#decided to turn it into a three part series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inevesgf · 2 days

Text

SKI TRIP .. part two ⠀,⠀ chrismd.

synopsis ✩ you and chris hate each other, but a ski trip and some forced proximity changes everything. after waking up in his arms, the hatred seems to simmer as the tension begins to grow.

warnings: gn!reader, in detail injury, series

authors note: guess who’s back??!? i’m back with the HIGHLY requested part two of the skip trip series! after graduating, i now have some time of my hands to feed the chris girlies. part three in the making, I PROMISE. for you @imredjack xx

the day ahead called for an awkward one — the air seemingly more tense than before. the room was quiet as you two got ready for the day. the only sound filling the room one of hoziers voice as music played faintly over the speaker you had brought with. chris had taken his time getting ready and didn't open his mouth to rush you when you did the same. it felt weird; chris not being at your throat. you couldn’t help but miss his attitude — to you, it was much better than the painful silence. instead of feeling small in chris’ presence, you now felt awkward. the thought of his warm arms tangled around your body as you slept haunted you at the back of your mind. you wondered if it bothered chris the same — the silence being the only way he could cope with his anxiousness. you knew it was better to pretend it didnt happen as you attempted to shove the thoughts away. "d'you want to go get breakfast?" his jersey accent spoke over the music, breaking the silence, which made you jump a little. "uh," you hummed, setting the brush down you used to comb your hair, "yeah, that would be nice." chris flashed you a half smile which you assumed to be fake; half - assed.

as you finished getting dressed, you still tried your hardest to shake the thoughts away. it wasn’t only you that felt that awkward feeling, though — you could sense it from chris as he fixed his hair in the mirror next to you. “are you ready?” he spoke softly before turning to face you. you examined his face for a bit, searching to find what emotion he was feeling. the air around you felt tense, but not with distaste like it was before; this time it felt more calm. you searched his green eyes for some form of discomfort in his position, but you couldn’t seem to read them. “you okay?” he asked; he had noticed you had been starring at him blankly for a few, long seconds. “i, uh— sorry. yeah, i’m all set.” you flashed a smile at him, the awkwardness you had created setting in. chris grabbed his hoodie, slipping it over his head before he made his way over to the door. you followed shortly behind him, slipping out the exit of your hotel room as he held the door open for you.

it had seemed the others were utterly hungover today. not showing up to breakfast, you had assumed george, the two arthur’s and harry had a more exciting night than you did. you and chris went through the breakfast line, you only grabbing a small scoop of eggs and a piece of toast — the haunting memory of this morning taking away your appetite. you felt more uncomfortable in chris presence now; you knew he did in yours as well. you assumed chris was just trying to be nice to you, but you disliked this version of him. you missed when he had left you alone, and even if that was days ago, it felt like it had been long gone now.

you sat down at the table, grabbing your fork as you put some eggs onto the prongs. after chewing your bite, you groaned as you noticed you had forgotten some water to wash it down. chris made his way over to the table, two filled cups in hand that you didn’t take note of. you stood up, “i forgot some—“ “water, yeah? don’t worry, i got you some.” chris sat the glass down next to your plate before he sat himself on the chair across from you. you smiled at chris for what you felt like was the first time ever. “thank you — i appreciate it.” and surprisingly chris returned to smile to you. “it’s not a problem.”

after george had taken meds to deal with his hangover, he decided it was another beautiful day to go out. fastening your skis to your ski boots, you pulled down the goggles in front of your eyes. “you think you’re going to be better today?” arthur(tv) teased, tapping you softly with his elbow. you huffed, rolling your eyes at him even if he couldn’t see them. “better than you — yeah.” you jabbed back, knowing arthur wasn’t the best at skiing either. “i think with all those legs, you’re better off snow boarding — you look like a giraffe on skis.” “you are so mean!” arthur seemed to whine, to which chris overheard as he laughed. “they aren’t wrong —“ chris added in, a smile on his face as he found the enjoyment of teasing arthur. arthur found this gesture strange — he used to notice chris had barely ever put himself into a conversation when it involved you. “i am uncomfortable right now.” he stated, looking in between the two of you. “what?” you questioned, confused. “oh, you know.” he spoke, being vague as he fastened his boots. “no, seriously.” part of you pretended not to notice what he meant, but the other part of you wanted to know his opinion on it. arthur eyed chris, giving him a sort of glare that hinted of confusion. all chris did in response was shrug, pretending as if he did not have a clue at what arthur was hinting about. “it’s not big deal, really—“ arthur spoke as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “alright then—“ you responded. you couldn’t help but itch for an answer, wanting to dig deeper into his thoughts; pulling attention to yourself in that way would be stupid, though. “you know, i think you’re right,” arthur began again, seemingly changing the conversation, “maybe i ought to try and snowboard today, i might be better at it.” his words gained a chuckle from george who had began to pull his goggles over his eyes. “i like your attitude — you’re so positive!” george teased, making arthur slap him on the shoulder. “what?!?” george spoke defensively, “you really think you’d be able to stand up?” “you two fight like married couple — you sure you aren’t gay, george, even a little bit?” chris now spoke, a smile on his face as he made pitty banter with george. “now i’ve got no time for your ‘gay accusations’ — the snow awaits us, king of the north.” george pretended to salute, his words making you laugh as chris pulled his gaze over to you. that stupid smile still remained on his face, and again, you couldn’t help but just smile back.

you hadn’t skied so much since this trip; still trying to gain back your semi-good abilities you had gained last winter. you were able to stand up well, stop yourself when you needed to, and even do small jumps; nothing quite impressive. you spent your time skiing alongside arthur, picking up small talk now and then as chris followed shortly behind, chatting harry up about football. at this point you had lost george — being the better one at snow sports than the rest of you, he was way ahead. “should we try the jumps?” arthur suggested to you, which made you laugh a little at him. “i mean — i can do the jumps — you suggesting you can do it frightens me a little.” a small chuckle escaped your lips as you laughed, letting yourself slowdown with your skis a little, allowing arthur to catch up as he now slowly trailed behind. “you’re so mean to me,” arthur pretended to be hurt, not being able to help himself as he laughed at your words. “we can always try — just don’t want you getting hurt, you know?” you spoke, almost reaching the bottom of the ski slope, chris and harry still following behind. “what is it; do you love me or do you hate me?” he teased, a playful tone in his voice. “it’s a love-hate relationship, mate.” reaching the end of the slope, harry and chris came to a stop with you, “where to next?” harry questioned, pulling his goggles on top of his helmet. “well — arthur wanted to go to the jump path,” chris and harry both laughed at your words, “‘maybe we can just try it out?” harry nodded at your proposal, smiling. “doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea.” he spoke, moving his way along to get back on the ski lift to head back to the top of the hill. you all followed, avoiding other skiers as you made your way to the lift.

the ski resort thankfully had different levels of hills: ones for newer skiers and more experienced ones. wanting to be safe, you, chris and arthur chose the easier one — harry swearing he could do the one for more experienced skiers. “alright, arthur — since this was your idea, why don’t you go first?” chris proposed, arthur looking irritated at his words. “what if i get hurt?” he asked, a bit timid in his words. “oh cmon — it’ll be fine, you weren’t worried about that earlier.” chris responded, giving the boy a little bit of encouragement. with a sigh, arthur decided to go, propelling himself forward with his ski sticks. you watched him as he went down the hill, slowing himself when he got too close to people. choosing the smallest little bump, arthur went over it successfully — you and chris cheering like proud parents. “they grow up so fast.” you laughed, chris returning it. “you think you can do better than him?” he asked, now teasing you once more, this time more friendly than it was days previous. his sudden change in demeanor still made you uncomfortable. shaking off your thoughts, you responded to him. “i mean — i don’t want to brag.” you spoke jokingly, chris raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “i’m sure i can make it over a bigger jump than he can.” chris smirked over at you, pulling his goggles over his helmet to get a better view. “go on then.”

if you could have looked seconds into the future, you would not have taken chris’ words of encouragement. of course, it was your fault in the end; for some reason, you wanted to show off to chris — and it sure would have been impressive if you could have landed on both feet instead of landing your whole body on one. the crunch of your bones was almost audible as your body smacked down onto the snow. you thought it would catch you like a soft pillow, but the surface was almost as hard as rocks. “fuck, fuck, fuck—“ was all you could mumble out, ripping at your gloves to get them off as you cradled your knee like a baby. george, who had seemed to come to the top of the slope after snowboarding down, was the first to come to you. he was worried, his instincts to help you being those of a brother figure. “jesus, are you okay?” he asked a bit panicked, chris now joining his side. chris kneeled down next to you, placing a hand on your back as you shuttered at the sudden touch. “what hurts, hun?” his words made you feel warm: a feeling you never felt around chris, but that was the least of your worries at that moment. “my knee — oh my god.” you winced as george started to slowly roll your snow pant leg up. the area around you knee was red, mimicking your cold, rosy cheeks. it hurt to straighten, and as george helped you, you couldn’t help but start to cry a bit.

you were embarrassed; the thought of crying in front of you friends made you cry more due to discomfort. at this point, george had flagged down one of the guards at the resort, whom of which had brought a gurney to help carry you up the hill. “i can walk — its fine.” your embarrassment started to talk even though you knew walking would have been too painful. “no no — it’s okay. you need help, you can’t walk up by yourself. we need to make sure you’re okay.” chris spoke as you turned your gaze over to him. you couldn’t help but study the nervous and worried expression on his face. to you, chris was hard to read, but in this moment, his emotions acted as a open book.

the rest of the night was filled with unsettled eyes watching over you after the group had brought you to a nearby hospital. the news that you had fractured your knee bothered you. a trip that was supposed to be fun was now interrupted by a poor decision you had made to impress your friends. you couldn’t stop apologizing, but chris and george who had stayed to watch you had told you it was fine. deep down, you couldn’t help but feel ashamed. “alright, we’re discharging you. stay off of your knee as much as you can, and as unfortunate as it may sound, please spend the rest of your time here relaxing.” the doctor spoke, making you sigh. “thank you, i will.” you muttered, a defeated tone in your voice.

the whole way home, chris couldn’t stop berating you with questions. he kept asking if you were okay, if you needed anything, and as nice as it was — it confused you. you tried to rationalize with yourself that chris was just trying to convince himself that you were okay and he didn’t have anything to worry about; you didn’t know why he was worried so much.

the day had exhausted you, so when you got back to the hotel you decided to skip dinner and relax. chris had decided to stay with you, even though you practically begged him to go and have fun. “i just want to make sure you’re alright.” “or you just want to take care of me like a baby.” your tone came out more snippy than it was supposed to, but your irritation with yourself flooded your words. “you think im babying you?” chris sounded offended, defeated even, as he glanced down at you. “no—“ you pushed out, gathering your words as you examined the perfectly wrapped bandage around your knee and the crutches next to the bedside. “i just want you to have fun. you don’t need to take care of me. i thought you hated me.” it was a conversation you needed to have, even if you didn’t want to have it now; something in your body just nagged at you for an answer. you couldn’t help but be confused as to why someone who hated you so much a few days ago had now done a complete 180. “i never hated you.” he breathed out; you could tell he started to worry. “well it seemed like it. why did you act like that towards me?” chris couldn’t seem to come up with an answer, it was like you were speaking a different language and he couldn’t understand. “i’m sorry, i don’t know.” you could hear the remorse in his voice, but it didn’t satisfy your want for answers. “you don’t know? surely theres something: some reason you were such an asshole to me and now you’re all different.”

before he could answer, before words could come out of his mouth, he leaned down and kissed you. it was a spur of the moment action, you knew it was, but you couldn’t help but sink into his lips as he did. it didn’t last long and when he pulled away, you oddly found yourself wanting more. a small, shocked expression was plastered on your face that was easy for chris to read. “does that say anything to you? is that enough?” he now seemed upset like he didn’t want to kiss you, like all of a sudden he didn’t want to be near you again. “yeah.” you spoke, irritated at his tone. “good, because that’s why.” before you could get another word out, chris grabbed his bag and disappeared out of the hotel room door, now leaving you alone. in silence, as the dim light of the moon slipped through the blinds, you reflected on everything. the silence and the moment spoke so loud to you, and you muted it like an alarm as you found yourself falling asleep.

108 notes · View notes

pit-and-the-pen · 3 days

Text

Three- Eris

I love this song and it is so Eris coded to me. This is apart of my mini-series inspired by this album

Listen to the song here: Three (i could not get the mini player to work, so if you know how to pretty please let me know)

Warnings: Angst, minor injury to reader (burn), self-deprecating thoughts (eris to himself)

WC:

Finally catching up. For the first time I see an image of my brokenness utterly worthy of love. Maybe I’ve done enough. And I finally see myself, through the eyes of no one else. It’s so exhausting on this silver screen, where I play the role of anyone but me... I only want what’s real. I set aside the highlight reel and leave my greatest failures on display with an asterisk worthy of love anyway.

Eris had been acting strange to say the least. It was rare for you to go a day without seeing the red haired male but it had been a whole week now. Your mind kept playing back to something you might have said or did the last time you saw him.

You’d gone on a walk with the few smoke hound pups Eris was beginning to train. They were all still tripping over large paws and each other and the sight made peals of laughter fall from your mouth. More than once you looked over and saw your best friend staring at you, although he denied it every time you questioned him about it. Shrugging it off you had kept walking until the sun was starting to set. You turned to face him, to say goodbye, and a pup had run straight into you. Your back would have hit the wet forest floor if it wasn’t for Eris’ strong arm wrapped around your waist. His eyes were wide as he looked down at you, full of softness you couldn’t place but made something in your chest flutter all the same. He had just barely made sure you were standing upright before he called the pups back in and practically ran away from you without saying goodbye.

You couldn’t think of anything in that interaction that would explain Eris’ absence. Finally deciding you’ve had enough of this, you marched to his study. You didn’t knock as you entered, remembering to lightly open the door. Having learned the hard way that he would violently jump with any door being opened or closed harshly. He didn’t look up from his desk as you stood in the doorway. It took you clearing your throat three times before his eyes even glanced up.

“Hello.” Was all he said before he turned his eyes back down, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Eris-”You started, a slight whine in your voice. you heard the sigh that left him.

“Please. I’m busy. We can go on a walk later.” He was hardly looking at you when he said it.

“Okay.” You conceded. Already knowing he wasn’t going to find you later.

Days went by and you still haven't gotten the chance to talk to Eris. It was starting to annoy you, making your skin itch in an uncomfortable way. You had gone to a deeper part of the forest to clear your head, a part on the trail that only you and Eris ever traveled. It was starting to get colder as the sun drifted lower in the sky and your lack of jacket made you decide to head back to your room. There was no point in going down to the dining room, to sit with the other members of the court and listen to their dull gossip without Eris beside you.

You were far away as you walked back, mind absorbed with thoughts of how you could get Eris to talk to you. It was only that fact that stopped you from noticing the body you had walked into. You didn’t have to look up to notice that familiar smell of cinnamon and pine, to know it was the very same male you had been daydreaming about standing in front of you.

“Eris.” You couldn’t stop the smile that graced your face.

“Hi little doe.” The nickname made your heart skip a beat. And you blushed. “I didn’t think I would run into you out here.”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me.” You half-teased. His face fell slightly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” You took a step away from him, “Don’t pretend I’m stupid.”

“I would never.”

“Then don’t lie to me and say you haven’t been actively avoiding me. It's been weeks and I’ve hardly seen you. I miss you.” You said the last part softly, trying to tamp down the anger at the male in front of you. He sighed.

“I've been busy.”

“You’ve never been too busy for me before.”

“I wasn’t High Lord back then.”

“You spare a few moments from your duties to see me?”

“Please. It’s not like that.” His voice held an edge to it, he wasn’t telling you something.

“Eris, what’s wrong? Did I do something, did I say something? What happened, I’m sure we can talk it out.” Your words are spilling out of you a mile per minute.

“Stop. Just stop.” He growled, a pained edge to his voice. It broke your heart to hear.

“Eris please, just talk to me. I want to hel-” A yelp broke from your lips as he grabbed your arms, an involuntary action to the step you took towards him. Both of you were too caught up in the argument to realize the tendrils of flames that had risen from his fingers, the tendrils that had bitten into your skin. He quickly released you, the force throwing you to the ground. His face held nothing but pure horror. When you looked down at your arms you saw the angry red handprints that, despite that they were already healing, would scar. He took a step towards me before he stood completely still. I pulled myself up, tears running down my face.

“I’m so sor-”

“Figure your shit out, Eris. I’m just trying to help you.” It had been so long since Eris lost control of his powers. Not once had you been the source of that anger. You didn’t look back as you walked towards the forest house.

You weren’t surprised when you heard a faint knock at your door a few hours after you returned from the healer. A heavy scented balm applied to your forearms, wrapped in pristine white banageds. The burns weren’t bad, you had seen Beron leave worse on his sons. You untangled yourself from the heavy blankets you were curled up in and went to find Eris at your door. You tried to fight the urge to tuck your arms behind your back when you saw his eyes drift towards the gauze wrapped around them.

“I just wanted to come to check on you.” He muttered, taking a step closer to you. You took a step back, flinching slightly as your arm brushed up against the door frame. Eris wore an expression like you had slapped him. He didn’t look like he was breathing anymore. “I’m sorry. So incredibly sorry.” Was all he said as he turned around, leaving you very confused in the doorway. You didn’t bother calling after him, ignoring the way your body called for you to. You wanted nothing more than him to wrap his arms around you. The two of you had only gotten into minor squabbles. Nothing like this, nothing that stopped you from talking to each other for long periods of time.

Weeks scraped by and you saw very little of Eris. The manor might have been big but not big enough to explain the rare glimpses you caught of Eris. You didn’t even get the chance to tell him about your upcoming trip to the spring court. One of the healers had their yearly harvest of Hyssop, an important ingredient for making cough medicine that refused to grow in the colder climate of the Autumn court. It was far more potent when used fresh so every year you would make the trip to Spring to collect a few bushels. In return you would stick around for a few days to help with patients. There were always so many in the spring court that any extra hands were appreciated more than any amount of gold. You gathered a few of your lighter dresses to take with you, packing a few more than necessary. And walked to the border, winnowing near your friend's cottage.

Spring was your favorite court to visit. The flowers and fruit that grew filled the air with a sweet fragrance. The pollen always took some time to adjust to, as did the warmer weather. It was nice to visit but after a few days you would always find yourself missing the rich colors of Autumn.

Your friend was bursting with joy as she opened the door for you. Your eyes wide as your spied the small babe she was carrying on her hip.

“Gods, we have a lot to catch up on it seems.” You smile at her before reaching out to pinch the small boys cheeks. “Hello little one.” You cooed, a bell like laugh was your response and you went to hug your friend.

Cecilia had been busy in the last year since you had seen her. She filled you in on the goings on of the small apothecary she ran. You two had just finished hanging some mint up to dry when you heard the front door open.

A tall fae male walked into the kitchen. You had met him once or twice during your visits, Greyson, you think his name was. Cecilia gave him a love sick smile that he returned. He said a polite greeting to you before he walked over to your friend's side and gave her a short but sweet kiss on the cheek. They seemed to slip into their only little world, only seeing one another until the baby babbling snapped them out of it. You shoved down the small wave of nasty jealousy at the way they looked at each other.

“I’ll go check on him.” Greyson said when that little coo turned into a piercing wail. Cecilia’s eyes tracked him until he disappeared from the room. She deflated slightly when he ducked around the corner.

“So…” You started. A not so subtle way of asking for an explanation. She blushed.

“We’ve been friends for years, you remember, I was always hoping for a bond to snap and then one day he ran into me while I was picking herbs and it was history from there. We never expected to have a baby so quickly, they’re so rare, but we were overjoyed.” She went on and you realized you were gripping the knife you were chopping herbs with a little tighter than needed. You hummed along to her story. Unknowing what to add to it.

“And how’s your love life?” She elbowed you teasingly. She was fully aware of your feelings for a certain redhead. You scoffed and went back to stripping off leaves from their stems.

You left two days later, arms full of all the herbs Ceceila had given you. She gave you a tight hug as you winnowed back to your home. You hummed a light song to yourself as you walked back to your room, feeling lighter than you had in the past days as you arrived at your door.

Your humming died out as you saw your bedroom door wide open when you knew for a fact you had locked it behind you. Hesitantly, you peaked around the edge of the door.

“Eris?” At the sound of your voice, he turned to face you. Relief etched into his perfect face. He was across the room in seconds. He wrapped his arms around you, picking you up off your feet.

“You were gone. I went to check on you and half of your stuff had been packed,” He said as he put you back onto your feet. His chest was heaving rapidly. “I thought you left.”

“You were too busy ignoring me for me to tell you.” You continued on your path putting away your clothes. Not looking at Eris. You suddenly felt his hand wrap around your wrist which you gently but firmly removed.

“Doe, please. Look at me.” He pleaded but you only scoffed.

“Now I’m worthy of your attention. I have been away for three days and now you want to pay attention to me. It’s been over a month since you so much as talked to me, Eris.” You turned to face him, hands on your hips. Almost begging him to try to deny it.

“It’s not like that-” He ran his hands through his hair, messing up the long locks.

“Then what’s it like?” You challenged. “You won’t talk to me even though I know something is wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

“See!” You threw your arms up, a bit dramatic but you didn’t care right now. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Not this.”

“Eris, what is so bad that you can’t talk to me about it.” Your tone softened a little at the clear struggle on his face. He didn’t say anything and you wanted to scream at him. You didn’t instead you just told him, “If you won’t…Just get out.”

“Doe. Please”

“Don’t, I’m exhausted Eris. If you truly won’t tell me, I can’t help-”

“I love you.” He blurted out. Both of you froze. When you met his eyes you knew he was telling the truth. He took a deep breath, he opened his mouth and then closed it again. He finally spoke again. “I’ve been in love with you for years. And then when-” He caught himself. Stumbling to shut his mouth. You took a step towards him. Hand reaching for his.

“When what Eris?” You felt your heartbeat pick up.

“When I felt the bond snap,” He looked at your face, you only nodded for him to keep talking. “You’re sweet, kind, and good. Gods are you kind. Kinder and gentler than anyone I could ever deserve. So I thought if I hid the bond that there would be a chance it never snapped for you. That you would be free to find someone who is…better than me.”

“Eris-”

“I’ve done awful things to people. I’ve hurt people and backstabbed and betrayed so many of the closest people to me. I mean look at Lucien. He can’t even live in his own court. Look at Mor. Even you have scars that tell me you deserve anyone else but me.” His voice cracked on the last word. Shaking with unshed tears. You slowly trailed your hand up his arm, leaving it to rest on his cheek. He closed his eyes tight but didn’t pull away from your touch.

“I love you so much and couldn’t believe the mother would let me have a mate as good as you. So I hid like a coward because the thought of it was too much.” He whispered into your palm. You brushed your thumb near his eyes, a silent plea for him to look at you.

“You aren’t that person Eris. I’ve never seen anything but the good you’ve done. The horrible things that this court has made you do, is not who you really are. Lucien is alive because you got him to spring. Mor is alive because you made your brothers stop, you’re the one who called for Rhys and Azriel that day. But look at all the good you’ve done, just to the court since you became High Lord.” He was crying now, trembling under your words. “Females can walk around unafraid, something they have never been able to do in this court. Children laugh in the street, full and happy. All because of you. Eris you are good, and kind, and oh so deserving of love.” He only shook his head, like he could stop the words from finding his ears. “And I will tell you every second of every day for the rest of our lives until you believe it. I love you Eris. I have loved you for as long as I’ve known what love is.” You spoke clearly, words hanging in the air as Eris finally opened his eyes.

