throughout the day, without it causing grief, or angst, or hungry looks being exchanged.

It ached to taste your lips without tasting the leftover sex from previous actions.

It ached for you to climb into the shower with him after this, to throw on one of his ratty old band tees, and to stay.

It ached for you to stay.

He wanted you to stay.

But you guys were friends.

And that was enough, it had to be enough. He would make it be enough.

So sue him; sue him for taking this extra moment to admire your form below him, when you were only his in this moment. Sue him for memorising the way your hair pooled around your head like a halo even after all the tugging and ruffling that it has been subjected to. Sue him for watching the way your breasts bounced with each gentle thrust of his hips, the way your ribs expanded and contracted with each breath, the way the two of you fit so perfectly together; your body accepting him with grace and ease as he slotted the two of you together over and over and over again.

He ached for you.

And damn him - damn him and his bleeding heart and this beautiful girl beneath him - he reached out to pull a strand of hair that laid plastered to the side of your sweaty face.

He didn’t just ache for you.

He yearned for you.

He loved you.

He was in love with you.

And Godric only knows how far gone he was or for how long now. But it didn’t matter; none of it mattered. All that mattered was this ethereal being that, for just this moment, was all his.

He doesn’t know how long your eyes had been returning his gaze. He supposed it didn’t matter, because he knew; he knew it was written all over his face.

He may as well have been flashing a neon sign on his forehead: “My name is Remus, and I’m wildly in love with you”. And if the sign hadn’t been enough, he was sure his actions were.

There was no longer any desperation in his actions; no destination in mind as he slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in again. His hands weren’t placed in precise locations to elicit a specific reaction of any sort, but rather roved languidly over your body in meticulous worship.

And if that hadn’t been enough, he was sure that the way you were staring deep into his eyes, into his soul; you saw. You knew.

The jig was up.

He had been outed.

Your eyes widened minutely and began to flit around Remus’ face as your grip on his arms stationed on either side of your body loosened.

You knew.

Though it was all for naught at this point, Remus scrunched his eyes closed as if he could save any of his remaining dignity; not that there was much left.

This was it, it was all going to be over.

He lowered himself over your body and pressed his face into your neck, hiding like the coward he was as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

Gently, tentatively, he felt you press a cautious hand between his shoulder blades and another to the nape of his neck.

Somehow, the tenderness in your touch hurt more.

He came with a strangled cry, feeling humiliating tears fall from his eyes as he filled you up for what he was certain would be the last time.

He melted into your hold and cried silently into your shoulder, and you let him.

Your hand that was stationed between his shoulder blades never moved, but your hand in his hair kneaded gentle, soothing circles into his scalp.

He wanted you to stop; he wanted you to stop because this was all he really wanted... to be here, with you, like this.

He wanted the rough and the fun and the biting and the hair pulling, sure. But he wanted the gentle, the soft, the affection, and the innocent intimacy, too.

That wasn’t fair though; it wasn’t fair to you. You never asked for it, and you never offered it.

You never asked for it.

You never offered it.

He decided that he’d been hiding in your neck for far longer than he had any right to, and slowly pulled his face away from its sanctuary.

He looked up at you through his curls in shame to see you had tear tracks down your cheeks too.

What a fucking mess.

He was a fucking mess; and he’d dragged you down into it.

He slowly pulled out of you and summoned a tissue to clean up the cum leaking from your folds. You hissed at the sensation and he whispered an apology before pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and throwing you a t-shirt that he hoped to fucking God was clean, and sat on the edge of James’ bed; facing you, though his head was bowed in shame.

“I’m sorry.” He offered pathetically, knowing it was not even close to helpful in this situation.

“When…” You started, voice both gravely from the sex and tight with emotions as new tears fell. “When did this happen?”

He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t know. He couldn't say.

“When,” you tried again. “When did this change?”

Your face fell into your hands as you began to cry in earnest.

He wondered what part of this upset you the most; the loss of this friend that you had in him? The pressure to offer him more than you were willing to give? The feeling of guilt over not being able to return his feelings?

You didn’t seem to be waiting for an actual answer from him, but were rather voicing the thoughts running through your head as they came to you.

“I should go.” He whispered, even though this was his room, even though you were wearing his shirt.

“Don’t.” You demanded harshly, eyes blazing with a fire he never imagined ever being shot at him. “Don’t you dare leave me here like this; not after that.”

He nodded quickly, sitting back down on James’ bed as you wiped angrily at your face.

He wished you wouldn’t; he wished you’d be more gentle.

He didn’t get to wish things like that, though.

“When, when did this become love?” You asked in a mixture of shock and bemusement; the thought of an equation you couldn’t solve was clearly insulting to you.

Remus shook his head in disgrace. “I’m sorry.” He offered weakly.

You scoffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Sorry for what, exactly? Making me fall in love with you? Making me fall in love with you and not telling me about it?”

“You... too?” He rasped, looking at you with a slack jaw.

“Fuck.” You seethed, standing up and beginning to pace the dorm room for a few moments as you seemed to think back on the entire duration of this situation.

“When!?” You demanded again after a few moments.

“I don’t know.” He admitted honestly, placatingly.

“Fuck.” You paused in place, bringing your hands to your mouth. Remus hated it, but you paused right in front of the hearth, causing your form to be illuminated by an ethereal glow. He thought you looked beautiful.

“I’m sorry.” He said, for daring to even think such a thing.

But, maybe…maybe if you loved him too, he could think such things?

“Fuck.” You said again, still staring unseeingly at the wall of his dorm as you stood in nothing but an oversized shirt in the middle of the room.

“What-” Remus started, taking a cautious step towards you as if you were a wild animal poised to run at any given moment. “What do you want, Y/N?”

Not one muscle in your body moved save for your eyes as they shot over to him.

“Anything.” He whispered.

I’ll give you anything you want; be anything you want. Say it and I’m yours. I’m yours.

I’m already all yours.

“I need to pee.” You said plainly.

Remus’ chest deflated in relief that you weren’t asking him to obliviate this memory from your mind.

“And then…” You took a shuddering breath that made Remus want to fold you up and keep you safe in his breast pocket for the rest of his life. “And then I want to talk. About this, okay? Please?”

Remus nodded quickly, readily, so unbelievably willingly.

“Don’t leave, please. Please be here when I get back.” You whispered; eyes, voice, and body language far more vulnerable than he ever remembered seeing from you (and ever cared to see from you again).

“Always.”

And he kept that promise.

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sp0o0kylights · 9 months

Text

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition.

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place.

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip.

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck.

The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital.

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten.

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled.

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but.

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.)

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen.

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair.

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants."

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him.

Would Harrington pitch a fit?

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did?

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper.

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life?

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it.

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--"

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out."

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying.

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness.

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone."

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box.

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home.

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope.

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet.

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand.

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list.

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that."

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face.

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him.

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

"You'll check up on Robin too, right?" He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?"

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years.

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here.

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder.

Several somethings, in fact.

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck.

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick.

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie.

An unfair advantage, really.

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly.

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie.

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting.

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie."

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

"What do you mean Si--Wayne."

"Nice catch.” Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.”

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much.

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither.

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat."

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked.

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?"

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret.

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt."

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle.

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end."

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink.

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?"

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be.

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless.

"Anybody else?" He asked.

"Nobody human." Steve replied.

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that.

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?"

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency, I'd be happy to."

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through.

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation.

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus. "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER."

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it.

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair."

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound.

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble.

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…"

"You take any today son?"

Steve his head.

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack.

Course he hadn't.

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in.

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once.

#hands on knees #this is gonna have more than three parts fffffff #FAIR WARNING I do jump between Wayne and Eddie’s pov in this.#Everything Ive written so far while in parts for tumblr would basically be chapter 1 on A03 #Eddies POV change would be chapter two #Ugh Im gonna have to put this on A03. Dammit brain.#also I updated this very fast for me #no one get excited Idk the brain is doing #steddie #beat to shit Steve Harrington #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne as a BAMF #I tried to get to the part where Eddie shows up but it just got too long for a tumblr post #pre steddie #wayne and Hopper both as psuedo parents to Steve #tw injuries #0o0 fanfics #stranger things

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 months

Note

What about Graves with a breeding kink or if reader is pregnant? I know you don't rlly write for him a lot, but I love when you do.

Idk if you'll feel like answering this, but ily and ur fics regardless 🫶

Graves w/ a Breeding Kink

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Breeding Kink, Possessive Graves, Housewifery, Pet Names,Profanity, Fem! Reader.

He lusts for the American dream; the very foundations upon which he continues his existence. To have – to create – a family. And he can think of nobody better to achieve that dream with than you.

He’s on top of you, arms either side of your head, gasping, panting, bent over you and exerting every inch of himself as if you were crafted of some divine substance with tools far beyond human comprehension.

He’s been at it for hours now. You see it in the way his hair sticks together, slicked with sweat as it drips down his face, hear it in the thick, wet sound of his cock slipping back into you with every thrust of his hips, feel it in the growing ache in your abdomen as he fills you again, letting out a strangled, short-breathed moan as your body squeezes around him. He doesn’t let up, though.

He pushes through, gripping you by your hips and pulling you closer onto him. You gasp, back arching as he hits a spot deeper within you. An area he’d been abusing all night,

“B’such a good little mommy for me,” he whispers into your hair, just above your ear. He presses a lopsided kiss there, lip wet from the many times he’s drawn it into his mouth with his teeth.

“Y’want that, Sweetness?” he pants, looking into your eyes with his half-lidded pair. “Want me to–” – he grunts – “want me t’make you mine from the inside out?”

You can’t get the words out fast enough; garbled and twisted, they come out tangled and in knots, as if tripping over each other to reach a unified ‘yes’. With the little energy you have left, you nod with all the enthusiasm your half-gone mind can conjure. Graves smiles, giving a brief, airy laugh. “Knew I’d made the right choice pickin’ you. Knew you’d make a good housewife for me someday,”

You clench. Graves gasps. He brings warm lips to yours as if to press his love there, as if you are to now impart upon him that which he has longed for for years unnumbered; a family.

He angles deeper, presses his throbbing, pulsating instrument into the most inconspicuous part of you that has you arching your back and letting out an almost-scream. Your knees press into the sides of Graves’ waist, tightening around him just as your cunt did. He yells, uses every ounce of his strength to not collapse on top of you, the tip of his nose against yours. Something in him tightens, snaps, and he floods you for the umpteenth time, pressing himself deeper, making sure his seed takes.

Not that you can see for your eyes being screwed shut, but Graves gazes upon you as you bask in the afterglow of his labour, feeling a smile creeping up onto his cheeks as he takes in your every feature. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s seen them, in one form or another, he never stops being fascinated – enamoured – by them. By you.

When you come down, come to, you give Phillip a smile he knows all too well – one that preludes your telling him you’re ready for bed. He all but pounces on you as you turn onto your side, taking you by the wrists and pressing them into the pillow beneath you. A dark glimmer passes through his eye, and he gives you a hazy, slithering smirk, followed by his southern drawl.

“Oh no, Princess,” he says, taking your chin between his fingers.

“We’re not done ‘til I say we’re done.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod smut #mw2 #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #graves x reader #graves mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader

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teamatsumu · 3 months

Note

PLS I JUST NEED SOME DOMINANT XAVIER

a/n: I GOTCHU BABY

warnings: smut, nsfw, swearing, fem!reader

Xavier is….. quiet. Playful and slightly teasing, but he usually remains withdrawn. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, so you can’t often predict what he will do next. Moments like these can catch you off guard, but not in a bad way. In fact, you welcome the display of emotion, when he goes from being quiet and endearing to…. this.

Sex with Xavier is almost always initiated by you. He is shy when it comes to intimacy, but when you initiate, he reciprocates enthusiastically. He is eager to please, and eager to make you feel good. You turn him on, so he finds pleasure in giving back to you, and that means making you cum as many times on his cock as physically possible for you.

With how giving yet teasing he is, it’s rare to see Xavier lose his composure, especially in bed. But sometimes, like right now, your pussy squeezes around him just right, and fits snug around his cock, pushing him closer to what he knows will be a mind numbing orgasm, and he can’t help but want to chase that addicting high.

You are face down on the bed, holding yourself up by your elbows, with Xavier behind you, cock sliding steadily in and out of your wet cunt. You already came twice, but your body continues to want more, the glorious feeling of reaching your end when it is Xavier getting you there. Your arms struggle to hold yourself up, trembling under you as your body begins to feel more and more like jelly.

“Harder.” You manage to gasp out, feeling your walls tighten around his heavy cock. You can feel how much you are gushing, how close you are to the next orgasm, and it makes you arch more, push yourself back on him as he continues to fuck into you.

Xavier almost growls, feeling his inhibitions ebb away with every squeeze of your wet pussy, every squelch of your juices when he sinks in balls deep, as he eyes the pornographic arch of your back. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you up so your back meets his chest, one hand twisting around your jaw and holding you in place. It reminds him of how often you cup and squeeze his cheeks, and somehow squeezing your jaw right back in this context is driving him wild.

His speed picks up, one arm holding you in place while the other pins your own behind your back until you can do nothing but take whatever he was giving you. He liked you this way, pliant under him, accepting everything with open arms (metaphorically). He pounds into you harder, feeling the sudden urge to immobilize you further. And he does, pushing you down again and draping his broad body over yours.

You gasp at the change in angle, feeling your senses tingle and insides turn into mush. Xavier doesn’t manhandle you a whole lot, but that’s exactly what he is doing right now. He’s catering to his own pleasure right now more than yours, and paradoxically, this is turning you on even more. You moan approvingly when you feel your orgasm approaching, and you let him know.

“Xavier, I’m gonna come again.” Your voice is high, pleading, so desperate to get there, and it makes Xavier grit his teeth and speed up, slipping into the same urge he always had. The urge to please.

Your orgasm barrelled into you with full force, making your body seize up and tremble hard as wave after wave of intense stimulation wash over every nerve fiber in your body. Your pussy near about strangled his cock and his pce stuttered, burying himself impossibly deep into your core and holding himself there, feeling his muscles tense and tremble as his cum coated your insides in long, copious spurts. It made his head spin and eyes roll, releasing a shuddering breath once he finally pulled out his rapidly softening cock from your fluttering cunt.

You felt lips trace up your bare back, soft and barely there, sending a shiver up your spine. You felt his warmth encase you, firm but lean muscle pressed to your back, wispy hands running up your sides.

Your lips ticked up in a little smile. Gentle Xavier was back.

#xavier #xavier x reader #love and deepspace #lad #lad xavier #xavier lad #xavier x you #lnd #xavier x y/n

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extraordinari1y-ordinary-writer · 4 months

Text

Pent Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: Bucky has a lot of pent up frustration.

Content Warning: NSFW; PIV sex; fingering; oral (female and male receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it up); rough sex?; creampie; multiple orgasms; hints at teasing; language; established relationship; anything else I failed to mention.

Word Count: 1781

Note: Was this requested? No! It was voted. I hope you guys like this (and I hope it is filthy enough for you guys!). I'll come back here and there to make some edits where it's necessary. Any gifs or pictures I use are not mine.

Gentle reminder that I am always open for feedback! 💕

MNDI (18+)

Bucky could blame you. You're the one who wore that dress he loves. You're the one who teased him all night. You're the one who went to dinner without any panties.

But he couldn't. It was all him. Bucky was wound up from nearly two weeks of no sex. Usually, your schedules matched pretty well, but for some reason, the universe wanted to keep you two apart. Bucky assumed your schedules would even themselves out. He assumed he would get a night with you and all this tension he was feeling would be resolved.

He was wrong.

Bucky had to wait nearly two weeks before he could have you. Two weeks of him not touching himself, two weeks of him getting more and more frustrated until you finally had a day off that matched up with his. It would be a date night. Bucky would wine and dine you and then have the whole night to yourselves.

And then you came out with that dress. And Bucky had to spend dinner trying to adjust himself discreetly. The dress fit you perfectly. It enhanced your curves and made you more irresistible to him.

And your make up—fuck! Your lipstick looked almost sinful. Bucky was starting to feel hot under his clothes.

Every time you smiled or laughed was enough to make him antsy. But when you leaned over to grab the bottle of wine, your cleavage was on full display, and Bucky nearly burst. He felt like a horny teenager again.

The check never came so fast. And the ride home was tense.

"You okay, babe?" you asked. You were feigning innocence. Bucky saw the mischievous glint in your eyes.

He placed a hand on your thigh, his thumb stroking the soft skin of your leg. "I'm fine," he said. He was desperately trying to keep his tone even. "I'm just enjoying the night with you."

You smiled. "I am, too." There was a pause before you spoke again. "Can I show you something?" you asked. Bucky hummed. You took the hand on your thigh and guided it up. Bucky felt his heart jump in his throat, his other hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. He let out a strangled moan when he touched your exposed cunt. You weren't wearing any fucking panties.

"You went this whole night like this?" His voice was low and thick. You hummed and nodded. Bucky growled. His fingers teased your entrance, and you whimpered. You were dripping. Bucky did it for another minute before pushing one finger in. You threw your head back with a gasp. You fluttered and clenched around him. Bucky can't stop himself from glancing at you. Your mouth is open, and your eyes are closed. Your chest heaves, and your cheeks are flushed. He adds another finger, alternating between thrusting and curling inside you.

By this point you're a moaning mess. "Just like that—fuck," you exclaim. He's hitting that spot in you. "Right there, right there—fuck, it's so good!"

The tightness in Bucky's pants is almost painful. Your tight wetness mingling with your moans is nearly too much for him. Any other night, he could draw out a single orgasm until you're begging. Tonight was not that night. He added a third finger, and you nearly sobbed at the sensation. He picked up the pace, his fingers thrusting in and out of you relentlessly. He's working your cunt for all it's worth. At least until you both got home.

You were babbling at this point, incoherent words mixing with your moans until you finally reached your high. "I'm cumming," you cry, trying to grind your hips on his hand. Bucky bites back a groan. You're gushing around his hand. You're moaning and whimpering, biting your lip as you ride out your bliss. Once you've come down, Bucky pulls his hand from between your legs. His fingers were dripping. You take his hand, one by one, lick and suck on his slick-soaked fingers. You moan at the taste.

Jesus Christ.

"Just wait 'till we get back, sweetheart," he rasps. It was more of a threat than a promise.

. . .

Bucky wasted no time ripping your clothes off the second the front door closed. Neither of you had the patience to stumble to the bedroom, instead opting to fuck near the front door.

The two of you were a mess of kisses and noises. You fumbled to unbuckle his belt while he struggled to undo your bra. Once your breasts were free they were claimed by Bucky's mouth, sucking and nipping at the mounds of flesh. Once Bucky's belt was undone you shoved his pants and boxers down. His cock sprung free, leaking pre-cum from the reddened tip. You pushed Bucky's head back and dropped to your knees.

"Fuck," Bucky groaned. His hand tangled in your hair. You tenderly lick a bead of pre-cum off his tip, small hands gently stroking the hardened flesh. Your right hand wraps around him, your grip giving the right amount of pressure as you give one long stroke from base to tip. You use his pre-cum to lubricate your hand and Bucky's eyes roll from the pleasure. Your hand goes back to his base and you lean forward. You give one more lick to his tip before Bucky's cock slips past your lips.

By the time you've taken all you can, Bucky's letting out deep guttural groans. He looked down and cursed. Your eyes were watering as you struggled against his cock. He knows he should've taken it at your pace. He knows that. But he needed to see how pretty you'd look choking on him. Bucky gently placed a hand on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. You're looking up at him with your teary eyes and dilated pupils. When you nod, it's all he needs to let go.

Bucky guides his cock in and out of your mouth. He's gentle at first, testing the waters. He feels you gag against him. He feels your hands gripping his thighs. You have that freedom to bob your head in time with his thrusts, alternating between long, slow strokes and harsh suckles. Bucky groans, his head falling back.

After a moment, his other hand tangles in your hair and holds you in place. His thrusts become harsher and you start to moan. The vibrations send shocks up his spine. You get lost in his taste and the smell of him. He feels his balls—heavy and coated in your spit—slapping your chin, the sound only adding to his arousal. Bucky isn't sure how long this goes on, but when he feels his balls draw up he lets out a heavy moan.

"Fuck," he hisses. "I'm gonna cum."

Your fingers grip his thighs tighter. You moan against his shaft and Bucky's mouth falls open. Right before he can release, Bucky ever so gently pulls you away. You look confused.

"Not there," he sighs. Bucky brushes his fingers across your mouth. A hint of a smirk comes across your face. You lay on your back; Bucky climbs on top of you, pressing a gentle kiss to your swollen lips. He gives you another kiss on the lips before he moves down your body. When he reaches your core, you let out a trembling breath.

"Spread your legs for me, sweetheart." His voice is soft, his hands gently caressing your thighs as he watches you. You didn't waste a second opening your legs for him. He sees the arousal coating your thighs. He grips the soft flesh of your legs before leaning forward. He gives a single lick across your dribbling core, his tongue flicking across your clit. You cry out. Bucky dives between your legs, suckling harshly on your swollen nub as he nuzzles into you.

Your moans and cries are intoxicating. Your hands find Bucky's hair, tugging and pulling every time he does something you like. Bucky begins moving his head as he laps against your cunt. The friction has you spasming, mumbling curses as your eyes fluttered shut. When Bucky added a finger, you practically sobbed. He was stretching you, curling and thrusting his digit as your moans got louder. This was nothing compared to what he did in the car. He adds another finger. The burning of his fingers is more than enough.

"That's so good," you cry. "Fuck, oh fuck—right there! Right—ah—yes!"

Bucky keeps suckling on your clit. His fingers were merciless in their assault on you. You only got louder. You're grinding into his face and hand. You feel the coil in your stomach and it's only getting tighter.

"Keep going," you moan. "I'm so close!"

Bucky gives you one more suck, and his fingers hook within you, and the coil snaps. You're chanting Bucky's name while you gush against his face. Your body is shaking, the intensity of your orgasm seemingly endless. Bucky keeps his mouth on your cunt, his fingers working you through your release. When you slump against the floor, you whine and tug against Bucky's hair.

You're sensitive.

Bucky crawls up your body. Your eyes are hazy. Your cheeks and chest are red. You've never looked so beautiful. "I need to fuck you," he murmurs. You blink at him, still recovering from your high. When you nod, he smiles. "Once I start," he warns, "I won't be able to stop."

"Good." Your voice is hoarse—it sounds beautiful.

Bucky adjusts himself so he is aligned with you. He sinks in slowly, his eyes fluttering shut from the warmth and wetness of you. When he bottoms out, he waits. Bucky wants to give you time to adjust. When he feels you clench, he starts thrusting against you, chasing his release. His head falls to your neck, nipping at the skin as he whimpers. His hands find your hips, holding you in place as his thrusts become rough and sloppy. You moan his name, nails clawing at his back and your back arches. His balls draw up again and he knows he's a goner. He is about to pull out, about to paint your stomach with his load when he hears it.

"Cum in me," you moan. "Please, in me—I want it."

He bites down on your neck and a broken moan escapes him. His release hits him like a train, leaving his body numb for a moment. He stiffens against you. His breath catches in his throat. The intensity of his release rams into him, leaving him trembling and groaning. You run your fingers through his hair, helping him through it. His body collapses once it ends, his face buried in your neck.

There's a long silence as you both catch your breath.

Masterlist

Taglist: @staria9100 @radcollectivesoul @cuddlefishextrodinaire @ramielll @lelialynn @whiminiferous @gracescor3 @identity2212 @winterslove1917 @hailycheyenne @dp-marvel94 @queerponcho @mystrawberrynigt

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #avengers #avengers x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel cinematic universe #marvel cinematic universe x reader #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #smut

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flamingpudding · 3 months

Note

I love your writing so much but I'm here with a crack idea just imagine deage Dan is Klarion.

Dan was able to find out who he is outside of Danny then he was able to change his name Klarion Jackson Fenton/Nightingale he is still a little villain boy also now a mom boy.

Ghost King Danny is his mom young justice was so confused when Klarion you're the best gifts get your mom after not talking to him for a while to also begging them to pretend to be his friend . Justice League dark is panicking in the background about the electric being that just shows up.

Danny in full ghost king attire standing there with a plate of cookies ready to meet his son's new friends.

Thanks so much! I am glad you enjoy my writing!

Also thanks because I absolutely love this Idea/Prompt! Sooooo please enjoy this piece inspired by it! Also I haven't consumed a lot of DC material lately so i am basing this all on my memories. In other words.... I went with Tim's little team here.

Hope that's okay and that this won't disappoint.

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

Dan, who was going by Klarion for some years now, had a massive problem. It was the huge kind of problem build on small bubbles of lies that then turned into this one giant bubble that was about to pop just because of one little question asked by his mom when his sister decided to throw him under the bus to deflect from herself and the fact that she was dating a demon. Don't get him wrong he still loves her, but man did he want to strangle Danielle right now.

"So Klarion, Ellie is right. When will I get to meet your friends you told me so much about?"

It was such an innocent question from his mom. And while his moms titles don't scare him, cause at some point in time they could have been his too, the happy dopey smile like nothing was wrong in the dimensions with little expectations directed at him was the scariest thing his mom could ever direct at him when he had asked THAT question.

So now Klarion was in need of a quick solution. When his mom had asked he had mumbled out a quick: "Next week maybe. We won't be busy with hero stuff then." He had started to form a plan. First of all, he needed to remember what all he had told his mom about his new and redeemed life on Earth 43 he had build for himself with the name Klarion Jackson Fenton-Nightingale.

Which fuck. There was a lot he had told his mom just so he wouldn't worry.

Cause now he also remembers that whenever he had gone out to cause some chaos he had made it seem to his mom like he was going out to bond with his new friend or help them with their hero duty. Well, in a way maybe his chaos causing could be seen as bonding. The ghostly kind, that is. And as for helping with the hero duty... he did give them work, something to do with their hero status. Anyway Klarion tried to remember all possible names he had dropped. Shit why did he also mention to his mom that he was working with heroes to make her proud? He should have name dropped some villains instead but nearly all of them were adults. He knew his mom would have frowned if he had only adult friends and no one around his age.

He was pacing his room in their castle. He need a plan, a good one at that. He knows he name dropped Robin, now Red Robin, Superboy and Impulse on a whim once. Superboy more so cause his mom had been interested in the Alien Heros of the Earth of the dimension he was partially living on now. He had mentioned Robin for the joke of knowing that there is a Dinner in an other Dimension with the same name. And because his Grandfather didn't like the Flash-clan which meant his mom didn't like them too much because of their messing with timelines either, he had mentioned being friends with Impulse on pure spite because of a punishment one day and to see their reactions. So he had to get these three on board anyway, and because for the heck of it he would get Wonder Girl involved too. It was never bad to have a girl in a friends group.

Klarion stopped his pacing. Turning towards his demonic ghost cat companion, kind of what Cujo was to his mom now. "Teekl, I think I have a plan. I will convince these Idiots, that shouldn't be a huge problem. Most of them are normale little flesh sacks." Teekl and him stared for some time at each other and after a moment Klarion huffed turning away with crossed arms. "It's a good plan don't be so sceptical, they are heroes right? They will not refuse my request!"

Well maybe Klarion should have planned this a bit better.

The next day Red Robin blinked at the witch boy up from the ground in the living room of what looked like to be an normal apartment. He had just been in Gotham, working on a case and now he was here? Looking to the left he also noticed that Superboy (the older), Impulse and Wonder Girl were also with him. They all looked stunned he observed and partially disoriented. Additionally they hadn't heard from Klarion since the last time they had foiled his plans on raging chaos upon the earth, that had been weeks ago.

"Kla-"

"I have summoned you heroes here. For the moment it is fruitless to try to leave because of the magic barrier." Okay rude to be cut of but that explained why he suddenly wasn't where he remembered to be last anymore. It was now Superboy who opened his mouth first but before he could even make a sound Klarion decided to speak over them again. "I have presents."

Four young heroes collectively blinked, confused, stunned and weirded out. As the which boy before them waved over to wards a table filled with boxes and packages. "I come in peace today, to proof that I brought these are presents, filled with various goods from different dimensions that should be to the liking of you all. Technologie, accessories, snacks, weapons, as well as clothing styles."

Red Robin shared a glance with his friends, a silent communication but before he once again could say anything Impulse was already by the table going through the stuff. They could here his 'oh's and 'ah's, which inevitably made them curious and they wandered over too. Klarion was not acting hostile at all yet but Red Robin did not trust that so he kept the which boy in clear view the entire time.

"Rob! You gotta see this! That actual futuristic Tech!"

"Look at these snacks."

"These accessories don't look to bad..."

His eye twitched when he noticed Klarion was sporting a smug look. Red Robin had to ask now, because this was not normal for the other. "Okay usually you would have started some big shot chaos plan by now. I don't buy this peace offering act and your way to formal talking. So what is going on?"

The other three, thankfully in Red Robins opinion, finally looked away from the tempting gifts and also turned their attention fully on Klarion. Who's smug smile falter as he let out a sigh and stared at them with what they could only describe as a frustrated look.

"My mom is planning to visit me."

"And?" Impulse asked between munching on three different bags of chips that where on the table.

"And he believes I am friends with you idiots."

They stared slack jawed. Impulse was pinching himself like he couldn't believe what they had just heard. Did one of their Villains, just informed them that their mom believes they were friends? Red Robin was starting to think he might be in a sleep deprived Hallucination.

"Why would she?" Wonder Girl questioned next to which Klarion glared at her with fire in his eyes.

"First of, my mom uses the pronouns he/Him. Be rude to my mom and I will find a way to make your life a permanent hell on earth." Wonder Girl blinked lifting her hands as in a sign of peace. "Second, my mom is under the believe that i work with heroes not against them. I do not have the heart to disappoint him after everything that happened in the past. So I embellished the truth a little."

"A little?" Superboy retorted sarcastically, to which they caught a light blush dusting the which boy's cheeks.

"Look my sister threw me under the bus and my mom wants to meet my friends now! So I need you idiots to play nice with me for when he visits!"

"And we will do that because?" Red Robin crossed his arms, watching their villain sceptically still not really buying this entire act. This was to strange of an behaviour change. Something was up, and he was going to get behind it.

Klarion on the other hand was starting to panic internally. His plan was not as he had hoped. The presents he had specifically gotten from other dimensions with what he believed was their interests did not work to make them simply accept his request. This was the last time he would listen to old man Vlad on how to bribe humans, he wasted his entire week on getting all that stuff. His mom was going to show up soon enough he need to have them act as his friends by then so he could remove the magic barrier. Or else his mom would notices he faked everything.

They left him no choice. He would have to throw his pride away for the sole reason to not disappoint his mom.

All four Young Justice Heroes blinked as Klarion suddenly threw himself on the ground before them into a pleading position.

"Please! I beg you, just for the time my mom is here. Please act like my friends!"

"I didn't think Klarion was a mama's boy...." Impulse whispered to the rest of them in pure disbelief as they stared stunned at the kneeling witch boy.

Cut to the heroes that noticed their teens were missing.....

"Where is he?" Batman growled at the Constantine who was sighing tiredly.

"Look mate, the way you and the other Spandex wearing friends explained it, made it sound like they got summoned by a being of the Infinit Realms." The blond man sighed lighting another cigarette eying the four heroes, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman and Flash. Zatanna was behind him pouring over a book about the realms and trying to find a tracking spell to trace it back and to where they could have been summoned.

"Don't you have something like a tracker on your boy?" Batman only growled something under his breath to which the Brite couldn't help to arch and eyebrow. Constantine was going to say something sarcasting as Deadman suddenly appeared a panicked look on him. "The Ghost King has chosen to come to our dimension."

"Say bloody what now?" All attention that had been on the heroes and their problem of missing teenage heroes turned now to Deadman and the news he brought with him. "The ghost, shades and spirits talked, for the king has decided to visit our Dimension. They are in an uproar, no one knows of why our King is on his way."

"Bloody fucking hell!" Constantine cursed. "We are fucking screwed! Isn't that guy a fucking tyrannical eldrich war maniac?!"

Deadman nodded solemnly and Constantine uttered another hearty and colourful 'fuck'. While the heroes present exchanged worried glances, not only were their kids missing but now a, by the sounds of it, highly dangerous being decided to appear in their dimension? Batman couldn't help but think that there had to be a connection to the missing teens and this.

Meanwhile in the Infinite Realms the Ghost King Castle...

Danny smoothed out his fur trimmed cape and adjusted his crown so it was floating nicely and evenly on his head. Today was the day he would get to meet his sons friends. He needed to make a good first impression. That was why he had chosen to take on his Ghost King form for this. With the wave of his hand he made an ice mirror appear before him, checking how he was looking once again. Once satisfied he nodded to himself looking over towards Fright Knight who was holding the plate of cookies he had baked himself. It was the fifth batch, and the only one that didn't turn out burned. He had needed Jazz help for this one to turn out well. It was only proper if he brought some cookies for the kids. Also he would have loved to bring his families fudge but... the last time he had tried making them had turned into a disaster.

"Thanks Frighty. Do you think Klarion's friends will like these? Wait don't answer! If they don't like them I will just get something else to thank them for taking care of my boy." Danny rambled on as he glanced at the plate of cookies in his hands. Why was he so nervous? He was just going to get to meet his little boy's friends. Sure his boy had dropped some stories about them and his adventures with them here and there. But hearing stories and meeting the kids were two different things.

Shaking his head Danny put on his best smile as he summoned a portal to Klarions apartment in the 43th Dimension of Earth. It was time to visit his boy in the place he had made his second home and thank the people that looked after his kid.

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spiteless-xo · 1 month

Text

╰┈➤ my first kiss. ⋙ Embarrassed that you're falling behind your peers, you decide to have your first kiss with someone you meet at the party, but your childhood friend, Eren, really doesn't like that idea. Why would you want to learn how to kiss from some stranger when he can teach you?

ft. eren/reader, minor jean/reader wc. 17.9k cw. explicit content - minors do not interact, fem!reader, smut, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, multiple orgasms, unsafe sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, loss of innocence, corruption kink, loss of virginity, first kiss, friends to lovers, pining, jealousy, praise kink, second person POV

“How far have you gone with a girl?”

Eren chokes on his spit, glancing over at you from the road. “What?”

“How far have you gone?” you repeat. “Y’know, like hand stuff, mouth stuff—“

“No, I know what you mean,” he says, gripping the steering wheel with both hands until his knuckles turn white. “I dated my ex for like three years, so…”

“So…?”

“So, I fucked her,” Eren finishes, feeling his cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because I haven’t done that,” you admit, turning to look out the window, hiding your face from him. “I haven’t done anything with a guy.”

“Ok.” Eren doesn’t know when you’re going with this.

“I feel like I’m so behind everyone else.”

“Because you haven’t had sex?”

“I haven’t even kissed anyone.”

Eren jerks to a stop at the red light, shaking his head in confusion. “What? What about high school?”

“I was too focused on my studies—I never went out with you to parties or anything, remember?”

“Shit, yeah… I guess not.”

“Right!” you whine, turning back to look at Eren. He spares you a glance from the corner of his eyes as he picks up speed, seeing your eyes wide and your lower lip jutted into a pout. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody’s going to want to date me if they find out I’m so inexperienced. It just gets worse the older I get!”

Eren snorts, “The right guy isn’t going to care about that.” He feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest as the two of you drive back to his place—are you trying to hint at something? Do you want him to be your first kiss?

“I’m hoping I can meet someone at the party tonight,” you continue, immediately crushing Eren’s hopes. “There’s going to be a lot of your friends there, right? Maybe I can kiss one of them.”

“They’re all idiots,” Eren says quickly. “You don’t want to kiss them.”

“I kinda just want to get it over with.”

Eren bites his tongue from speaking. Are you serious? You’re going to bring this up and then not ask him to be the one to do it with? “You should do it with someone you trust,” he says finally, throat tight. “Someone you’re comfortable with.”

“I don’t have any other guy friends except for you.”

Exactly! Eren wants to scream. “So, you’re just going to pick one of my asshole friends and mack on him tonight?”

You shrug, “That’s the plan.”

Eren makes a strangled noise in his throat as he pulls into his driveway, shifting the car into park before rubbing at his face with his hands. “I don’t get it,” he says, voice muffled.

“I thought it was pretty straightforward,” you say before getting out of the vehicle. Eren watches you walk past the front of the car to the door of his house, hauling your overnight bag with you as you head inside.

Eren waits a few minutes for his heart to stop beating against his ribcage before he follows.

The two of you have been friends since you were kids. You grew up a few houses down from one another, so you spent your childhood running around the neighbourhood with Eren and getting into trouble. You had a bit of a falling out in high school because Eren’s aforementioned ex-girlfriend had an issue with him spending so much time with you, but now that they aren’t together anymore, the two of you have rekindled your friendship—entering your second year of university.

When Eren gets into the house, he sees you chatting with Zeke in the kitchen and immediately scowls. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you here, brat,” Zeke says, smiling warmly. “What trouble has Eren gotten you into, now?”

You laugh, “Eren is taking me to a party tonight.”

Zeke whistles lowly, “Wow, your parents are ok with that? Aren’t they pretty strict?”

“They don’t know.”

“Atta girl,” Zeke hums, gaze shifting over to Eren as Eren leans on the island next to you. “So, she’s spending the night?”

“Yeah, Mom set up the guest room for her already,” Eren says.

“Cute,” Zeke says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He turns to look at you, “You’ve grown up quite a bit since I last saw you.” Eren feels a flare of anger at Zeke’s comment and the way he punctuates it by leering at your breasts—but you don’t even notice, your head is down as you dig through your bag. "You're not a little brat anymore."

“I think the last time I was over was when I was like sixteen,” you say.

“Did you get tired of Eren teasing you all the time?”

You chuckle, “More like, he got tired of me.”

“That’s not how it happened,” Eren says.

He never told you the reason why he stopped talking to you was because of his ex, so of course he never told you that the reason why he started talking to you again was because she was gone. So, you’ve decided yourself that Eren just thought you weren’t cool enough to hang out with him these past few years.

“Childish,” Zeke tsks, finally shifting his gaze to Eren’s and catching his venomous glare. Zeke looks away, feigning innocence.

“I was a child,” Eren says through clenched teeth.

“You’re still a child,” Zeke says with a scoff.

“I’m nineteen.” Zeke hums in consideration, gaze shifting back to your breasts, and Eren decides he’s had enough of his brother’s shameless leering. “Let’s go to my room,” he says, grabbing your bag from the counter and stomping down the stairs to his bedroom, with you following close behind with a huff.