“You love me?”

“Long before I ever felt the bond,” His eyes widened. “It was silly, just a look across the room during a ball. And I could never think of the right way to tell you. But I knew before then that there was no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with. It’s always been you Eris.” He turned his head to give your hand a small kiss. Then he slid to his knees, clutching that hand like it was solid gold.

“I might never deserve you, but I promise to love you the best that I can.” You smiled softly at him before you sunk down, eye level with him. You threw your arms around his neck pulling him into a crushing hug.

“You’ve always deserved me.” You whispered before you pulled him in a kiss that made the world freeze around you.

Tagging the Eris girlies/moots as usual: @daycourtofficial @nocasdatsgay @secret-third-thing

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris vanserra angst #eris angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acowar #acosf #acomaf #acofas #eris acosf #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury

63 notes · View notes

strawchocoberry · 18 hours

Text

DO YOU LIKE THE WAY I FLICK MY TONGUE OR NAH?

CAMGIRL SERIES PART 1

୨୧ featuring: karasu tabito x fem reader

ଘ cw: smut, nipple play, fingering, handjob, rough sex, thigh fuck, voice kink, clit stimulation, praise kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, breeding kink, creampie

୨୧ synopsis: a night out leads to him unexpectedly having sex with his favourite camgirl

ଘ wc: 1.8k

After the constant nagging of Oliver and Otoya, Karasu decides to join them in their little night out. He isn’t the least bit of surprised when three girls join them. He knows his friends all too well. He already knows how the night will end; with his friends spending the night with the girls, maybe repeating it a few times until they break their hearts. Well, he can discreetly warn the ladies to spare them the heartbreak.

But he’s too busy standing there like a dense pole. He blinks several times, thinking that his eyes must be deceiving him. There’s no way you’re actually there, a metre away, talking with his friends and giggling. Karasu might have just met the other girls and you, but he knows you. You’re quite the famous camgirl on a certain site and he may or may not have spent both time and money in you more times than he’ll ever admit.

Suddenly the night takes a turn he couldn’t have predicted even in his wildest dreams. And let’s be honest. You and your friends agreed to this night out with his friends for one reason. They don’t know it, but Oliver and Otoya have made one of his wildest dreams come true. He will definitely take them out for drinks another time. But for now, he’s going to focus on you and how to end up tangled with you till the morning.

You’re in a similar situation. Your friends begged you to accompany them because you have been cooped up in your room too much lately; their words, not yours. Of course you had. Aside from everyday tasks, you either played games on your computer or streamed. Sometimes you were so bored, you streamed more than once at the same day. Your fans were delighted to see you so often, as shown by their ever so generous tips.

You knew from the moment your friends started pestering you about tonight that they had found some handsome dudes they’d like to fuck. The only reason you agreed to come along was to get some fresh air, maybe end up having sex as well, because why not? If not, you’ll just return home in about three hours and do a late night stream as you use to.

The two men, Oliver and Otoya, for which your friends are already dripping, don’t quite pique your interest. Their friend, Karasu, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. You’ve noticed him checking you out for some time now. He’s basically eating you out with his eyes and goddamn, it’s so hot, you want to grab him and maybe fuck him right on the spot. Somehow you manage not to do that.

The night is going great. The guys talk about how they’re all in this football training program called Blue Lock and how tough it is. Yet the only thing you can think about is how Karasu will look naked. As an athlete, he’s sure to have a great physique, right?

As the time goes by, the group splits in three. Your friends are basically all over Oliver and Otoya, leaving you alone with the man you’re most interested about. You’ve noticed it all night, how Karasu keeps the conversation going around topics of your interest. You don’t dwell much on it though, dispersing it as mere coincidence.

One thing leads to another and now you’re kissing as you pull him into your room; the one you use during your streams; the one Karasu has fantasised about fucking you in countless times. He’s often wished to be able to jump through his screen and into your room and now that he’s here, he feels ever hungrier for you, as he pulls you into him, your body flush against his.

“Wait, I need to do something,” you breathe, breaking the kiss.

You retrieve your phone from your bag and enter the streaming site. You quickly tap the following message to your followers: Hi, everyone! Unfortunately, I won’t be able to stream tonight due to an unexpected event xoxo. See you soon!

The moment you post it, you hear the notification from Karasu’s phone. He retrieves it and smirks. “I suppose I’m really important for you to cancel your stream.” He leans to your lips and kisses you.

“I knew you were fan of mine,” you say, as he lies you on your bed, hovering over you. “You were too obvious, you know. Too… desperate.”

“Was I now?” he echoes. “Well then,” — he leans to your ear — “I’ll make sure to show you just how desperate I am.”

He doesn’t give you time to register his words, before yanking the upper part of your dress down, along with your bra, exposing your breasts. He fondles them in his large palms, squeezing them and running his thumbs over your nipples. His lips wrap around one nipple, sucking and biting it, eliciting those sweet moans he’s never tired to hear. His tongue flicks and twirls around the sensitive bud, him smirking at it hardening underneath his touch.

His other hand travels down, sliding under the skirt of your dress and cupping your clothed pussy. Karasu cannot help but smirk, feeling how wet you are. “You’re so wet for me, darling,” he coos, licking up the skin of your neck. His fingers slide your panties to the side, before rubbing on your bare folds. You gasp as his long digits dive into your cunt. He thrusts them in just as he’s seen you do it to yourself, but the sensation is entirely different with how much bigger his fingers are compared to yours. He curls them up, hitting again and again your g spot and you’re clinging on to him, as he abuses your nipples.

Your hand strokes his clothed hardened cock, feeling its length through its confines. You fumble with freeing it from his trousers, your mouth practically drooling at the sight of his dick. You stroke him with your hand, smearing his precum all over his tip. His groans turn you on even more, urging you to keep up your work, tightening slightly your grip around him to Karasu’s delight.

His fingers pick up their pace, the squelching sounds of your dripping pussy echoing in the room. You’re so close to orgasm, your walls clenching around his digits. But just before you cum, Karasu removes his fingers, bringing them to his lips and licking them clean of your slick, getting a taste of you. You’re too distracted by that to pay attention to your throbbing core that demands release.

He smirks and leans down to kiss your lips. He doesn’t just kiss you. His tongue penetrates your mouth, subjugating yours to his will. Karasu breaks the kiss for a moment to remove his shirt, revealing his toned abs and muscles. Taking his cock in his palm, he strokes it and rubs the crown up and down your folds. As you’re about to ask him — beg him — to put it in, he thrusts inside in one vicious thrust, bottoming out with a guttural moan. If he were big in your hand, he definitely is big when inside the cunt he’s dreamed of fucking for too damn long.

Karasu lifts your legs to his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your thighs, as he starts pounding into you. He tried his best to go slow, but the way your pussy throbs around him has him losing control. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes; more than in his dreams and fantasies. You’re gripping the sheets, your tits bouncing with each thrust of his. Your lips are parted, moaning and whimpering, your voice driving him mad.

“Bet you’ve never been fucked by a fan,” he groans.

“Fuck… no,” you reply, your eyes closing and your head sinking into the pillow. You squeal as he leans forward, the angle and position giving him access to parts he hasn’t touched yet.

“I’ll fuck you so good, you’re going to think of me every time you go live,” he promises.

You cum at that moment, moaning his name. Karasu smirks as he watches you reach your peak, cumming all over his cock as he wanted. He doesn’t stop though. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm, a white ring forming around his thrusting cock. His thumb torments your clit, making you almost black out from the pleasure.

He feels himself nearing his release as well, his balls tightening. You notice how he’s slowly pulling himself out and wrap yourself around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You lean to his ear and whisper the words that are his damnation; “Come inside me, please.”

Instinctively responding to your words, Karasu sheaths himself inside you, filling you up with his hot seed, just like you asked him to. You pepper his neck with kisses as he holds himself above you, breathing harshly, bathing in this moment. Taking advantage of him getting lost in a momentary trance, you flip yourselves over, sitting on top of him with his cock still inside your pulsing walls.

“Bet you’ve never been fucked by a camgirl,” you throw his words back at him. Planting your palms on his stomach, you start bouncing on his cock, holding back your moans. “I’ll make this the most unforgettable night for my fan,” you promise him.

“I’m honoured.” His hands rest on your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh. Even if he wanted to, Karasu wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you. He pushes himself off the mattress and wraps his arms around you, as you ride him as you please, whimpering at how deep his cock reaches inside you. You gasp when he starts thrusting up, your moans getting louder and louder as you’re slowly going dumb on his cock.

The next wave of your orgasm doesn’t long to come crushing down on you. Your soft body moulds into his hard muscles, as you slump in his arms. “Out of stamina already?” Karasu mocks you.

“I’m not a stamina beast like a football player fan of mine,” you retort.

“That’s fine and all,” he says, leaning to your ear. His voice is low and dark. “But I didn’t come.”

Fuck, his voice is so hot, your pussy clenches around him. You’re sure he’s going to start thrusting again, when he pulls out. “Grab the headboard,” he orders, smacking your arse.

“Can you wait a bit?” you ask him, despite doing as he ordered. “I’m a bit sore…”

“Thought ya were going to make this the most unforgettable night of my life,” Karasu teases, positioning himself behind you. He presses your thighs together, holding them in place in his tight grip, and starts thrusting his cock between them, rubbing against your dripping cunt. “Fuck,” he groans.

He fucks your thighs roughly and you can’t help but mewl like a kitten. Feeling his orgasm ready to explode, Karasu thrusts back inside your pussy, emptying his balls inside your velvet walls that throb ever so needily around him. He pulls your hair, making your body collapse on his chest and looks down at you with a smirk. “Hope you enjoyed your break time, because I’m not done yet.”

#୨୧｡˚₊♡꒰ strawchocoberry ꒱♡₊˚｡୨୧ #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #karasu tabito #karasu tabito x reader #karasu tabito smut

60 notes · View notes

ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

lessons in femininity

part two of pretty girls part 1 also on ao3

Steve never intended on telling anyone.

Not a soul.

But Eddie fucking Munson pried it out of his chest, so patiently and tenderly and lovingly that Steve let him.

And now Steve is on his way to his best friend’s house because her parents aren’t home, and his hands are shaking, and he can’t really breathe, but even though he feels like he might die, he has a weird feeling he’s going to be fine.

He stops his car about a block away, taking a deep breath and squeezing the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. And then he steels himself, tensing as he pulls into Robin’s driveway.

———

No, I’m fine, I just… I need to tell you something.

Robin’s had a pit in her stomach since Steve called her and asked if he could come over, anxiety and a little bit of fear knitted inside her because of the way Steve’s voice was shaking.

He gives her a weak smile when she opens the door for him, and she pulls him inside.

“What’s wrong?”

He laughs lightly, pushing his hands in his pockets. He does that when he’s nervous.

“Nothing wrong, I just… gotta tell you something.”

“What is it?” Robin asks anxiously.

“Uh.” Steve pauses, pushing his hand through his hair. “Can we sit?”

“Wanna go to my room?” Robin asks. Steve nods.

He follows her down the hall, and she shuts the door as he sits cross-legged on her bed even though there’s no one else home. He’s looking at the painting on her wall that she did when she was fourteen. A shitty ufo abducting a cow. He loves that painting.

“What’s going on?” she asks, crawling onto the bed.

“Uhm.” He takes a deep, shaky breath and pushes his glasses up. “I’m, uhm.”

“Steve,” she says softly. He shakes his head, smiling weakly.

“I’m fine, I swear,” he says, because sometimes he can read her mind. She wishes she could read his right now. He takes a deep breath, his hands on his knees, straightening his arms out like he’s bracing himself. “Okay. I’m— I’m queer.”

She stares at him, wide-eyed, and she relaxes, slumping, and her lips curve into a slow smile. His eyes cut up to hers.

“Oh,” she says softly. “Steve, that’s…”

He takes a breath.

“It’s not— It’s not just…” He pushes his hair back again. His hands are shaking. Robins’s stomach twists, and she reaches out, taking his hands in her own, pulling at them until Steve shifts. Their legs wrap around each other and she cradles his hands gently.

“What is it?”

“So…” He exhales shakily, playing with her fingers. “I like… I like men. Also.”

“Cool,” she says softly.

“But I also, uhm…” He blinks hard, swaying slightly, his hands tightening on Robin’s.

“Steve?”

“Sorry,” he says softly. “Just got a little lightheaded, ‘m fine.”

“Are you gonna have a migraine?” she asks worriedly. “Should I close the curtains?”

“No, it’s okay, don’t worry.”

“You can’t tell me you’re lightheaded and then tell me you're fine--"

"I'm fine,” he insists, laughing softly, squeezing her hands. “I’m just nervous, I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to be nervous, you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” he says adamantly. “‘S just— I wasn’t ever gonna tell you because it’s— I think it’s weird, but Eddie says it’s not weird,” he says quietly, looking at their linked hands. “And you’re my best friend in the world, so I want you to know, but I just— I don’t know how to say it.”

“You told Eddie?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at her nervously.

“Tell me what you told him.”

Steve takes a deep breath.

“Okay. Uhm.” He looks at their hands again, tracing a line on her palm carefully like he’s drawing it. “So. I don’t think…” He hesitates, wincing. “I know,” he corrects. “I’m not just… a guy.”

She blinks, closing her fingers around his hand, listening intently.

“Okay,” she says softly.

“I’m— I’m a girl too. Kind of. I’m both,” he says choppily, anxiously, his hands trembling. She squeezes. “Eddie says he— he’s met people like me. Transsexuals and…” He takes a gasping breath, and she leans forward and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“‘S cool, Steve,” she says gently, squeezing his hands. “That’s okay.”

“I don’t— It’s not that I want to be a woman,” Steve says anxiously. “I’m just… I wouldn’t mind it? I like… being called pretty, and— and Eddie called me a girl and I really liked it.”

Robin listens, ignoring the curiosity that’s curling in her chest. (She wonders why Steve started all this by saying he likes men. Why Eddie was the first person he told about all of this. But at the same time, she doesn’t really wonder. Maybe she can read his mind the way he can read hers.)

“But at the same time I don’t, like, mind being called dude, or being seen as a man.” He’s quiet for a second. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Robin whispers. “That makes sense.”

He swallows nervously, biting his lip.

“Steve,” she says softly. “It’s fine. I’m not… judging you or anything. Not about this.”

He shoots her a look, scoffing, blinking tears out of his eyes. She wipes one away.

“Your taste in movies, sure,” she teases, and he laughs softly. “But not about this, not about who you are.”

She leans in, resting her forehead on his, and he takes a soft, gasping breath.

“I love you, Steve,” she murmurs. “Okay? No matter what.”

He lets go of her hands and wraps his arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight hug. She squeezes her eyes shut, moving forward so she’s sitting between his legs, her legs around his waist, and she runs a hand over the back of his head when she feels him inhale slowly.

She sighs when they separate, patting his cheek. He laughs softly.

“If I talk about you to Eddie how should I refer to you?” she asks.

“Uh.” He looks away, smiling softly like he doesn’t even realise he’s smiling. “He. I think. I don’t really know.”

“That’s okay.”

“We’re gonna go to, uhm, a queer bar in Indy,” Steve tells her, smiling crookedly, happily. “And he said I can try new things out. Being a girl.”

She smiles back.

“Eddie, huh?”

His face flushes red and he rubs his cheek bashfully, his eyes shining. Robin pokes his stomach, cooing, and he rolls his eyes, throwing himself onto his back.

But Robin’s legs are still around him, and she goes down with him, shouting his name. He wraps his arms around her tightly, laughing loudly.

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love me.”

“Ugh.”

They’re quiet for a moment, still giggling as they hold each other, until she sits up abruptly and looks down at him.

“How do you feel about makeup?”

“Uh. I’ve never worn it.”

“Would you like to?”

“…I’m open to the idea.”

She beams, scrambling to get up off of him, and he sighs heavily.

When she comes back with her makeup bags in hand, he’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, looking at the mural again.

“God, you really like that painting,” she says, sitting across from him.

“I want one,” he says. “When I get my own apartment.”

“I’ll do it for you,” she says lightly. “If you supply the paint.”

“Deal.”

“So, Eddie,” she says as she pulls his glasses off his face and hooks them on the front of her shirt. He rolls his eyes, blushing again. “Come on,” she says adamantly, rummaging through a bag. He watches, squinting. “I never got to gush about crushes and stuff with my friends.”

“‘S not really a crush,” Steve mutters quietly. She freezes as she’s pulling blush out.

“What’s that mean?”

Steve looks down, his fingers tangled in his lap.

“‘S my boyfriend,” he mumbles.

She smacks his shoulder.

“You asswipe, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It only happened like a few days ago,” he says defensively.

“Fine,” she says, reaching for the blush brush. “Strong tally on the You Rule board.”

He beams brightly, and the apples of his cheeks rise. Robin grins and puts the blush on them.

“So how’d it happen?” she asks, leaning back to make sure the blush is even. His left cheek is pinker, so she adds more to the right. “You and Eddie.”

“Uh.” He closes his eyes. “I think we’ve always had, like. A thing.”

“Uh-huh.” She brushes it over his nose.

“He was over with the kids for Hellfire at my place the other day. And we— Oh you’re gonna hate this.”

She rolls her eyes as she puts the blush away.

“Just tell me.”

“We went out for a smoke.”

Robin groans loudly. He laughs. She looks through her eyeshadows as they talk.

“Whatever.”

“I only went because I wanted to be near him.

“Sickeningly romantic, Steve.”

“Thanks. Anyway, I followed him out, and when I went to light my cigarette, he stopped me and said that pretty girls never light their own cigarettes.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, it like… did something to me.”

“Gross.”

He laughs, and she finally settles on a colour, using her finger to brush it over his eyelid. He flinches back for a moment before he relaxes again.

“And?” she prompts. She can’t stop smiling.

“It felt nice,” he says softly. “I haven’t been called a girl since I was a kid. At least not in like… a nice way?”

“Yeah?”

“I couldn’t really, like… laugh it off. And he could tell something was up, so after the kids left, we… talked.”

“Talked,” Robin repeats slowly.

“We talked,” he insists. “I explained everything, and he was really… sweet. And then we made out for a while. And stuff.”

“Oh my god.”

He grins.

She rummages for her brushes and looks though the eyeshadow again.

“Is he a good kisser?” she asks as she starts working again.

“Mm.”

“Don’t moan—”

“I didn’t moan, that was an affirmative noise. You’re so dramatic.”

“Whatever.”

“How’s Vickie?”

“Vickie…” She sighs, smudging the makeup carefully. “She’s great.“

“But?”

“But. I don’t know,” she sighs again, touching his chin to make him tilt his head. “We’re, like… really similar. Which I didn’t know until we started hanging out. But like… We even have the same haircut, Steve.”

Steve snorts, and she swats at his nose.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Anyway, she’s really cool, and I do like her, ‘s just… We went out a while ago and our waitress and another customer both thought we were sisters. Not even friends, Steve. Sisters. Which, like, I go out with you, people think we’re siblings, that’s fine, that’s kinda funny, you know? We’re best friends, we can be siblings, whatever. But a girl I wanna date? God, it was so awkward, Steve.”

“So you’re not seeing her again?”

“I don’t think so,” she sighs. “Maybe it’ll be more fun to hang out with her without, like… trying to be in a relationship with her? Think I’d like to be her friend. And…” She trails off, pulling her hands away from Steve’s face.

“And?”

She exhales, his chest tightening.

“God, I’m an awful friend.”

“I just told you I’m a girl with a dick and you said ‘That’s cool,’ and promptly started doing my makeup. You’re a good friend, Robin.”

He opens his eyes and looks at her. The makeup looks nice.

“And what?” he prompts softly.

She fidgets with the makeup brush in her hands, spinning it the way she spins her pens.

“I think… maybe part of the reason I’m not super into Vickie anymore because I might be kinda, really into, uhm. Nancy.”

She looks up at him nervously, but he just smiles.

“Cool.”

“Steve. It’s not cool.”

“It’s cool.”

“Steve.” She glares at him halfheartedly. “…It’s not cool.”

“It’s fine,” Steve says, smiling, leaning forward in emphasis.

“She’s your ex.”

“She’s my friend.” He reaches up and holds her chin. She can tell that Steve can’t see her clearly, his eyes not entirely focussed on her, but it doesn’t seem to matter. “And you’re my best friend. And I want you to be happy.”

She frowns, her eyes burning.

“You should go for it,” he says, letting go of her. She pulls his face closer, and his eyes fall shut.

“She doesn’t even like girls,” Robin grumbles.

“You don’t know that.”

“And you do?”

He shrugs.

“I didn’t know I liked guys for a good while.”

“‘S true,” she mutters.

Steve smiles absently as she finishes his makeup, even when he tells her not to stab his eye with the mascara.

She leans back when she finishes, satisfied. His eyelids are a shimmery pink, soft blue fluffed out around his lash lines. His eyelashes are dark and long, his cheeks pink, and they flush even pinker when Robin says softly, “You look pretty.”

“You think?”

“Here.” She pulls his glasses off her shirt and hands them to him, reaching for the pocket mirror as he puts them on. His eyes widen when he looks into it, his smile softening.

“Oh.”

“You wanna try on a dress, pretty girl?” Robin asks, grinning.

“Can I?”

Her grin widens, and she scrambles out of bed to her closet.

He goes to the bathroom down the hall to change, and she sorts her makeup out as she waits.

“Robin, I don’t know…”

She looks up, and the makeup bag slips from her fingers. Steve is standing in the doorway, looking down at himself. The dress is blue, matching his makeup, and the skirt flows when he shifts his weight.

She sits heavily on the bed as he looks up at her.

“Woah.”

“Woah?” he questions, rubbing his hands over the dress. “Good woah?”

“Yeah,” she says, grinning, looking him up and down. She picked the dress for him to pick because it fit her weirdly, but it fits him perfectly, hugging his waist and chest. “You’re keeping that.”

“Wha— I can’t just keep your dress, Robin.”

“It doesn’t even fit me, Steve,” she says, still looking at him. “You’re keeping it.”

He looks back down at the dress quietly, running his hands over it slowly, and his lips curve into a small smile.

“…Okay.”

“Do you feel pretty?”

He pauses, swaying slightly and watching the skirt twirl.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I do.”

“Gimme a spin.”

He does, grinning brightly when she squeals excitedly as the skirt twirls around his legs.

“You gotta show Eddie,” she says, bouncing up and down in excitement. “He’s gonna love it.”

“You think?” Steve asks in a small voice, nervously.

“For sure.”

He tackles her onto the bed, and she cackles, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

“Can I do your makeup?” he asks after a minute. “Will you teach me?”

“Oh my god, yes.”

Steve is a fast learner. His hands are gentle as he runs the brushes and his fingers softly over her skin, and she thinks she could fall asleep here.

They take photos with her Polaroid when he finishes. One for her, one for Steve, and one more for Eddie, the bottoms all inscribed with S + R 1989.