Eren chucks your things onto his bed, waiting for you to walk into his room before slamming the door shut. “Keep the door open when you have a girl in there!” Zeke calls from upstairs, but Eren ignores him.

Just like upstairs, you take a seat on his bed and start rifling through your bag, brows furrowed in concentration. “I need your help deciding on an outfit.”

Eren's whole body feels hot all of a sudden. “Ok,” he says, sitting in his desk chair and spinning it around to face you. “What’ve you got?”

You pull out a tiny, black dress that looks like it was made for a toddler. “I think this one is really sexy, but I’m worried it’ll give off the wrong impression.”

Eren hums and haws in mock consideration. “It’s hard to tell what it’ll look like when you’re just holding it like that… can you put it on for me?”

“Oh, yeah—duh!” you laugh, as if you’re silly for not suggesting the idea yourself. You stand up, curling your fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, moving to pull it up, but then pause and look at Eren with narrowed eyes. “Don’t watch me.”

He thinks about protesting—saying something like, how are you gonna kiss someone if you can’t even undress in front of me?—but he calms his hormones and spins around in his chair until he’s facing the wall. He can hear the drag of your zipper as you undo your pants and the sound of clothing falling to the floor as his face starts to burn.

Eren’s ex had an issue with his friendship with you because she felt like you always came first. If you called, Eren would come running. If you needed something, Eren would already have it for you. Plain and simple—she was jealous of how close the two of you were.

She broke up with Eren because, even though she made him cut you out, he still wouldn’t shut up about you. “If you like her so much, why don’t you date her instead?” she said. And that’s when Eren realized that his feelings for you were more than just platonic.

Was it unusual that he wanted to hug you for a little longer each time? Or that he wanted to hold your hand when the two of you walked alongside each other? It’s completely normal for friends to want to cuddle up together during movie night, and maybe if those cuddles turned into kisses, that would be ok—right?

No. Eren just had a big, fat crush on you and it took his ex-girlfriend’s suggestion to make him realize it.

“Ok, I’m ready,” you say, and Eren spins around to see the dips and curves of your body covered up by a tiny, little dress that barely falls past your ass. “So? How does this look?”

Eren clenches his jaw tightly, taking slow, measured breaths through his nose as he tries to bring some blood back up to his brain. “Slutty,” he says, and you frown.

“That’s what I thought,” you huff, directing him to turn around again to switch outfits. “What about this one?” You pull the second dress over your head quicker than the first. This one is more modest with small flowers decorating the fabric, it falls just above your knees with thin straps resting on your shoulders and a modest neckline.

“This seems more your style,” Eren says after clearing his throat, “I like this one.”

You hum, unconvinced. You take a look at yourself in Eren’s full-length mirror, spinning around gently to watch how your dress lifts as you do. “I’m not sure… it feels too cutesy to me.”

“What’s wrong with cutesy?”

“Boys don’t like cute girls.”

Eren snorts. “What?”

You shoot him a measured look, crossing your arms over your chest and jutting out your hip. “Hitch wasn’t cute. She was a bombshell.”

“Why are you so concerned about my ex?” he asks, hopeful.

“I’m just using her as an example,” you say. “Same with Mikasa and Annie. They’re all hot.”

“Pieck is cute.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“She’s one of the girls in my program,” Eren says, adjusting himself in his seat—discretely tugging the fabric around his crotch to alleviate the strain in his jeans—he feels like a teenager again with you in his room like this. “She’ll be at the party tonight.”

“Do boys like her?”

“She gets a lot of attention,” Eren shrugs.

You sort through your bag again with your back to Eren. This time when you bend over, Eren doesn’t avert his eyes. The bottom hem of the dress rises to mid-thigh, and somehow just this small sliver of skin has Eren sweating under his collar.

“So, she’s my competition,” you say, pulling out a small bag.

“She… uh… what did you say?”

When you turn around Eren quickly looks away, but he catches the way you roll your eyes at him. You settle yourself cross-legged on the floor in front of his mirror and Eren rolls his chair over until he can see your face in the reflection, watching you as you apply makeup.

“Eren, you’re acting weird today.”

“I just think this idea is stupid,” he says, and his heart beats faster in his chest. “If you wanna kiss someone, just kiss me.”

You snort, “Don’t make fun of me.”

Eren rolls his tongue against his cheek, eyes narrowing as he looks at you through the mirror. “Whatever.”

Eren tries to talk you out of going to the party for forty-five minutes before you finally just take his keys and storm off to his car.

“Hey, come on—“ he yells, right on your heels. “I’m just saying, the party’s gonna be stupid. We can just hang out and watch a movie instead.”

“It might be stupid to you, but I’ve never been invited to a party before,” you say, thumbing his fob to unlock the doors. Before you’re able to reach forward for the handle, Eren grabs it first and squeezes his way between you and the car. “Besides, I already got all dressed up.”

Eren looks down at you as sternly as he can muster—lips pressed into a tight, thin line with his brows furrowed—but you look so cute and eager to go, that he concedes. “Fine, whatever. Give me the keys,” he holds out his free hand and you drop them into his palm with a grin, “but as soon as you want to leave, you tell me, ok?”

“Got it!” you cheer, practically skipping around the front of the car and crawling into the front seat. You’re so giddy with excitement that you can’t stop bouncing in your chair.

“You really haven’t been to a party before?” Eren asks, rolling out of his driveway and onto the road, already mourning the memory of you in your underwear in his bedroom.

“Who would I have gone with if not with you?”

“What about Armin?”

“Armin?” you ask, tilting your head. “You really think he’s the type to go to parties in high school?”

“I don’t know,” Eren scoffs, dismissive. “Hey, why don’t you practice kissing with him instead of some random at the party?” Eren teases, kissing the air as you groan in annoyance.

“Armin knows less about kissing than I do. I want to be with someone more experienced—someone who can teach me.”

“You’ve got really specific criteria for this guy. Are you sure you’re gonna be able to find someone?”

“Once I have a few drinks, my standards will lower,” you joke, gesturing to the six-pack at your feet. “Do people really play Spin the Bottle at parties? Or Seven Minutes in Heaven?”

“Not really.”

You sulk in your seat, whispering a quiet, “Aw, man.”

Eren clenches his hands around the steering wheel, rolling his palms back and forth until they squeak against the leather. “Look, there’s going to be a lot of bad guys at the party—guys that might try to take advantage of you—so let me know who you pick for your Big Kiss before you lock lips,” he says through clenched teeth.

“What do you mean: take advantage of me?”

“I mean, they might make you do something you’re not comfortable with.”

“Like, tongue?”

“Like hand stuff,” Eren says, shooting you a glance from the corner of his eyes, “or mouth stuff. Or maybe even all the way.”

“At a party? But there’s people there!”

Eren clicks his tongue, “If someone asks you to go somewhere private, he probably wants to do more than just kiss you.”

You bring your hand up to your lips, ghosting your fingers across your mouth as you stare wide-eyed out at the road before you. “Wow, so I could lose my virginity tonight, too?”

“Take this seriously,” Eren snaps.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

“I think you’re making a mistake giving away your first kiss to some stranger.”

“Who cares, Eren? I’ve decided I’m going to do this, so I’m going to do it—stop being so weird about it.”

Eren groans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to calm himself down.

“Ok, fine,” you whisper. “I’ll run my choice by you before the Big Kiss.”

Eren’s grip loosens around the steering wheel. “I’m just looking out for you after being a jerk for the past few years.”

“Yeah, I know, Eren,” you say. “Thank you.”

Connie’s parents own property just outside the city. It’s about a thirty-minute drive from Eren’s house, down a dirt road with no street lights. If you’re unfamiliar with the road, it can feel very spooky—and Eren senses your unease by the way you chew your lip and wring your hands together.

“We’re almost there, don’t worry,” he assures you, and you hum in acknowledgment. “Just be grateful you got invited to a house party and not a pit party.”

“What’s a pit party?”

“It’s when we all get drunk in a gravel pit outside of town.” You look over and Eren in disbelief and he laughs. “We get some of the guys with trucks to drive out pallets so we can burn them for warmth.”

“Really? Isn’t that dangerous?”

Eren shrugs, “Probably.”

“How do you get home?”

“I don’t. I usually tent overnight.”

Your jaw drops. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not. There’s not many pit parties because the cops always shut them down if they catch wind, but they’re a blast.”

“You’re insane,” you laugh, and it makes Eren grin. “So, that’s what you were doing instead of studying during high school.”

“Hey, I did ok,” he says with a chuckle. “Are you nervous about the party?”

“A little,” you admit, biting your lower lip. “Not so much about the party itself, but more about… well… you know.”

“The Big Kiss?”

“Yeah,” you nod, exhaling shakily. “I’m worried I’m going to embarrass myself.”

“Then don’t have your first kiss when you’re drunk at a party with some stranger,” Eren scolds, brows furrowing.

“I wish you’d be more supportive about this.” You cross your arms over your chest with a huff, pouting in Eren’s seat like a child.

Well… at least you don’t seem nervous anymore.

Eren pulls into Connie’s long, gravel driveway that’s already filled with cars. He parks behind Reiner’s truck and gestures for you to follow him as he leads the way up to the house.

From outside, the music and voices of the people inside are muffled, but Eren can see a group of people chatting in the living room by the window, and when they catch sight of him, they all start cheering.

He opens the door to the cry of, “Eren!” from several nearby guests. Arms pull him into hugs, palms slapping his back, and suddenly he has a cracked drink in his hand as the crowd sweeps him away. For a split second, he forgets about you—but then he turns and snatches your wrist, dragging you with him as he’s steered into the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you came, man!” Connie says, a joint hanging from between his lips. “I thought you weren’t going to make it out tonight.”

“Jaeger never misses a party,” Jean scoffs, clapping Eren in the back.

“Just running a little late, that’s all,” Eren shrugs.

“Reiner was looking for you, he wants to play beer pong against us later tonight,” Jean says. “He’s convinced that this time he’s actually going to beat us.”

Connie laughs, puffs of smoke spilling from his mouth as he does. “Reiner would win if he didn’t always make Berthold his partner—that guy can’t aim for shit.”

“You’d think he’d have some sort of advantage because of his height,” Sasha chimes, giggly, “but it just makes him even more uncoordinated.”

You clear your throat softly and Eren watches as Jean and Connie’s attention shifts over to you—as if in slow motion, he sees the way their eyes scan your face, down to your chest, and then your thighs, before back up to your face.

“Who’s this babe you’re with, Jaeger?” Connie asks, brows raising. Jean runs his tongue across his lower lip and Eren feels his jaw tensing.

Eren wants to step in front of you to shield you from their lecherous gaze, but you stand a little taller from the attention, smiling wide as you introduce yourself.

Connie extends a hand out to shake with yours and Eren thinks about swatting it away. “Connie Springer,” he says.

“I know who you are,” you smile, but you shake his hand. You nod over at Jean, then Sasha, “And you’re Jean Kirstein and Sasha Braus. Eren talks about you guys all the time.”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids,” Eren explains. “We grew up together, so I’ve known her forever. She goes to school with us, but in a different program.”

“Oh, ok!” Sasha says, pleased with the explanation. She cocks her head to the side, lips pursed as she surveys your appearance. “You’re like, really pretty!”

“You go to the same school as us?” Jean asks, looking down at you curiously. “I think I’d notice someone like you.”

“I’m pretty shy,” you say.

“You don’t look shy.” You giggle, ducking your head slightly behind Eren’s shoulder and Jean shifts his gaze up to Eren’s face, eyes narrowing. “Are you two together?”

Eren doesn’t get a chance to respond before you chirp, “No, we’re just friends!”

“Oh, so he was trying to keep you for himself,” Jean says, and Eren feels his anger flare up. “Very childish, Jaeger,” he teases.

“Shut the fuck up, Kirstein,” Eren mocks, and Jean scowls at him.

“Do you know how to play beer pong?” Connie asks, nodding toward the free table in the living room. “Wanna play?”

“I’ve never played before, but I’m happy to learn!”

Connie leads you over to the beer pong table with Jean and Eren close on your heels, leaving Sasha behind in the kitchen to raid the Springer’s snack cabinet. He arranges the red solo cups into a triangle shape as Jean and Eren do the same on the opposite end of the table. “The point of the game is to sink your ball into one of the cups on the other side,” Connie explains. “If you get it in, then the other team has to drink.”

You nod in understanding, watching closely as Connie dunks a ping pong ball into one of your cups, coating it in water before handing it to you.

“Give it a shot,” Connie smiles.

You stick the tip of your tongue out in concentration, squinting one eye shut before throwing your ball toward the opposite end of the table. You completely undershoot, hitting the table instead, and the ball dribbles toward the cups without any hope of getting in.

“That wasn’t bad,” Connie says encouragingly, “but you need a little more power and a little more arc.”

“Arc?” you repeat, curious.

“Here, let me show you.”

Eren’s vision clouds as he watches Connie step behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other ghosts over your hand. He whispers something into your ear as he guides you through the motions of tossing the ball, and whatever he says has you giggling and squirming in his grip.

Connie guides you through tossing the ball and it hits one of Eren’s cups, swirling around the rim just above the water. Jean sticks his fingers into the cup and flicks the ball out and onto the floor.

“Did I get it?” you ask, hopeful.

“Nah, I fingered it out,” Jean says, “doesn’t count.”

“I fuckin’ hate that rule,” Connie groans, stepping away from you and back into position in front of the table. “Fingering is so hard.”

“I don’t want to play it either,” Eren says, relaxing now that Connie’s put some distance between the two of you.

“Let’s let our new guest decide,” Jean suggests, extending a hand out for you to speak. “What do you think?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, glancing between each of the boys. “Um… what’s fingering?”

Eren hears the sharp inhale Jean takes from your comment and watches how he stands up a little taller before speaking. “It’s when you put your fingers into the cup—like this—and flick out the ball.” Jean makes a show out of it, running his fingers along the rim of the cup before dipping them inside, gently flicking the water before pulling out his dripping fingers. Eren can see you gulping nervously from across the table from the sight.

“Oh,” you say.

“But girls can’t do that,” Jean continues, “you have to blow.”

“Blow?”

“Yeah. Just lean forward and blow into the cup—why don’t you try it?”

“No!” Eren snaps, crushing the ball in his hand. “Let’s just play the fucking game, stop fucking around.”

After swapping out the ball Eren ruined, the four of you continue to play—and it’s not a close game. Eren and Jean are incredibly good at beer pong, Connie is too high to function, and you can hardly hit any cups. You and Connie quickly drop to four cups while Jean and Eren still have all six.

“You guys really need to land a shot,” Jean says, feigning sympathy. “Otherwise you’re going to have to do a naked mile.”

“What’s that?” you ask, turning to Connie.

“Exactly what it sounds like—run a mile naked.”

You frown from his response, looking across the table at Eren for sympathy. “Nobody’s going to make you do that,” he assures, but Jean scoffs at his side.

“Hey, can we get a rearrange?” Jean asks, gesturing to the wonky formation of the remaining cups. “Give us a rhombus.”

Connie leans into your side but whispers loud enough to be heard across the table. “What the fuck is a rhombus?”

“It’s like a squished square,” Jean says, and he directs you as you move the cups into place before throwing his ball into the upper left cup.

After you fish the ball out, Eren lines up his shot and sinks his ball into the same cup. With a cheer, Eren can't resist high-fiving Jean as Connie groans. He fishes out the ball, removes three cups from play, and rolls the ball back across the table, gesturing for you to do the same.

“What happened?” you ask.

“If they both sink it into the same cup, it’s three cups out and balls back,” Connie explains, sighing as Jean lines up his shot. “They’re gonna win this.”

Jean misses his shot with a loud, “Fuck!” and Eren intentionally overshoots. He’s trying to give your team a chance to get a cup so there’s no chance of you doing a naked mile, but it’s no use because you and Connie both miss your shots.

Eren rolls the ball between his palms, wishing for the first time that his partner will flub the shot—but Jean’s got great aim, and he manages to sink it. Eren intentionally ices the ball again to give you and Connie a chance for redemption.

“Did we lose?” you ask, looking over at Connie as he hands you a ball.

“We get two chances to get it in. If we do, then we’re in the clear, but if we both miss, then it’s game over.” You frown at his explanation, looking down at the ball in your hand before glancing across the table at the six cups lined up in front of Eren and Jean.

“I just wanna get it in,” you say.

“I bet you do,” Jean whispers under his breath, hiding his mouth behind his beer, and following it up with a slow sip.

“Why don’t you take both shots?” Connie offers, handing over his ball to you as well. “I’m not much better, and that’ll make your odds a little better.”

You smile at him gratefully before lining up your shot. You follow all of the instructions that the boys gave you throughout the game: line up your arm with the edge of the table, hinge at the elbow instead of throwing with your arm, arc it into the cup…

But you miss.

Jean runs his tongue across his teeth, chuckling as he catches your ball. “If you miss this one, you’re gonna have to do a naked mile.”

“No, you don’t,” Eren says through gritted teeth.

You shake out your limbs, loosening your nerves. You bounce a few times on your feet to get out any extra energy and Eren watches the way your tits jump with every hop. After a long, slow breath, you line up your second shot.

“Oh, shit! You got it!” Eren cheers, watching the ball perfectly arc into the air and into one of his cups. “Great work!”

You throw your arms up in the air with a cheer, twisting to the side to wrap them around Connie’s shoulders as you pull him in for a tight hug. Connie’s arms wrap around your lower back, squeezing you tightly before gently lifting you off the ground.

“Ok, cool it,” Eren hisses, “you guys only won redemption.” But Connie spins you around like the two of you just won the game.

When he finally sets you back down, it’s Jean and Eren’s turn, and Jean easily gets the final ball in again. This time, you aren’t able to get a successful redemption shot, so you and Connie lose the game.

“That’s a naked mile!” Jean hoots, clapping his hands.

“No, it’s not. She got the ball in—they’re fine,” Eren argues.

Jean gestures to the six cups arranged in a perfect triangle on the table. “What do you mean? I don’t see any missing cups.”

“She got the redemption shot.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Hey, it’s my house, and I decide that it counts! No naked mile!” Connie yells, and the small group of people that had gathered around the table to watch start booing. “Oh, fuck off!”

Eren breathes out a sigh of relief knowing that you won’t be running around the house naked, but when he turns to look at you, he sees that Jean has already made his way over to you. He’s shaking your hand, whispering into your ear, and rubbing your back with his free hand.

Oh, hell no.

Eren starts charging over to you so he can pull Jean off of you when his path is blocked by a big, broad blonde. “Eren! Let’s go, it’s our turn to play you,” Reiner says.

“Dude, I can’t right now,” Eren says, trying to push past him, but suddenly Berthold is standing there, too, blocking Eren even more. “Hey, can you guys move aside—”

“Come on, Eren. Don’t be lame, let’s play!”

“Yeah, ok—just give me a sec—can you get out of the way?” Eren ends up pushing his way past Berthold and Reiner to find Jean’s face in your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist. You’re pressed up on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your body into him completely.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, trying to calm his anger, before reaching forward and ripping Jean’s arms off of your body. Jean stumbles back, frowning down at Eren. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Eren feels hysterical—this isn’t happening. “I’m just—”

Just then, your arms wrap around Eren’s waist, tugging him into a tight hug and Eren feels like all the air has just been sucked out of his lungs. You bury your face into his chest with a happy sigh and Eren finds himself carefully resting his arms around your body, holding you close and pressing his nose against the top of your head.

The two of you have never touched like this before—it’s always been strictly platonic—despite his desire to be more physically affectionate. The most physical contact the two of you have ever had was probably just a high-five, so Eren’s shocked to suddenly feel the warmth of your body against his.

He can feel you murmuring something into his chest, but he can’t quite hear you. Eren cups the bottom of your jaw in his hand, tilting your face out of his chest until your chin rests on his sternum. You smile up at him drunkenly. “He’s the one I want,” you say, and Eren feels his world crashing around him, “Jean.”

“No, you can’t,” he says. “He’s not—don’t do it—he’s not the one you wanna do this with.” Eren looks down at you with furrowed brows, holding you tight against his body as if he can physically restrain you from doing this—from kissing Jean.

“I want to,” you giggle, and you turn your head to look over at Jean, resting your cheek on Eren’s chest.

Jean’s still standing right there—grinning right next to you and Eren as Eren holds you close. Eren shoots Jean a deadly look, to which Jean responds by taking a step back. “Hey, come on, Jaeger. Let’s play with Reiner.”

Eren only agrees because playing beer pong with Jean means that he’s not taking you somewhere private and stealing your first kiss—so the two boys return to their spot to play against Reiner and Berthold while Connie and Sasha keep you company.

Connie is still openly hitting on you, but he’s stoned now, so he’s not talking as smoothly as he thinks he is, much to Eren’s relief. And Sasha is feeding you chips she found in the cupboard, which is helping to sober you up after the drinks you had during beer pong. A few other people come over to introduce themselves to you throughout the game, but nobody sticks around to chat.

Jean and Eren are cleaning the floor with Reiner and Berthold in this game of beer pong. They’re down to just one cup and there’s a good chance that Jean will get it on his next shot, but rather than taking the shot right away, Jean whistles for your attention and then beckons you over.

“If I get this one in, what do I get?” he asks, leaning down to speak into your ear. Eren feels his shoulders and neck tense as he watches you giggle into your hand.

“Um… I don’t know, what do you want?” you ask, batting your eyelashes up at him. You’re not even doing it on purpose—but with the height difference, you have to tilt your head almost all the way up to look at Jean’s face. It makes you look small and innocent, especially compared to Jean’s almost sinister smirk.

He runs his tongue across his lower lip, passing the ball between each of his hands as he pretends to think it over. “Hmm… what about a kiss?”

Eren watches your throat bob as you swallow nervously and he considers stepping between the two of you—but this is what you want. You’re his friend, he should be supportive of you and your decisions, even if he likes you—especially if he likes you.

You tug your lip between your teeth to bite back your grin as you nod up at Jean. “Ok—yeah, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, standing up tall again. He wraps one arm around your waist to hold you close at his side while he raises his hand to take the shot. It’s no coincidence that Eren happens to lose his balance at this exact moment and stumbles into Jean, causing him to fumble the shot with a groan. “What the fuck, man?”

“Sorry,” Eren says, not sorry at all. He takes his final shot and sinks it into the final cup, and Berthold and Reiner don’t have a chance at redemption.

The crowd cheers, Reiner demands a rematch, blah, blah, blah—none of that matters when Eren realizes that you (and Jean) have disappeared from his side. He frantically looks around the room, alarmed at how quickly the two of you were able to sneak away from him, but he catches Jean’s signature mullet disappearing into the kitchen and Eren charges after him, knowing that he’ll find you there, too.

And as expected, he sees you giggling into Jean’s chest as his hands reach down to your hips, lifting you off the ground and onto the kitchen counter, “So, where’s my kiss?” Jean hums, leaning toward your face. Eren loudly clears his throat and Jean’s entire back tenses with annoyance before his eyes shift over to Eren. “Can I help you?”

“Reiner wants to play again, let’s rerack.”

“I think I’m done with beer pong for tonight.”

“Come on, double or nothing.”

“Eren, I’m good.” Jean makes a point of jerking his head in your direction as he stares at Eren with a stern expression.

Eren pretends like he doesn’t get the hint and steps closer, hopping up to sit on the counter next to you and swinging his feet. “What do you think of the party so far?” he asks as Jean steps back with a huff.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” you grin, holding your drink in your lap with both hands. “It’s not like the movies, but it’s still a lot of fun—it’s nice meeting everyone.”

“Some of my friends are really nice,” Eren says with a strained smile.

Jean clears his throat loudly, reminding the two of you that he’s still standing right there. “Hey, Eren, I think I heard Reiner calling for you in the other room.”

Eren tilts his head to look at Jean, his expression blank. “I didn’t hear anything.” Then he returns his gaze back to you, “So, do you want to play any more games? We might be able to get a round of Flip Cup going or something.”

“Ooo, what’s that?”

“Ok, fuck this,” Jean huffs under his breath before taking a step forward. He cages you against the counter with his arms on either side of your hips as he steps between your parted thighs, blocking Eren out of the conversation. He leans forward to whisper something into your ear, so quietly that Eren can’t hear, and you giggle in response when he leans away. “When you’re done talking with Eren, come find me upstairs,” Jean says with a wink before walking off.

“Upstairs?” Eren can’t hide his shock. “Upstairs?!”

You giggle again, kicking your feet in excitement before hopping down off of the counter. “He says he wants to kiss me.”

“Oh, he wants to do a lot more than that,” Eren spits. “You’ve known him for like two minutes, what the fuck?”

“I told you, I wanted to kiss someone at the party tonight.”

“But Jean?”

You shrug, “He seems nice.”

“He’s not. I heard from one of the guys from his hometown that he used to be a real fuckin’ bully in high school. I mean like, stuffing guys in lockers and stealing their lunch money, type shit.”

“That sounds made up,” you say, frowning. “Besides, he’s been nice to me all night.”

Eren sputters around a response—shocked. You’re not seriously going to go through with this, are you?

You hold your hands up in surrender. “I’m obviously not going to do anything I don’t feel comfortable doing with him, ok? You don’t have to worry about me. If he gets too pushy, I’ll tell him to stop.”

“How far do you plan on going? Are you going to lose your fucking virginity to him, too?”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you reach forward to clamp your palms over Eren’s mouth. “Hey! You don’t have to broadcast that I’m a loser to everyone at the party!”

He swats your hands away easily. “You’re not a loser for not having done anything with anyone—stop saying that. Don’t be in such a rush to have these experiences with some random person when you can wait for the right guy and have all of your firsts with him. It’ll be more special if it’s with someone you trust—someone you love.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a romantic,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “The whole concept of virginity and purity is just a social construct, anyway—none of it matters. But I’m tired of feeling like I’m less than just because I’m in university and I haven’t done things that other people have done in high school.”

“Who’s making you feel less than?” Eren asks, brows furrowing. “Don’t let what other people think dictate your actions.”

You sigh, relaxing your shoulders. “You’re right, I shouldn’t… but I am—so, please let me do this.”

Eren presses his face into his palms in frustration. He rubs his face harshly before running his hands up and through his hair, taking a long, deep breath. “I’m sorry. You don’t need my permission to do anything—go for it.” He forces a smile and shoots you a double thumbs up, and he can tell by the look on your face that you’re not quite convinced.

“Whatever, Eren. I’ll come find you later, ok?”

Eren nods, clasping his hands together and stuffing them between his thighs as he curls forward into himself, defeated.

He doesn’t know exactly how to communicate the way he feels about you and it’s freaking him out. You’ve always been the most important person in his life and the years he couldn’t be with you because of his ex were easily the worst years of his life. He’s angry that you want to waste your first kiss on one of his asshole friends because he wants you to be with him. And at this point, he knows he’s already making a fool of himself from how he’s been going out of his way to sabotage things between you and any guy that looks at you for longer than two seconds.

How much worse could things get if he was just honest with you? If he chased after you and told you explicitly how he felt and why he’s been acting so weird tonight—maybe you’ll take pity on him and just kiss him.

He could be ok with that.

Eren hops off the kitchen counter, determined to stop you before anything happens between you and Jean. He climbs up the stairs two at a time and is faced with a hallway full of doors—you and Jean are nowhere to be seen. Did you two really have that much of a head start on him? But it doesn’t matter, Eren knows which room is Connie’s, so he marches down the hallway and swings open the door—

But there’s no one there.

He sucks in a sharp breath through his nostrils, gazing around the room in case the two of you are hidden away somewhere, but no luck. Eren steps out of the bedroom and walks instead into the bathroom, swinging the door open to find an unfortunate party guest curled up in a ball on the floor next to a toilet filled with puke. Eren wrinkles his nose at the sight, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. Where else could you be?

Through some stroke of luck, Eren hears the sound of giggling from the room behind him—your giggling. He swings open the door to Connie’s parent's bedroom to find Jean laid out on the bed with you straddling his lap.

The two of you jolt when the bedroom door swings against the wall and Jean sits up on his forearms, visibly annoyed. “What the fuck!”

“Eren? What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, Eren, what are you doing here?” Jean asks, holding you firmly down on his lap when you make a move to crawl off—the action turns Eren’s vision red.

“Jean, you—um—” Eren flounders around an excuse, taking another step into the bedroom as he watches the way your hands reach for Jean’s—have the two of you kissed yet? “Uh… Floch’s in the bathroom upstairs, he’s asking for you.”

“Um, ok? I’m a little busy.” Jean gestures to you perched on his lap—like it’s obvious—before rocking you down onto his lap. Your eyes widen in surprise and you lose your balance, falling forward with your palms on Jean’s chest.

Eren wonders if he’s capable of getting away with murder.

“We have to leave, Zeke’s on his way to pick us up,” Eren says, reaching forward and grabbing your wrist.

“Already? We haven’t been here that long,” you protest, glancing between Eren and Jean with your lip between your teeth.

“Yeah, he said it’s now or never,” Eren says, and you start to crawl off of Jean’s lap. “I don’t want to pay for a cab.”

“Eren, what the fuck is going on?” Jean groans, sitting up fully and grabbing a pillow to cover his crotch when you climb back to your feet next to Eren.

“So sorry, Jean,” Eren sighs, relieved that you’re coming with him. “We gotta go—have a good night!”

“Whatever,” Jean hisses, flopping back onto the bed just as Eren walks you out into the hallway with him.

He tries to sneak you out of the party as best as he can—avoiding Reiner and Berthold so he doesn’t get dragged into another game, avoiding Connie because Eren knows he’s interested in you too, and just avoiding as much of the crowd as possible before slipping you out of the back door.

He has your wrist in a vice grip as you walk down Connie’s driveway back to Eren’s car. You stumble over your feet and you struggle to keep up with him as Eren charges down the road. “Eren! You’re hurting me! Let go!”

Like he’s been jolted with electricity, he drops your hand and pauses, staring at you with wide eyes. “Oh—shit, I’m sorry. Are you ok?”

You frown up at him, rubbing your wrist with your opposite hand. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I told you—we have to go.”

“No, Eren. You’ve been acting weird all night—just tell me what’s going on.”

He balls his hands into tight fists at his side, scrunching up his face as he tries to think of what to say—how to explain himself. He was so riled up in the kitchen about telling you how he felt, but now that you’re standing here in front of him—furious he cockblocked you—it’s hard for him to put his thoughts into words.

“Zeke said he’s on his way. I didn’t want you to get left behind,” he says, mentally kicking himself for chickening out.

The two of you walk in silence for the remainder of the way back to the car (where Eren texts Zeke to come pick you both from the party), grabbing a couple of bottles of water from the flat in his trunk before settling into the car. He turns on the ignition just to get the heat going while you curl up on the seat beside him, nursing your bottle of water.

“I didn’t kiss him,” you sigh, and Eren feels his body relax for the first time tonight. “Mission failed.”

“That’s ok,” Eren hums, drinking from his bottle of water. “There will be other parties.”

“Yeah,” you sigh again, resting your head on the backrest as you look over at Eren beside you. “You were right though, it was a really stupid plan. I was so excited when Jean and I were flirting at the party, but when we were alone in the bedroom together I felt kinda… scared.”

Eren frowns. “Scared? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, of course not,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. “I just… I felt like I didn’t really want to be there anymore but I felt bad because he was, um…”

“He was what?”

You gesture vaguely at your lap, refusing to meet Eren’s eyes. “Um… he was… hard.”

Eren snorts, rolling his eyes and taking another drink from his bottle. “He’ll survive. You don’t owe him anything just because his dick got a little excited.”

You laugh around the bottle as you take another sip. After a few loud gulps, you put the now empty bottle in one of Eren’s cupholders and brush away the spilled water on your chin with the heel of your hand. “I just… I don’t know, I woke up this morning and I decided that I was tired of being so inexperienced, but you were right, I shouldn’t have tried to rush it.”

“Did you have fun, at least?”

“Oh, yeah—I had loads of fun,” you grin up at him and Eren feels his heart rate quicken. “Thank you for bringing me with you, I had a really good time, even though I never got to kiss Jean.”

“I hear he’s a bad kisser anyway,” Eren says, and you snort.

“I wouldn’t have known.”

“I guess not.”

You sit up in your seat and look over at Eren. You scan over his face, his chest, his hands on the steering wheel—it makes him a little uncomfortable to sit with your gaze like this, and he shifts awkwardly in his seat. “What are you looking at?”

“I never feel uncomfortable when I’m around you.”

He chuckles anxiously, lowering his gaze down to his lap. “Uh, I would hope not. We’ve been friends forever.”

“Well, I mean, even around Armin I feel a little awkward sometimes… but I’m not like that when I’m around you.”

Eren fiddles with his rings, spinning them off of his fingers and then twisting them back on. “Yeah, I always feel comfortable when I’m around you.” Except for right now. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest from the attention you’re giving him right now. There’s just something about the way that you’re looking at him that’s getting Eren’s hopes up.

“Who was your first kiss?”

“My ex,” he says, risking a glance over at you, “why?”

“How did you know what to do?”

“I don’t know… we kind of just figured it out together.” Eren feels uncomfortable talking about her with you like this.

“Do you think about it a lot?”

He snorts, running a hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think about it at all.”

“So, your first kiss wasn’t special.”

“I guess not,” Eren says as he looks over at you with a frown. “Her and I aren’t really friends anymore and I don’t wanna get back together with her, so I don’t really think about her anymore.”

“Do you regret it?”

He laughs nervously, running his palms across his thighs as he tries to stretch out in the confines of the car. “You’re asking a lot of difficult questions.”

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“I didn’t regret it at the time, but now, I kind of wish I had done it with someone that was more important to me.”

“Like who?”

Eren looks over at you. You’re perched in your seat, leaning forward onto the centre console with wide eyes and plush, moist lips. He feels his face soften as he looks at you—as he imagines his first kiss with you—but he doesn’t say anything. The tension in the car is thick as the two of you sit there staring at one another. He can hear each soft breath you take and if he looks closely, he can see the way your pupils dilate as you look into his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He sucks his cheeks into his mouth, making quick, little nods as he tries to keep his cool while his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. “Thought you said you didn’t want to.”

“I thought you were just making fun of me earlier… but… if you’re into it—”

“Yeah, I’m into it.”

“I trust you more than anyone,” you say, as if trying to justify it but Eren’s already sold.

He tosses his empty bottle into the backseat and then quickly leans forward on the centre console, toward you—but you jerk back and away from him. “Shit, sorry,” he hisses, sitting back in his seat.

You laugh nervously. “Uh, no… it’s ok, I’m just—I’m new to this, right? So, I just need you to be…”

“Slow,” he finishes for you, and you nod. He swallows thickly, leaning forward again—slowly this time—and rests there for a moment until you lean toward him. He can tell you’re nervous, too. Little beads of sweat dot your hairline and your breathing is quick and shallow. Not that Eren is the picture of composure right now, either. He can feel the burn of embarrassment in his cheeks and his back feels slick with sweat—but he tries to hold it together. “Do you want me to lean in or…?”

You raise your hands to his face, ghosting around his head before pulling them back against your chest. “I don’t know where to put my hands.”

Eren reaches forward to grab your wrist—slow and gentle—and guides your hand up to his face, cupping his jaw in your palm. “Hold me like this, and then with your other hand, uh…” he guides it to his chest, pressing your hand right over his heart. “Here, see? Can you feel my heartbeat? I’m just as nervous as you are.”

You laugh and lean in a little further. “Why are you nervous?”

Because I like you.

“I don’t know,” he says.

Eren cups your opposite jaw with his hand, tilting your face slightly to the side, and running his thumb across the warmth on your cheek. He leans in a little further, brushing his nose against yours, and he hears your breath catch in your throat. “Are you ready?”

“I… I think so,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

Eren closes the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, chaste kiss. You’re a little stiff—a little awkward—as you lean into the kiss. Your lips are so rigidly puckered that there’s almost no intimacy in it at all. He holds like that for a moment—despite every muscle in his body urging him to try to deepen the kiss—before pulling away just enough to speak.

“Try to relax your lips a little bit.” He tilts his head until his lips are pressed against the palm of your hand and he demonstrates the motion by softly kissing your hand, “Like this.”

“Ok,” you whisper, breath hot against his cheek.

The second time he moves in to kiss you is already significantly better than before, your lips are soft when Eren presses against you, but you’re not quite kissing back. He tries to deepen the kiss by pressing into you a little harder, moving his lips against yours, and breathing in your scent, but you’re giving him… nothing.

“Try to copy what I’m doing,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. “Like you’re trying to kiss my lower lip, over and over again.”

You hum in response and awkwardly start to follow his motions and this—this!—is exactly what he wants. He applies a little more pressure as the two of you move together and the longer you kiss, the more comfortable and soft you become. You lean more into Eren’s body, clutching his t-shirt with one hand while the other curls around the back of his neck. Eren slides his hand to the back of your head to pull you closer and he’s rewarded by a soft moan that jolts electricity straight down his spine.

“Can I—can I use my tongue?” he asks, breathless. Right, he’s supposed to come up for air every once in a while.

You take a few deep breaths, lashes fluttering as you look up into his eyes, and then back down to his lips. You brush your nose against his, eager. “Yeah—please.”

This next kiss is hungry—Eren’s quickly beginning to lose his composure. Although you’re a little uncoordinated at first, you’re a quick learner, and soon Eren’s hand is gripping the hair on the back of your head, tugging gently and drawing out louder and louder moans from you. With the addition of his tongue in your mouth, it’s all too easy for him to imagine things going further with you.

He pictures looming overtop of you in the backseat of his car, your thighs on either side of his hips. He pictures sliding his hand up the bottom hem of the dress he helped you pick out, fingertips brushing against that soft, wet spot between your legs while you whine into his mouth.

The thought has him groaning into you, shifting his lips away from yours to pepper kisses along your jawline. You’re panting heavily in his ear, still clutching his shirt tightly as you struggle to catch your breath. Eren presses his lips just behind your ear before trailing his mouth down the column of your neck and with his lips against your pulse point, he can feel how quickly your heart is beating.

You squirm in your seat, “Eren, that… it feels good.”

He hums against your throat, gently sinking his teeth into the skin to the sound of your moans before swiping his tongue across the mark. “Is there anything else you want me to teach you,” he asks, breathless.

“Yeah, um…” you pull away from this kiss, looking up at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes. You drag your hand down his chest, resting on his belt as Eren holds his breath. Your gaze drops to Eren’s lap—to the strain of his cock against his jeans.

“You can touch it if you want,” he whispers, and your hand shifts to his thigh. He feels like he’s the virgin here, as your hand gently ghosts across the bulge in his pants. He’s desperate for you to touch him, but at the same time, he’s worried that he’s going to immediately lose it.