She makes Steve take some makeup home with him the next day, just for days he wants to feel pretty. And for when he goes to Indy with Eddie.

~~~~~~~~~

“Munson residence.”

“So formal, Eddie.”

Eddie grins, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes to listen to Steve’s voice, slightly staticky over the phone.

“Gotta be, just in case. What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?”

“Not much, I just…”

Eddie tilts his head.

“Just?”

“Uhm. Can you come over?” Steve asks softly.

“Are you alright?” Eddie asks, standing up straight, furrowing his brows. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m— I’m fine, baby, I just… I have something to show you.”

“To show me?” Eddie repeats, raising his eyebrows. “Is this a surprise?”

“Yes?”

“Am I gonna like it?”

“I think so?”

Eddie grins, licking his lips and looking across the room at his shoes.

“I‘ll head over in a few minutes. ‘M cleaning the kitchen for Wayne.”

“Okay. More time for me to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Eddie repeats, raising his eyebrows, smiling and biting his lip. “My interest is piqued.”

“Good.” Steve is quiet for a moment, but Eddie can practically hear his smile. “I miss you.”

“It’s been two days, babygirl.”

“God, tell me about it.”

“…I miss you too,” Eddie says quietly, pulling his hair to hide his face.

“Lame.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, still smiling. “I’m gonna clean faster than I’ve ever cleaned in my life and then I’ll head over.”

“Okay. Uhm. Just come upstairs when you get here, don’t knock or anything.”

“Oh, I am so curious,” Eddie says adamantly, his stomach fluttering.

“Go clean.”

“Going cleaning. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Lame.”

Eddie hears him snort as he hangs the phone up, and his hands flap joyfully as he heads back to the kitchen.

If he speeds on the way to Steve’s, that’s no one’s business but his.

He kicks his shoes off at the door, looking around happily at all the shit the kids have left behind. Jackets and hats and worksheets and pens and dice.

“Stevie,” he sings as he heads up the stairs, and he knocks a quiet rhythm on his door before swinging it open. “Hey, sweet— Oh.”

He freezes, his smile falling as his eyes land on Steve, sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling up at him.

He’s wearing a dress.

A pretty blue dress that fans out over his knees as he kicks his socked feet, holding the edge of the bed. His eyes blink behind his glasses, his eyelids shimmery and pink, his lashes dark. His cheeks are flushed.

“Hi,” he says softly.

Eddie leans against the wall, shutting the door without blinking, and he slides to the floor. His mouth is hanging open, his eyes wide, and he exhales sharply. Steve giggles softly.

“Stand,” Eddie says softly, absently, and Steve does, standing and holding his arms out, swaying to make the skirt twirl a little bit.

“Wow,” Eddie breathes.

“You like it?”

Eddie blinks at him, his eyes scanning over the way the fabric of the dress stretches over his waist, the way the neckline dips to show his chest hair, the way the thin fabric of the short sleeves flutter when he moves. Eddie looks at his face, at the blush on his cheek and his shining eyelids, the way the mascara makes his eyes even brighter.

“Eddie?” Steve says softly, and Eddie blinks.

“You look beautiful, princess,” he whispers.

Steve’s face turns even more pink, and he slides his hands over the dress.

“Really?”

Eddie scoffs, gazing up at him. His whole body aches with the desire to touch him, and his chest is tight. He can’t really breathe.

“Jesus, Stevie.”

Steve grins, twirling the skirt again, and then he sits in front of Eddie, crossing his legs and draping the skirt over his lap carefully.

Eddie moves forward, swallowing thickly.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

Eddie reaches out and slides his hands over Steve’s arms, squeezing his biceps gently, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to his shoulder over the fabric.

“So pretty, Stevie,” he murmurs, kissing the side of his neck.

“Robin showed me how to use her makeup,” Steve says quietly. Eddie looks at him, at the shimmer of his eyelids.

“You did a good job.”

“You think so?”

Eddie reaches up and touches his face gently, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks, under his glasses. He gazes at him, at his eyelashes and the moles that spot his skin. His lips.

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, pulls at it a little bit, smiling with Steve is pliant and parts his lips like Eddie’s going to press his thumb into his mouth.

“You ever think about lipstick?”

He kisses Steve before he can answer, and Steve smiles against his mouth, reaching to hold his face. His hands are soft.

“Might be a problem if I can’t keep my lips off you, though,” Eddie adds softly, holding Steve’s chin.

Steve hums.

“Could be fun to get it all over your face.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise.

“You are… awakening things inside me.”

Steve giggles brightly, tugging at Eddie’s shirt and moving up onto his knees, pulling Eddie forward and then pushing him to lay on his back on the floor.

Steve crawls over him, straddling his waist, setting the skirt delicately, and Eddie feels like he could cry.

“You look like a fucking angel,” Eddie says softly. “Holy shit.”

“What’s your favourite colour lipstick?” Steve asks, grinning, settling his weight on Eddie. His hands press over Eddie’s chest.

“Red,” Eddie says softly.

“What kinda red?”

“…Bright.”

“I’ll find some,” Steve says softly, leaning down, pressing on Eddie’s chest. He presses a slow kiss just beside Eddie’s mouth. “Mark you up.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie says weakly, keening as Steve starts to press kiss over his cheeks and jaw. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

Steve is gigging against his skin, gripping the front of his shirt.

“You okay?”

“Stevie, I got the prettiest girl in Hawkins holding me onto the ground and lovin’ on me, I’m so fucking okay.”

Steve sits up to take his glasses off, and he sets them aside before burying his face in Eddie’s neck.

~~~~~~~~~

It’s starting to rain by the time the girls get to Steve’s house. Erica pulls her hood up over her head and El is covering her eyes with a hand as they follow Max up the stairs, where she bangs on the door obnoxiously.

It takes a few seconds before Steve flings the door open, his eyes wide.

“Jesus,” he says when his eyes meet Max’s. “What the hell?”

“We’re having a girls’ day,” she says, looking up at him. He looks different these days. Lighter. His hair looks softer. His cheeks are pinker. And he smells different, warmer, less like a guys’ locker room.

“Okay?” he says, looking at Erica and El. “Why are you here?”

“They’re doing maintenance at my place,” Max says. “The guys are all at the Sinclairs’, and Jonathan and Argyle are getting high at the Byers-Hoppers’.”

Steve blinks blankly at her.

“We’d hang out at the quarry or something, but…” She gestures at the sky, and his eyes follow, looking at the dark clouds and the sprinkling rain. “Can we come in?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

He holds the door open for them. Max punches his side gently as she passes.

They go to the living room after kicking off their shoes. Steve takes their coats and hangs them up by the door.

“You guys need anything?” he asks as they get settled on the sofa.

Erica sets her chin on the back of it, looking over at him in the entry of the living room.

“Can you feed us?”

“Uh. I can order pizza.”

“Ah, fuck yeah,” Max says. Steve clicks his tongue.

“Language.”

“Can you get one with pineapple?” El asks. “Please?”

She’s Steve’s favourite.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, smiling. “Even though it��s gross.”

“Try before you deny,” El says lightly, turning to open her backpack. Steve scoffs.

“You spend too much time with Argyle.”

“He’s funny.”

Steve goes to order the pizza. Max puts on a movie while Erica and El sort through their nail polish collections, discussing which colours they want.

Erica chooses a vibrant purple. El chooses a coral pink. Max chooses a dark blue.

While they wait for the pizza, Steve brings them soda. Mello Yello for Max and Pepsis for Erica and El. Max sees his eyes linger on the nail polish, on Erica painting El’s nails carefully, meticulously. He seems to get stuck for a few seconds, watching almost curiously.

So the next time he comes in with a bowl of chopped apples and grapes and strawberries, she stops him.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“…Can I paint your nails?”

She’s almost joking, prepared to laugh it off, prepared for him to scoff and roll his eyes and say whatever. But he looks back at her for a moment, and then—

“Yeah, sure.”

El gasps in excitement, wiggling for a moment in her seat as she reaches for the bag of nail polish, careful not to mess up her nails.

“Wait, really?” Erica says, looking up at him, her eyes and smile wide.

“Yeah, why not?”

“What colour do you want?” Max asks as Steve sits on the floor in front of the sofa, looking up at her.

“You guys pick.”

He listens as they bicker together, and they eventually settle on a shade of pink so pale it’s almost white. Max expects Steve to argue or wrinkle his nose at it, but he just smiles and sets his hands out on the sofa for them to work.

“How do you do that so neatly?” he asks curiously, watching El’s hands.

She shows him, reciting everything Joyce told her a few years ago, carefully pressing the brush up near his cuticles, holding the tip of his finger to avoid getting paint on the skin around his nails, and he watches raptly, open-mouthed as if in awe. Max catches Erica’s eye over his head and they both giggle.

The pizza arrives as El is painting his right hand, holding it up close to her face, her brows furrowed adorably in concentration, and Erica goes to get it. Max holds slices in front of Steve’s face for him to take bites from as his nails are painted, and Erica does the same for El.

El asks Steve if he wants to try putting the top coat on her nails. He does, seemingly remembering everything she said, his eyes wide, brows furrowed, tongue poking over his lips in concentration. El smiles the whole time.

They put on another movie when they finish with everyone’s nails. Steve won’t stop smiling, glancing at his while they finish the pizza and fruit. El curls up against his side after she finishes eating. He presses a kiss to the top of her head.

Max lays her head on El’s lap, closing her eyes when she feels her fingers run through her hair, carefully untangling it.

When she wakes up, her glasses are on the coffee table next to the empty pizza boxes. She sits up slowly, squinting, and finds them before she looks at the others.

El is still laying against Steve, her cheek squishing against his chest, and Erica is on his other side, her legs across his lap, her face on his shoulder. Steve’s glasses are crooked, and his mouth is hanging open, his head resting on the back of the sofa. Max smiles, rubbing her face.

She stands, wobbly, when there’s a noise in the kitchen, and she quietly exits the room, squinting again, this time out of suspicion.

Eddie is at the stove, humming to himself as he scrapes eggs on a pan.

“Eddie?”

He turns, raising his eyebrows. He’s wearing a frilly apron, the words #1 MOM across his chest, a gag gift from the boys to Steve.

“Mornin’, Red.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Came by to see Stevie,” he says lightly, turning back to the stove. “Walked in on that sweet cuddle fest in the living room. I considered joining but I didn’t wanna wake you guys up.”

“Huh.”

She stretches, yawning and looking around the kitchen. Her eyes catch on the fridge. There’s a new Polaroid photo stuck to it with the drawings Erica and Will have given Steve. (There’s one of him as a knight. Max thinks that’s Steve’s favourite. He wouldn’t stop staring at it when Will handed it to him.)

She gets closer. Even with her coke-bottle glasses, her vision isn’t very good.

“You took a picture?”

She stares at it. Her own sleeping face, partially hidden by her hair, El’s hand resting on her head. El’s face on Steve’s chest, his arm around her, his other around Erica. In the photo, the pink of his nails is barely visible, but the angle shows the bottles of nail polish on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, scooping the eggs into a bowl. “Had to. Walkin’ into a cute scene like that. I’d paint it if I could.”

She snorts.

Eddie sits on the table when he finishes cooking. (Eggs and french toast, like was in a mission to use every egg in the fridge.) She sits down she can lay her head on his leg as he sips her coffee.

“Will you give me a tattoo when I turn eighteen?”

“I don’t know how to tattoo people, Red.”

“Will you take me to get a tattoo when I turn eighteen?”

“Yeah, sure. What do you want?”

“Hm.” She nuzzles into his leg, and he sips his coffee noisily, running a hand through her hair. She’s grateful he doesn’t have many rings on. “Maybe some Kate Bush lyrics.”

“Fuck, that’s smart. I should get some.”

She snorts.

“You a Kate Bush fan?”

“Definitely,” he says, his voice echoing in the mug before he sips again. “Kept you around, didn’t she?”

She tries, unsuccessfully, to suppress a smile.

The others join them after a while. Steve looks more awake than El and Erica, and Max wonders if he woke up and just stayed there for a while.

As the girls are serving themselves, Steve joins Eddie at the coffee maker. Max watches as Steve holds his hand up so Eddie can see his nails, smiling almost proudly. Eddie smiles in a way Max has never seen before. He looks like he might cry. They exchange a few words that Max can’t hear, and a nod, and then just as Max is about to look away, Eddie lifts Steve’s hand to his lips and pecks the back of it, his eyes shining.

Max’s eyebrows fly up, and she expects Steve to smack him away with a good-natured laugh, but Steve twists his hand to hold Eddie’s chin for a second, and then he turns away. He’s smiling. Eddie is gazing at him.

Max tears her eyes away, trying to suppress her own smile.

It makes sense, she guesses as she places slices of french toast on her plate. Why Eddie walks into the Harrington house like he lives there. Why last week he was wearing a red sweater that Max knew belongs to Steve. Why he calls Steve Stevie. Why Steve’s eyes follow him around every time the Party hangs out. Why he wears Eddie’s red guitar pick around his neck. (It’s usually under his shirt or sweater, but he has a tendency to fidget, and Max is observant.)

She douses the french toast in maple syrup.

“That is so much syrup, holy shit,” Steve says, staring at her plate, wide-eyed.

“It’s the food of gods, Steven.”

“Christ.”

She sits next to Erica so Steve and Eddie can sit next to each other.

#decided to turn it into a three part series #part three is the indy trip :))))))#v excited about it i have so many ideas #steve harrington #genderqueer steve harrington #robin buckley #max mayfield #eleven hopper #erica sinclair #eddie munson #steddie #stobin #platonic stobin #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

194 notes · View notes

blitheringbongus · 4 months

Note

Can't believe Scar saw a rapidly approaching, dishevled mumbo and went "he's so cute." I need to run unorthodox experiments on them.

IKR SAME OMG

They’re literally perfect for each other <- delusional

But seriously they have so much lore together in my silly brain and the few interactions they do have (WHICH HAS BEEN INCREASING A LOT LATELY MAY I ADD) has been FUELING the fire rapidly and gods gods GODS do I have many thoughts about them

#literally making an illustration type comic on Mumbos whole vampire timeline #Scar will be next with his vex schenanigans..#the worst part is I always cycle like three to five different backstory’s in my brain for these two I CANNOT decide #but now that I’ve written a short ficlet (that no one will see unless asked) abt a few scenes of Mumbos backstory I think I’m pretty set on-#-his part #Scar tho??? no clue #I have the Hotguy backstory (which I daydream about WAY too much) I have the apocalypse backstory. I have the single player raised by villa-#-gers for years and years cuz his mom dropped him off in the single player world when Scar wasn’t conscidered a player yet since he was an-#-infant cuz it was a teen pregnancy and she was too scared to tell anyone so she just dropped him off with the villagers never to be seen #again. and since it was technically HER single player world when Scar DID grow up old enough to be recognized as a player he couldn’t #access any of the 'exit world' stuff or anything like that since it wasn’t his world #and then like a watcher or smth pulled him out of it so that Scar could be put through the horrors of gun related things for experimentstuff #and then there’s the backstory of where scar IS a watcher. like not a person turned watcher he was BORN (if you could say that) a watcher #and like the other watchers wanted to do an experiment of basically 'could a watcher if stripped of its memories and placed in a people-#-world be able to produce its own feelings and emotions?' and so they did that to Scar but they didn’t place him there as a baby no. they #placed him there as a full grown man so bros even more confused. and when the life series stuff started he had exactly one ☝️ dream per #Series and it was tiny little snippets of his watcher self but he didn’t know that it’s him but like he felt a strange pull towards these #dreams so that’s basically the reason why he kept coming back to the life games even tho they hurt him deeply as we all know #and then when he won secret life the secret keeper asked him what his wish was now that he’s won and he didn’t ask to know who he was and #where he came from (since he just appeared one day as a full grown man with no identification) since he’s made peace with that maybe it is #better not to know. so instead he asked abt the dreams he always has in these series and wth their abt and the context and stuff #and then BAM the secret keeper just drops all that information on him and he has an identity crises :D #anyways. I put both of these guys through many horrors I just have so many ideas for scar specifically. oh also there’s that backstory where #hes an assasin guy and he feels rlly guilty abt it when he gets split in half (gtws and btws) cuz like he has morals now apparently?? also #it explains the scammer stuff cuz he was a HUGE scammer bacl them #asks #hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #redscape

16 notes · View notes

raatopaikka · 1 year

Text

Alright. I'm not really a big new year's resolution person but I think I'm setting myself a new year's goal to draw one portrait a month?

Any suggestions? Or requests? I really think I might need some extra push from others cause I'm very lazy and uninspired, which is a very bad trait for someone who wants to do more art lol 🙈

#just to get some more practice cause every time I start drawing I feel so rusty haha #so! Idk who I'll attempt to draw yet but some people and characters I'm considering drawing are:#Helen McCrory/ Michelle Forbes/ Halt And Catch Fire characters/ Juliet from Lost/ Buster Keaton/Omar Sy #Manny Jacinto (or possibly all The Good Place main characters?idk)/ Adonis Bosso & Imaan Hammam perhaps?#some shinee & nct members & maybe young k??#taemin is turning 30 this year so i really want to make a little 3 part 'three decades of taemin' portrait series 🤔#i mean ok that's more than 12 if i were to draw all of them but i haven't decided who to draw yet!#anyway there's different types of examples under my portrait & fanart tags in case anyone wants to request a portrait #doesn't have to be a celeb lol if you want a portrait of yourself or your grandma or whatever i think im up for it!✌

2 notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 3 months

Text

bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

Sure, you are a little insufferable.

But Lee Minho is worse.

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally. Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night.

You were content until this fucker came along. Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals. Ugh. You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you. The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women. You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.

He arrives with his usual entourage. A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle. He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches. He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance. His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say. “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer. He laughs sarcastically.

“Not worth the mileage,” he says. He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim. “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.” He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him.

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot. Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too. It was inevitable. You were hostile when first meeting. You challenged him to a few too many personal races. You were a sore loser and even worse winner. What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry.

You won the last couple races. You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again.

“Sure,” you say. “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.”

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back.

You decide to keep your distance tonight. If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm. So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings.

But, ugh.

He is right there.

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air. When you are looking at him, he captivates you. When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again. You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters.

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy. Not a single race has satisfied you. You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough. It is never enough. You already know how good you are. You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded.

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho. The only victory that matters is that one.

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him. He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming. He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away.

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face. When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation. He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car. He shakes his head as you stomp up to him.

“One race,” you say.

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.” He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave.

“Wait,” you say.

You heart is racing. Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night. Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs. Stupid hottie. You will have him and his attention. You will get the better of him, one way or another. It was all leading to this.

“One race,” you say. “A bet worth the mileage.”

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply.

Finally, he closes the car door. He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth.

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you. The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body.

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking. Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize.

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue. It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing. You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way. But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings.

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut. No, lower. Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess. Heat that is curious about the look in his eye.

Then you shake your head. You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off. You were in control and now you are flustered.

“Not me,” you snap.

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up. He meets your gaze eventually. Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you.

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality. “I bet my car.”

He blinks at you. Long, slow blinks like a cat. It takes him a second to find a sentence.

“Your car,” he says. He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy. “And what do you want if you win?”

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say. The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth. You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy. You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered. “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides.

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone. It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead. You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other. It is intense and all-consuming.

You hold out a hand. He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says. “Since it’s the truth. You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock. You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind. Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual. He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car.

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention.

The heat rushes back in a hurry. You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs.

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words. You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other. You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed. Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight. You bet your car. What were you thinking?

You weren’t. And it was all his fault.

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him. You smack the steering wheel with frustration.

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline. Thoughts like that are not like you. And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want. Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want. He is always the highlight of your night.

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser.

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car.

He is not gloating because he is not the type. He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you. He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies.

“You got in my head on purpose.”

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist.

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt. “I bet myself.”

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again. Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat.

“You,” he finally says. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?”

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy. It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate.

You cross your arms stubbornly. You look away. You even stomp your foot.

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap.

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone. “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer. You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch. Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy. Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite. It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his. You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes.

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says. He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil. “I don’t have to make bets. I make love to people because they want it. Sorry.” He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat. “You can keep your car. I don’t want or need it. Good night.”

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it. He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely.

“Now, now,” he says.

“I’m a big girl,” you snap. “I don’t need you protecting my honour. I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.”

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes. He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says.

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels.

“I heard you,” you say.

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time. You take a step back.

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step. Step by step across the tarmac. The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours.

You find it difficult to catch your breath. Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady. He is intoxicating.

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek. He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer. You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little.

“So,” he says. “If you win, we fuck. And if I win, we make love. Is that correct?”

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say. You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation.

It seemingly works. His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Yes, there—” He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder. He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll race.”

Your heart is already revving like an engine. You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly. You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise. It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head. You hold your breath.

“You have to pass my test first,” he says.

“Excuse me!” Your own incredulity resounds. You smack his chest but he does not move.

“It’s just two questions,” he says. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

He is tormenting you. You hate him. You hope he never stops.

“Fine,” you snap. His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation.

“Good,” he says, then stands back.

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness. At least you can catch your breath in the space between you.

Then he says, “Get on your knees.”

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race. There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle. Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road.

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response. You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you.

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth. You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his. His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy. Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows.

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips. Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath.

“Well?” he says.

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.”

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin. “That’s one out of two. How about this one?”

He drops to his knees. You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night. There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets.

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable. Your breath stutters before he even moves. He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch. He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste. Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take.

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second. He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more. Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets.

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers. He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you. You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye.

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.

The suggestion makes you throb. You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright. “Now we can race.”

It is a perfect draw.

You are both distracted. When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind.

Doors slam. You meet in the space between your vehicles.

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative.

He is shrugging out of his jacket. It his the ground. He does not break his stride, already going for his belt. Your knees nearly buckle again.

“Fine,” he replies. “Then get over here. I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.”

Fucking you is exactly what he does. It is not making love. He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra. Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine. You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you.

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood. He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him.

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline. It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you. You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own. He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line.

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss. It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off. He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure. He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.”

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says. “You sounded so good getting fucked. I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that.

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand. He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?”

#lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x you #lee know x you #lee minho x you #valentinesdaystories

2K notes · View notes

roseykat · 6 months

Text

TITLE: Play Bite

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Jisung x female reader

SUMMARY: You, Hyunjin, and Jisung have a really fun time playing a dirty truth or dare game after the plans for everyone to go out failed. Part 1 to the 'Play' series.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

Part 1 - Play Bite Part 2 - Play Fight Part 3 - Play Right

TAGS: Hyunjin, Jisung, and reader have all consumed alcohol but are not fully drunk, smut, kissing, hickies, making out, dirty texts, dirty talk, erotic truth or dares, use of pet names such as 'bub', 'baby' and 'pretty', swearing, food play (nothing heavy), solo orgasm, female masturbation, suggestive material, very vague mentions of choking (not emphasised), slight traces of top!Jisung.

MASTERLIST

A/N: Think of this as a prelude to this hard thought I posted a while ago. If you haven't read it, it will give you some context into what will come in the future for this type of concept. Also just to preface but not give away too many spoilers, nobody is cheating in this story.

“Remove one piece of clothing, socks do not count,” Jisung reads aloud from the card in his hand.

It’s the third task into the deck of dirty truth or dare at Hyunjin's apartment. After the entire group’s plan to go out for the night fell through when it started pelting down, it was in all three of your guys’ best interests to not waste the night. So, although he invited the rest of the group over for drinks, only you and Jisung decided to go around.

An hour later into the night and already just past the point of tipsy, the three of you progressed to playing games. A set of dirty truth or dare cards was the first thing that caught Jisung’s keen eye as he analysed the plethora of games that Hyunjin had on a shelf in his living room.

“You’re not even wearing socks, so you have no choice,” Hyunjin chuckles, almost evilly.

Jisung dons his best thinking face, eyes narrowing as he tries to come up with which item of clothing he wants to take off. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the entire fabric up and over his head before placing it beside him, careful not to knock over his drink.

Your eyes glue to his gorgeous bare top half for a few seconds too long before averting them to the floor like you weren’t supposed to look at him. It’s not like you’ve never seen him topless before in all of his honey toned glory. Almost always will Jisung proudly walk around half naked unprovoked when you’re around him.

“Your turn bub,” he continued.