You hesitate, looking down at Eren’s cock with shaky breaths. Just as Eren thinks you’re going to pull your hand away, you gently lower it onto his cock and he groans from the warmth of your palm.

“Oh!” you squeak, surprised. “It’s hard.”

Eren laughs, “Yeah, that’s all because of you.”

You wrinkle your nose at him but gently squeeze him through his jeans before softly moving up and down his length. Eren throws his head back, gritting his teeth as his hips buck against your hand—he’s about to fucking cum from an over-the-pants handjob.

“Does it hurt?”

“Definitely not,” he responds through clenched teeth.

“Can I see it?”

Eren sucks in another sharp breath, quickly moving his hands to his belt buckle as he works on undoing it. “Yeah, yeah—of course, you can,” he says, fumbling with the strap as he tries to free it from the clasp.

HOOOOOOOOOONK!

The two of you jolt in surprise, jumping against either end of the car when you hear a loud car horn from nearby. Annoyed, Eren wipes his palm across the window to clear the steam on the glass and is met with Zeke grinning at him from the car beside Eren’s. He makes a point to wave before he lays on the horn again.

HOOOOOOOOOONK!

“We’re coming! We’re coming!”

He turns back to you with a huff, running both hands through his hair to try to calm himself down as he looks at you apologetically, but you’re already working on the door and heading out—leaving Eren alone in the heat of the car, and Eren has to sit with his forehead against the steering wheel until his boner goes away.

“You got here fast,” he huffs, slamming the door behind him as he crawls into the backseat of Zeke’s car.

“When my brother calls, I answer,” Zeke says, smirking at Eren from the rearview window and he backs out of Connie’s driveway. “What were the two of you doing in the car? I thought you were here for a party.”

“I got a little too drunk,” you lie easily, smoothing your dress over your lap, keeping your head down. “Eren got me a bottle of water and we were just hanging out until the spins went away.”

“Ah, that’s right—it was your first party, so your first time drinking, too?”

“I’ve had wine for special occasions with dinner, but I’ve never gotten drunk before.”

Zeke hums in approval, “And Eren took care of you? That’s surprising.”

Eren’s knee bounces in the backseat, gently rattling the car as Zeke drives through the country and back to the highway. If Zeke hadn’t arrived, you could be holding Eren’s cock in your hands right now. He could be teaching you how to stroke him—show you how to spit on it to get it nice and slick.

But instead, Eren’s stuck in the backseat with sore balls while you’re sobering up in the front. You’ll probably run up to bed as soon as you get home, leaving Eren to jerk himself off in the basement while he thinks about how soft your lips felt against his.

He rests his head against the cool window pane and watches the trees rush by as you and Zeke talk to one another quietly in the front seat. Eren wonders if you had gotten as worked up as he did during your makeout session, or if it was all just for the sake of learning.

Were you still thinking about the way his body felt against yours? The way your breath hitched when Eren kissed down your neck or how much you loved getting your hair pulled? Did all that kissing make you wet for him, squirming in the front seat to hide your discomfort from Eren’s older brother as you tried to hold a conversation about school?

He hopes that you can forget about this all in the morning—that the two of you can just go back to the way things were before and pretend it never happened. Maybe you’ll end up messaging Jean and kissing him the way Eren taught you.

The thought makes him bristle, but he tries to push the feeling away.

When Zeke parks the car at the Jaeger residence, he gently reminds you both that the guest room is upstairs with a knowing smirk. Eren just rolls his eyes—not like anything is going to happen between the two of you.

“Goodnight, guys,” Eren says, whispering in the darkness of his home as you follow Zeke upstairs. He lingers by the base of the stairs until you disappear around the corner, and then with a frustrated sigh, Eren makes his descent into the basement.

He flops face-first onto his bed with a groan, already feeling the ache in his cock from the memory of your lips against his. Eren rolls over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his room as he works on the buckle of his belt, finding it much easier to undo without the added pressure of your heavy gaze on him.

He palms at his crotch through his underwear, hissing at the pressure as the tip of his cock leaks against his leg. He imagines you laying in bed in the guestroom above him, your own hand drifting between your thighs to the same memory of tonight.

He resigns himself to a night of jerking off to the lingering smell of your perfume on his shirt, but then he hears the familiar buzz of his phone on his nightstand—the designated heartbeat vibration that you set for yourself as a joke—and he jolts out of bed.

You: I think I need more practice

Eren feels his heart jump into his throat from your message. His thumbs hover anxiously over the keys, unsure of how to respond, but then he sees a second message come through.

You: Can I come downstairs?

Eren: Do you think you can without Zeke noticing?

You: I don’t care about Zeke

Eren: Yeah Eren: Come here

Eren climbs to his feet and immediately starts cleaning up his room. He shoves clothes that he had thrown across the ground haphazardly into the closet, tidies up his desk of any garbage and old dishes, and sprays a bit of cologne onto his neck and crotch—just in case.

Sure, you were in his room earlier today, but now things are different. Everything feels electric and he doesn’t want something like his dirty laundry to ruin the mood.

He is midway through trying to force the doors of his closet shut when he hears the gentle tap tap of you knocking on his bedroom door. He pauses immediately, feeling his heartbeat in his ears as he shifts his gaze over to the closed door. Standing up tall, he runs both hands through his hair to smooth down his brown locks before stepping over to the door and swinging it open.

“Hey,” you smile, breathless. You’ve changed into your pyjamas, a cute set with a short-sleeve cotton button-up and matching shorts.

He grins, reaching forward to loop his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Hey,” he says, right before pressing his mouth against yours.

You return his kiss with fervour, hands reaching up to wrap around Eren’s neck as you jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. Eren grunts into your mouth, hands shifting to cup your ass as he carries you into his room and onto his bed.

He lays you out on your back on his mattress, pulling away only to admire the way your skin looks against his bedsheets. He’s already breathing hard with flushed cheeks, just from kissing, but you look just as wrecked as he does as you squirm beneath him on the bed.

“I’ve never done this before,” you whisper, a quiet reminder as Eren runs his palm along your waist. “Be gentle with me.”

“Of course,” he promises, leaning down to kiss you again. “We’ll go at your pace, ok? Tell me what you want.”

You swallow hard when Eren’s mouth trails down your throat, your hands twisted in his hair as you tug him closer to your skin. He presses more of his weight against your body, kneeling between your spread-open thighs on the bed as his arms wrap around your waist. “You look really cute,” he says, nipping at your neck and you moan. You squirm against him, needy for something you’ve never felt before, and Eren feels his mind grow hazy.

“Can you touch me?” you ask, an airy whisper against Eren’s hairline as he kisses across your collarbones.

“Where?” He moves his hands from around your waist, sliding up and down your sides, and gently tracing the curve of your breasts. You tug your lip between your teeth, eyes half-lidded at you look up at Eren, nodding slightly when he moves his palm across your chest.

He squeezes your breasts softly and your legs squeeze around his hips in response, making his breath catch in his throat. You’re not wearing a bra under your pyjamas, he can feel the absence of it through the thin cotton, and as he brushes his thumb across your already pert nipples, you whimper.

“Like that?” he asks, and you nod furiously. He moves his hands to the centre of your chest and starts to work on the buttons, watching the way your chest heaves with every breath and he moves down your stomach.

Eren pulls your shirt open and groans at the sight of your exposed breasts—rising and falling with each breath that you take. He brings a hand up to his mouth, licking his thumb, before bringing his hand back down to grab you, and he uses the slick digit to slide across your hardened nipple.

“Eren!” you squeal, arching your back into his touch as he flicks his thumb forward and back over the nub. He can see the small goosebumps across your skin from the cold at the same time that you darken in arousal and it drives him insane.

Hovering over the opposite nipple, he lets a long line of drool spill from his lips until it lands on your nipple. You squirm from the feeling, gasping again when Eren’s opposite hand reaches out to pinch it between two fingers.

“Oh my God, Eren,” you whimper, biting your lip hard as your head twists against the pillows. Your body is rolling against him, hips bucking up and seeking friction to alleviate the need as he plays with your chest.

He reaches down to shove his half-undone pants off of his hips so he can press his barely-clothed cock against you, instantly feeling the heat of your arousal against him as he does. With a deep groan, his head falls forward against your shoulder as he struggles not to fuck into you just like this—he’s so turned on it hurts.

“Where else?” he urges, desperate. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

You struggle to speak as Eren gently pinches and pulls at your nipples, his mouth salivating at the thought of taking you into his mouth, but he’s trying to take things slow. He’s trying to let you set the pace, lest he completely ravages you.

You reach a hand down from Eren’s hair, grabbing the wrist of his hand and he stills his movements completely. He lifts his head from your shoulder to look up at your face as you gently pull his hand off of your breast. Holding eye contact, you drag his hand down your body until it rests firmly between your thighs.

“I need you here,” you say, like you have absolutely no idea what those words will do to him.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” You shake your head from side to side and Eren feels like he’s just been gifted the greatest thing in the world. “Have you ever had an orgasm?”

“I think so.”

“Ok, so you haven’t,” Eren chuckles, running his tongue across his lower lip. “Sit up for me,” he says with a nod, standing up onto his knees and making his way over to your side.

You shrug your pyjama top off as Eren settles onto the bed behind you, scooching the two of you back until he’s lying back against the headrest and you’re lying back against his chest. He can’t help himself from grabbing and palming at your breasts and he makes himself comfortable with his chin on your shoulder.

“I’m going to show you how to do it, so you can do it yourself,” he explains, and your breathing stutters.

He slides his hands down your stomach to your thighs, gently running his palms down to your knees before dragging them back up to your hips, using his thumbs to press into your inner thigh as he does, dragging up the hem of your shorts.

“I’m not an expert at this, so I’ll need you to tell me if it feels good, ok?” he hums, brushing his lips against the bare skin on your shoulders. You let out a shaky breath in response, nodding jerkily as Eren’s hands come up to the waistband of your shorts.

He hooks his thumbs under your clothes, nudging for you to lift your hips as he drags them down past your knees, where you kick them off to the side, leaving you in just a pair of black, lacy underwear. The sexy thong you have on contrasts harshly with your innocence and does something to Eren’s brain that makes everything feel fuzzy.

Eren spreads your thighs open by laying them across his legs, keeping you open for him, even when your knees try to cave together. With one hand on your stomach, holding you in place against his chest, he moves his other between your legs to cup you through your underwear. And just like he suspected, you’re soaking.

He groans against your skin as he moves his fingers against the slick, wet mess seeping through the fabric of your underwear. From over your shoulder, as he pulls his fingers away, he can even see the strings of your arousal stretch and snap against him.

“You’re so horny,” he whispers, throat tight. “You need it bad, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice low. “Eren, can you please—?”

He smiles, petting your entrance softly with his fingers before dragging them up to your clit, and the contact makes you jerk immediately. “Does this feel good?” he asks, applying gentle pressure in smooth, circular motions.

Your hips squirm against him as you breathe out sharp puffs of air. “Yeah—yeah, that—it’s good.”

“This is where all your nerves are,” he explains, listening closely for each hitch in your breath as he increases—decreases—the pressure of his fingers, trying to find that sweet spot that has you mewling in his ear. “This is what you’re gonna wanna do if you’re touching yourself.”

You bite your lip so hard the skin around it turns white, your eyes clenching shut as you focus on the feeling, but Eren tuts and gives you two soft slaps against your cunt. “Open your eyes, I want you to watch me.”

Blinking your eyes open, you look up at Eren with hazy, tear-lined eyes, your lips plump and swollen from kissing and biting—and you look nothing like the sweet, innocent girl that was here in Eren’s room earlier today. Your gaze swings from Eren’s face to down between your legs, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of Eren’s hands on your body.

“Take over for me,” he hums, sliding his hand onto your thigh. You whimper and lurch your hips forward to chase him, but his other hand keeps you firmly in place against your chest. “Show me what you learned.”

Your chin drops to your chest as you move your hand between your legs, copying Eren’s motions from before as you find your clit and rub gentle circles through your underwear. He can feel the muscles in your thighs tensing beneath his hand as your pleasure builds and your head falls back against Eren’s shoulder.

“Does it feel good?” he asks and you moan softly in response. He trails his hands across your body, moving to the waistband of your underwear as he starts to tug it down your hips. “Now, take these off.”

Your skin is hot to the touch, breathing fast and shallow, and your hips twitch and keen up against Eren’s touch as he moves both hands to your inner thighs, spreading you open for him as he looks down at your pussy from between the mounds of your breasts.

“Eren, you’re better at it—can you please—?” your words are choppy and airy as your hands reach out to grab at his wrists, trying to pull him toward your aching cunt. Eren imagines a world where you can’t figure out how to get yourself off—where you have to come to him to find pleasure.

“Ok,” he coos, teasingly, “but you have to pay attention, ok?”

This time, when he touches you, he presses the pad of his thumb flat against your clit, leaving his fingers open to toy and play with your pussy. You’re so wet, he’s just slipping his fingers against your skin, collecting the slick on his digits while his tongue grows heavy in his mouth—he wonders if you’ll let him taste you.

“I’m going to go inside you now,” he says, shifting his free hand to grab your chin, making sure you're looking down between your legs. “It might hurt a little, but just try to relax.”

He tries to pick his thinnest finger to push inside of you, but they’re all thicker and longer than yours. He opts for his ring finger, pushing past the slippery folds into your entrance to the first knuckle, groaning at the wet warmth of your walls as they squeeze around him.

“How’s that?” he asks, carefully working it in and out of you, pushing deeper each time.

Your hips squirm against him, rubbing his cock between the globes of your ass as you do. “I want more.”

He pushes deeper and deeper, meeting no resistance as he slips his entire finger into you. You squeeze around his digit in tight, little pulses that has Eren’s cock throbbing against your back—you’re so tight.

Eren starts to fuck you with his finger, pulling in and out while his thumb maintains pressure against your clit. Your arousal coats his finger, dripping down between your legs with each pump of his hand, but slowly you start to loosen up around him as you begin to relax.

“Look at how wet you are for me,” he groans, pulling out until just the tip of his finger remains, showing how slick and shiny his skin is from you. “I’m gonna do another one, ok?”

You moan loudly when Eren pushes a second finger into you—hands clawing at Eren’s thighs as your back arches hard off of his chest. “Oh my God, Eren!” you cry, body trembling, “That feels so good—that feels so good.”

He moves his palm to cover your mouth, shushing you as his fingers curl against that spongey bundle of nerves inside of you that has your toes curling. “My family is upstairs,” he reminds you, but he picks up his pace just to hear more of your muffled moans against his hand.

The wet squelch of your cunt around his fingers has him breathing hard into your neck—all he can think about is how perfectly your pussy is moulding around his fingers, how easily you’re able to take him with how wet and eager you are. His cock is making a mess in his underwear, leaking precum and soaking through the fabric as his hips grind against your ass. He wants to be greedy—he wants to stuff his cock inside of you—but he has to keep reminding himself that this is your first time, you’re just learning.

Your legs start to shake on either side of him and Eren can feel you squeezing hard around his fingers as you moan into his palm. “Does it feel good?” he asks, even though he can already tell, and he grins when you start to nod. “You’re close, I can tell. It’s ok to cum—just let go.”

Your stomach flexes and tightens under his arm as your pleasure builds and you start squirming in his grip—fuck, your first orgasm! Eren feels lucky to be the one to give it to you.

He keeps his steady pace of fucking his fingers into your cunt as his thumb presses against your clit, and soon he feels your chest tighten as you hold your breath—one, two, three—and with a muffled moan, you cum on Eren’s fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses, breathing hard as you tighten around him, clenching and squeezing his fingers as you body shakes and your eyes roll back into your head. Eren works you through it, listening to your breathing and waiting for your body to relax against his before he stops moving. With great delight, he looks between your breasts as he pulls his fingers from inside of you, groaning at the sight of the creamy, white ring around his knuckles.

Your hands are still shaking when you reach out to grab his wrist. “I’m s-sorry, Eren,” you say inbetween breaths.

“Why are you apologizing?” Eren asks, voice strained. His other hand has shifted down from it’s hold on your mouth to your chest and underneath his palm he can feel the rapid beating of your heart in your chest. “You did really good, I’m so proud of you.”

Your thighs tense from his praise, moving to snap shut but Eren still has your legs hanging over his own to keep you open. And while you’re still catching your breath, Eren brings his fingers up to his lips to suck the sour taste of your pussy off of them.

Removing his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop! he laughs and presses a kiss into your cheek. “You taste really good, did you know that? I can show you how to cum with my tongue, next.”

“I need a break,” you sigh, dramatically wiping the back of your palm across the sweat on your forehead.

Eren allows you to shift, sitting up off of Eren’s lap and instead on your knees between his thighs, facing him as Eren pulls off his shirt. Despite it all, he feels a little exposed in front of you like this—thighs spread with his cock hard against his thigh—especially with the way your eyes seem to devour every inch of him.

“I never got to see your dick,” you remind him, eyes lingering on the tent in his boxers.

“Do you still wanna?” he teases, hiding his excitement behind a devious grin, and you shock him by reaching forward and hooking your fingers under the waistband of his underwear.

Eren lifts his hips as you tug them off, dragging the waistband across the length of his cock until it springs to life against his stomach. It’s slick with precum and red from neglect, and you stare at it with wide, curious eyes.

“It’s so big,” you say, and Eren tries to keep his ego in check by reminding himself that you’re a virgin.

“Do you wanna touch it?” He grips his cock by the base, lifting it upright from where it lays across his abs, and there’s already a thick string of precum connecting his stomach to the tip of his cock.

You nervously reach out to touch him, delicately wrapping your fingers around him and—ok, wow, he looks really big in your hands. Your touch is still faint, even with him in your grasp, he can hardly feel you.

“Squeeze it a little harder—it’s not gonna break,” he directs, and you shoot him a hesitant look before redirecting your attention back to your hand and squeezing it a little harder. It would be cute if Eren wasn’t so fucking horny.

He reaches out with his free hand, covering your hand with his palm as he shows you how hard he likes to be squeezed and you squeak in alarm. Now with his hand around yours, he slowly starts to move your palm up and down along his length. You’re still looking at him like he’s some sort of science experience as he shows you how to jerk him off—eyes full of wonder—but he can tell this is turning you on by the way your thighs press together.

“This feels good,” he says, stroking along his length, “but it feels better if you touch up here.” He slides your palm all the way up to the tip of his cock, using your hand to squeeze another fat drop of precum from his tip before working your grip around the head. Eren groans from the feeling of your soft hand rubbing along the ridge of his cock and you tug your lip between your teeth in delight.

“I can do it, Eren,” you say, swatting his hand away from yours before grasping him now with both hands. Eren throws his head back against the headrest with a dull thunk! and a deep moan as you start to work along his length.

“You learn quick,” he says through gritted teeth, looking down his nose at his cock in your hands. There’s just something about seeing his pretty, little, best friend like this that has his cock leaking all over your knuckles.

You run your tongue across your bottom lip and start to inch back, lowering your face down toward Eren’s dick. At first he thinks that you’re just trying to get a closer look—but then your mouth falls open and Eren watches a line of drool spill from between your lips onto the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hands balling into fists at his sides as his cock throbs against your hand. “Where did you learn that?”

“From you,” you say, flashing him a smirk. “You did it to me, remember?”

Eren’s having a hard time thinking about anything, right now, but he just nods—not wanting you to stop. “That feels really fucking good—keep going.”