You clear your throat then lean over to pick a card up from the middle, then read it out loud, “oh…”

“What’s it say?” Jisung peeks his head over to see what’s written down before his jaw unhinges. “Let the person to your left select an area of your body for them to give you a hickey. Wow.”

Hyunjin, to your left, stares back at you in shock and horror. His cheeks were ballooned and full of liquid after taking a large swig of his drink before setting it down. The more silent seconds that tick by, the more flips his stomach keeps doing. But, he had to expect the unexpected with this game.

You and Jisung were ready to play by the rules and Hyunjin wasn’t going to exempt himself from it just because of the card you pulled.

He swallows the mouthful of alcohol, “alright. Are you okay with me doing this?”

You nod even though you can feel your heart picking up its pace, “I am.”

He takes your answer and runs with it then ponders on the best place to plant a hickey on your body. It doesn’t take him long to think of a number of unspoken places where he would and even though he’s tipsy enough to disclose those areas, he decides to keep that to himself.

“Okay, can you lie down for me then?” He asks.

“Lie down?”

“Mm, otherwise it might be awkward to reach,” he explains vaguely.

You start jumping to conclusions at the instant you hear his request, yet your mind is so hazy that your body just ends up listening to what Hyunjin has asked of you instead. You end up lying back on the floor, your head next to Jisung’s thigh who looks down at you while Hyunjin moves.

His long body straddles yours but not fully putting his weight down on you. With his hand, he pulls back some of your hair so he can reach the area he wants before gently tilting your chin up and to the side towards Jisung.

Hyunjin then sinks his face down just to the side of your throat and sucks. For a second, your body squirms at the slight achy pang that he brings to the surface of your skin. Still, with the way that your body is buzzing, it undoubtedly feels amazing. He remains there for a few seconds and uses his tongue to swipe over the surface he just marked.

Jisung watches with his mouth ajar. He takes in the contorted look of concentration on your face, the way your eyelids flutter closed.

It’s not long after until Hyunjin peels himself off of you then takes your hand to help you sit back up again. In hindsight, you wonder if it was all but necessary to lie down for him in order to give you a hickey. But Hyunjin’s thinking was that to reach your throat, you had to be on the ground.

“That might’ve been-“ his face contorts with worry just looking at the fresh, deep and reddish mark. “A bit much, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you respond, trying to act cool under the pressure. “It felt nice anyway. Okay, Hyunnie’s turn.”

He draws another card, reading it in his mind before his eyes dart to Jisung, “make out…with the person beside you for one minute.”

“W-Which side?” You ask.

“My left which is-“

“Me,” Jisung responds, pointing at his chest. “Alright then.”

Hyunjin stares blankly at his friend, unsure if he's joking or not, “wait, you’re…you’re serious?”

Jisung shifts his body closer to Hyunjin, his face nearing him, “that’s the game right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “Yeah, okay then.”

“I can set a timer,” you announce.

He’s never done this before - kissed a friend, made out with a friend. For one, Hyunjin knows Jisung has done so multiple times, having been an impartial witness to it. Whether it was while Jisung was drunk, sober, high, it happened. Even with the same gender.

“Alright,” you say, pulling out your phone as you go to the clock app to set a timer for one minute and place it on the ground. “3, 2, 1, go.”

You’re not sure who it was first that leaned in for the kiss after being so warped by the fact that they were even doing this. It was like Hyunjin offered his mouth and Jisung went for the kill. Both of them started off slowly by the time ten seconds hit. Twenty seconds in and Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the side of his friends’ face when the kiss deepens even further.

You watch the glide of their tongues move so languidly with one another, doing unspeakable things in between your legs. Similar to Jisung’s reaction when Hyunjin gave you a hickey, your mouth was on the floor. There’s no way in hell could you ignore how hot it was to see them make out.

After forty seconds, the pace had picked up a notch as they continued to move in sync with one another. Jisung’s hand had made it onto Hyunjin’s lap with some unintentional plan of slowly hiking up his thigh. In his mind, the more touch, the better. He already felt floaty because of the alcohol. Now Jisung touching him, kissing him, was an enhancement.

At the mark of one minute, your phone rudely blares its alarm. Hyunjin pulls away with red lips, Jisung’s as equally as glossy as the other. They stall for a second, almost as if they briefly thought about going back at it again…

“Minho was right,” Jisung breaks the silence willingly. “You are a pretty good kisser.”

“What?” Hyunjin exclaims, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

“What?” He whines. “He and I were trying to figure out who in the group would be the best kisser. Minho reckons you are.”

“You say that as if you’ve kissed everyone in the group to try and find that out,” You realise.

“Well I just kissed him, so it’s everyone except for you now. Which there’s still time for since it’s my turn now,” he responds in a slightly hopeful tone and picks up his next card. “Huh, maybe not - what’s the most amount of times you’ve had sex in one day?”

“Is that the first truth question?” Hyunjin points out, trying to subtly keep himself calm after what just went down with Jisung.

“I think so,” you reply. “We’re nowhere near halfway through the deck.”

“Three and a half,” Jisung answers.

“And a half?” You and Hyunjin parrot in unison, the confusion very present in both of your tones.

“Halfway through the act, got caught, had to wrap it up and leave,” Jisung explains very succinctly. “It would’ve been four if it weren’t for fucking Seungmin. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m holding a grudge or anything.”

“Sure,” you trail off, trying your best not to laugh at his misfortune while you go to pick up a card. “Uh, lend your phone to the person on your right and let them send a dirty text to someone in your contacts.”

Jisung claps excitedly, “hand it over baby!”

You roll your eyes, reluctantly passing him your device, “anyone except my family otherwise I probably won’t live to see another day.”

He takes your phone earnestly with a cheeky and devious expression before delving righteously into your contacts list, “don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Jisung’s thumb scrolls excitedly trying to find the right person to send the right message to. He pauses over a couple of names and then finds one he thinks will give the most entertaining response. He creates a new message and types in what he wants to say.

From You: I’m horny. Come over and fuck me.

The silence was palpable as the fate of your dignity rests in your friends’ hands. Once the message is sent, Jisung keeps your phone on standby while you all wait for the response. The sheer riskiness of the dare calls for you to pick up your drink and finish the rest off, knowing that you’re going to need it.

“What did you write?” You ask him anyway, setting your empty glass aside.

He looks smugly at the screen again and repeats what he created, “I’m horny, come over and fuck me.”

Your eyes widen in horror, “t-that’s not…who did you send that to!?”

“That’s a bit straightforward isn’t it?” Hyunjin laughs.

“Doesn’t matter now, your turn, go,” Jisung nods to you.

“Fine,” you groan, snatching up a card. “How many times a day do you get off? Once, maybe twice. Done. Next, you go.”

Hyunjin blinks in surprise at the information you so rapidly provided and leans into the circle to grab his card, “alright. Choose one person to sit in between your legs for the remainder of the game.”

“I think considering that he and I just made out, it’s your turn to do something now,” Jisung smoothly contends his point before you could even get a word out.

“Fair enough,” you respond coolly.

The move is practically childsplay in comparison to what they’ve done so far. Nonetheless, it quickly proved itself to be rather effective on your body.

Hyunjin tries not to grin and spreads his legs for you to slot perfectly in between them. You’ve been this close to him before - in a hug at least. But never has Hyunjin been as acutely intimate with you as of right now. As he’s pressed up behind you, it’s hopeless to try not to be so affected by such subtlety. The warmth from his body glows like a heater onto your back and the steadiness of his breathing is comforting.

“Sungie’s turn,” he says from behind you.

Another card is taken from the deck and Jisung reads once more, “feed someone a food item with your mouth. Okay, but what kind of food?”

“There’s that bowl of grapes just there on the coffee table,” Hyunjin points over to it.

Jisung spins around on the floor and sees the assortment of snacks that they had laid out on the table earlier on. He turns back with the entire silver bowl in his lap, popping a couple of them in his mouth and eating away to his heart's content before proceeding with the dare.

“You’re breathing heavy,” Hyunjin whispers teasingly in your ear while Jisung isn’t looking.

“S-Shut up,” you utter back to him, trying not to act so utterly embarrassed by the truth he’s managed to highlight.

Jisung pops in two more grapes and goes to sit beside you before talking with his mouth full, “bo’ o’ ya.”

“Huh?” Hyunjin retorts, trying to decipher what his friend is saying.

You ponder for a second, “I think he said both of us?”

Your guess comes up as correct because without a proper verbal answer from Jisung, his actions spoke louder. He leans towards your face first - closer than it has ever been since you’ve known him. The purple grape sits between his teeth as he goes to pass it to you by his mouth. It was awkward to manoeuvre at first, but the pair of you discovered that using your lips is key. By that point, Jisung manages to exchange the fruit as you crush down on the grape that explodes with such a sweet flavour.

Then, he moves a bit behind you to reach Hyunjin. Both of them struggle to pass the grape without fully touching each other's lips once more. Then again, that was the point of the card that Jisung pulled.

“Yummy?” he asks, sliding back to his original spot with the bowl.

“Mm,” Hyunjin hums while he chews. “Sweet.”

Half of the stuff that you’ve done so far with them makes you realise that you’re not that nervous to do these kinds of things. It could’ve been the alcohol, that definitely helps. But also because they’re two of your best friends and wherever they are, you feel safe in their proximity.

“My turn,” you say as Jisung picks the top card off of the deck and slides it to you across the floor. “Oh - same as Sungie’s, remove a piece of clothing, socks do not count. Isn’t this just a forfeit card since it’s already been picked up?”

“No, not necessarily?” Hyunjin answers. “Plus, what if you forfeit that one and pick another one but it’s worse?”

He had a good point. It was a very mellow dare in comparison to the others you’ve all completed. With that in mind, your hands find their way down to your shorts, contemplating whether to take them off or not. Considering Jisung already has his top off, you went for the opposite in a sudden spur of confidence that was short lived when you saw the look on your friend's face.

Jisung’s eyes couldn’t leave where your hands moved as you freed your legs from the fabric, allowing you to remain in your underwear. However, it becomes very apparent to you that taking your pants off wasn’t such a good idea when you know that you’re wet. Whether they knew it, particularly Jisung who had a full view of you, was too late.

Behind you, Hyunjin was trying to keep himself calm as you moved around a bit, “w-who’s turn is it now?”

Jumping onto a different topic gave time for Jisung to blink away from your body. He feels guilty for even staring at you like that in the first place. Then again, it’s not like you weren’t doing the same ever since he took his shirt off.

“Yours actually,” you answer and without any spatial awareness whatsoever, you lean forward just a bit to pick up a card for Hyunjin that your ass slightly pushes back into his crotch in the process.

After the fact of the matter, you realise what you’ve done. But it wasn’t intentional. You just wanted to pick up a card for him so that he didn’t have to move from behind you. As you come back to sit between his legs properly, you feel his forehead rest against the back of your head - a silent sign to prove he definitely recognised what you did to him.

Although he didn’t say anything because what was there to say to that? In hindsight, it might’ve been better forJisung to just read it out for Hyunjin.

“H-Here,” you offer the card to him, playing it off.

He lifts his head back up from yours and takes the item, “what is your dirtiest fantasy and why?”

Right now if Hyunjin was able to answer honestly, he would say ‘fucking you while his best friend watches.’ But even for a filthy game that they’re playing, he thought it would be inappropriate to say. On top of that, it’s not actually his dirtiest fantasy. He could do way worse but just doesn’t know what at this point in time in his sex life. There was still time for him to explore…

“I haven’t really got one at the moment,” says Hyunjin. “I suppose just real…rough sex.”

Jisung immediately becomes intrigued, oblivious to the fact that Hyunjin had it in him to admit such a scandalous piece of information, “what does that mean to you though?”

He becomes even more flustered under the heat of his friends’ question, it doesn’t help that he’s nearly fully hard behind you either, “it means things like…choking or hair pulling-”

“What…you like to do those things or those things being done to yo-

“Both, I like both. Anyway, that’s not the question,” Hyunjin interrupts impatiently. “Just move on.”

It’s difficult for you not to laugh at him, yet as you go to pick up a card - more carefully this time for Hyunjin’s sake - your smile fades quicker than you could blink. Not one doubt crossed your mind about how obscene this game could get. Yet this card refuted all of that.

“I…get…get yourself off in front of someone,” you mumble in a very quiet voice.

“Get what?” Jisung tries to reiterate.

Hyunjin’s brows knit in concentration as he reads the card from over your shoulder, “she has to get herself in front of someone.”

An ‘o’ forms in Jisung’s mouth before he responds to that statement, “that’s a…an interesting card.”

The three of you fall deathly silent to the weight that the dare has you under. Your mind wants you to do it, to satiate that instinctual appetite to pleasure yourself ever since the game heated up. To do so in front of your friends doesn’t appear to be a bad idea which technically it isn’t from the way they already have you unintentionally wet. That in itself said a lot.

Therefore, you spread your legs and bend your knees.

An expression of realisation washes over Jisung, coming to grips with what’s about to unfold. As for Hyunjin, he can only sit and remain in place as a support for you to lean against when your hand slips down the front of your underwear as you begin to rub. A sigh of warm relief then pushes past your lips. The pads of your fingers collect your damp essence to use as you circle over your clit.

Already, a hefty volume of pressure is escalating in the pit of your tummy, tingling and spreading throughout your lower half. All from being turned on by the game. The person in front of you and behind you feel the exact same way except the one behind you was already there a long time ago. Their cocks fill out against the inside of their thighs and Hyunjin is positive that you can feel him through his pants.

“Y/N,” Jisung says. “Does that make you feel good?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin warns him sharply, not wanting his friend to fuel the fire that’s burning.

“Mm, y-yes,” you stutter, breath catching at the base of your throat the more you try and push yourself towards an edge.

It could be better though. It could be the pair of them groping and teasing your body at their will. You know that they both know how to use their mouths with the way that they made out earlier on. Not to mention from the grapevine, you’ve heard about Jisung too; how he knows how to eat pussy. Then you have Hyunjin, who just exposed his fantasy of liking having rough sex. The possibilities with his ideas would be endless and fun.

With the pair of them, you don’t think you would ever run out of orgasms. Just thinking about it makes your fingers speed up, becoming increasingly more wetter. Your muscles jerk every now and then when you inch closer to the tail end of your orgasm, which causes you to unintentionally move against Hyunjin’s crotch once more.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin breathes out against you.

“Don’t touch her,” Jisung snaps. “This is her dare.”

“I-I’m not fucking touching her,” he presses back madly, then mutters just to himself as he hides behind you. “Can’t help it Jisung.”

“K-Keep watching…” you plead. “So…close.”

Hyunjin’s nails are digging deep into the carpet beneath him and his restraint not to touch you teeters dangerously on the last millimetre of a cliff. He’s throbbing, achingly hard. For you. Jisung can see his friends' knuckles turning white but he understands. He too remains hard in his sweats, which was obvious to you. Even just the slight outline that you can see indicates to you that he’s big.

Your mind starts wondering what that sort of length would do to your body, how would it feel to have inside of you? As you ask yourself those questions, you try to imagine that sensation when you start fingering yourself.

You whimper pathetically, curling over that sweet spongy spot, “yes, feels so good. Makes me wanna cum…”

“Yeah? Gonna cum in front of us?” Jisung eggs you on. “Gonna make yourself cum just for us?

Your dozy eyes lock with him just for a few seconds before you nod against Hyunjin’s body, “j-just for you both.”

“F-Fuck,” Hyunjin squeezes his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth so much that his jaw aches.

As that familiar euphoric bliss catches up to you, a silent scream paints over your face while your eyelids clamp shut and your eyebrows are furrowed together, focusing on the pleasure. For a moment, you’ve forgotten that Hyunjin is behind you as you can’t help but shiver helplessly against his body from the waves of your orgasm. Quiet yet very audible moans ring throughout Hyunjin’s apartment, making themselves known as you gradually come down with heavy gasps.

“Holy shit,” Jisung murmurs in awe, he can see that you’ve soaked through your underwear.

The large wet and sticky patch makes him want to lurch forward, tear the piece of clothing from your body and taste you for himself. To have his face buried in between your legs would be the Atlantis of his own fantasy right now, to have you use his mouth and tongue until you’re cumming all over again.

In the moments of quiet when the still air is filled with nothing but your staggered breathing and depleted whimpers as you try to collect yourself, your phone buzzes on Jisung’s thigh - the reply to the dirty text he sent from earlier on.

He looks down at the glowing bright screen and his jaw drops to the floor once more. His mind sobers quickly.

From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x

There was no way.

I strictly forbid and do not permit anyone or any user to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr to any other social media platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #Hyunjin x Jisung

3K notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Sooooo I learned a valuable lesson last night. Which is not to draft things in tumblr. Because I wrote almost all of this in drafts, was like 15 minutes from posting. And then the app glitched when I changed the song I was listening to and lost everything.

I’m not entirely sure I wrote this version half as well as the original, which is maddening. But please enjoy this next part to the Mister(s) Steal Your Girl (poly 141) series.

Content: Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy

You honestly didn’t expect to speak to Kyle again after the bookshop encounter. Sure, you exchanged numbers and he seemed so sincere, but your faith in reading people has been a bit shaken as of late.

That said, you wouldn’t have held it against him if you didn’t. You’d had a wonderful time meeting someone new, even if just for a moment. He seemed like a busy man in a high-stress job, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he looked at your open-relationship-with-a-fiance situation and decided it was too much drama.

But the very next day after meeting him, he sends you a text. Repeating that he had a great time and asking if you’ve already started any of the books you bought.

You try (and probably fail) not to giggle like a schoolgirl every time he texts you. He’s as sweet through the phone as he was in person. Throughout the week, he checks on you (more messages than you’ve gotten from your fiance in a month) asking after your days and nights and generally chatting.

On Thursday at lunch, you ask if he’d like to meet up again, heart clenching anxiously. Nearly throw your phone across the break room when his name pops up as an incoming call.

When you answer, he doesn’t even waste time on a greeting.

“I’d like to take you on a date, luv,” he specifies, voice silky and amused in your ear.

Date one is a nice dinner. He shows up at the door with flowers. You have to take a second to blink away the mist in your eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” you hurry to say, summoning a smile. “Just no one’s ever bought me flowers. Thank you, they’re wonderful.”

And then you realize that probably sounds pathetic and quickly turn away to deposit them in a vase. (Miss the baffled and almost offended frown on Kyle’s face as that processes.)

At dinner, the two of you toast by tapping your appetizers together. He feeds you bites of his meal from his own fork, and you let him try your wine, giggling at the faces he makes.

The night ends (after dessert, a walk in the park, and a nightcap at a quiet bar) at your front door. Kyle fits a big, warm hand on your waist, pulls you in… and drops a chaste kiss to your cheek.

You try not to let your disappointment show, but he must catch it because he chuckles and gently nudges your face back into position. Graces you with another kiss at the corner of your mouth.

“I want to, darling,” he admits, so close you’re sharing air. “Trust me, I want to. But I need you to know I’m doing this for the right reasons too.”

Touched and a little choked up, you hug him tight, cheek pressed to his chest. His breath stutters. And then his strong arms are curling around you, tucking you in, his whole body becoming a warm haven.

“Can we… can we do this again?” you ask hopefully.

“Darling, I’d take you out tomorrow if you’d let me.”

Date two is bowling, which you find Kyle is actually terrible at, despite being a sniper. You laugh and joke through three games, trouncing him each time. He doesn’t seem to mind losing in the slightest, and even takes you out for a victory ice cream afterwards. You hold hands while you lick at the cone.

Date three, you invite him to a wine and paint night. He seems willing, though unsure. By the end, though, the two of you are giggling and tipsy, paint on your hands and faces. He kisses you against the passenger door of his car, lips soft and gentle. Moans when the tip of his tongue skims your bottom lip.

On date four, you sing to the radio in the car. Blush when you catch him sneaking glances at you, but also notice that he goes around the same block twice. Tease that you’re going to be late if he keeps stalling.

At the end of the night, he sweeps you in close on the dance floor.

“Come home with me?” he asks in your ear.

Your heart stumbles as you nod, cheeks hot.

He barely gets you in the door before pressing you back against it. Fingers in your hair, body one firm line pressed flush to yours. Kissing earnest but not rough, flicking at your bottom lip until you open for him with a soft sigh. He tastes like heaven, like the drinks you shared before this. Your fingers curl into his Henley, tugging him closer, arching your back.

The desire he’s been steadily building in your gut bursts into an inferno. You’re burning all over, can barely breathe. Dizzy with his cologne.

You break the kiss with a squeak when he scoops up beneath the thighs.

“I-I’m too heavy!” you gasp, clinging tight.

“Like hell you are,” he scoffs. “Come back here, I’m not done kissing you.”

You hesitate, taking stock. But he doesn’t feel like he’s straining; didn’t even make that mortifying grunt noise. Feel secure enough to lean back just a bit to check his expression.

There’s not an ounce of effort there. Just liquid dark eyes focused on your swollen lips, tilting his chin to coax you back. You go with a little thrill in your stomach, messier this time, teeth scraping.

He bumps you against the wall on his way to the bedroom. It doesn’t hurt but it makes you laugh against his cheek.

“Love your laugh,” he murmurs into your neck. “Could listen to it all day.”

Somehow that makes you flush more than the hard bulge pressing against your ass. So you shove your tongue in his mouth again to shut him up, breathless at his tongue curling against yours.

You squeal when he drops you on the bed with a little bounce, a brilliant, cheeky smile your reward. Then he tugs his shirt off and your mind goes utterly blank.

He’s a monument of strength and discipline, power in every plane of hard-earned muscle. There are glossy scars peppering his skin, and you’re fascinated as much as you are sad for his pain. He looks like a young god. You’ve seen marble statues half as beautiful as him.

“You’re bloody gorgeous,” you whisper, crawling to the edge of the bed.

He shivers and leans into your palms as they explore up his toned stomach, across the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, down his arms. Leave open-mouthed kisses against long-healed wounds and patches of smooth skin alike, appreciating every part of him.

He uses your interlocked fingers to draw you away, bending to meet you halfway. Speckles kisses over your cheeks and jaw, down to a tender spot beneath your ear that makes you hum. You could melt into him and just float.

He pauses there, breathes you in. “Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at your shirt. You hesitate, just for a beat — but it’s enough to have Kyle pulling back a little.

“We can stop here,” he offers. “Or we can just keep doing this. Whatever you want, luv, I’m not fussed.”

You duck your head, but he doesn’t let you escape for long, gently guiding your gaze up by the chin.

“Talk to me?” he asks.

“I-I want to keep going,” you say, “I’m just… and you’re so…”

He shakes his head, kisses you quiet. “I’m not anything but a man that wants to make his girl happy. In whatever way she’s okay with, yeah?”

You have to blink away another sting of inopportune tears. Then reach for your shirt and pull it off yourself.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, eyes going big.

You flush as he nudges you back, spread out amongst the neat sheets and pillows. His eyes trace every inch of you over and over, hands quick to follow. The contrast of his rough palms on your skin makes you squirm and sigh. He touches you like you’re something special, like he wants to savor you.

He nibbles kisses into your collarbones, lavishes your breasts with tongue and gentle teeth. Works his way down your stomach and stops again.

“Can I take the rest off?” he asks.

You don’t hesitate this time, shifting to give him access to the zipper. His hands fumble a bit when he notices the embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, thumbing at your slit through the fabric.

“Please let me eat you out,” he breathes.

You press your thighs together, nervous. “Y-you don’t have to…”

“I want to, luv,” he answers, eyes barely flickering away. “Fuck do I want to.”

Words desert you, so all you can manage is a jerky nod. For the first time, his patience seems to fray as he tugs your underwear off. Barely gets them down to one ankle before diving between your legs.