“Can I put it in my mouth?”

Your words have Eren’s hips bucking up into your hands, groaning loudly as his cheeks burn in arousal. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you reply sheepishly, looking up at Eren through your lashes. “Feeling you in my hand like this is making my mouth water—I really want to taste you, Eren.”

“Holy fuck, yes—yes! Put it in your mouth!” he can’t contain his excitement when you bat your eyelashes at him like that. Do you even realize how sexy you’re being right now? Eren’s having a hard time believing that you’re really a virgin—where did you learn this?

You break out into a smile that’s so big, Eren’s sure your cheeks hurt, but then he watches you shimmy a little further back on the bed, lifting your ass up into the air and planting down onto your forearms. You lick your lips, hands slipping down to the base of Eren’s cock as you direct it toward your face. Eren watches your jaw fall open, lips stretching to accommodate his girth, before slowly taking the leaking tip of his cock into your mouth.

You’re warm and wet as you wrap your lips around him—just the tip—but you experimentally suck on his cock while your tongue flicks against his slit.

“Shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to cup your face as he curls forward. “That feels good—keep going.”

Your eyes crinkle in amusement, but you keep a tight seal around Eren’s cock as you start to take him deeper into your mouth. Eren’s own jaw hangs open as he watches you gently bob up and down around the tip of his cock, drool leaking down his length and pooling around your hands as you hold him upright.

“Take a bit more.” His voice is strained when he speaks, moving one hand to the back of your head as he starts to push you down on his length. He keeps his movement gentle, never pushing you too much, and giving you the space to pull back when you need to, but with his direction you’re able to fill your mouth with his cock until the tip is pushing against the back of your throat.

He watches you wince slightly from the feeling, eyes pricking with tears and Eren coos at you softly. “You don’t have to take it all—it’s ok, just whatever you can.”

You pull up along his length, following your mouth with your hand as you smear his length with your spit. You let the ridge of his cockhead slip between your lips before lowering back down as much as you can, twisting your wrist as you do so in a way that makes Eren’s toes curl.

He groans loudly as you work along his cock—sucking and drooling and jerking him off. Your cheeks hollow around his length as you suck and Eren can feel your tongue moving back and forth along the bottom of his cock as you bob your head. “You’re really good at this,” he says, trying to commit this scene to memory.

You keep trying to take him into your throat—you poor thing—but each time you try to press his cock past the tight ring, you clench hard around him as you gag, pulling back quickly with tears in your eyes. “Fuck, if you keep doing that you’re going to make me cum,” he says, breathing hard.

You pull off of him all at once, gasping for breath as strings of spit and precum trail from your mouth to his cock. Inbetween breaths you say, “Wait, no—can we have sex?”

His dick twitches in your hand. “You want to have sex? Are you sure?”

You nod, crawling back up the bed until you’re sitting up on your knees again, sticky palms resting on Eren’s chest. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you fully into his lap, straddling your legs on either side of his hips. “You don’t need to be in a rush—you’ve already learned a lot today, we can stop now.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you insist, and you’re pouting, now. “Don’t you want to have sex with me, Eren?”

He takes in a shaky breath, feeling his face soften as he looks at you. Yes, he absolutely wants to have sex with you—

But he wants it to mean something. As easy as it would be to agree to your request and fuck you here and now, he doesn’t want you to leave in the morning and have things go back to the way they were before. It’s bad enough he’s let things go this far. He’s never going to be able to get the image of your lips wrapped around his cock out of his head—or the way you feel when you’re cumming on his fingers.

“I really want to have sex with you,” he assures you, hands moving up and down along your waist, “but I don’t—”

“If we don’t do it now, then we’ll never do it,” you say, interrupting him with an annoyed groan. You cross your arms over your chest as you level Eren with a stern look. “I’m never going to get this chance with you again.”

Your choice of words has Eren tilting his head in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

You press your lips into a tight, thin line, hesitating. Eren can see the gears in your head turning as you try to put your thoughts into words, speaking after a dense silence. “I like you—I have for a while now, and it’ll kill me if we don’t see this through.”

He wrinkles his nose at you, struggling to contain his excitement. “You like me? Ew, gross.”

“Eren!”

He cackles, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist to keep you close when you try to squirm away. He’s smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt and he feels like his whole body is buzzing. You like him—you like him? Why didn’t you say that sooner!

“Look—I know it’s stupid, but you were right. I want to look back on the night I lose my virginity and feel good about the person I lost it to, so I want to lose it to you, Eren. You’re the only guy I’ve ever trusted like this, and it’s ok if you just want to be friends in the morning because I’ll always have this.”

“What if I don’t want to be friends in the morning?” he asks, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. “What if I like you, too? What would happen then?”

You return your hands to his chest, sliding them up his shoulders, to around the back of his neck. Carding your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, you look into Eren’s eyes with a narrowed gaze. “Well… if you like me and I like you… then I guess, we should probably date each other.”

Eren grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m cool with that,” he says, and then he closes the gap between you both when he sees your lips twitch up into a smile, pressing into you for a soft, slow kiss. “In that case, of course, I’ll fuck my girlfriend.” The word feels like electricity on his tongue.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. You’re his girlfriend.

“You’re so annoying,” you groan, but you’re still smiling against Eren’s mouth as he peppers you with kisses. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked me?”

“Dunno. Scared.”

“That’s so stupid.”

“Coming from the girl that almost made out with one of my friends,” he scoffs, and you lean back to smack him lightly across the chest.

“Ok, come on! Are we doing this or not?” You roll your hips forward, smearing your wet pussy across the length of Eren’s cock and he groans—any hardness he lost during your conversation springing back in an instant.

“Yeah, yeah—fuck. Just let me grab a—”

As he leaning over to his bedside table to grab a condom, you reach out for his wrist, stilling him. “No, can we…?”

Eren gulps, his cock twitching against his stomach as he looks at you with wide eyes. “Yeah—fuck it. Let’s do it raw.”

You groan, rolling your eyes, but you allow Eren to lift your hips up as he guides the head of his cock to your entrance. “You’re being weird, now. Stop it.”

“Sorry, I’m just happy,” he admits, and he’s still smiling from before, but then his brows pinch as he rubs his cockhead against your slit, coating himself in your arousal. “Can you relax for me? This might hurt a little, but I need you to trust me.”

“Of course, Eren,” you say, settling your hands on his shoulders for stability.

“Take as much as you can, but take it slow, ok?” Eren presses his cock against your entrance, holding it there with his fist around the base of his cock as you slowly lower your hips and sink down onto him.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the tight pressure of your pussy around the head of his cock as you take him. Eren’s eyes flick up to your face—despite wanting to watch the way he disappears inside of you—to gauge your reaction, and your face is scrunched up in discomfort.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you say, but your voice is strained.

He shifts his hands to your hips, holding you in place as your thighs tremble on either side of him. “It’s ok, take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you take slow, measured breaths. Eren’s biceps bulge and stiffen from the effort of holding you up, but it’s worth it as he slowly watches your face relax and you start to inch yourself downward.

“Try—oh, fuck—try going back up before taking me deeper,” Eren cuts himself off with a shuddered breath as you squeeze around him. He digs his blunt nails into the meat of your hips as he tries to control himself while you cunt drools along the length of his cock. Heeding his advice, you gently lift yourself up until just the tip of his dick is nestled inside of you, before lowering back down again and taking him deeper.

Your face is still tense and your grip on his shoulders is punishing, but you slowly work Eren’s cock into your virgin hole until he’s completely sheathed inside of you. Eren carefully loosens his hold on your hips and allows you to sink your full weight onto his lap, taking quick breaths through his nostrils to try to keep his composure as he’s engulfed in your warmth.

You scrunch your nose, gently rocking in his lap as you try to get accustomed to his size. “I feel like you’re in my lungs,” you say and Eren snorts.

“You’re really making me feel like a stud tonight,” he laughs. “How does it feel?”

You hum, searching for the words as you squeeze around him. “Unfamiliar, but at the same time… it feels good. Like I’m full.”

“Wanna try moving?” he asks, praying that you do.

“What do I do? Just like—bounce on it?”

You laugh like it’s a joke, but Eren nods encouragingly. “Yeah, just bounce on it. I can help you.”

With a look of concentration, you grip Eren’s shoulders for stability and slowly lift yourself up from his lap with the aid of his hands on your hips. He groans from the drag of his cock through your walls as you sit up, and you moan along with him when you lower back down.

You’re a little jerky and uncoordinated at first, but after a few experimental bounces and with Eren’s help, you’re able to build a rhythm on his lap that has your nails digging into his skin as you whimper. “Oh my God, it feels so good, Eren.”

He nods in approval, breathing hard as he watches your breasts rise and fall with every bounce. You feel incredible—so fucking incredible—and he’s not sure how long he can last with you riding him like this, but he doesn’t want you to be unsatisfied the first time you have sex.

“Can I try something?” he asks through gritted teeth, gripping you a little harder around your hips as he plants his feet into the mattress and his shoulders into the headrest, shifting his hips slightly. When you nod at him, he raises you up from his lap and starts thrusting up into you.

With a stuttered moan, you fall forward into his chest as Eren fucks you—gasping and moaning with your face buried into his neck as Eren bullies his cock into you with every snap of his hips. With the way your nails are clawing into his skin, Eren can tell that he’s hitting you at just the right angle now to get you off.

The sounds between your bodies are wet and loud with every thrust, your skin slapping against each other, and your pussy leaving a mess against the dark hairs at the base of Eren’s cock. Your moans against his neck just send more and more heat flooding to the surface of his skin, beads of sweat rolling down the column of his throat, his chest, and the nape of his neck.

“Eren, I’m gonna cum again,” you say, almost apologetic against his skin as your body tenses around him. “Oh, fuck—Eren!”

“That’s it, come on—cum for me,” he grunts, feeling the lustful haze he’s been trying to fight off finally consume him as he nears his own orgasm. He should be cooing softly in your ear, brushing your hair out of your face as you lose yourself around him, but now—all he can think of is how he absolutely wants to ruin you.

His fingers press bruises into your skin as he starts to force you down onto his lap, meeting each upward snap of his hips. Each breath is harder and harder to catch as he works himself to exhaustion, chasing your high as his own quickly follows. “Let me feel you fucking squeeze me,” he says through each strained breath, “show this pussy what it’s like to cum on a fucking cock.”

You whimper his name when you cum—thighs trembling on either side of his hips and toes curling into his sheets. Your nails dig lines into the muscles of his back at the same time that your sweet, virgin cunt clamps down around Eren’s cock.

“That’s it—fuck—that’s fuckin it, baby!” He’s laughing now, riding the high of his quickly building orgasm. He throws his head back against the headrest, slamming you down onto his lap as he looks down his nose at your trembling body.

You’re still going through the waves of your orgasm and whimpering his name, probably verging on the edge of overstimulation as Eren’s cock pushes against your tight walls. Your words quickly turn into mindless babbling when Eren’s grip shifts to your ass, squeezing you hard as his hips pound against yours.

“This is my pussy now, got it?” He smacks your ass with his palm and you jolt against his chest. “Look how perfect she is for me—how messy she gets. Nobody else gets to feel you like this, not when you fit so perfectly around my cock.”

Eren sits up, letting you fall onto your back on the mattress as he looms over you on his knees. His cock slips out from inside of you in the movement and he grabs himself around the base and slaps at your clit with the head.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he says through gritted teeth, tendons in his jaw twitching as he looks down at your body—sprawled across his mattress in a breathless, sweaty mess. You’re cunt is slick and shiny from your arousal and Eren feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

He runs his cock through the lips of your pussy, nudging your clit before pushing back into you, groaning through his teeth as he watches you squirm from the feeling. “Do you like that? When I stuff you like this?” he punctuates his statement with a snap of his hips that has your hands scrambling for purchase on his sheets.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up with my cum,” he hisses, hands shifting to your hips to hold you in place as he thrusts into you. “That’s what you’ve wanted all night, right? You’ve been begging for it all night—someone to kiss you, touch you, fuck you. Isn’t that right?”

He’s delirious as he barrels towards his orgasm, breathing hard with every movement. The bed is squeaking and scraping against the floor and your moans are echoing off the walls of Eren’s bedroom. He grunts and pants, feeling the familiar tightness in his gut as his nears his orgasm.

“Eren, I’m—” you reach out for him, nails just barely reaching his abs as he pounds into you, and he can feel it—the clench of your pussy around his cock as you start to cum again. It completely sends him over the edge and with a deep, gutteral moan he cums—hot white shooting into the tightness of your cunt with every pulse of his cock.

Eren’s vision goes white and he collapses ontop of you, holding himself up by his forearms on either side of your head as he gasps for air. Your arms and legs wrap around his body, pulling him tight against your chest and Eren feels the slick heat of your sweaty skin against his as he presses into you.

“Oh my God,” he says inbetween each breath. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more gentle—that wasn’t how I wanted it to happen, I—”

You break out into a smile, breathing hard alongside him, hair clinging to your forehead and the nape of your neck from sweat. “It’s ok, Eren. It was a lot of fun.”

He sighs with relief, lowering his face into your neck to nuzzle against your throat. “Ok, good—shit, I’m still sorry, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow.”

“Yeah, probably.”

He snorts, sitting up just enough to put some space between your bodies, and he moves his palm to your lower stomach, gently rubbing in little circles. “Poor girl, all stuffed full of cum.”

You wrinkle your nose at him and make a weak attempt at shoving him off of you. “Gross, Eren.”

Eren cackles and allows you to roll him off, landing on his back with a quiet oof! as he stares up at the ceiling and tries to process everything that just happened. Beside him, you’re quiet too, gradually slowing your breathing as your body relaxes into the mattress.

He rolls his tongue against his cheek, trying to find the words to say, but you beat him to it. “So… were you being serious? About all those things you said earlier about… liking me and wanting us to date and stuff.”

Eren nods in response, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

“So… this isn’t just some—” you gesture vaguely between the two of you “—one night stand thing where we pretend like nothing happened in the morning? This is like… for real?”

He swallows thickly, tilting his head to the side to look at you and he sees that you’re already looking at him. Eyes wide with a mixture of hope and fear as sweat dries on your skin and the heat on your skin fades away in the cool evening air.

“Yeah,” he says, “this is for real.”

“How long have you felt like this?”

“I don’t know. Since the beginning, I think,” he admits. “There was never a moment for me where our relationship felt different, it just… it always felt like this, but I didn’t know—or maybe I was in denial—of how much you really meant to me.”

You hum, “Yeah… I know what you mean. It’s the same for me.” You clasp your hands on your stomach and look up at the ceiling in thought. Eren can see the way your brows furrow gently and your lips purse as you concentrate on whatever’s going through your head.

“That’s why my ex didn’t like you,” he continues, “she said that I cared more about you than I did her, so she made me stop hanging out with you.”

“Ah! So that was the reason. I thought you just thought I was too lame to hang out with anymore.”

“I would never think that.” You shift to look over at Eren beside you and he shoots you an apologetic look as he sits up onto his forearm. He leans over you, brushing away the sweaty strands of hair on your forehead as he looks down at you. “I’ll make up for the years we missed, I promise,” and he seals his promise with a soft kiss against your lips.

You reach your hands up to cup his face, deeping the kiss and putting all those tips Eren gave you to good use—it makes his heart clench with pride at the fact that he taught you to kiss exactly the way he likes.

When you pull away, your eyes flutter open, gaze bouncing between each of Eren’s eyes as you build up the courage to speak. “Eren…”

“What is it?” he reaches for your hand on your chest, untangling it from your other hand so he can bring your knuckles up to his lips. “You can tell me anything—you always can.”

You chuckle and seeing your mouth twitch up into a smile has Eren smiling down at you, too. “Eren… I think your cum is leaking out of me.”

“Oh, shit,” he sits up, eyes wide as he looks around his room. “Let me get you a cloth or something.”

Eren wakes up to the gentle buzzing of his phone on his nightstand—a text message. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, willing himself to go back to sleep and nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head as he holds you close.

After cleaning you up last night, you decided to stay in bed with Eren. The two of you chatted a bit more about your feelings for one another before falling asleep in each other’s arms, and as happy as Eren is to be awake in a reality where you’re his girl, he really doesn’t want to wake up right now when his head is pounding with a hangover.

His phone buzzes twice more and it almost feels more urgent this time, so with a groan, Eren reaches over your body to grab at it. He squints one eye open as he looks down at his messages to see a text from Zeke.

Zeke: Good morning, Eren. Zeke: I advise that you tread lightly this morning when you see your mother. Zeke: She was not too impressed with the racket you caused last night.

Eren’s eyes widen as he looks down at the message, thumb moving quickly to type up a response.

Eren: Shit. Eren: I thought we were being quiet.

Zeke: Really? Zeke: You really thought you were being quiet last night when you were yelling in explicit detail about when and where you were going to cum?

Eren: How mad is mom?

Zeke: Very. Zeke: You know how much Carla likes that girl, so I don’t think she’s very happy about the way you were speaking to her last night.

Eren groans, covering his face with his hand as he feels his heart sink into his stomach and his whole body break out into a cold sweat. You start to stir in his arms, pulling your face from his chest to look up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Good morning,” he says, feeling his face soften as he looks down at you. Facing his mom doesn’t seem so scary anymore when he knows that he can wake up next to you like this again.

It’s ok, Eren decides. He’ll stay in bed with you all morning until his mom heads out for her regular weekend shopping trip, then he can sneak you out and deal with her on his own. There’s no need to have you present for the verbal lashing he’s bound to get.

She’s always loved you—she used to tease you as kids about getting married when you got older, so Eren’s certain that she’s over the moon about the two of you finally getting together. But that doesn’t mean she’ll be happy about overhearing Eren taking your virginity, especially if Zeke is to be believed.

“Morning,” you say around a yawn, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Pretty early,” Eren says, shifting his gaze over your shoulder back at his phone. He watches three grey dots appear on the screen as Zeke types out another message. “It’s ok, we don’t have to get out of bed right away. We can just sit here and—”

Zeke: By the way, breakfast is ready :)

1K notes · View notes

hungharrington · 1 year

Note

I can see Steve saying "When I tell you to sit on my face, I want you to sit, is that clear?" to read

wet as a dream

anon babe, i'm sure this prompt is supposed to be dom energy and yet all i could read was assuring boyfriend stevie <3 so have sum softness with ur face-sitting hehe 2k words, minors do not interact, and yanno, this is exactly what the prompt suggests + a lot of lovey dovey feelings ! enjoy <3

Look, you were no stranger to sex, to say the least. It might still make you flush, an eager yet still slightly embarrassed warmth whenever you and Steve go from sweet kisses, to a hot make-out, to more…

But even then, you’re not entirely sure anything could’ve prepared for this— for Steve to murmur against your lip between his heated kisses, “I want you to sit on my face.”

You pull back from the make-out, chest huffing and your voice sounds only a tiny bit strangled when you say, “What?”

Steve takes advantage of his new view, eyes skirting up and down your face hungry with love. His eyes are warm, grin easy, like it’s no big deal when he says, “I said I want—“

“No, no,” You cut in, feeling your ears tinge warmly. “I, uh, heard you the first time.”

The image his words conjure pours into your mind, sitting on his tongue as his hands curl right around your thighs and keep you as close as he wants— while you mewl atop him, at his mercy. You shiver just a bit, desire streaking through you, and it quickly reminds you of the lap you’re sitting it, the evidence of Steve’s desire hard beneath you.

His hands haven’t moved, still resting on your sides. His thumbs swatch up and down lightly, trying to read your expression. “You don’t have to,” Steve says earnestly, brows drawing together. “But, I promise it’ll feel so good.”

That you have no doubt about. You’ve found it especially hard to stay quiet when Steve gets his mouth on you— something in the way he eats you out, with such an enthused fervor, moaning enough that you know he enjoys it too.

“That’s not what I’m worried bout.” You admit, shifting in his lap again. Your hands that have been resting on his chest fall, landing on your thighs. You avert your eyes for a moment, some old insecurities bubbling to the service — you’ve never done this before but Steve has, he’s probably done it with girls skinnier than you, with smaller thighs and—

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t, okay?” Steve interrupts your stream of prickly thoughts, moving a hand up to cradle your jaw sweetly. You meet his eyes, knowing your worry displays on your expression. His fondness soothes you.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.” Steve promises.

“You’re sure?” You check one more, anxiety getting the best of you.

Steve chuckles lightheartedly, leaning in to kiss you deeply. He pulls back an inch, scanning your face once more, looking for more hesitancy to soothe. “If you are,” he assures with another smile.

With a deep breath, you nod, aiming for sure. You think back to the steamy image your mind had provided, think back to every time Steve’s gotten between your thighs and drawn out noises out of you that you didn’t even know you could make — you want to do this.

Steve grins. He reclines himself to lie back on the bed, his hands fluttering down to ghost touches along your thighs. Another nerve trips you up.

“Can I— can I keep my skirt on?” You ask nervously, your fingers gripping the edge of your skirt.

Steve softens, grin melting into a reassuring smile. “Of course, honey. And if you want to stop, just- if you’re uncomfortable or find you don’t want to—“

“I do.” You interrupt him. “I do want to do this.”

To prove your point, you begin to work your panties down your thighs — You can feel the slick that’s pooled in them, from when you had gotten worked up from the hot kisses from Steve earlier. You feel yourself clench in anticipation of what’s coming.

It takes a moment to work them off, getting caught on your ankles awkwardly - but that awkward giggle dies in your throat at Steve’s heavy stare. You failed to notice his growing boner until you situate yourself back on his lap, in nothing but your skirt and bra, and the feel of it feeds into your lust. He wants this. He really fucking wants this.

“Okay,” you say, biting your lower lip for a moment, trying to think if there’s a sexier way to shuffle up the bed to his face. Steve let’s you get all of halfway before he pauses you, hands on your thighs again— he wants to say this when he can still see your whole face properly.

"When I tell you to sit on my face,” He starts, enjoying how your expression peaks in embarrassment once again. He grins. “I want you to sit.”

He raises his brows at you. “Is that clear?" He asks, making sure you’re both on the right page. Steve Harrington certainly did not half-ass some face-sitting.

You nod, a little relieved at his insistence and clear excitement— something delightful burns in your tummy that he wants to do this, enough to assure you to not dare hold back.

You shuffle a little higher, nerves creeping in as you hover over Steve’s face, unsure how to start. Do you just—?

The question is ripped from your mind as Steve’s arms curl up around your thighs, hands holding you firm, and he pulls you down onto his mouth. His tongue licks a bold stroke through your folds, warm and wet.

Heat plumes in your tummy, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping your lips as your head tips back — you can’t quite handle the sight of him between your thighs just yet. You know it’ll send your head spinning. Your hands hold the edge of your skirt up, just an inch or so to keep it out of his face and you try to focus on the sensations instead.

His pink lips mouth softly along your cunt, tongue soothing along as he works up to your clit — then swirls his tongue over it firmly, enough to pull a soft moan from you. You legs spread a little wider, sinking into him and you can feel the hum of approval from Steve.

“There we go,” He praises, pressing another sloppy kiss to clit. “That’s it.”

His encouragement melts into you, fiery hot, and you whine a bit, hips rocking down on his face instinctively. Pleasure twists the coil in your stomach tighter. Steve’s fingers flex against the skin of your thighs, his tongue loose and warm as he licks and suckles at your core.

Time melts and muddles as you lose yourself to pleasure, Steve dutifully giving and giving, his plush lips dragging deliciously against your clit so good that all you do is moan above him. You’re not sure how long you’ve been going, only the mounting pull in your tummy to give an indication, when Steve’s mouth begins to kiss lower and lower — until he’s aligned with your slicked entrance.

Where you might of once given a moment to embarrassment, you only feel your eagerness grow— especially as Steve releases a filthy moan against you.

“You’re so wet,” he rasps, the words doused in lust and approval. You shiver at his husky voice, a weak moan scraping out your throat when he skirts his tongue around your hole, avoiding it purposefully. You clench, and whine in complaint. Tease.

“My girl,” He hums, a few more kisses. You have no doubt you’ve soaked the bottom half of his face with your arousal— but the thought just adds to your lust. “You love this, hmm? Y’glad I ask’d?”

You’re nodding fervently, desperate for him to keep going, and a pitiful “yes” trips out your mouth. Steve chuckles, the vibrations making you keen, and your impatience gets the best of you; you rock down on him again.

Steve’s expecting it, if his tightening grip on your thighs and experienced tongue are any indication. He presses up, tongue fucking into the entrance of your cunt hotly and you can’t help how one of your hands shift down rapidly to fist in his hair.

It’s the first time you’ve properly looked down at him, between your thighs, and the sight of him so clearly enjoying himself turns your whine into a loud moan. His hair is messy, eyes slipping closed as he dedicates himself to making you fall apart on his tongue. He looks so fucking hot.

“Steve,” you whimper, tugging his hair lightly — and you receive a moan in response. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t pause for a moment as your hips move to chase your orgasm which has begun to peak over, just let’s you ride his face. Your chest heaves, every exhale painted in a moan. Every word out your mouth is a curse or his name.

“Steve,” you whine in warning and Steve’s eyes open. It’s more intimate than you’re expecting, staring down at him with his mouth on your cunt, moments from tipping over the edge- you’re beginning to sound pathetic, whines getting higher and higher. Steve shifts, tilts his head the right way and then— then his fucking nose is rubbing your clit just the right way and you’re gone.

You cry out softly, breathes shuddering as everything peaks — thighs trembling, your hand tightening it’s grip in Steve’s hair, eyes screwed close and your mouth hung open in a moan. The room feels unbearably warm as your orgasm washes over you. Steve thinks he might actually cum in his pants at the sight, especially from his vantage point between your thighs. Fuck. His cock gives a twitch in his pants.

They’ve been growing tighter and tighter, fueled by your every moan since he’s managed to convince you onto his face — and now his cock is so hard it nearly hurts. Not once had Steve considered slipping a hand down to relieve some pressure; this isn’t about him. It’s about you — and fuck, if you don’t you look beautiful cumming on his face. Twitching and moaning and falling apart on his tongue.

Steve works you through it, turning back to sloppy open mouth kisses up until you’re finally releasing his hair and shuffling back, so to slump down back in his lap. If you hadn’t just seen stars, you might notice the flicker of excitement in your tummy at Steve’s hardness beneath you. For the moment, however, you’re spent.

Steve hasn’t moved. You try to catch your breath and peer down at him. A laugh catches in your throat at the blissed out smile toying on his face — someone clearly enjoyed themselves.

“Fucking hell,” you huff approvingly. Steve’s eyes flick over to meet yours and he grins. Your slick is still on his lips, pinker than ever in the sheen of your arousal. He licks them clean. Your tummy twists up at the sight. Why is that so hot?

“Didn’t I say you’d enjoy it?” Steve hums cockily, his hands searching across the sheets to find your hips. He caresses the skin there gently.

“Mmhm,” you hum your agreement. “Don’t think I was the only one who enjoyed that though.” You tease, moving your hips down against his bulge purposefully and Steve lets out a deep groan. His hips move up beneath you.

You regrettably stop his movements with a hand on his chest. Steve watches you closely, eyes inquiring. “I’ll return the favor but, um, give me a couple minutes.”

You smile sheepishly. It dawns quickly on Steve the reason for your pause, needing a cool-off period, and his grin turns down right cheeky. His hands shift up to your wrists and he tugs your forward, capturing you in his arms and holding you against his chest. It’s warm and safe and you can’t help but melt into it, still sapped from your orgasm.

“That just means I did my job right,” Steve murmurs gleefully, pressing a kiss into your hair. He chuckles at your small uh huh and holds you tighter.

And with all his whispers of how hot you looked above him, how hard it got him, it doesn’t take very long to find the energy to return the favor.

#ok i kinda FUCK with this one #turns out the thing that turns jay on is; enthusiastic consent #i want a bitch that is SO excited to have sex with me <333 #jay writes #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve x reader #steve smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things smut

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klemen-tine · 2 months

Text

Blowing Raspberries

Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic

@jaythes1mp Sorry this took so long and is not all in one part! But here is the first half.

TW: Break in, Child Abuse (not the Batfam), and neglect

Publicly, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson is the oldest Wayne sibling. Taken in by Bruce Wayne at 8-years-old, he is the first child and the oldest. In the eyes of the law and adoption papers. In the eyes of the Wayne family however, the oldest sibling title belongs to Y/N L/N. Similar to the Drakes, the L/N’s live on the other side of the Waynes, and similar to Tim, Y/N had been left home alone… a lot.

Which meant he was over, a lot. So much so, he had his own room, Alfred made him a plate for every meal, and he was aware of their little nightly activities. Y/N L/N was a needed normalcy within the Manor, reminding them that there is more to life outside of crime fighting.

“Did you see that new cafe?” Y/N asked, looking into Dick’s exhausted eyes while resting his chest against Jason’s head. Dick shook his head, “No. Why?” Y/N pouted, “Because you guys literally broke their windows last night.” Jason winced, remembering the shattering of glass and wide-eyed stares as he handled some thugs.

“Please tell me that isn’t the cafe you wanted to go to today.” Dick buried his head in his hands and begged every deity that it was not that cafe. Y/N has been talking about it for weeks and finally found a time where all their schedules aligned so they could do it.

“It was.” Jason and Dick groaned while Y/N stared at them with an annoyed expression. His arms that were wrapped around Jason tightened in a mocking chokehold, knowing that if Jason wanted to he could easily get out and have Y/N pinned. Dick groaned again, “Is… is there somewhere else you want to try?”

“Not really.” ‘Fuck!’ Jason and Dick stared at one another, trying to figure out a way to still have this day with Y/N. If they don’t hurry, the vultures will swoop in and suggest something that will catch Y/N’s attention and–

“Y/N, how about we got to the petting zoo.”

“Dami!”

“Buzz off short stack!” Y/N thumped Jason’s head with his chin, “Don’t talk to Dami like that.” The youngest Wayne smiled victoriously while his two older brothers glared at him. Dick looked offended and Jason was actually ready to strangle him. Y/N shook his head, “Dami, aren’t we going on Friday? I’m picking you up from school to go.” Damian scrunched his nose, “We can go twice.”

Y/N couldn’t help but to chuckle, “Hmmm, those rabbits are cute.” Jason’s grip tightened, “The new bookstore in downtown! There’s a new bookstore that is supposed to have a cafe attached to it.” Damian scowled at Dick perked up, “Yeah, I forgot about that.” Y/N hummed, staring at Jason in concern, “Jay, you hate downtown.” It’s full of rich snobs and people who have nothing better to do than walk the streets in designer clothing.

Jason made a face, “It’s our day with you, I’m fine with it as long as you’re there.” Dick gagged and Damian looked ready to chuck a knife at him. Y/N blinked at the younger man in shock before laughing, “That’s cute, okay. Let’s go there then.” He released Jason from his hold, unwrapping his arms from Jason’s neck and standing tall. Dick smiled at Y/N, who was talking to a pouting Damian and ruffling slicked back hair.

“Alright, Y/N, I'm assuming you’re ready.” Unlike the Wayne brothers who had a father that did not care why they landed on the NEWS or magazine as long as they didn’t kill anyone, Y/N’s father was different. For someone who was always gone, he had a firm hold and opinions on Y/N’s life.

Bruce may not care that his kids go out looking like they haven’t showered in three days, but Y/N’s dad has ordered the maids to get rid of all the ripped jeans Y/N had because the paparazzi made an opinion on them when Y/N wore them. Jason remembers listening in on that call, and numerous other calls from Mr. L/N, as he hollered at his child he did not care about.

“You are a L/N! If you still want that last name then you will dress like a L/N!”

Unlike Dick and Jason who are dressed in jeans, Y/N is dressed in slacks and a nice polo shirt. His hair was clean and styled and the shoes he wore still shined. The aesthetic is called ‘old money’ and boy did Y/N have that. He and the Wayne siblings have become the newest trend setters in Gotham.

Whenever the paparazzi caught them together it was always Old Gotham vs New Gotham. Slacks vs Jeans. Hair combed vs natural. Clean vs Rugged. L/N vs Wayne.

They were the topic whenever they were out together, which was a lot. The only reason Mr. L/N hasn’t said anything is probably because Bruce is keeping his mouth shut about the child-neglect and abandonment. Point is, seeing the Wayne kids and L/N son together wasn’t odd, in fact there were jokes of Bruce Wayne adopting him, but they still always turned heads.

“Y/N, I am telling you that is a horrible choice and you’re not gonna like it.” Said young man raised an eyebrow at Jason and tutted disappointedly, “Jay, you haven’t even read it.” The guy motioned at the cover, “Look at it! Dick! Come ‘ere and look at it!” The other made only a side glance at it and sighed, “Y/N… this is only going to lead to problems.”

“It is literally a book about romance.” Jason screwed up his face, like someone had shoved a lemon down his throat, “But like… young adult romance. Read the classics.”

“I have read the classics. You have read me the classics. I read them in class and if I have to read how Ms. Elizabeth Barnett falls in love with Mr. Darcy one more time I’m actually going to throw myself in traffic.” Dick agreed with Y/N on that, remembering all the time he had to read the damn book.

“It's Elizabeth Bennett.”

“Jay, I swear to God.”

“Are you sure you read them because there’s no way someone who’s read them would get that name wrong.”

“Little wing–”

“–Dickie, maybe. But not anybody else.”

“–Excuse you.” Y/N snorted at the now bickering brothers, watching in amusement as Dick pulled Jason’s ear and Jason to Dick’s hair. Sighing, Y/N stepped between the two. Y/N L/N is possibly the only person, other than Alfred, who would dare do such a thing. Fear was absent on his face as he calmly walked into the dog fight, and helped release their bites with gentle tugs and stern words.

“Enough. The line is picking up at the cafe, so let's checkout and head over.” Y/N is the person who quells the fights and mends the bonds. The only person in the Manor that knew how to communicate their feelings and help others realize and communicate theirs.

He is the kind, patient, and understanding older brother of the Batfam. Always paying attention to other’s needs and always willing to listen to someone vent their frustrations and offer sound advice. Y/N is –

“–And what about the company?! How come the sales are low this month?”

“Father, they are riding average, it’s just the last month was a boom because–”

“I don’t care about last month! Why are the sales low this month?!”

– not Bruce Wayne’s ward, and therefore there isn’t much he can say in this scenario. Bruce listened and watched Y/N slouch as Mr. L/N continued to scream and berate him from across the world. He watched the exhaustion take over Y/N’s features and the way his forehead creased, Bruce knows that a headache is now present.

“If you still want the company then you better act like it! Enough of prancing around like the money you spend is yours!” Y/N is grateful his father hung up after that, because Y/N had a clapback to that and he’s sure his father would fly back from wherever he is just to smack him around for saying it.

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, the weight of the conversation making his shoulders sag and melt into the armchair with a huff. Bruce chuckled at the pout, “For what it is worth, fluctuating prices are normal in businesses. As long as it doesn’t go too low, you are fine.” Y/N smiled at the man, fixing his posture and picking up the mug of coffee.

“You heard all of that?” The man can still remember when he first met Y/N. The property alarm was triggered, and when Bruce and Alfred went out to investigate, an 8-year-old Y/N was there, his hands holding the wild raspberries and his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

He huffed at the memory, making Y/N give him a weird look. Bruce had been grateful to Y/N’s impromptu trespassing, because when Dick came into his care, a now 10-year-old Y/N had welcomed the traumatized and blubbering 8-year-old. Something Bruce had little to no idea how to handle.

Then Jason came and that was a wild ride, followed by Steph, then Tim, and now Damian. That's just the Robins. It doesn’t include the others that have become family but never took the Robin mantle. Y/N had been there through it all, and welcomed each one with a smile and open arms. At the same time giving Bruce a raised eyebrow and icy glare that screamed, ‘Really? Another child?’

Y/N never faulted Bruce for his lack of communication, but he did let the man know repeatedly that while words may start fires, they can also put them out. Y/N had laid it on him one time, after a particular nasty fight with Dick and Jason.

“For a man who loves using his vocabulary to start arguments you sure don’t have the vocabulary to fix them. What are you, a toddler?”

Mending things with Y/N is always easy, because Y/N does not hold grudges. Not to mention having the emotional intelligence of a therapist, Y/N was always in-tuned to his emotions and whether he was projecting or not. Or if anyone else was. Living in a manor filled with people who have traumatic backstories and skeletons in the closets, Y/N has become the voice of reason and unbiased opinions. Similar to Alfred, just without the sass.

“Do you still like raspberries?” Bruce asked, and Y/N nodded, “You ask this every time a celebration of some sort comes up and the answer is always the same. Yes, I still love raspberries.” Y/N had once confided to Bruce, over a glass of wine, how he had asked his father if he could paint the bookshelves in his room. Little did Mr. L/N know that the color would be burgundy, the closest color to a raspberry he could get without poking someone’s eye out, and when his father found out he had the bookshelves removed and set ablaze.

Y/N got his ass handed to him when Mr. L/N came back from his trip, and was then prohibited from decorating his room without prior approval of design and permission.

Bruce had the bookshelves in Y/N’s room in the manor painted burgundy, and when Y/N saw them, it was like watching a child be told that they were not the bad child. The relief and the path to healing across his face as he took in the bookshelves.

The man watched Y/N sip his cup of coffee, watching how exhaustion seemed to seep off of him like cologne and fill the air with his tired and somewhat annoyed state. Phone calls from Mr. L/N we’re never received well by anybody, and Jason and Tim have more than once thought about sending the hateful man a few messages. Damian offered to ambush him when he came home.

Y/N quickly shot those down.

Tim came from nowhere, his face screwed tight and body tense. Y/N gave him a once over, before making space for the college student on the couch. He gave him a worried look-over, “Is everything alright?” Tim melted into Y/N’s side, huffing and grumbling about something.

Bruce’s phone vibrated, and it was a message from Tim sent before he got down here.

‘It’s in Cabo.’ Bruce huffed, already knowing that if Tim was listening then so was everyone else. Referring to Mr. L/N as an ‘it’ seemed to be everyone’s favorite pastime. Everyone but Y/N’s, but as long as it wasn’t said around him then it was fine.

“You’re going to the Gala, right?” Tim asked and Y/N nodded, “Of course, when have I ever missed one?” Tim continued to grumble a bit, but relaxed into Y/N’s side as he ran his fingers through Tim’s messy hair. God he loves it when Y/N does this. There was barely anything better than Y/N’s head massages, easily lulling him to a calm state as everyone mentally prepared for the Gala tonight.