He laces sweet kisses along your thighs and hips, slowing as he gets closer and closer to where you want him most. His tongue dips into your slit, just skims your throbbing and sensitive clit. You moan softly. The next swipe of his tongue is bolder, curling at your soaked entrance. He groans into you, deep and animal from his chest and makes you shudder.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”

It’s impossible not to when he pampers your cunt so thoroughly. Never rough, never too fast. Like he could spend all night between your thighs. Sucking gently at your clit, thrusting his tongue inside, lapping in perfect, even strokes. You didn’t think you enjoyed oral from the few times you’ve experienced it — but Kyle makes it heavenly.

One of his hands, squeezing absently at your hip, travels down. He presses a finger at your entrance, playing in your slick but not going further. Waiting. You murmur a soft “please” that nearly has him growling.

Even just one finger feels like so much. His hands are bigger than yours. And so deliciously clever. It’s not long before you’re babbling for another, crying out softly when he provides. Two fingers curling and rubbing against your slick, sensitive walls and his tongue swirling around your needy clit — it’s so much. Overwhelming and perfect.

“K-Kyle, ‘m gonna…” you keen, shocked by how quickly it’s building.

Then he hums an encouragement and that little extra bit of stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge. You clench around his hand, hips twitching, grinding against his willing mouth through wave after wave. Not even aware of the noises you’re making until they fade off into soft whimpers of overstimulation.

Kyle eases his fingers from you, drops one last kiss to your hip. The lower half of his face is glistening. If you weren’t still somewhere in the stratosphere, you’d be embarrassed. But right now all you can manage is a quiet, needy noise, reaching for him.

He smiles and crawls over you, the warmth of his body soothing your shivery muscles, easing you through aftershocks. You wipe absently at his chin as you exchange lazy, sloppy kisses. Surprised to find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself; not much different than jizz.

“Give me… another second…” you mumble, head falling back as you catch your breath. “I’ll return the favor.”

Against your leg, you can feel him twitch through his jeans. He feels big. Your stomach clenches with want.

“That sounds bloody amazing, don’t get me wrong,” he answers, voice husky in your ear. “But if you’re up for it, I’d like to feel you cumming ‘round my cock.”

You gasp, not sure if you’re scandalized or even more turned on than before. Both?

“Wait, but I already…”

“I know, I was there,” he teases, kissing your temple. “But I wanna see it again. Feel it proper this time.”

You pause, blinking up at him as you trace your fingers along his ribs. “But isn’t that… I dunno, unfair?”

“Fuck no,” he answers. “I’d spend all night just making you cum if you let me.”

You huff and swat at him. “I think you’d kill me.”

“What a way to go, though, eh?” he chuckles, arching his eyebrows.

You groan, but there’s no hiding your grin. He brushes hair back from your face, cups your cheek.

“What do you say, baby? Let me fuck you good and proper.”

You snort, turn to nip his thumb in relation, but chirp, “yes, please!”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #poly 141 #misters steal your girl #open relationship trope

2K notes · View notes

trivia-yandere · 4 months

Text

sibling rivalry

returning from college for break and jungkook loves winning the battle - especially when you thought you could forget about him... @junecat18 @tatyhend @mother2monsters @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom @yoongiwantsme @chimmisbae @whipwhoops @prettyxxxplease @shameless-army

word count: 7.109

warning: coercion, blackmail, jealous/possessive jungkook, yandere, pseduo incest, affair/cheating, unsolicited touching/groping/grinding, kissing, fingering, oral sex, emotional manipulation, creampie, semi-public, car sex,

series masterlist | part 1 | part 2

It’s been a year, Jungkook notes. A year since he saw you - as insane as it was. You were only three hours away from him, and yet you made yourself unavailable for him.

It’s been a year since you returned home for any holiday - and when you had, decided to remain with your mother regardless of what your father thought.

It’s been a year since you and Jungkook have been together and he could not fathom as to why you wouldn’t bother to answer any of his calls and only opted to dry messages.

You refused to see him when Jungkook drove the three hours to your college in an attempt to see you just once - even if it meant that there was no sex. Jungkook loves you but his love was slowly turning to loath; utter detest.

You were ignoring Jungkook, completely refusing to see him. You made new friends and joined clubs at your colleges. You went to parties and shared your college life on social media that he followed sullenly. If he wasn’t watching it, he was hearing it when he returned home by your father and his mother.

“Y/N’s doing amazing in school.” his mother gushed about your amazing grades. “She’s made so many friends, too.”

What made Jungkook’s blood boil and his senses highten was when your father said: “Y/N introduced me to her boyfriend over the phone. He seems to be a nice guy for her.”

Boyfriend?

Boyfriend.

You have a boyfriend and it only took Jungkook five minutes to find him. You never posted him, but yet again, you restricted Jungkook from witnessing certain things when it came to social media. You understood that posting your boyfriend where he could see would only provoke him, so you didn’t.

That didn’t mean the “boyfriend” never posted you - and he did frequently. You were in his bio, his story, all over his profile - it drove Jungkook sick. The fact that you had a boyfriend and you didn’t tell him; he was disgusted.

You and Jungkook were family - he loves you!

Jungkook was there for important events in your life and the fact that you would go off to college and try to forget about his existence told him that you never loved him. Even after he loved you enough to pleasure you countless times; to assure that your needs came before his own.

Slowly, Jungkook was beginning to hate you. He would always love you - you were his sister, after all, however, he hated you as a person. He watched sullenly as your boyfriend continued to post sweet messages of you and him all over social media; the pictures and short videos of you and him laughing and smiling. The cheap gifts he’d buy you that would only warm your pathetic heart because back home, no one ever had.

It appears that you went to college and became an entirely different person; one Jungkook didn’t recognize and he made it his mission to humble you when you returned.

Jungkook’s wish was becoming true after months of forming his own plan. The only way for you to return home from college at the same time as Jungkook was for him to do the same as you were doing him; ignore you. He stopped himself from calling you and would only result in texting. He never watched any of your stories you’d post and began posting his own with Luna - sadly just a pawn in his plan.

Luna was beautiful, you thought, and you were glad Jungkook found a person for him white he was in college. Her hair sat above her shoulders in waves and her eyes showed nothing but love whenever she looked at Jungkook. It was the reason you began showcasing your own boyfriend - Jungkook had found someone, and so had you.

“You should come for winter break, Y/N. Jungkook is bringing his girlfriend.” your father had told you over the phone, exactly a week before break. He pleaded with you, stating that he had not seen you in so long.

And now Jungkook had you where he wanted you. You had agreed to come along because, in your eyes, there was no threat. There wasn’t going to be any awkward encounters with Jungkook because he had Luna, and you had Jae. You were happy for Jungkook and even had texted him happily stating that you couldn’t wait to see him and be introduced to Luna - something he couldn’t say the same for upon meeting Jae.

As the time came, Jungkook’s hatred for you couldn’t last long because he did love you. You looked happy, he notes as you stroll through the door. Your smile is wide and it reaches your eyes. Nothing much has changed from the last time he saw you in person a year prior besides the fact that you had someone walking directly beside you.

Jungkook hated Jae. The man is tall - as tall as he was - and had dark brown hair that appeared to be freshly cut and styled, as if he was trying to one up him. His demeanor and overall look was relaxed and cool and when he introduced himself to Jungkook as your boyfriend, it took everything in him to not laugh in the man's face.

Dinner had come and went and it looked as though you and Luna were hitting it off great. You asked questions that Jungkook didn’t care to ask Jae - like how Luna and he met, how long they had been together and what college life was like. It’s a shame you were starting to like Luna and Jungkook together - even more ashamed he couldn’t say the same for Jae.

“I’ll wash the dishes.” Jungkook says aloud, lightly patting Luna’s thigh. “You can sit in here with them.” he tells her, tone low.

Jungkook exits the living area and begins to do as he said he was, his mind on the way Jae sat so close to you and speaks fondly of his time with you in college. He’s scrubbing the dishes so hard that he doesn’t realize the footsteps coming directly behind him.

“Are you okay?”

Jungkook blinks a few times to register the voice.

“Kook?”

“Yes?” Jungkook turns his head to look at you. You’re standing a few feet away from him, leaning against the counter.

“You were scrubbing hard.” you try to joke. “Is something on your mind.”

Yes. “No.” Jungkook snickers, rinsing off the plates.

“Want some help?” you ask after a few moments of silence.

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders, continuing to wash the dishes and place them on the rack. You begin to dry them, eyes glancing at Jungkook every so often.

“Is everything okay?” you question. You couldn’t help but feel Jungkook be distant the entire time. “You seem…”

Jungkook waits for you to respond, and when you do he wants to laugh.

“Distant. As if your mind isn’t really here.”

“You would know about being distant, I suppose.” Jungkook murmurs.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you went to college and started ignoring me, Y/N.” Jungkook hisses. He hurls a glass cup onto the rack without caring if it slipped off or not.

“I thought we got through that.” you swallow, picking up the glass to dry it. You glance to the sliding door where the kitchen is separate from the sitting room. It’s slightly cracked and you can hear muffled voices.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, if that’s what you’re feeling, Kook.” you sigh. “I…didn’t want anything to happen.”

Jungkook knows what you’re speaking about. You’re trying to say it without revealing any secrets.

Jungkook turns off the water to turn to you. “Anything like what?” he questions. “Like me fucking you?”

Your eyes widen and your hand clenched onto the towel. “Jungkook.” you hiss low. ”Stop.”

“Like what, Y/N? Me eating you out?” he scoffs. “Something like that?” “Don’t do this now.” you tell him while throwing the towel onto the counter. “I’m here with Jae and you’re here with Luna.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Is that the reason why you haven’t been back in a year? Because you have Jae?” Jungkook speaks his name with such disdain. “You ignore my calls and refuse to see me because of a boy you just met when I’ve been here for you for years?!”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to make his voice louder. He doesn’t want to draw any attention to the two of you, but he cannot help the way he feels at this moment.

Your eyes glance to the crack in the sliding door to see that no one has noticed you or Jungkook.

“Yes, Jungkook.” you shrug your shoulders. “I ignored you because I had Jae.” you admit. “I ignored you because I had a life that wasn’t you. I have friends. I go to parties and I have fun. I do everything that you’ve been doing.” you shrug your shoulders once more.

“I’ve never ignored you.” Jungkook spits. “At the end of the day, you’re still my sister-”

“Step-sister.” you interrupted. “Don’t act like the caring brother now, Kook.” you scoff. “I didn’t want to come back and face you. I thought things were different but obviously they’re exactly the same.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches at your words.

“Maybe I should just cut this trip short-” “Shut up, Y/N.” Jungkook snaps. He hasn’t done it in years, since the two of you were 12. He mushes your face entirely away, an act he did because he knew it pissed you off. “You’re such a bitch, you know that? You use me-”

“Use you?!” you hissed low in an attempt to keep the conversation between you and Jungkook. “I never needed you for anything!”

“Oh?” Jungkook scoffs. “You didn’t have a problem when I was making you cum. You didn’t have a problem-”

“Fuck. You.” you snap, every ounce of venom in your soul coming out with just two words.

“Already did.” Jungkook shrugs. “I’m sure you didn’t forget. Tell me, Y/N. Did you use what I taught you on him?”

You turn on your heels and make your way towards the sliding door. “I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” Jungkook isn’t phased by your words.

“Back to campus.” you turn to him, your hand on the door. “I don’t want to be around you anymore.”

“Stop being selfish for once, Y/N. Think about your father and what you’d be doing by leaving again.” Jungkook crosses his arms. “Typical of you to keep thinking about yourself instead of others.”

Your nails dig into the door as your eyes bore into Jungkook’s. You grit your teeth. Jungkook had a point - you didn’t want to leave your father. He had missed you dearly and having you and Jungkook in the home again was causing him great joy.

It was Jungkook you didn’t want to be around. There were reasons as to why you chose to ignore him while in college - you couldn’t feed into what the two of you were doing any longer. You had to be the one to end it before it got too much; and it had. Jungkook had grown territorial and slowly despised you for it.

“Exactly.” Jungkook's lips display a smile on them, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I missed you, Y/N. I missed us. Doesn’t this feel like old times?”

Jungkook strolls closer to you, uncrossing his arms. His hand places itself onto the sliding door and slowly begins to open it. It’s only open a bit wider, but you can hear the conversation from those behind it. Luna and Jae are talking about college while your parents spoke amongst one another.

Jungkook stands directly behind you. “I love you, Y/N. You know that right?” he asks you. “You do, even if you refuse to admit it. But just because I love you doesn’t mean anything.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, slightly turning your head.

“It means,” Jungkook’s hand on the sliding door places itself onto your shoulder. “I don’t have a problem telling your boyfriend just how much you and I love each other.”

Your heart drops at Jungkook’s words.

Jungkook hums at your silence. It meant that now you were taking him serious. “Good.” Jungkook speaks. He lowers his head slightly to place his lips on your cheek and kisses it gently. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” he says before taking a step back and sliding the door open.

“I don’t mind sleeping out here, really.” Jae shakes his head with a smile. “I was actually expecting to stay at a hotel, so this is great.”

You take a deep breath and roll your eyes. “I’m an adult.” you say aloud, eyes glancing at your father. “I’m old enough to have my boyfriend in my room.” you grumble.

“I’ll keep your boyfriend company, sis.” Jungkook says, laying across the large couch. He offers you a smile. “Luna’s going to be sleeping in my room.”

“See, baby. It’s fair.” Jae murmurs towards you. “It’s only for a few days before I have to go meet with my parents.”

You cross your arms, not fully convinced.

You were an adult and if you wanted to have your boyfriend in your room with you while you two slept, you could. Having him sleep in the living area was just childish.

Not only that, but having Jungkook in there with him made you nervous. You couldn’t trust Jungkook and Jae alone - you couldn’t trust what Jungkook would do or say to him.

“See, no one’s complaining.” your dad claps his hands. He wasn’t going to risk anything happening under his roof with 4 young and hormonal young adults. “I’m going to bed.” your father makes his way towards you and wraps you in an embrace. “Good night, my love. It’s good to have you back.” he says, kissing your forehead.

“Night.” you sigh in defeat, offering a loose hug to your father.

Your father retreats to his bedroom and you linger slightly in the living area. Jungkook and Luna are speaking to one another, his arm around her waist as he murmurs in her ear. She’s smiling and giggling, her cheeks a rosy color and you want to gag at the sight - and roll your eyes.

Fuck Jungkook, you think. He was put on this earth to annoy you, and not only that; but to assure that you would constantly be looking over your shoulder. Your heart is filled with sorrow and regret for what you’ve done with Jungkook.

“I’m gonna go to bed early.” you sigh to Jae, offering a small smile. You wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you for coming here with me.”

“No problem.” Jae murmurs, grasping your waist to bring you closer to him. “I wish you could come with me to meet my parents.”

You did, as well. But you promised your father you would remain for a week - and the last thing you needed was to provoke Jungkook when he had something dingling above your head.

“I will next time. I promise.” you press your lips against his. “Good.” you kiss him once more. “Night.”

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours as you walk down the hall to your bedroom and a humorless scoff releases from his throat.

“I should probably be heading to bed, too.” Luna says, kissing his cheek. Jungkook blinks to come back to reality and slowly, he nods his head.

“Good night.” Jungkook murmurs, kissing Luna’s lips. “I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

Luna nods her head.

Jungkook makes himself comfortable, lifting his blanket to his chest and laying upon the pillows of the couch. He swallows, finding the way Jae is tossing and turning to be a complete nuisance.

“Jung…Kook?”

Jungkook blinks in the dim living area. He contemplates ignoring Jae and pretending to be asleep, but curiosity gets to him.

“Yes?”

Jae releases a sigh. “I really like Y/N.” Jae says nervously.

Jungkook licks his lips and hides a scoff. “Yeah?” is all he responds with.

“Yeah.” Jae murmurs. “I think I want to marry her.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You haven’t been with her for long.” Jungkook speaks, the words coming from Jae’s mouth sounding utterly ridiculous.

“I know.” Jae chuckles. “But, I really do like Y/N. She makes me happy.”

Jungkook’s foot begins to shake, Jae’s words replaying in his mind and without thinking, he says: “You sound pussy whipped.”

Jae is silent and for a moment, Jungkook ponders if he was ignoring him. Not as if he cared - nothing Jae was something he took seriously. Jae didn’t know you like he did; he just knew what you showed him. Jungkook knows the real you - the you in the morning, you when you were on your period or the you when you were sad, hungry, happy; everything. Jungkook knows the real you, not Jae or any other man you’d ever bring around.

“Y/N and I never…yeah.” Jae’s cheeks are hot when he responds. Jungkook and you are siblings and he doesn’t want to talk about this with your brother.

Jungkook’s ear perks at Jae’s words. “I see…” he trails off. “Do you see a future with my sister?”

“Yes.” Jae responds without missing a beat.

Jungkook’s foot shakes harder beneath the blanket. “Good luck to you then.” is all Jungkook says before placing his hands behind his head, eyes staring into the dark room.

Jungkook’s mind is caught in his own thoughts that he doesn’t realize how time has gone by - three hours. Jae has long since gone to sleep, snoring slightly. The home itself is quiet and he’s sure everyone has long since fallen asleep.

Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to. His mind is wandering with Jae’s words and your actions. It was obvious that Jae was smitten with you and you him. If given the chance, you’d be with Jae and forget about him entirely, and that was something he didn’t want.

Jungkook lifts himself up from the couch and slowly saunters down the familiar hall. All of the room doors are shut, including his own. He twists the door knob to his room and opens it slightly. Luna is asleep, lying on her back with her arms above her head. Her chest rises and falls slightly in rhythm.

Gently, Jungkook closes the door behind him and goes down the hall a bit more to your own room. He turns the knob to your door and opens it. You're lying on your side and unmoved. “I know you’re awake.” Jungkook speaks to you, entering your room and closing it behind him.

“I know how you sleep, sis.”

“Stop calling me that.” you respond to Jungkook. “What do you want, Kook?”

Jungkook comes closer to your figure. “Jae was speaking to me a while ago.”

You feel a shift on your bed and know that Jungkook’s getting onto it.

“Says he sees a future with you.”

Jungkook embraces you from behind and presses himself firmly against you.

“I won’t let that happen, Y/N.”

“Get off of me.” You squirm in Jungkook’s embrace, but he doesn’t let up.

“No.” Jungkook murmurs. “I won’t let you be happy with someone else. That means you’ll go back to forgetting about me.”

“Get off-”

Jungkook’s hands grip at your exposed skin - you’re not wearing much for bed. It’s been long since he’s touched you and at the act, goosebumps erupt on the skin of his arm.

“Your little boyfriend told me that he’s never touched you.” Jungkook murmurs, voice so deep and breath tickling the skin on your neck. “The way you’re allowing me to touch you tells me that it’s true.”

Jungkook’s hand glides up your sides and places itself onto your breast. He squeezes it, breathing increasing. “When was the last time you came, sis? Was it from me or did you have to pleasure yourself because he can’t?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Your mind is screaming at you to fight against Jungkook and his wandering hands.

“Kook,” you say, voice meek and low. “please stop.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop. Instead, he begins to grind against you. It’s been so long since he felt your body against his.

“Answer me.” Jungkook exhales. “I know he isn’t touching you and you must be so starved. So needy.”

Your moans are music to his ears and said moans catches you off guard.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

“Why not?” Jungkook questions. “You’re not fighting me off of you. You want this.”

Jungkook forces you to turn towards him. His lips lightly graze your own.

“Tell me you want this, Y/N.” Jungkook commands.

You shake your head. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Jungkook hisses. He’s so close, you note, and he could kiss you at any moment. “You meet someone else and don’t love me anymore.” he states matter-of-factly.

You release a sigh. “You sound crazy.” you respond meekly. “I’ll always love you. You’re my step-brother, after all.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Then why’d you refuse to see me in a year?” he asks, unable to get over the actions you’ve committed. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You swallow, glancing away from Jungkook. He wasn’t going to get over this and a part of you felt like it was your fault. Maybe if you would’ve told Jungkook that things couldn’t be the same then he would’ve taken it lightly.

Yet, you couldn’t dwell on what if’s and what you should’ve done - not when Jungkook held the past over your head.

“I’m sorry.” you murmur, defeated. “I didn’t know it’d hurt you this much.” you admitted.

Jungkook closes his eyes and releases a sigh. “I’ll forgive you this once.” he mumbles, a low smirk forming onto his lip.It’s a saying he’d say often when it comes to you - the first time being when you blamed him for breaking one of your father’s limited edition figurines. It then became a saying between the both of you, even for the littlest things that wasn’t worth truly being angry over.

You’re quiet, as is Jungkook. You’re unsure what to say or do next - it’s obvious that he had no intentions of leaving your room, but you also didn’t want him to stay any longer than he needed to.

You take a deep breath, your hands gliding up to Jungkook’s chest to push him away from you. “You should go.” you say to him.

“Hm.” Jungkook hums, his chest vibrating underneath your palms. “Why?”

You know why, is what you want to respond with. It’s an obvious reason - you shouldn’t be here with him; or ever caught in this position.

“We use to do this all the time-”

“As kids.” you deadpan, your annoyance rising. Jungkook feigns ignorance all the time and you were growing tired of it.

“I’ll leave if,” Jungkook wraps his own hand around your wrist. “we can just be together one last time. Like the old times.”

“Kook,” you shake your head with a sigh, but Jungkook’s grip on your wrist only tighten.

“Just one last time.” Jungkook murmurs. He pulls you closer to him and presses his lips against your forehead. “Tonight, it can be about you and me. And tomorrow,” he kisses down your forehead to your cheek then your jaw. “you can go back to your boyfriend and I’ll go back with Luna.”

You release a shaky breath when Jungkook’s hand releases your wrist to grip your waist. “Don’t you like Luna enough to not do this?”

Jungkook scoffs to himself. No, he thinks. He likes Luna, but he loves you - and that was the difference. Luna was beautiful and her likes her - she’s smart and an amazing girl to be around. But his love for you outweighed whatever he felt for her, and to him, it should be the same for Jae. He could never love another girl when you should be his first one.

“Just tonight, Y/N.” Jungkook pushes you closer to him, forcing your leg around his waist. “Then I’ll let you go back to Jae and enjoy your college life. You don’t have to ignore me anymore because I won’t pursue you.”

Jungkook’s lips are kissing along your neck now. Your body stiffens, the hairs on your skin standing all at once.

Your body is betraying you - this isn’t what you wanted. However, your mouth doesn’t move to speak to demand Jungkook to stop. His hands lower slowly - so slow as if to taunt you - to your ass. He grips it in the palm of his hands, hissing against your neck.

“You missed the way I touch you, Y/N. I know you did.” Jungkook declares in a hushed whisper. “You haven’t cum good in so long, who better than to do it but me?”

Warm and wet, Jungkook’s tongue slides along the nape of your neck.

“Do you and Jae do this? Does he touch you like I do?” Jungkook questions, adjusting himself so that he’s on top of you. You didn’t say no, he notes, nor are you any longer pushing him away.

“No…”

Jungkook knows how you get when you’re in bed; how humid it can be beneath your covers. He understands how little you dress for bed, and just how easy it is for him to have you naked in no time.

“He doesn’t kiss you the way I am now?” Jungkook’s lips send wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. He’s teasing you, noticing your shaky breathing.

“N-No…” your mind is screaming at you to push Jungkook away. Be adamant and stern - tell him that you didn’t want this and that this wasn’t fair to the both of you or to Jae and Luna.

“Then it should be okay for me to, right?” Jungkook reaches your breast, his eyes darting up at you. “I can leave all the marks I want because it’s not like he’d see…”

You feel your shirt being lifted upward. “You want this, don’t you, Y/N?” Jungkook murmurs, the cool air of your room slicing against your skin. “You haven’t told me to stop yet.”

It’s been so long since he’s seen your naked body in person and all he truly has close to it is the videos you and he took. His mouth begins to salivate and he wastes no time in wrapping a tongue around your nipple and his hand aggressively gripping the free one.

“Jungkook-!” you try your hardest not to be too loud - these walls weren’t as thin, but after your year celibacy, you’re unsure how you’d react to him.

“‘missed you so much.” Jungkook confessed muffledly.

This is wrong, you think. You put a stop to this for a year - you told yourself that you couldn’t go back to this.

This wasn’t fair to Jae; to Luna.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Jungkook to stop. Your mind and your body were going against one another. Was it wrong? Yes, and you were going to hate yourself for allowing Jungkook access to your body once more.

But you loved it - every moment of it. You loved how needy Jungkook was for you; how his tongue would suck and lightly, his teeth would tug onto your nipples. You adored the way he would grind into you hastily and his hand would grip your breast.

“I missed you, too.” you moan at, hips buckling with Jungkook’s. He knew that he had you where you both wanted to be - with one another.

Of course you missed him - being away for so long with no pleasure. What was Jae good for if he wasn’t doing anything for you?

This is why Jungkook took your lack of sexual journey for the last year to his advantage - he could leave whatever marks on you that he desired because it wasn’t like anyone was going to see.

Jungkook doesn’t stop suckling on your breast until they’re both littered with bite marks and purplish hickies - but even then, he wasn’t done. He had to taste you; not having you on his tongue for so long drove him crazy.

“I’m gonna eat you out.” Jungkook says, his fingers hooking on your shorts. “And you’re gonna cum on my tongue, okay?”

You could only nod, defeated. When your high came down, you were going to look back ashamed on being such a whore and allowing Jungkook in.

Jungkook kisses down your stomach to prepare you - and himself - for this. He throws your shorts and panties aside without a care and pushes your legs apart.

“Such a pretty pussy.” Jungkook admires, speaking to himself more than anything. He doesn’t hesitate in diving in, fully devouring you as if this was his last meal - and in a way it was.

Jungkook hooks your thighs apart, holding them in a firm grasp to assure you cannot squirm away from him. He lays his tongue flat against your clit, head bobbing side to side rapidly.

Your back arches in shock with the new pleasure, your teeth harshly biting your lips to not expose yourself.

Your thighs quiver to be released, but Jungkook is stronger than you. His tongue dips between your folds and circles around your slit, fully teasing and edging you on.

“Kook, please…” you moan low, blinking away from Jungkook.

“Stop being so silent.” Jungkook scoffs,eyes flicking up to you. His tongue continues to suckle on your bulging clit.

“Do you want us to get caught?!” you hiss, slamming your head back against the pillow and releasing a moan, a bit higher than the rest. Your hand finds his hair and you grip it tightly.

Jungkook allows you to guide him and take control of your pleasure. Your hips buckle as you grind against his tongue, your body trembling with ecstasy.

“F-Feels so good…”

You’re going to hate yourself later, but now - now you wanted to cum after having not in so long.

Jungkook knows your body more than anyone. He enters his fingers inside of you and begins to pump, encouraging you to cum right on his tongue like he intended you to.

Your pussy’s so tight, Jungkook groans. So tight and ready to be fucked full - Jae was a fool to not take you because that only made your pussy crave him more.

Jungkook pumps his fingers with might, your pussy dripping onto his wrist. Your hand no clasps itself onto your mouth to prevent any unwarranted moans.

“I wish you could see how slutty you look now.”

Jungkook leans away to admire your quivering form beneath him, slamming his fingers even deeper inside of you. They scrape against your walls heavenly, so much so that you could barely manage to keep your eyes open.

“You ignored me for so long just to come back to me. Knew you’d never find anyone better, huh?”

Jungkook places a thumb against your clit and circles it.

“You ignored me because you knew how much you truly wanted me. A slut like you could never leave her legs close around me.”

Jungkook’s breathing increased and he shook his head. “Get up.” he removes his fingers from inside of you. “I can’t fuck you how I want to in here.”

Your eyes snap open at the loss and you blink. “W-Where-”

“Car.” is all Jungkook says before removing himself from you and going to pass you your discarded clothing. “If this is going to be our last time, I’m not holding back.”

It shouldn’t have, but your pussy clenches with anticipation.

This was yet another moment given to you to deny Jungkook - but you haven’t. Instead, you followed closely behind him as the two of you sneaked out of the home and around back to where his car sat. The night is dark and stateless, and his car is completely dark as you enter. He turns it on and turns on the heat as it warms.

“Back seat.” Jungkook demands, closing the driver seat door as he climbs to the back. “Take off your clothes.”

Jungkook doesn’t want to waste any unnecessary time - a year was long enough. He’s doing the same as you, removing useless clothing if it meant that he could be inside of you quicker.

“This is our last time.” you say, removing your clothing - your coat, sweats and shirt all discarded to the side. “Then we can never do this again.”

“Sure.” is all Jungkook says, glancing at your face.

You swing your leg around to sit onto his lap. “I’m serious, Kook-”

Jungkook’s palm slams into your face and once more - like before in the kitchen - he mushes your face back. “I heard you the first time, sis. You can go back to your lame boyfriend tomorrow.”

“Fuck-”

“-You. I will.” Jungkook centers his cock at your entrance and lightly taps it. “Still on birth control?”

You nod your head with a bite of your lip.

“Good.” Jungkook says, slowly entering you. His hands place themselves on your hips as he allows you to adjust to his size.

You’re squeezing around Jungkook so tightly and not even intentionally. Your eyes begin to roll just as you begin to grind against him, your hands wrapping around his neck.

“Shiiit.” Jungkook grunts.

You were needy, Jungkook thinks. You needed this - if not, you wouldn’t have been fucking yourself as if you did. Your feet are planted directly onto his set as you rise and fall against him, your moans of pleasure no longer needing to hide.

“You missed being fuck, didn’t you?” Jungkook’s cocky, but why wouldn’t he be? He had you where he wanted you - creaming his cock while your boyfriend laid sleep not far away.

Jungkook’s hand roams your naked body, unsure where he wants to lay them. Your breast bounces in his face, as if taunting him to suck on them even more.

“S-Shut up.” you whimper, your nails digging into the skin of his neck. Your forehead leans against his.

“Feels good?” Jungkook asks rhetorically. “Come,” Jungkook presses his lips against yours and his hands onto your hips. He begins to thrust upwards into you, meeting your own thrusts. “gonna fuck you all night.”

Your lips press back onto Jungkook’s, completely lost in the immorality. As much as your mind wanted to fight against it, your body refused. Jungkook was the only man you’ve been with sexually so far, and the only one that could satiate the hunger you felt.

The kisses become sloppy; needy. Neither of you want to stop, lust filling both bodies to the brim.

There’s a never ending urge inside of Jungkook, an urge he never wants to complete if he meant he could always be inside of you. He flips you onto your back, crashing you against the cool seats of his car.

Jungkook begins to fuck deeper inside of you, uncaring about how aggressive the car begins to rock.

A year.

A year since Jungkook got to cum inside of you. A year since he felt your walls wrapped around him so heavenly and your moans enticing him beautifully.

A year since Jungkook got to be around you - the longest he’s gone without you since he was a child.

Jungkook’s breathing increases as his hooded eyes look down at your figure. So beautiful, he ponders. So beautiful that it’s shameful that he is forced to give you to another man that could never love you as much as he could.

Jungkook wouldn’t allow it - not caring if you choose to hate him for the time being. He wouldn’t allow you to settle for second best.

“All mine,” Jungkook groans, capturing your lips with his own. His cock plunges in and out of you at an unbearable speed. “only mine.”

Your arms embrace Jungkook to keep him closer to you.

“Say it, Y/N. Say you’re mine.” Jungkook grumbles, dark eyes boring into yours.

“You know I love you, Kookie.” you respond softly with a small smile onto your lips. “No need to get territorial.”

Jungkook groans. There was an absolute need - because eventually, you would try to find another man that didn’t love you enough and he wouldn’t allow you to.

“I can be all yours for tonight.” you press your lips against his with each passing word. “Just you and me.”

It’s exactly what Jungkook needed to hear; a confirmation. You were his - even if just for tonight - you were all his and for the entirety of the night right before the sun rose, you and he had continued as the gas wasted away

. Jungkook has cum inside of you an insane amount that if you weren’t on birth control there would be no doubt that you’d fall pregnant. He fucks you as many times as you’d let him - on your back, on your chest, between the driver and passenger seat.

Jungkook had no intention of this being your last night with him.

“What are you doing?” you ask Jae once you emerge from the bathroom. Three days had gone by so far and Jae wasn’t set to leave for another day.

Jae turns towards you with a hard stare that has you halting in your tracks.

“Jae-” you reach out for him and he jerks away from you.

“I have to go.” Jae murmurs with a shake of his head. “I-I…”

Jungkook watches from the kitchen, sliding door cracked. He takes a sip of his drink, eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t understand.” you shake your head. “My dad should be off of work soon he can take you to the train station but-”

“I’ll catch an Uber.” Jae turns away from you. You’re confused by the sudden change. The last three days had been normal for the two of you.

“Jae, please talk to me.” you begin to follow him towards the front door. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Jae stops in his tracks, suitcase in hand. He slowly turns towards you, a look in his eye that wasn’t familiar.

Goosebumps emerge onto your arms at the sinister look in his eyes.

“Jae-”

“You’re fucking your brother.”

Jae’s voice is deep and stern - you’ve never heard him use such language before.

You shake your head, gulping. “W-What?” you murmur so low and inaudible that you yourself are unsure if you said it or not.

“You’re,” Jae turns towards you fully. “fucking your brother.” he repeats each word slowly. “You’re fucking your brother and you brought me here to meet him.”

Your mind is racing and your eyes are wide.

“Where is this coming from?”

Jae drops his suitcase harshly. He rummages through his coat pocket and takes out his phone. He shoves it into your face as the video plays - the same video from a year prior of Jungkook and you in his car.

Right before college.

“I-I can explain-”

“Explain how you’re fucking your brother?!” Jae hisses with such venom that it makes you flinch. “Explain how you brought me here to meet him like a fool. What type of relationship do you two-”

“N-Nothing!” your eyes begin to water. “Jungkook isn’t my biological brother, he’s…” your breathing increases.

“Why does that matter, Y/N? There’s pictures all over here of you and him as kids!” Jae waves around his arms to said pictures on the walls. “You were raised as his sister! You call the same man dad!”

All you can do is shake your head as the tears begin to fall. Your heart hurts and you’re full of pure embarrassment of being found out.

“Jae…”

“I’m leaving, Y/N. Don’t…don’t contact me anymore.” Jae pushes his phone back into his pocket. “I’m upset with you, but I don’t hate you. I wish you the best.”

Jae picks up his suitcase from the ground and turns away from you. You want to reach out for him and apologize - beg for his forgiveness. You want to plead for him to speak with you just a little while longer so you can explain.

You don’t - you didn’t have the right to.

“Y/N.”

Your head whips around to Jungkook leaning against the kitchen door.

“You asshole!” you screech, lunging at him to attack. “How fucking selfish can you be?!” you scream so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear.

“Calm down!” Jungkook screams back, restraining your wrists and halting your attacks. “It wasn’t me.”

“Who else has that video?” your tears are beginning to blind your vision. “You…you promised!” your voice cracks.

“Y/N…” Jungkook embraces you from behind. It’s the only way he could console you without you attacking him.

“Let me go.” you cry, your body going limp in his embrace.

“Luna isn’t here either. She left.” Jungkook murmurs into your ear. “I should have hid the video better. I’m sorry.”

You swallow. “L-Luna…knows?”

“Yes.” Jungkook murmurs. “She was the one who sent it to Jae. She suspected I was seeing someone else…” he trails off.

Jae knew.

Luna knew.

Your life was done - you wanted the world to swallow you whole at this moment.

Jungkook holds you against his chest as you cried. “It’ll be okay, Y/N.”

“I-I can’t go back there.” you shake your head. “J-Jae…will tell everyone and-”

“SShh, Y/N. Calm down for me, please.” Jungkook turns you around and guides you towards the couch. “Breath, baby. It’s okay. I’m here.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and sniffle.

“Why don’t you come home?” Jungkook suggests. “You can transfer to my college. It’s not too close to home but not as far, either.”

‘What about Luna?”

“Luna won’t be a problem.” Jungkook assures. He had already broken things off with her the following night before he sent the video to Jae. She had taken it well and insisted there was no bad blood between them. “Trust me.”

You sniffle once more, wiping your eyes to look at Jungkook.

Jungkook offers a warm smile. “There you go, Y/N. Wipe your tears.” he says softly. “I was thinking about getting an apartment for myself in the next few weeks. Do you want to stay with me when the transfers go through?”

You nod your head.

“Okay. I’ll tell Dad and we’ll get everything sorted, okay?” Jungkook rubs your arms encouragingly. “I’m sorry things with Jae didn’t work out.”

Jungkook wasn’t sorry, but he would apologize because you were crying and visibly upset and as someone he loves and cares for, he didn’t like it.

Jungkook presses his lips against yours and embraces you. “I’ll be okay, Y/N.” he tells you. “No one’s going to love you like I do. I’ll take care of you.”

#trivia-yandere #jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtan smut #bts smut #btswriterscollective #btswritersclub #bangtanwritershq #bangtanwriters net #jungkook smut #sibling rivalry #jungkook yandere #bts yandere #bts step siblings #dead dove fic

2K notes · View notes

yourmidnightlover · 1 year

Text

truth or dare... don't lie

pairing: xavier thorpe x fem!reader

summary: during a game of truth or dare, a secret about reader is revealed that xavier offers to help her out with.

warnings: SMUT LMAO, unprotected PIV, fingering, oral (F receiving), virgin!reader, kinda soft sex tbh, reader loses her v-card bc i'm projecting, kent, bianca, and yoko are kinda mean in this i'm not gonna lie, theres a bit of angst at first but then it gets really smutty and comforting

a/n: THIS IS NOT EDITED! i AM working on a part two to my series, but i have finals this week and can't focus enough to develop the plot how i planned so you're getting this instead to tide you over... wooo! enjoy horn-dogs :)

"it's your turn, y/n!" bianca started giggling as she took another sip of whatever alcoholic mixture she decided to deliver this time.

somehow you, enid, wednesday, ajax, xavier, bianca, kent, and yoko were playing a skewed version of truth or dare in xaviers single room. basically, it was the same premise of you choose a truth or a dare, but if you didn't complete the task or answer the truth then you had to strip. so... strip truth or dare.

it's not like anyone really cared, it was a week before winter break, and everyone had already finished their exams for the semester. luckily you were even able to have thing sneak into the teachers' lounge and bag some extra goodies, which was mostly only alcohol and little debbie snacks.

"what'll it be, y/l/n?" bianca continued to ask you. "truth or dare... or strip?"

you see, there was one MORE issue at hand...

you were down to your dress.

having already taken off your jacket, socks, and even your necklace, you were desperate to remain in the game with your integrity intact, although you were sure most of them wouldn't remember a thing because they had drank so much. except for wednesday, something about making sure enid got back to the dorm safely... blah blah blah.

well, and xavier, but you weren't sure why he wasn't drinking much on his end. maybe he was simply uncomfortable with it, or wanted to be the designated walk-er, helping everyone to their respective dorms. that's part of why you like him so much. he's so sweet and thoughtful, even when people choose to inebriate themselves beyond belief with alcohol. it wouldn't happen, and you know that. but a little schoolgirl crush never hurt anyone, right?

regardless, you needed something easy, so you remained covered and not embarrassed, "truth."

"boring!" enid rang out, hands cupping around her mouth to symbolize a megaphone.

"she is down to just her dress and whatever is underneath," wednesday pointed out with a nod. you turned to see xavier simply looking down at his phone, more than uninterested in the game.

"fine," you sighed. "i choose dare," you said smugly, noticing xaviers eyebrows raise as he made eye contact with you before you abruptly looked the other direction.

"there we go!" bianca clapped as the others cheered with her. "that's what i'm talking about y/n," she put her finger to her chin as if she were in deep thought with a quiet 'hmmm,' "i dare you to sit in xavier's lap for the rest of the game!"

"really?" your surprise was practically impossible to hide. "i don't think he'd be very comfortable with that, b."

"i'm cool with it if you are, y/n/n," he gave you a smile, one that you didn't recognize. it wasn't his 'i'm proud of you smile' or his 'you fucked up again' smile, no. this was a new one. this one seemed darker. mysterious. enticing.

you liked it.

"i-i'm cool with it," and with that, you got up and walked in his direction.

he had been sitting at his desk the whole time, in his comfy little chair. he pat his lap three times before you rolled your eyes at him and sat down on his lap, facing the same way as him. you tried not to put much weight on him, so you opted to sit on the very edge of his knees and let your tiptoes hold most of your weight.

"okay that can't be comfortable," xavier pointed out. "here," he carefully lifted you just enough to maneuver you over his lap, now sideways with your back against one armrest and your feet dangling over the other. "better?"

"mhmm, thanks," you smiled as you clasped your hands in your lap, one of xavier's arms still wrapped around your waist comfortably. it felt nice, like it belonged there.

from there on the game got a bit more... risqué. now there were kisses dared on cheeks, first time stories being drawn out, and so much more.

"xavier," ajax pointed at him, slurring his words with a big grin decorating his face. "truth or dare!"

"hmm..." he acted deep in thought. "dare."

"i dare you..." he clearly hadn't thought that far in advance, which is when enid leaned over and whispered something you couldn't make out to him. "oh that's good!," ajax whisper yelled, not being able to properly sense his own volume. "i dare you, xavier, to kiss y/n on the neck until your next turn!"

you turned to face him, your lips pressed into a thin line, praying that he couldn't see the rosy red blush that was surely adorning your cheeks by now.

"are you okay with that?" he asked, whispering in your ear so the others couldn't hear. once he got your quiet, but detectable 'mhmm,' he accepted the dare. "alright," with that, he got to work.

he pressed a feather-light kiss to your neck at first, and you thought you would be fine if this is what he would be doing the entire time. that was, until he began to press slightly open-mouthed kisses to your neck, occasionally gently nipping the area before soothing over it with his tongue.

there was no doubt in your mind that he could tell your heartbeat was racing. between feeling his hair brushing on the sensitive skin, and his tongue soothing his love-bites, you were about to explode. your hips were practically moving on their own at this point, trying to get whatever friction you could.

"hey," you felt xavier's hands grab your hips firmly. "if you don't stop moving your hips like that there's gonna be a mess between us that i really don't wanna clean up."

"what do you-" he shifted your hips up a bit more, hitting something a bit harder than his thighs were. "oh-is-is that...?"

"yea," he got closer to your ear, beginning to suck on the lobe and continuing his ministrations.

"in the school bathroom!" bianca rang out, laughing at whatever story kent was telling this time.

"i think it's y/n's turn again," kent diverted everyone's attention to you, so you tried to ignore xavier sucking on your neck like a leech, albeit a really hot one, to get through this.

"oh, and it's my turn," yoko cheered. "truth or dare, y/n?"

you really didn't think you'd be able to survive whatever dare they would throw your way, not in the slightest, which is why you chose: "truth."

"alright," yoko looked towards bianca and kent before asking, "what was your first time like?"

ajax might as well have ripped his beenie off then and there because you froze. you hadn't done it. you haven't gotten past giving a guy a handjob, let alone sex.

you didn't know how long you were quiet for, but you did notice when xavier stopped his kissing. you could practically feel his stare right on your face. you wanted it to go away. you wanted to disappear. it was humiliating, really. at least you thought it was until...

"you haven't, have you?" kent chuckled as bianca stifled a laugh.

"are you serious?" yoko asked incredulously. "well, i guess it makes sense to me," she shrugged as you tore yourself off of xavier's body, having to pry his hand away from your waist.

"hey," he held onto your hand softly and looked at you with what you thought to be puppy-dog eyes, you didn't have the best view due to the tears blocking your eyes.

"just..." you sighed as you took your hand out of his and ran out of his room, dorm, and the building as a whole. you just wanted to walk around, feel comfortable. then it hit you that there was always one place where you felt comfortable.

after around 15 minutes of walking around to clear your head, you got to xavier's paint shed. you had gone there nearly every time you needed help with homework, needed some advice, or if you simply missed him. it's amazing that even though he wasn't there, you could still smell his presence, the mahogany and woods scent that felt like home to you now.

you had made several forts in the place before, having secret sleepovers with each other countless times just because you wanted to. so, you brought out the mattress that was set up against the wall, put the fitted sheet on it and set up the bed as usual before plopping down on it.

you didn't even want to cry anymore. you just wanted to disappear. you felt like such a loser. i mean, why is that such a big deal anyway? it's just sex. but then again, if it's 'just sex' then why haven't you just done it?

"y/n/n?" xaviers voice called out as he knocked on the door of the shed. "look, i know you're in there. just wanted you to know that i kicked everyone out, okay?" you stayed quiet. "y/n," he sighed. "you know that just because you haven't... yknow, doesn't mean anything right? what yoko was saying... she doesn't make sense. because anyone would be so lucky to have you. you're unbelievably kind, and generous, witty, hilarious... and beautiful. you're beautiful, y/n. please just let me in? i wanna talk to your face, not some door."

you sniffled with a laugh, "it's been unlocked the whole time, idiot."

"hey, now," he called as he walked through the door, ducking down a little as to not hit his head on the low hanging fixtures. "why'd you run like that?" he as beside you on the bed, placing your long-forgotten items of clothing on one of the tables.

"why wouldn't i?" you turned the question on him. "i was humiliated," you began to pick at your nails. "i mean, you saw what happened. i was already flustered because you were kissing my neck and then i felt your boner because i couldn't just sit fucking still, which was embarrassing enough, but then the guy i like finds out i'm a virgin too! it was just too much. and then they were laughing at me and.... yea," you took a deep breath once you were done rambling.

"the guy you like?"

"you can't tell me you still don't know," you rolled your eyes once more before xavier grabbed onto your hands to stop you from picking at them like he normally does. "you. you know. it's you."

he didn't even say anything. it wasn't until you mustered up the courage to look at him that you saw a smile gracing his face.

"then you should know why ajax and enid dared me to do that to you in the first place," xavier scooted closer to you on the bed. placing one of his hands on your thigh. "i told them a couple weeks ago that i was starting to really, really like you-as more than friends. they went crazy, telling me you felt the same and everything, but i couldn't believe it. i mean, you're just... you're everything, y'know?

"i meant everything i said when i was outside. you're so sweet, and smart, and god, it takes everything in me not to kiss you when you look at me. because when you look at me, you really see me," xavier finished.

"kiss me," you told him in a soft tone.

"what?" his brows furrowed before you, with a shocking wave of confidence, swung one leg over his lap, now facing him and straddling his lap. his hands went to your waist

"i said kiss me," you leaned in closer to him. "please."

it didn't take anything else for him to bring one hand up to cup your face before finally connecting your lips. it wasn't like fireworks went off, or cannons bursted. it was more like a sense of belonging, welcomeness, and home. your lips had been craving him for so long, it was a sweet, cold treat in the summer as your tongues began to glide with one another.

once again, your hips couldn't contain themselves as they began to rock back and forth on his lap, this time successfully getting the desired friction exactly where you wanted it. you sighed into his mouth, your hands dragging through his hair as he began to nurse the same neck he was kissing nearly 45 minutes ago.

"i thought that would be the only time i'd have you to myself," xavier droned on. "i might've gone a bit overboard..." he laughed as he traced circles on your neck.