When Y/N had turned 13, that is when he started showing up to the Galas representing L/N Industries, and he would be in Bruce’s care while there. Whoever Bruce met, Y/N was expected to make a great impression. Bruce never missed the way Y/N would sometimes stare at the Wayne kids in jealousy as they got to do whatever they want, while he is forced to be an adult and try to win other adults over.

Then forced to be yelled at afterwards by his father on the phone afterwards for something miniscule. Either someone commented on a piece of clothing, or how he wasn’t smiling, anything that was negative Y/N got yelled at for. It was like Mr. L/N didn’t know how to do anything else other than yell at his child.

Tim took no offense when the fingers in his hair stopped moving, and Y/N’s body became limp. The other was knocked out on the couch, napping away the stress and enjoying the weekend. Unlike Tim who had Bruce’s help when managing Wayne Enterprises, Y/N is all on his own. Learning from his dad’s assistant, and also Bruce’s, Y/N was basically alone when his father had forced him to take the mantle. In face only, because as far as Mr. L/N was concerned, the company’s profit was still his profit. None of it going to Y/N, except as a monthly allowance.

Jason had once said he should just stop managing the company, and if his father loved it enough, then he’ll take over. Y/N chuckled-the bags under his eyes were deep and he had just gotten over a stress cold- and he said that although his father may care a lot about the profit, it was his late mother’s company and he wouldn’t want to embarrass her soul by purposefully failing.

However, now all that company did was cause him stress and make him sick more frequently. Bruce had said it was probably stress from his father, and not so much the company, but that didn’t stop them all from wishing the company would just go away.

Tim looked up Y/N through his eyelashes, taking in the similar dark circles they both shared and how Y/N looks paler than usual, and he knows that Y/N’s health would only get worse if they targeted the company. His oldest brother would do everything in his power to keep the company afloat, and it would be devastating on both sides. Y/N would run himself ragged trying to keep it alive and that would mean less time with them.

“Let him rest, Tim. He needs it.” Everyone has asked Bruce if he plans to do something. However, there isn’t much Bruce can do now that Y/N is an adult. He’s offered a room in a manor for Y/N to stay at forever, but Y/N has always been a bit hesitant about leaving the L/N’s home. Bruce can understand why.

Aged blue eyes observed the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and he wondered if there was anything that could convince Y/N to stay here.

++++

“Mr. L/N, what a surprise.” A surprise it is too, because instead of Y/N being here, it is his father. The one who was in Cabo earlier today. The man smiled, looking nothing like Y/N’s, and he held out a hand, “It has been a while. I figured it was time to show my face and give my son a rest.” Dick stared at Mr. L/N in shock and weariness, not liking how he said ‘his son.’ If it was a jab at Bruce, it didn’t land. Brucie Wayne, the social bug he was, laughed and clapped his hand on Mr. L/N’s shoulder.

“Is Y/N not showing up?” The man’s eyebrow twitched, “No, unfortunately he felt under the weather so he’s taking a break.” Dick’s eyes narrowed, and Bruce’s smile faltered, “Is that so? How unfortunate, he’s fun to talk to.” Mr. L/N’s smile tightened, “Indeed.”

The Gala was tense, at least it was for the Wayne family, because Y/N never misses a Gala. Never. Dick saved a slice of raspberry cheesecake, for when Y/N comes over tomorrow. He’s going to be upset that he missed a fresh slice, but knowing Y/N, he’ll worry about missing the Gala. The cheesecake will act as reassurance that no one is mad. They just had to wait until tomorrow, when Y/N will show up.

Only he didn’t. Dick can’t remember the last time he hasn’t seen Y/N in a 24-hour period, but he does know that he didn’t like it. Almost like there was a force keeping his shoulders tight and chest heavy. Looking around, he could already see the effects it was having on others.

He didn’t answer his phone, and when they called the L/N Manor, it was one of the maids picking up and stating that Y/N was either out, sleeping, or feeling under the weather. Which doesn’t make sense because when Y/N is sick, he is always over at the Wayne manor. No one makes a better chicken noodle soup than Alfred.

They let it go. Maybe Y/N wants to be home because his dad is home?

Then the next day, there was still no Y/N. Not a text message, not a phone call, complete radio silence. Following radio silence while on patrol, radio silence from Y/N had to be one of the more terrifying forms of silence.

There was nothing. His father left late last night, and usually that would mean Y/N would be over. He would be over complaining about his dad and how he needs to work harder. He’d get a stress cold that would last for two days before he would be back to normal.

Every phone call, every text message going unanswered.

‘Y/N, I swear I’m about to break into your house. Please answer.’ The threat was real and Dick meant every word. He’s talked Jason, Damian, and surprisingly Tim from doing it but now four days of radio silence was enough to make even Bruce stir-crazy. Batman has become a little more violent throughout the week, and Bruce Wayne a little more stressed looking.

‘Hey! Sorry for the silence, I’m just not feeling too well. I’ll see you in another few days.’ Everyone read the text message, and everyone’s mind filled with the same idea.

“Honestly, with how often he’s with us you’d think he knows better than to lie.” Damian’s nose scrunched, eyeing the message as if it spit in his face. Tim shrugged, “It just means he’s hiding something.”

Bruce said nothing, falling into the role of silent protector.

“You are not actually going over in your Bat costume are you?”

In the L/N Manor

Y/N walked the dark hallways back to his room. Under his arm was a book and in his other hand was a cup of coffee, still steaming and warming his fingers. The lightning that occasionally flashed filled the area with white light, casting long shadows and creating an eerie atmosphere.

When Y/N was younger, he used to sprint back to his room. He hated how dark and silent the hallways are, reminding him that he is alone in a place that does not want him. When he whispered to Dick that he was scared of the lightning, Dick had told Bruce and sure enough Y/N would be spending nights at the Wayne manor whenever it was forecasted to thunderstorm.

Y/N had gotten over the fear, but he still occasionally slept over when the forecast predicted rain. Just because he no longer feared it, didn’t mean he liked it.

Pausing to look out the window like some gothic prince trapped in a tower, Y/N recalled the argument he had with his dad. The older L/N making a surprise visit and berating his child when he first saw him and when he left. Y/N wondered if with the allowance he was given, if he could just move out. Apartments in the upper end of Gotham were expensive, and he’d never hear the end of it if he moved to East Gotham.

Not to mention, if he did leave to move out on his own, he’d be further from the Wayne family. Sure, Jason and Dick live on their own, and it wasn’t like Tim or Damian needed him around all the time, but it was home for him.

Maybe, he’s the one that needs them.

Lightning flashed and there was another reflection in the window.

“Ahhh!” Y/N threw his cup of coffee at the stranger behind him, and only paused in throwing the book when he saw the familiar cowl.

“Bruce! What the hell?! Oh my God, oh my God, I think I just lost like 10 years of my life.” Y/N clasped a hand over his heart, trying to calm the organ. Taking deep breaths, he finally managed to steady his heart beat and scrunched his nose at the older man. To which, Bruce Wayne glared back, “What happened to your face?”

‘Oh shit.’ Y/N sighed, “Nothing Bruce. I just fell, but what are you doing in my house? Did…did you break in?” Y/N tried to get around the taller and bigger man, but Bruce grabbed his arm. He spun Y/N around and thanks to the flash of lightning, Bruce’s jaw clenched at the fading bruises on Y/N’s face.

“Did F/N do this?”

“Bruce, I told you I just fell.” The lenses on the cowl narrowed, and Y/N saw the frown grow on the man’s face. Sighing, Y/N scrunched nose and winced when a bruise scrunched with it, “Honestly though Bruce, how did you even get in here? No, how did you even guess this hallway?”

“You’re rooms this way.”

“Ahhhhh!” Y/N screamed and ran into Bruce’s side for protection against the voice.

“Dick! Ho-wha- why are you here?!”

“We were worried.” This time Y/N only flinched, and whirled around to see Damian in the Robin costume. He gaped at the pre-teen, “Oh my God, you all are just spawning out of nowhere.” Damian grabbed his hand, and Y/N couldn’t help but to hold the youngest’s hand. Muscle memory.

“Y/N, you’re face,” Dick whispered, gently tracing the swollen and discolored skin, “We thought you were sick.” Y/N smiled, leaning into the palm of Dick’s hand, “I was. I’m just getting over it, as for the bruises… Like I was telling Bruce, I just fell.”

Damian’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened and the oldest sibling smiled down at him, “What’s wrong Dami?” The youngest gave a small glare through the lenses of the Robin mask, “I find your lies insulting and belittling, Y/N. The truth would be appreciated before things get more drastic.”

“...Excuse me?” Y/N tried to remove his hand from Damian’s grip, and panicked when Robin refused to let go.

“Y/N, please be honest. What happened?” Dick, in his Nightwing costume, rested his hands on Y/N's shoulders and tried to coax the truth out of the person he sees as his oldest brother. It only made the other tense, and tried to get out of Damian’s grip.

“Guys, you’re scaring me.”

“Y/N, what happened?” Bruce’s voice did nothing to ease the fear that Y/N was experiencing, and for the first time ever in the time he’s known the Wayne family, Y/N didn’t want to be around them. He struggled some more to get away from them, but with Robin’s grip on his hand, Nightwing’s hands on his shoulders, and Batman’s gaze keeping him in place, Y/N found it harder to move.

Batman sighed, and with a nod that Y/N would have missed if he wasn’t focused on the man, Nightwing’s hand moved closer to Y/N’s neck. The other’s eyes widened, his one free hand moving to stop Nightwing.

“Wa-”

“Good night, Y/N.” His vision went dark and the only thing he registered was a pair of arms catching him before his body hit the floor.

++++

Y/N woke with a start, in a very familiar room, with raspberry painted bookshelves and dark sheets. His arms shot up to his face, and bandages rested on his cheeks. Looking at his arm and seeing the sleeves of his pajama pants, Y/N closed his eyes in misery and knew that if he were to lift the sleeves, there would be bandages.

Sitting up, Y/N grunted and rested his forehead in his hand.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

“Jay…” Y/N watched the other carefully, watching the taller and bigger man silently move across the room to sit next to him. His nose scrunched, “Your brothers and father have some explaining to do. Where are they?” Jason shrugged, “Out. Don’t worry about that, but Y/N, why did you hide this from us?” Y/N stared at Jason for a bit, processing the question and sighing irritably.

“Cause it's not a big deal. This was the only time and–”

“One time is still too many times!” Jason yelled, startling Y/N. Wide E/C eyes stared into Jason’s furious blue eyes, the slightest hint of green starting to slowly take over. Y/N gulped, “Jason, it’s fine. I am here now, right?” He reached out and grasped Jason’s larger hand, watching the other calm down with deep breaths. Those blue eyes of his seem to fall on every bandage across Y/N’s face, before looking back down at their clasped hands.

“Everyone was a mess, you know that right?” Y/N chuckled at him, chalking it up to Jason being overdramatic, “You guys are too funny. I know me going radio silent wasn’t appreciated, but you don’t need to guilt trip me further.”

“I’m not joking around, Y/N. Everyone was a mess.” There was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N pausing. His E/C eyes landed on Jason and watched how those eyes continued to glow green. The larger man took a deep breath and seemed to calm whatever raging thoughts he was having, “But it's fine now, because you are here.” Y/N furrowed his brow, but smiled nevertheless, “Yeah.”

Silence overtook the room and Y/N is still unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t rare for the Batfamily to be a bit… dramatic. For fucks sake Bruce dresses as a giant furry and terrorizes criminals. However, there was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N stilling. Contemplating his next words and wondering if they were the correct ones to say.

“You’re awake.” Y/N’s head snapped to the door and standing there was Damian. He gave a smile to the youngest Wayne, “Damian, you're not one to usually enter without knocking.” The youngest strolled over and eyes Jason’s and Y/N’s hands, “I heard you two talking and figured it would be okay if I entered.” Y/N pursed his lips, “Well, true but Dami you should still–”

“Father wants to talk to you, after dinner.” Green eyes met E/C and there it was again. A glint of something sinister lurking underneath the green. Y/N gulped and outstretched an arm. His palms up like he was approaching a dog, asking to pet it. Damian took the invitation and fell into Y/N’s embrace. Crawling onto Y/N’s bed and into the space underneath Y/N’s arm and against his chest, Damian nuzzled into the space with a content smile.

Y/N felt his heart rate spike, something alerting him that he is surrounding himself with something dangerous. Which is preposterous. Yeah, Damian was a little psychotic and so was Jason, but they wouldn’t harm Y/N. They wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.

Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong.

“When is dinner, Dami?” The younger boy hummed, “At 5:30.” Y/N glanced at the clock reading 5:25. Sighing, gently nudged the two away, “C’mon we have five minutes. Alfred will be upset with us for being late.” Damian grumbled while Jason outwardly expressed his discontent. When Y/N fully stood up, he noted that his clothes were different.

“Who… who changed me?” Jason shrugged and Damian continued walking. Y/N looked back down at the sweatpants he was now wearing and the oversized shirt. None of which are his.

“I-I should change first–”

“C’mon Y/N, no one cares.”

“Indeed, Drake has shown up before looking horrid. You look wonderful, like always.” Y/N said nothing to address those comments, but the time clicking on the clock had Y/N forgoing dressing and instead grabbing his house slippers. Damian was quick to grab his hand and Jason walked behind like he was protecting Y/N from something.

The walk was silent, and there were some bruises on Y/N’s body that had him wincing sometimes. Nevertheless, when the sound of chatter began to echo through the halls, Y/N controlled his expressions and braced for the question and answers he wanted.

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Dick joked and Y/N rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to hear that from the people who broke into my house.” He said it as a jest, but some part of Y/N wanted to mean every word he said. The three culprits didn’t even pretend to look guilty.

Y/N gave Bruce a pointed look, he busied himself by pouring himself, Y/N, Dick, and Jason wine. Damian released Y/N’s hand to go sit at his respective seat, between Tim and Bruce, while Y/N took his between Bruce’s and Dick’s. Dick smiled at him, “Happy to have you at dinner. They have been quiet for the past few days.”

“If that is your way of saying I talk too much Dick, may I remind you who is the reason we had to enact a five minute quiet period during meals before.” The man laughed, unbothered by that little fact being thrown into the air.

Dinner continued with the usual chatter, arguments, snide remarks, and dirty looks. Y/N’s absence was barely brought up, and instead he got filled in about what he missed while he was radio-silent. No one questioned the bruises on his face, or the now open secret that Y/N had tried to keep quiet about.

“Y/N, please see me in my studies.” Bruce gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N followed, thanking Alfred as he did so and waving to all the brothers. The walk was tense, and something kept stirring in Y/N’s stomach that he was walking into something dangerous. Not a trap, because a trap means Y/N didn’t see it or feel it coming. However, he can feel this one. He can feel this one coming, something that would have his life changing, and yet he still kept walking forward. It’s the Waynes. His family.

They wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like.

Bruce’s study was as dark and aesthetic as Y/N remembers. A dark oak wood desk, bookshelves, the laptop and monitors, and papers. Y/N rarely set foot in here, mainly because there was never a need to, but he remembers being young and playing hide-n-seek in here with Dick.

Bruce turned and gently cupped Y/N’s bruised face, turning it slightly to take in each discolored patch of skin and open wounds. Y/N smiled, “Bruce, it’s fine. I’m fine. You and everyone else are just being overdramatic.”

“Is that what all of this is? Us overreacting?” Y/N gave a nervous chuckle at Bruce’s tone, one he’s heard when the man was Batman.

“I mean, considering you broke into my house, that seems excessive.” Bruce released Y/N’s face and walked behind his desk, and motioned to a stack of papers.

“Y/N, if entering your home is considered excessive, then I don’t know how you are going to handle this.”

“Break in, Bruce. It was a break in, and what are you talking about?” Y/N picked up the paper, and quickly scanned the document. Bruce watched the color drain from Y/N’s face and horror take over those bright E/C eyes. They flickered from the top of the page back to the bottom, and then to Bruce and back to the paper.

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form words he was desperate to say.

Wayne Enterprise Acquires L/N Industries

Bought. Bruce bought L/N Industries. Bruce bought the company from Y/N’s father, because Y/N isn’t the owner, and there is no way in hell that Y/N would have ever signed off on that. His mother’s company, now just a part of the Wayne monopoly.

“Wha-what is- Why- Bruce! Bruce, what the hell is this?” Eyes filled with betrayal and anger as Y/N glared at Bruce. The man sighed, “It is as it says. L/N Industries in now under Wayne Enterprise-”

“But why?! You’ve never shown any interest in the company.” Bruce wasn’t interested in L/N Industries. Wayne Enterprise was not a monopoly, and they didn’t buy companies unless that company was already going bankrupt. Bruce was interested in Y/N’s health, and vengeance.

“Don’t take it personally, because it's not at you.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “It sure feels like it. Bruce, you know what this company means to me, you can’t just–”

“Well I did.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze head on, “The company is not in your name, you do not reap the profits, this acquisition was not a jab at you.” Y/N knows who it's a jab at, and he understands why Bruce is angry. However, it does not excuse the fact that this was a jab at the L/N family.

Y/N clenched his jaw, “There’s no way he just signed it over like that.” Bruce handed him another piece of paper and sure enough, there was his father’s signature. Y/N stared at the inked lines, wondering just how had Bruce gotten that signature so quickly.

“Blackmail really makes people move faster than the Flash.”

“Wha… what blackmail?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Y/N closed his eyes in misery, “Bruce, I get it. I do. He’s not a good father, but you didn’t have to buy the company. He’s literally going to ret-”

“You and I both know he would never retire. You would be working to the bone for him while he reaps all the profit.” Y/N rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something but Bruce cuts him off, “Do NOT roll your eyes at me! Y/N this is serious.”

Momentarily taken aback by the tone of voice, Y/N stared at a fuming Bruce. He processed the reaction and felt the heat in his stomach return, “Excuse you! You literally bought my family’s company, kind of if not really kidnapped me, and broke into my home! I have every right to be upset, let alone roll my eyes at you.”

“That place wasn’t your home and you know it.”

“Doesn’t change anything! That's like saying a break-in at a hotel room doesn’t count because the person doesn’t live in the hotel room.” Y/N could feel his heart rate pick up, and the reality of it all began setting in.

“Holy shit. Fucking hell Bruce.”

“Language.”

“Do not ‘language’ me! Bruce, what the actual hell! All of this is way out of proportion for what happened.” Bruce slammed his hands on his desk, making some papers fly and the cup holding his pens fell. Blue eyes filled with rage glared at Y/N, “You can’t even say what happened! He hit you, Y/N. He beat you like a dog, and animal abusers still go to jail. He’s getting off with only losing the company.

“And I know that those bruises are the only ones we do see!” Y/N glared at Bruce, fighting back tears and biting his lips. Bruce sighed, his shoulders deflating and a pained expression on his face. He walked around the desk and hugged Y/N, bringing his son close, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I am. You’ll still be running the company, and will have a final say in things. It's just… God, Y/N. Not hearing from you and then seeing you like that...” Bruce took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions, "It was terrifying, Y/N. How could I let you stay there when all of that was done to you?"

Y/N wrapped his arms around Bruce, ignoring the feeling of dread of doing so. He ignored how Bruce’s arms tightened around him, “Oh Y/N, please. Please stay here where you are safe.”

He didn’t want to admit that it sounded more of an order than a request. This was Bruce! His father in everything but blood and paper.

“Just… just please don’t do that again.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

______________________________________________________________

Not a whole lot of Yandere, but thats why there will be two parts! Not just one.

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