"what...?" you backed away from him before he picked up his phone, showing you with the selfie side of the camera how he had littered your neck with deep hickeys. "xavier!" you playfully shoved his shoulder.

"you better get used to it," he shrugged with a sly grin. "i can be territorial at times."

"god, as if you couldn't get any hotter," you began to peel off your dress, reaching for the hem before xavier swatted your hands away.

"let me," he ordered, you listened immediately, retracting your hands and placing them on his shoulders as he helped you rid yourself of your dress. "i don't even understand why you wore this since it's freezing outside."

"hmm," you mockingly acted like you were thinking. "well, when the guy i like is going to be in a place with booze, there might be certain possibilities and i wanted to look nice."

"you look better than nice," he pressed your lips together once more. "i was hard long before you even sat on my lap, y/n/n."

"please fuck me?" your voice was soft and whiny. "please? i want you, i just need you to-to y'know... please, xay?"

"you sound so pretty when you beg for me," he let his hand trace your neck before he buried his hand in your hair, gently tugging it back before admiring you in your nearly naked state.

"xay, please?" you were holding onto the hem of his t-shirt, nearly stretching it out with your begging.

"okay, love," he chuckled before swiftly tossing his shirt over his head, letting it land somewhere he wasn't concerned with. "now we're a bit more even, yea?"

"i just... i need you..." you were a squirming mess in his lap, to think an hour and a half ago you were pleading with yourself to keep your dignity and now you were begging for xavier...

"what do you need from me?" he teased, letting one of his hands trail down your front, hovering over your center. "i need to hear you say it for me. tell me."

"i need you," you sighed as you buried your head in his neck. "i need you to make me... make me cum?"

he chuckled maniacally, "is that a question? i thought i told you to tell me what you want?"

"please just make me cum xavier!" your frustration showed as you began to lazily press kisses to his neck. "please?"

he swiftly turned over so you were laying on the pillow at the top of the bed, him hovering over you with his hair falling to your face. he began pressing kisses down your body, gently squeezing your breasts and sucking on your nipples. eventually, after a few minutes of teasing, he reached your center. he moved your panties down your legs and began pressing kisses to your thighs, alternating between each one.

"has anyone ever done this for you before?" you shook your head 'no.' "is it alright if i do?"

"anything, xay, anything, please," you nodded as your hands tangled into his hair.

he pressed gentle kisses around your clit before licking one line through your slit, lapping up your juices like a man starved. you heard him moan into your pussy, the vibrations shooting through your core shocking you more than you thought possible. you reactively tugged on his hair, tossing your head back as he continued, now sucking gently, very softly, on your clit.

"oh my fuck," you breathed out, looking down at xavier to find his eyes fixated on you and your reaction. "god, you look so pretty, xay."

you felt him smile against your pussy, not letting himself get distracted by little compliments that he was sure melted his heart completely. one of his hands was gripping your thigh so hard you were sure there would be marks the next morning, the other hand was placed on your lower stomach, pressing down just slightly. he used the hand that was rasping your thigh and gently pushed a single finger in.

your mouth formed in an 'o' shape at the intrusion. his fingers were much longer than your own, and when he curled it inside of you, you swore you could see stars in his eyes as he continued to suck and kiss your clit. he gently thrusted his finger in and out a few times before adding a second finger.

"please don't stop," you were gripping his hair so tight you were surprised it hadn't ripped out. "'m so close, xay."

he stopped sucking your clit momentarily to say: "be sure to look at me when you cum."

you nodded dumbly as he got back to work, and it wasn't long until you were at that edge that no other man has ever been successful in bringing you to. at first you threw your head back before you remembered what you had promised him. with a few more thrusts of his fingers, you saw the look of pride on his face when he felt you squeezing his fingers in a vice grip, your mouth dropped open completely as pornographic moans left your mouth.

"fuck, yes, xavier!" you ground against his mouth as he worked you down from your high. "holy shit," your chest was heaving as he kissed his way back up your body.

he hovered over you as he sucked on the same two fingers that were just inside you, groaning, "did i tell you how amazing you taste?"

"will you fuck me now?" you reached down between the two of you to palm him through his sweatpants. "i really, really want you."

"i don't want you to just want to do this because you want to get it over with," you could sense the sincerity in his tone. "i want this to be more than just a hookup."

"it's not, xavier," you cupped his face with one hand. "i assure you, it's not," you smiled as he pressed your foreheads together. "you mean so much more to me than just one amazing night, xay."

"are you sure you want to do this?"

"yes."

"wait, i don't have anything..." xavier hinted with a worried look on his face.

"well, i'm obviously clean, and i've been on the pill since the eighth grade," you shrugged. "if you want..."

"really?" his eyes widened at the thought, you nodded. "i've never... shit. this'll be a new experience for the both of us."

after a bit of shuffling, xavier lined himself up at your entrance, looking at you one more time for confirmation. as he entered you, it was like the wind was knocked out of you. your arms wrapped around his neck as he continued to push himself into you. at a certain point, you thought it was never-ending.

"god, you're so tight," he breathed into your neck, pressing a kiss to one of your hickeys as he continued.

your head was thrown back as he finally bottomed out in you, one of your arms wrapped around his waist while the other was around his neck with your hand buried in his hair.

"so deep," you closed your eyes at the sensation. "'s like you're in my stomach, holy fuck."

he pressed down on that same spot he had earlier, very gentle, but you felt it so, so much. "is that where?" you nodded fervently.

"please move, xay, please," your hand was practically clawing at his back.

"i'm gonna go slow, okay?" you nodded at his words. "if you change your mind about anything at all, say the word and i'll stop, alright?"

"okay," you agreed with a smile as he slowly pulled back out before reentering at the exact same pace.

with each thrust, his pace increased. your moans' volume increased too. it was as if each whimper, moan, and plea was simply egging him on and bringing him to the end of that wonderful precipice of pleasure.

"you look fucking perfect," his own groans and huffs of pleasure rang out. "such pretty tits," he messily grabbed one of them. when he brought his hand down to play with your clit, you knew you weren't going to last much longer. "and such a pretty pussy for me. all mine, y/n/n. all mine."

"god, it's-i'm..." you were cut off by a guttural moan. "i need to cum. i'm gonna cum! xavier, please don't stop! please!"

"where do you want it?"

"inside, please!" you huffed out, clawing at his back as you whimpered in his ear. "need it so bad."

"say you're mine," he ordered. you could feel his dick pulsing inside of you.

"i'm-oh god," you cried out once more, tears forming at your lash line. "i'm yours! i've always been yours, xay, please! fuck!" for the second time, xavier was able to bring you off that cliff, this time he followed suit.

"so fucking pretty when you cum," xavier added before with a few more thrusts, his thick cum coated your walls. "oh fuck."

"oh my god," you sighed out as xavier slumped against your body, laying completely on top of you.

"you got that right," you could feel his smile against your shoulder before he began to press kisses against your warm skin. "here," he reluctantly got up from his position after carefully pulling out of you, tucking himself back into his sweats, and reached for one of his recently cleaned towels (he had a rotation for them, alright?). he began to wipe up your thighs, being very gentle at your center.

"xavier?" you called before he laid back down.

"yea?" he looked at your worriedly before you smiled, simply asking: "can i wear your shirt to sleep?"

a bright smile made its way to his face, "of course, yea," he helped you poke your arms and head through the shirt before he stepped back, admiring you in it. "i almost like this on you more than nothing on you. almost."

"xavier!" you called before shoving him to the side. "you perv."

"you like this 'perv,' as you call it," he rolled his eyes as he began to cuddle with you on the mattress.

"i wanna lay on you," you tried to get onto your knees to maneuver your way on top before he had to catch your arm.

"let me help you a bit," he tried to hide his smug smile while he rolled the two of you over.

"i'm never gonna live this down," you shook your head as he raked his fingers through your hair.

"nope," you laid in the most comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke again: "y/n?"

"mhmm?"

"i might've lied earlier when i said that i told ajax and enid that i liked you," you could sense a bit of restriction in his tone.

"what do you mean?" you held your breath.

"i told them the truth," he pressed a kiss to your forehead, getting your attention so you were looking in his eyes. "that i'm in love with you."

#xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe blurb #xavier thorpe wednesday #wednesday netflix

9K notes · View notes

katiexpunk · 6 months

Text

Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Part 2 | Part 3 Preview | Part 3

S P R I N G Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.

Oh god.

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.

God, he wishes you would have kept it.

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

1K notes · View notes

minhosimthings · 5 months

Text

Brooklyn Baby

Symphony smut series Day 2: Lana del Rey's Brooklyn Baby

Lyric: My boyfriends' in a band, he plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed

Pairings: dom!Heeseung × dom!Jay × fem!sub!reader

Warnings: Poly relationship, SMUT MINORS DNI, vibrator, double penetration, oral (f and m recieving), dacryphillia, degradation, reader wears a dress, mention of breeding, Heeseung fucks reader with a vibrator, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (definetly not for you), threesome, kinda mean doms hee and jay

A/N: Day 2! I love this song with all my heart so I thought Jay would be the perfect fit cause duh, but then I was like why don't we make it a little interesting and add Heeseung into the mixture? Anyway this is my first time writing poly so please be kind everyone.

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

When you took up the offer in college to be lead singer of a three-person band, you hadn't expected to become a celebrity princess overnight. What you also hadn't expected was for your two loving members, Heeseung and Jay, to become your loving boyfriends. A little bit of poly never hurt did it?

"Darling, we're going to be late if you don't hurry up." Jay peeked his head around the door, to see you applying your lip gloss all prettily around your lips.

The lip gloss he had gotten you.

"How do I look?" You turned to him with uncertainty. The dress was beautiful, one that your fans would adore. The makeup was also done to perfection by your '24 hour routine' as Heeseung called it.

"Beautiful as always." Jay responded, stretching his hand out to you, and twirling you around, relishing the tight fit of the dress against your waist, "I think engenes are going to want to steal you from me and Heeseung."

"Please." Heeseung's footsteps announced his arrival into the room, his eyes widening as they fell upon you, "They won't ever be able to do that.

"So protective." You wrapped your arms around Heeseung's neck, whilst Jay's stayed on your waist, "Are we ready?"

You looked into the mirror infront of you, where you all stood out perfectly in color coordinated outfits. A flurry of blues and purples perfectly describing your band's genre stared back at you in the mirror.

"Perfect."

"And now we have the overnight musical sensation! Please welcome Enhypen!" The host's voice boomed across the room, as you entered from backstage, both arms twirled in both your boyfriends' arms.

The audience applauded and hooted, cheering your names, the official fanchant over and over again and again.

"Well aren't they excited for today?" The host merrily laughed, as you sat down in between Heeseung and Jay.

"Well, welcome to the show! How are you feeling?"

"Nervous I guess." You answered with a slight chuckle, calming down as Jay's hand pressed on yours.

"Well of course! I believe you are excited for the live performance tonight?"

"Well of course." Jay responded this time. His perfume did smell good, you thought as you watched him speak with such eloquence. He did always have a way with his words everywhere.

"You're not ignoring me are you?" You heard Heeseung whisper into your ear, his hand creeping up to your thigh. You were thankful for the table infront of you which shielded the bottom part of your body, a part which Heeseung loved to touch.

His hand reached lower into your thigh, tickling your skin with his cold hands as he gripped them hard.

"And Miss Y/N!" The host said, snapping you out of the sudden urge to moan, "How would you describe your relationship with the boys?"

Great, you thought, another dumb question just for me.

"Um I'd say we're best friends." You nervously said. Revealing your relationship to the world wouldn't really be all sunshine and rainbows. "We've been friends since college actually, when we decided to form Enhypen. And well I guess we're close to family now." You awkwardly laughed to cover up the situation as the host moved on to the next question.

"And now, our dear audience let's get ready for the performance!" The host's voice boomed again, as the audience clapped their hands off.

A microphone and two guitars were all prepped and ready as you walked up, adjusting the mic to your level. Jay examined the guitar carefully and slipped it on, teasing the audience by playing a few notes on it, to which you heard girls scream his name. You smiled to yourself, remembering all the shit they wrote on your boys, all the fanfiction which they really thought would come true.

Hah as if! The boys belonged to you, and you only.

If only you knew what was coming for you after the performance.

"Best friends huh?" Jay pinned you against the wall, Heeseung's chuckles filling the room, as he slowly removed his belt and watch, "Too afraid to tell the world what we are darling?"

"Jay y-you know we can't." You reprimanded him, trying to take the upper hand. But only failure came to you at that moment, as you felt your thighs become stickier by the moment.

"Aww look at her." Heeseung chuckled again, "Our good little girl. Why don't we teach her a lesson, huh Jay?"

Jay smirked at you, going in for a kiss before saying, "Want her first?"

"Nah you have fun, I'll take her later." Heeseung settled himself comfortably on the loveseat facing the bed, his legs wide open in a manspread.

You felt shivers around your body as Jay, picked you up like a rag doll and threw you onto the bed.

"We don't need this, do we?" Jay toyed with your panties. The straps of your dress pressed tightly against your shoulders and Jay, pressed his fingers to your clothed labia, removing the underwear with ease and depositing it on the floor.

The shaky breath you took made Jay smile against your skin, the warmth of his breath crashing against your exposed flesh.

As his fingers slowly began to curve in and out of you, he came to kiss your skin, moving down with each kiss towards your clit. The sensation of his lips grazing the latter inevitably brought your hand to rest in his hair as you arched your back.

The room was dimly lit, courtesy to the closed curtains, but you could see Heeseung from the corner of your eye, smirking intently at Jay reaching down to your clit, one of his hands massaging the bulge on his pants gently.

Jacking off while Jay works his way through you, typical Heeseung, you would have scoffed if not for Jay providing heaven to you at that moment.

Jay's tongue made sinuous circles around your clit as his two fingers accelerated slightly. He knew which places he had to touch to make you produce the sweetest sounds, and he wasn't going to deprive himself of hearing them.

You can feel him grinning while he licks and swirls his tongue around your swollen nub, hands beginning to slow to a halt. His fingers pull almost all the way out you, causing your eyes to finally open and a noise of protest leaves your lips.

Your walls were perfect, taking his thick, long fingers into you so good. He curved them while making smaller and smaller circles centered on your clit, kissing and licking it.

Your hands gripped his hair more firmly, your breath quickening as the heat rose to your cheeks and the knot tightened in your belly.

And just as you the climax reached closer and closer, your mouth almost about to scream-

"Jay!" You cried, laying an eye on Jay's face peeking out from between your legs, "Why'd you stop?"

Jay chuckled and glanced over at Heeseung, who sighed and got up, striding over to you, the buttons of his shirt slightly opened, giving him a more powerful look

"Only our girlfriend deserves to cum, but you're not her are you?" Heeseung moved to the atmosphere above you, as Jay slowly collapsed on the loveseat where Heeseung had been sitting, "Remind me what she is Jay?"

"Our best friend." Jay said, an unusually sadistic tone to his voice, "Do you want the vibrator or will you be going in with your fingers?"

"Hand me the vibrator." Heeseung said, stroking your thigh with his fingers again, eliciting a mewl out of you, "You wanna use the pink one princess?"

"Don't ask her that you know she'll say yes." Jay's voice could be heard from across the room, as he dug and dug into the cupboard, "Aha! There you go."

A needy moan falls from your lips as Heeseung presses the pink machine deeper inside your pussy, whining a bit as it clenches tighter. Pleasure rushes through your core while your moans grow louder and needier.

"Aww look at her." Heeseung chuckles, "so fucking needy aren't you?"

He groans softly, biting his lip as he takes in the sight of you before him. Heeseung was never the one to keep his control. The vibrator slides through your folds absentmindedly, keeping you wet and needy. Heeseung's eyes darken a bit at the sight of your arching back.

"Fuck, princess," he whispers, kneeling on the bed closer to you. His free hand come to rest on your hips, sliding along, caressing your thighs, your curves in admiration and desire.

"How does it feel? Good?" he whispers, voice almost raw with need, "Do you want something better?"

"Fuck Heeseung!" You cry, feeling the vibrator switch to a faster pace, Heeseung pushing it deeper and deeper into you.

Tears falls down your face, the pleasure rushing through you almost being impossible to take. And yet, you didn't fuck two men at the same time to crumble so easily did you?

"Are you close, princess?" he leans his body over yours, whispering in your ears, "Do you wanna cum for me?"

“i-i’m gonna cum… fuck! Heeseung–!” you cry out, ready to tip over that peak until the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you was ripped away. "No!"

You whip your head around, glancing over your shoulder to see the shit-eating smirk Jay was wearing on his face.

“ah… i guess you really wanted to cum right?” he teases, one of his hands rubbing soft circles on his dick.

“aw… m’sorry baby,” Heeseung coos at you, his hands coming up to rest on your jaw. “but brats don’t get what they want, now do they?” he says, the grip on your face tightening.

“Think you can handle two dicks in your tight little cunt?” Jay teases, no having joined you and Heeseung in the bed. You've never heard him talk with such vile language before but you loved this side of him. “Yes daddy~” you moan out.

Skin colliding with skin filled the room, the sound bouncing off the walls.

With a loud moan you nodded, feeling how good the stretch provided by Heeseung's cock felt inside your cunt "right there daddy" you mumbled against the tip of Jay's cock before his hips slammed it inside your mouth once again. You couldn't help but whimper while his cock used your mouth, causing waves of pleasure to travel all over Jay's body who was harshly gripping a fistful of your hair as he deep throated you.

"You love doing this don't you, slut?" Heeseung chuckled, "Making us feel good?"

"but who fucks you better, huh darling?" Jay questioned, his eyes focusing on your face completely fucked out. Your ruined make up, your messy hair, the way your cheeks and nose were all red because of how roughly he was using your mouth and the sight of saliva all over your lips and chin made his cock twitch under your hand.

You moan around his cock with the sting of his condescension, feel Heeseung stiffen inside you with a rut of his hips, grazing your tender g-spot with the added swell. He stutters and curses, Jay grins through a breathy moan as he no doubt recognises the signs he’s seen a hundred times before.

"You wanna cum darling?" Heeseung's chuckle sounds like heaven to your ears, "What do you think Jay?"

"She's treatin me so good." Jay groans, feeling his cum in his belly, "Let her."

Heeseung nods, reaching around you to circle your throbbing clit with surprisingly firm and steady motions despite his impending release. He gets you there, bursts through the dam of white-hot pleasure with a final rut that forces you deeper onto Jay's cock, and the three of you come in an eye watering display of lust and synergy that shouldn’t be found in a group that says they're 'best friends'.

With Jay's cum dripping from your lips, Heeseung's from your post-orgasmic pussy, you wonder how you’re ever going to have sex again after this. Nothing could possibly come close to what you just experienced.

"Fucking hell." Jay collapsed on the bed on your right, while Heeseung did the same thing to your left, "That was good, wasn't it darl-" Jay's words stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw you clinging to Heeseung's bicep, and lightly snoring.

"You wanna get showered?" Heeseung whispered to Jay, "I got your favourite shampoo."

"Nah wanna stay like this." Jay answered, wrapping his arms around your waist, spooning you into comfort, "Family." He scoffed, "The only family we're ever going to be is when we fuck our cum into her."

"That's what I was thinking." Heeseung laughed, the three of you holding each other and collapsing into a cocoon of comfort.

1K notes · View notes

disneyprincemuke · 6 months

Text

bother figures * fem!driver

being the designated baby sister of the grid by default is never as easy as you think it would be

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver

warnings: ugh annoying men

notes: this is hardly funny but like i've had to take inspiration from my bother-less life rn so i'm like rly going through it rn LMFAO and it's almost 5am here but as far as i'm concerned, it is night time somewhere so teCHNICALLY i'm not late to an update!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

in the almost empty room, she sits in the corner seat as she taps away on her phone a message to reply to her siblings' group chat. she had arrived early for the driver's briefing and decided to take solace in the corner with a cup of hot chocolate.

she was enjoying the peace and serenity with the soft chatter in the background as she tried to lock herself in for the race weekend. that was until she felt a presence looming behind her with an aura she couldn't possibly ignore.

she slowly lifts her head up with a mean glare. she turns her head and meets max's blue eyes and sly grin. "what'cha doin'?"

she puts her phone on her lap as a scowl replaces her dead expression. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?"

"does it hurt you when you see me and like... not do anything to annoy me?"

"yes, actually. i like talking to you."

"i just wanted to talk to ciara."

"now you can talk to me."

"but i don't really feel like doing that."

"why not? i'm here in front of you and not behind a phone screen. where's ciara?" he looks around, then at her with a beaming smile. "oh, would you look at that? not here."

"because she isn't an f1 driver."

"still not here to talk to you and provide you the joys of interacting with somebody face to face."

"max."

"(y/n)."

"times like these i remember you've got a younger sister."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"you've mastered the practice of being annoying growing up, obviously. you're such a pro at it."

"how can you say that?" max cries, hand on his chest to feign hurt over her words. "i'm not annoying. please take that back!"

"you realise you made me stop my conversation with my lovely sisters because you saw me sitting alone."

max reaches out and pinches her cheek, grinning when blood rushes to her cheeks. "you were just looking a little lonely. just wanted to make you feel a little accommodated to, that's all."

she stares at him, lips pressed together. "okay, that's actually pretty sweet. i kinda feel bad now.”

“and you should!” max frowns, folding his arms over his chest. he leans back into his seat and rests one leg over the other. “you’re mean, you know?”

“i’m an oldest sister.”

“i’m an oldest brother.”

“i have three younger siblings that made me wanna shave my head bald.”

“that’s kinda crazy.”

“i know,” she sighs tiredly. but she smiles slightly. “but it’s kinda nice. with oscar and logan taking over those responsibilities growing up, we never had a moment of boredom at home.”

“cute!” max smiles. “if i lived with you growing up, you might’ve actually run away for good.”

“i could run away for good now if you’d like.”

“seb wouldn’t like that.”

“you’d have to deal with it. i’ll leave a note on my team’s fridge with your name on it.”

“you need to put the reason underneath. if not, your team will think you’re just naming the most handsomest driver on the grid,” max shakes his head in disappointment. “don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, you know?”

“if you say ‘handsomest’, it doesn’t need a ‘most’ before it,” she says, lips parted slightly at the atrocious grammar. if there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s most definitely the reigning world champion making simply grammar mistakes. “you should get more sleep.”

“i do! i slept like 10 hours last night!”

“somehow i find that hard to believe with the bags under your eyes.”

“what are you two bickering about?” a hand lands itself on the back of her chair. carlos stands next to her with one hand on his hip. “i could hear you from the hallways.”

“damn, you should really keep it down, max,” she chuckles, sending him a shocked look before she clasps her hands together and rests it on her stomach. “you’re too loud.”

“i’m sure he meant you. you like… swallowed a mic as a kid,” max scoffs. he looks up at carlos. “tell me she was louder than me.”

carlos sighs. “you were loud on the same level, i believe.”

"see? i told you."

"you're moving in with logan?" alex's jaw drops, the tiktok video no his phone left to play on repeat as the younger girl dropped the news that logan's moving into her apartment. "mate, what?"

she looks up at him with a confused stare. "what?"

"i thought you said you didn't want people talking about you like that?" alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "people will definitely talk if you move in with a man."

she presses her lips together. "you've got a point, i suppose. but logan's my best friend. we've been talking about moving in together forever! since i was 15!"

"i'm just looking out for you, kid. you should really think this through," alex sighs as he slumps his shoulders. of course, he knows just how close she and logan are on a day-to-day basis. but people tend to be quite ruthless with women and he just can't see this going any other way. "you know how people are."

she sighs, shaking her head. "i don't know. i just don't think people would pay attention to that aspect of my life. i still deserve to make decisions that wouldn't be at risk of scrutiny, right?"

she takes a step forward towards alex. she hadn't exactly thought of the public implications that this would cause her. all she knew was that they'd talked about this for years and were ecstatic when logan shyly brought up their conversation from years ago.

"that's the basic that we all hope for," alex frowns. "but you know how people are. you've seen how they treat you just being here. imagine the chaos."

"maybe i'll just keep it under wraps and hope for the best," she suggests with a small smile on her face. "that could work, right? i don't wanna have to put down something i spent forever talking about."

"if you can keep it under wraps, i applaud you," alex smiles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "and i thought you've had enough of men - why are you still moving in with one?"

"to save money, really," she smiles. "and with kidnapper and stubby at home... i think living with another person is best."

"but doesn't logan like dogs more?"

"yeah, but kidnapper's taken a very weird liking to him. he doesn't wanna admit, but i know logan really likes kidnapper a lot."

"typical logan, really."

"you'd be surprised how much feelings that loser's holding in."

"oh?" alex smiles mischievously. "tell me more?"

"nice try," she scoffs with an eye roll. "i'm not spilling the beans about logan's love life. that's lore you've got to unlock the longer you race with him. just hope he's feeling friendly enough to share, yes?"

"so true," alex frowns. "but what if he's not friendly enough? means you are my only source for material to piss him off with. so, 'fess up!"

"can't betray my best friend like that, i fear," she frowns. though, her smile grows slowly. "but i can be bribed."

a scowl carves her face as she stares at the roll-in whiteboard with pictures held up against it with sesame street magnets. she sinks into the plastic chair she's given and tilts her head at the men gathered around her.

"and that's why i think you should get the same car as me," lando says simply, recapping the marker in his hands. he turns to her with a proud smile after his presentation.

her lips part. "so that we can matchy and..."

"and fuel rumours," lando repeats. "i'm involved in too little drama this year. it's always 'no wins' this, and 'no podiums' that... i want more."

"that's not a very good argument," she answers slowly, confusion contorting her face that almost makes alex laugh. "i said that i want an easy car, not a supercar. i've made that clear to almost everyone on the grid, yes?"

"yeah, but like," lando whines, throwing his head back as he stomps a foot into the ground. "seriously? you can't do this one thing for me? i'm asking you a favour!"

"to spend big money on a supercar i have to drive like it's made of glass!" she laughs dryly, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. she looks around at the men that have forcefully pulled her out of her garage and put her in this private room, in this plastic chair when she could've been taking a power nap. "is this what i'm here for? you lot are trying to convince me to finally purchase a car?"

"as per logan's request," alex shrugs, sipping on his juice box. "he said you've been putting it off all year. the season's about to end."

"and you listened to that nonce?" she cries, pinching the bridge of her nose. "you guys are absolutely unbelievable. i can't believe i'm wasting my time here!"

george, sitting next to her with a picture in hand, points at the whiteboard timidly. "i really put in a lot of thought about a car you should get," he says softly, looking slightly disappointed that she's caught on a lot faster than they predicted. "can i at least show it to you? i don't have to present."

"aw, george," she sighs, shaking her head. "it's not another supercar, is it?"

"it's not, i promise!" he perks up with a small smile on his face. he turns to lando with a small scowl. "only lando did this presentation with his best interests in mind. alex and i took the task seriously - just hear us out!"

she looks between george and alex, contemplating if the brit is telling the truth. instead of getting up like she had initially planned, she leans back into her seat. "fine. if it's anything like lando's, i'm leaving immediately. i don't care who has yet to present."

"but this ferrari looks so pretty," charles frowns, turning the picture in his hand to show it to her. "it's matte black and all. i thought we could match."

"that is also a supercar."

"he's presenting last, so i really don't care what he says," george mutters, shoving lando away from the whiteboard. he picks up a big bird magnet and pastes his picture between lando and max's proposal. "so, i think you should get this super cute toyota car."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts

#alex albon x reader #max verstappen x reader #george russell x reader #lando norris x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

1K notes · View notes

ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

in his absence

part 2/3 of change of fate also on ao3 cw: references to alcoholism and child abuse; grief

The apartment is quiet without Eddie.

Too quiet without his music blaring, or his loud voice singing and humming and making those noises he always did just to fill the quiet.

Wayne misses it all.

He dreads waking up to another day without Eddie, another quiet quiet quiet day, but he keeps going. He unpacks after a while, makes an effort to make the apartment look as much like the trailer as he can. He puts the mugs up, puts nails in the walls to put his hats up. He puts Eddie’s guitar up. It’s nerve-wracking, and his hands are shaking as he does it, as though if he breaks a string or scratches the flawless red finish Eddie will come through the front door and rip Wayne a new one. He’d like that really. He’d like to hear Eddie’s voice in any way he can, but he’s careful regardless.

He sits on the floor and looks up at it when he’s done. And he cries.

Wayne Munson is not a crier. He hasn’t cried since he brought Eddie home from his brother’s house. He hardly recognized his brother that day. Drunk and belligerent and rambling under his breath about something that Wayne couldn’t understand or hear. Wayne had wanted to sit him up, to make him drink some water, but he took one look at Eddie, at the little boy sitting on the floor next to the discarded beer bottles with a book in his hands and a shiner on his face, and he opened the door back up, gesturing with a tilt of his chin.

“Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”

Eddie followed him out silently after moving the beer bottles to the side, out of the way in case Raymond got up, and Wayne’s eyes were already burning, because he can’t have been older than ten or eleven, and he was already so kind.

They didn’t know each other. Wayne lived in Hawkins, Eddie and his family in Richland City, and they’d never met. Raymond and Wayne called almost every night, and Wayne remembers the day Raymond told him about Lois. That she was in the hospital, that something was wrong. That Wayne didn’t need to come by to help out, that Raymond had everything under control. But that was all just Raymond being the man he wanted to be. He didn’t have it under control.

When Lois passed, Raymond’s called dwindled. A few times a week, twice a week, every other week, until they faded to nothing, and there was a pit in Wayne’s stomach, worry about his little brother, but worry about his little brother’s little boy, too. Raymond had told Wayne so much about him. Such a creative kid, Wayne, you have no idea. Kid’s got more brains than his old man.

Eddie sat in the backseat on the way to Hawkins. He looked out the window. And Wayne made sure he didn’t see Wayne crying.

He went back two days later to get Eddie’s things, and it was hard. Raymond was awake, sober but still…

He wasn’t always like this. He used to be kind. Not as kind as Eddie, but kinder than he was now. He used to be softer. But when Lois died, he changed. He wasn’t the Superman Lois used to say he was. He became rough around the edges, became tough and cruel. He took it all out on Eddie, as though the cancer was his fault.

He tried to fight Wayne when he went to get Eddie’s things. He tried to argue, tried to interrogate him. Where’s my son, Wayne? You have no right to take him, he’s not yours.

And Wayne calmly told him to keep his hands to himself. He’d always been the big brother in more ways than one.

He gathered Eddie’s things while Raymond watched from the doorway. Clothes from his dresser and closet, books and books and books. Eddie was a reader when he was little, before school took the passion from him. Wayne tossed the bags over his shoulders, carrying them all toward the doorway before he stopped, caught sight of the guitar in the corner. He grabbed that too.

Raymond was already cracking a bottle open when Wayne left. Wayne hasn’t heard from him since.

Wayne doesn’t doubt that he loved Lois and Eddie. He knows he did. He heard the way he talked about them, about the way Lois glowed, the way he would get excited about getting Eddie a new book. He was supportive of Eddie’s interests, always brought Lois flowers, even before she was bedridden in the hospital. And he knew her favorites too, orange lilies just like they had at their wedding. But when Lois passed… All that love twisted into anger inside Raymond. When he drank, he forgot that Eddie was grieving too. He forgot that Eddie was just a boy.

It still makes Wayne sick to his stomach, that his brother became someone he could never recogonize. His eyes became colder. The lines in his skin deepened, and his hair greyed, and he aged thirty years in a few weeks. Sometimes Wayne thinks about him and wonders where he is now. If he ever got better. If he wonders where Wayne and Eddie are. If he’s seen Eddie’s face on the news. Or if he’s still gone, laying on his sofa in a daze, drowning in liquor.

Wayne had managed not to cry after he brought Eddie home. Wayne had been raised to be a man, to be strong and stoic, and he knew what happened to men that cried, men that felt. He knew he needed to be a role model for Eddie.

But he tried to do better than his own father. He remembers the nights when he was little, when he would cry about the dog dying. (Her name was Rosie. Wayne still misses her.) He remembers the way his father would scold him, send him to his room until the tears stopped. The way that as he got older, the scolds turned to slaps, and Wayne grew to fear the feeling of stinging eyes. And he wonders if maybe Raymond had that fear too. If that was why he turned to the bottle instead of crying.

So he never did that to Eddie. When Eddie cried, which was often, Wayne waited with him. Gave him tissues and made him tea and sat next to him, listened to him. When Eddie got more comfortable with him, he started wanting to be held, so Wayne held him. Combed his hair back, rocked him back and forth, kissed his forehead. He did everything he could to make sure Eddie knew it was okay to feel.

Even if he himself never cried.

Until Eddie was gone. Until he had Eddie’s guitar pick hanging around his neck and Eddie’s guitar hanging on the wall like some sick memorial.

Wayne cried.

He cried, and he cried, and he cried.

—————————

Eddie never liked Granny Smith apples. Wayne still doesn’t buy them.

He gets the red apples, Fuji or whatever they are. Eddie liked to eat them with peanut butter after school when he was kid.

Wayne exhales as he squeezes one, checking for bruises before he puts it in the bag in his hands, listening to the way it crinkles quietly. He’s never liked grocery stores, and Eddie was the same. They’re too loud, too bright. Overwhelming. But Wayne makes do. Quick in and outs, specific lists and memories of where everything is so he never has to be there longer than necessary.

He puts another apple in the bag before he puts it in the basket that’s on the floor by his feet, and he picks up the basket, careful not to swing the apples out of it as he turns around, ready to head to the vegetables, but he pauses when his eyes catch on someone.

It’s that girl from the video store. With the short hair and sparkly eyes, the freckles and leather cuffs around her wrists. Wayne can’t remember her name, but he remembers the way he saw her hug Steve Harrington after Wayne left. He saw them through the windows as he was getting back in the car. It was a kind of hug he doesn’t see often, even in movies. He knows Steve said he could have been in love with Eddie, but he could tell right away that Steve and this girl shared something as deep as that. A rare kind of love.

He approaches her slowly, looking at her face. She’s looking down at the fruits, sorting through the oranges, frowning. She’s squinting a little bit too, the way Wayne does in grocery stores.

“Hello,” Wayne says lightly when he’s close enough, and she looks up, eyes widening before they soften.

“Mr Munson,” she says breathily. “Hi.”

“You can call me Wayne,” he says, shaking his head with a little smile. “I’m no mister, that’s too stuffy for me.”

She laughs lightly, nodding.

“Wayne,” she corrects, the way Steve did. “Hi. How are you?”

He can tell she means it earnestly. She’s still holding an orange, gripping it tightly. She doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m alright,” he says softly. “I’m managing.”

She nods, swallowing.

“How are you?” he asks gently. She looks at him. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders squaring like she’s steeling herself for something, and then as he watches, her eyes fill with tears and she looks away, rubbing her cheek as she blinks them back.

“I’m okay,” she says, her voice wavering. “I’m fine.”

He looks at her.

He’s overcome with the urge to wrap his arms around her, to hold her tightly, to hide her away from the rest of the world, and it’s like he’s looking down at little Eddie all over again. This girl, with her squared shoulders and firm words, is something Wayne wants to protect.

“Why don’t you finish up your shopping?” he says lightly. “We can have a chat in the parking lot.”

She nods, swallowing.

“Okay.”

They part ways as she wipes her face, and Wayne goes to the toiletries section and adds a box a tissues to his basket before he finishes his list, wandering the aisles in order. Produce, meat and dairy, coffee and tea, canned goods, frozen. He gets a pack of water before going to checkout.

The cashier recognizes him. Not everyone does, but those who know him, know him as a Munson, as Eddie Munson’s uncle, glare. Even if they see the grief in his eyes. He ignores them.

He sits in the trunk of his car with, legs hanging over the side of it, and he sips at a bottle of water.

The girl finds him after a few minutes, rolling a bke over next to his car and propping it up. There’s a grocery bag in the basket. She wordlessly sits next to him. It’s quiet for a few moments as they watch a mother carry a bag of groceries with her son, each holding a handle and laughing.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” Wayne asks after a while, reaching into one of the grocery bags behind him and pulling out an apple as he gets his pocket knife from the pocket of his jacket.

“Uh, Robin,” she says. “Buckley.”

“Miss Robin Buckley,” he says, slicing the side off the apple before he cuts that piece in half and holds one out to her. She takes it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She nods, nibbling the apple slice.

“Were you close with Eddie?” he asks.

She hesitates.

“Kind of,” she says. “We… knew each other. We were both kind of… outcasts, or whatever. Solidarity, you know. But when everything… happened. We got kinda stuck together.”

He nods, taking a bite off the remaining apple slice.

“How have you and Steve been?” he asks. “Really.”

She sighs, looking out over the parking lot, at the sky above the grocery store, and she pulls her legs up to cross them in front of herself.

“Uhm.” She’s quiet for a moment, and Wayne cuts another piece of the apple. “It's been hard.” Her voice wobbles again, and she clears her throat. “Steve… Steve hasn’t been good.” She shakes her head, twisting her mouth, her voice soft. “He’s… depressed. Laying in bed all day, not eating. Not— Not taking care of himself.”

Wayne's chest aches for him. He nods.

“I moved in with him,” she says. “His parents moved, and they— they waited until he was… I don’t know, a little more steady. And he’s— he’s trying harder now, to— to be there for the kids, and for me, but it’s still hard, you know?”

“The kids?” Wayne questions.

“Uh, Eddie’s… Eddie’s kids from Hellfire,” she clarifies. “Dustin Henderson and his friends. Steve’s kind of been their, like, designated babysitter for a while. But he hadn’t seen them for a while, because… Well, he didn’t leave the house. Barely left his room. But he’s trying now. Even though it’s hard, and— and I can tell how hard it is for him, he just…” She cuts off, her voice catching in her throat, and she swallows, accepting another apple slice. “I don’t know. It hasn’t been easy.”

Wayne nods. A car pulls out next to them and leaves the parking lot.

“It’s not going to be,” he says. “Grief. It’s… It’s hard.”

She nods.

“And Steve… I think Eddie’s always in his head, you know. He was…” She pauses, swallowing again, looking at the apple slice in her hand. Her nails are chipped black. “He stayed with him. When it— When it happened.”

Wayne finishes the slice he’s eating, looking at the ground. The sun is glowing orange and yellow, warm and bright and kind.

“Steve said it was quick,” he says thoughtfully. He’s not trying to be accusatory, not trying to say anything. Just thinking out loud.

He sees Robin look at him in his peripheral, but he doesn’t look back. He knows. Knows Steve lied for Eddie’s sake. For Wayne’s sake.

“I just— I mean he was there,” she says quickly. “He was— He saw it happen,” she says like it’s a question. “We weren’t, he had to… Steve had to come back and— and tell us. It was—” She cuts off again, this time sniffling and looking away.

Wayne stabs the apple with the knife and sets them aside, reaching back to the grocery bag and rummaging through it for the tissue box, which he opens and holds out to Robin. She thanks him softly, taking one and wiping her cheeks and nose.

“Sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about,” Wayne says. “Crying’s normal. ‘S grief.”

She nods, wiping her face again and taking a shaky breath.

“It was hard for him to tell us,” she says, her voice soft and breathy. “He was so quiet. And he— he didn’t wanna be touched? He gets nightmares, even before— before Eddie, and sometimes they’re really bad and he can’t stand anyone touching him, so I just… I just wait, you know, but this time it was like… It was like he was gonna die, too, like— like it was the end of everything, and he just couldn’t stand it. And then he called Dustin over and gave him his bandana, and— and he hugged Dustin and then pulled me closer and— and Nancy was there, and we just… I don’t know.”

She stops, sniffling again.

“Nancy,” Wayne repeats. “The reporter?”

Robin hesitates.

“Yeah. Curly hair. Pretty eyes.”

Wayne nods.

“I remember her. Sweet girl.”

Robin nods, taking another breath.

Wayne remembers all of Nancy’s questions. He remembers seeing the way the gears turned in her head, the way she was thinking, trying to solve it all, ignoring the fact that the police were everywhere. It was like she knew something they didn’t.

Wayne looks at Robin. She’s still holding the apple slice, the tissue bunched up next to it, and she’s staring at the ground, eyes glassy and unfocused. He wonders about the whole we got stuck together thing. Eddie was missing. He ran away. How did Robin get stuck with him? How was Steve with him when the earthquakes hit? How did Eddie save Dustin from the earthquakes and still be somewhere where Steve could stay with him? Where Steve could get his necklace and his ring and his bandana?

Where is he now? Is his body somewhere outside town? Why didn’t they bring him back?

He doesn’t ask.

“Robin,” he says softly. She blinks and looks at him. “...It’s gonna be alright, darlin’.”

She nods, lip quivering again, and she closes her eyes, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. He reaches out and touches her shoulder, moving a little closer, and she falls against him, her shoulders shaking as she cries. He sighs, closing his eyes, running his hand over the top of her head, over her hair, and he starts to rock the way he did with Eddie. Back and forth, slow and soft and careful. She drops the apple and the tissue, reaching to hold his arm as a sob wracks her shoulders, and he lowers his face to press his cheek to her head, murmuring to her.

Let it out, darlin’, I got you. It’s okay.

She cries for a while. Until the sunlight is dimming.

When she finally sits up, she wipes her cheeks with the sleeves of her shirt (an oversized flannel that Wayne suspects may not actually be hers), and Wayne keeps an arm around her as he reaches for the tissue box again.

She leans against him while she catches her breath, and he waits for her.

“Where’s your house?” he asks after a while. “‘S getting dark and these roads are real rough now, don’t want you crashin’ that bike of yours.”

“Uh, we’re at Loch Nora,” she says, still sniffling.

He helps her load her bike into the back of his car. It’s quiet as he drives her home, and she looks out the window, watching the town go by. She has a leg up on the seat in front of her, an arm around it. She keeps reminding Wayne of Eddie.

The house is massive. In the woods, hidden from view by trees. There’s a car in the driveaway, and Wayne assumes Robin doesn’t have a license.

The windows are all dark except one on the second floor. Wayne sees Robin looking at it, deflating a little bit. He wonders if it’s Steve’s room. He doesn’t ask.

He helps her get the bike out of the trunk, and then as she’s straightening it out to roll it up to the house, Wayne gets her grocery back, reaching into his own grocery bag and grabbing an apple before putting it in her bag. He doesn’t know why.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, taking the bag from him. She doesn’t see the apple. He closes the trunk.

“Hey,” he says before she can go. She stops, holding the grocery bag like a baby. “...You know how nice you are to Steve? How patient you are with him?”

She nods, eyes flicking back and forth between his. It’s getting dark, and the wind blows the clean forest air over them.

“You gotta be that patient with yourself too,” he says gently. “Okay? He’s struggling, but you are too.” She stares up at him, unblinking, and she might cry again. That would be okay. “Just be nice to yourself. Alright?”

She nods after a moment, exhaling, and then she steps closer, pressing up against his chest, and he wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back and her arms as she exhales. He kisses the top of her head before they part.

She nods again, looking at the ground as they separate, and then she puts her grocery bag in the basket of her bike and rolls it up to the front door.

Wayne turns around, sighing, and he goes to the driver’s side of the car just as the front door of the house opens and shuts. A light turns on downstairs, and he sees movement in the window upstairs.

He looks away, eyes scanning over the trees like he’s going to find Eddie standing there, leaning against a tree, waiting to be seen. But he isn’t there.

His chest hurts as he drives away, out of Loch Nora, thinking about Steve and Robin, about those two kids with their aching hearts, all alone in the woods, surrounded by trees and the stars. But they have each other. He saw the way they hugged each other that day in the video store.

Wayne drives home.

He puts the groceries away in silence, leaving the fruit in one of the paper bags before he leaves it on the counter, stacking the cans of beans and corn in the pantry. He puts the water in the kitchen too, slicing open the top of the pack so he can pull one out.

He slices another apple and spreads some peanut butter on the side of a bowl before he takes it to the living room. He looks at Eddie’s guitar while he eats. He’s too old to be sitting on the floor. He doesn’t really care.

———————————————————————————

“Who was that?” Steve’s voice calls from the stairs. It’s a little rough. He’s been crying again. He comes into the kitchen a moment later. He’s wearing the same sweater he’s worn for the past four days, but his hair is wet. He showered.

“Uh,” Robin sighs, hesitating. “I ran into Wayne at the grocery store.”

Steve’s hand freezes as it reaches for the grocery bag.

“Wayne?” he says weakly.

Robin sniffs, nodding. She looks at Steve. His eyes are wide, glassy, and she leans against the counter, leaving the groceries.

“How is he?” Steve asks in a small voice.

Robin exhales, twisting her mouth.

“Grieving.”

Steve nods, crossing his arms over his chest. The ring around his finger shines in the light. They haven’t talked about it. She doesn’t think he wants to. She doesn’t mind.

She’ll wait until he’s ready.

And until then, he won’t know that she knows. That she hears him during nightmares sometimes, whimpering quiet Eddie, pleases and baby, I’m sorrys. He doesn’t need to know.

“He’s okay,” she says softly. “We just talked for a while. And I cried.”

Steve nods.

“He was wearing Eddie’s guitar pick,” she says. She isn’t sure why she tells him. It just feels like something he should know. He just nods again.

“Uhm. We have a frozen pizza in the freezer, do you wanna get that for tonight?” she asks, and he nods again.

He gets quiet sometimes. Like this. Wordless. Jut nods and shakes and shrugs. Expressions. Squeezed shut eyes and grimaces when he doesn’t want to do something, like when she got him out of bed to eat soup. She understands it all.

She nods, turning to the grocery bag, but his hand lands on her shoulder and she looks back at him.

He looks so tired lately. Even though he spends most of his free time in bed, or asleep on the sofa. The bags under his eyes are dark, and he looks older than he is. She still thinks he’s beautiful.

She likes seeing him wear his glasses. She knows he hates them, but they suit him. Thin wire frames, shiny gold. And she likes seeing him wear his hearing aid, even though he hates that too. Seeing them on him makes her feel like he’s taking care of himself. Doing what he needs to see, to hear.

“Do you want a hug?” he asks, his voice so soft she barely hears it, because he doesn’t want to speak right now. She knows he doesn’t want to. Knows he barely can. But he does anyway. For her.

Her throat tightens, and she nods.

He wraps his arms around her neck gently, his cheek pressing to hers. The frames of his glasses are cold.

She hugs his waist tightly, and he tightens his arms, picking up on her need, and they stand there for a while. A long while. Until she can breathe properly, until her eyes don’t sting anymore.

When they part, he kisses her temple.

He goes to get the pizza.

She pulls the grocery bag closer, but it topples over, and a red apple rolls out.

She smiles.

if you like my work maybe consider supporting me on ko-fi or looking into my commissions <3

#is anyone surprised this turned into a series #i started working on part three before i decided i needed to do waynes pov and then i did this #shocker #part three will be up probably very soon #god bless #steddie #(theres like no steddie in this but yall are my target audience love u all mwah)#wayne munson #robin buckley #eddie munson #steve harrington #hoh steve harrington

59 notes · View notes