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moonstruckme · 3 months

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Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt.

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen.

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife.

“Overruled,” he decrees.

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.”

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out.

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.”

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?”

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast.

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up.

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips.

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to.

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off.

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck.

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him.

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?”

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.”

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.”

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both.

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.”

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.”

You sigh. “I figured.”

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?”

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler.

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his touch down your neck.

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.”

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows.

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.”

“Wasn’t ready for what?”

“To be sick.”

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?”

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb.

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums.

“What is it?” James asks.

“Thirty nine point five.”

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate.

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?”

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius had the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.”

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice.

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.”

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.”

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb.

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows.

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

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jongseongsnudes · 1 month

Text

kiss me (part three)

bff/fwb!jake. 1.4k words. ✨️smut✨️ + angst ft. lee heeseung. (part one) (part two)

“you’re so hot,” you hear him mumble into the kiss, his lips barely leaving yours as he does. his hands are everywhere, your waist, your ass, your thighs. the man was desperate for you and to be fair, you wanted him too.

what started as a few flirty kisses with heeseung and a childish way to show jake that you in fact did not need him, turned into a full fledged heated make out session in the back of the cab, all the way into your apartment. it was the last thing you wanted yet all you wanted at the same time. someone to distract you from a particular someone else.

you were too occupied with heeseung’s lips to notice the familiar pair of men’s shoes by your door once you enter your home, ones that were surely not there when you left.

jake sim was in your apartment.

“hey- h- heeseung,” you manage to get his attention, your hand now gently pushing against his chest, “i um- i remember i had some plans tonight actually... rain check?”

you can see the disappointment wash over his face for a split second before smiling again, an understanding smile. and this was one of the many things you’ve always liked about him lee heeseung. that he respected you.

“yeah of course love,” he says while rubbing your lower back, “you need me to drop you off anywhere? it’s getting pretty late.”

“no my friend will pick me up. sorry hee, another time?”

“definitely,” he leans in to kiss you, short and sweet, “be careful okay.”

you begin to second guess your decision to abruptly kick heeseung out but the last thing you wanted was to be in the middle of a confrontation between the two best friends right now. besides, you needed to deal with jake. the thought of him currently somewhere in your apartment got you mad, especially after the fight you had earlier.

the house is quiet, the only light source coming from your living room’s television screen, exactly where you expected him to be with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. you can feel your chest heave to the sight of a topless jake, it took almost everything in you not to pull your panties aside and climb on that lap.

the things you’d do for jake sim...

“seriously? you’re just going to break into my apartment?”

your words are left unanswered as the man continues watching the screen ahead as if you weren’t standing right in front of him.

“whatever then. at least close the door on your way out when you get bored.”

you leave him be, no longer wanting to deal with the toxic situation that shouldn’t have been a situation in the first place.

bits and pieces of your clothing and accessories are scattered behind as you make it to the bathroom, wanting nothing more than to sink into a warm bath and relax for the night. but of course the world always seems to have other plans for you.

“didn’t think you had it in you.”

sigh.

you don’t bother turning around to his newly arrived presence at the bathroom doorway, instead opting to continue slipping out of your undergarments as if he wasn’t even there, “i don’t want to talk to you right now jake.”

“so you let heeseung put his tongue down your throat but can’t even talk to me?”

you were quick to whip around this time, a frown dawning your face at how ridiculous he was being. the audacity this man had to even speak to you that way, in your home after ignoring you just a moment before.

“excuse me?” you were on the brink of exploding now, your hand balled up and ready to throw him out if you had to, “you broke into my house for what? to say these things to me?”

“well i’m not wrong! why bother fucking with me then go straight to heeseung?” he was now right up against you, his much taller frame towering over yours, gradually cornering you in against the vanity, “he’s my fucking best friend!”

you’ve seen jake angry numerous times before but never have you seen him like this. he is evidently fuming with eyes so dark, even his breathing was ragged.

“so that’s your problem? so you’re saying that i can fuck anyone else besides your best friend? easy. i’m sure sunghoon or jay would be down if i was to call them right now.”

if jake was considered stubborn, well, you were even worse. between you and the man, you were the one who always got your way. to be fair he did have a soft spot for you and you’ve used this to your advantage... when necessary.

the bathroom then goes eerily quiet, the two of you though still visibly angry, are now much calmer than before. the heavy tension that filled the air just a moment before was now slowly turning into a different kind of tension.

the one you always felt when you both wanted each other.

“i’m tired jake... please just go-”

he leans in without hesitation, kissing you hard and cutting off your words. he even cups your cheeks, angling your face up to him so he can deepen the kiss and you let him. by now you weren’t even fighting him anymore, your entire body melting right into his hold.

as always.

you did’t want to admit it but this kiss with jake sim was the one you’ve been yearning for all night, even when kissing someone else.

you were just crazy for him.

“it’s not them, it’s you...” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he pulls away slightly, “you’re my problem.”

“what- what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t want to see you with anyone else.”

before you could even respond, jake slowly moves down your body, his lips leaving behind a trail of soft kisses on your skin. you almost scream when he reaches your panties, the man’s mouth just hovering over it for a few moments. just to drive you insane.

“you’re perfect you know?” he coos, his hands now grasping onto your waist as yours grab onto the vanity for support.

“you say that sim... but then turn around and say the same to other girls...”

“they’re nothing baby. i’ve always wanted you.”

your breath hitches when he yanks your panties aside and lifts one of your legs over his shoulders, his lips immediately pressing onto your clit without warning, eager to have you. his wet tongue laps at your heat, tasting every part of you, causing your knees to almost buckle at the intense pleasure your whole body immediately feels from it.

you watch him through hooded eyes, the view of jake sim kneeling before you, one that always pushed you over the edge, that had you seeing white. that had you going completely feral.

but despite the moment, with his tongue deep in your folds and with your fingers knotted in his hair, you just couldn’t forget all that happened tonight.

what should’ve been a strictly no strings attached situation had become something it shouldn’t have. it all somehow spiralled out of control so quickly, like the flame in your heart that grew to the point of no return for the man.

and from what you’ve learned from romance movies your whole life... this was not going to end well. especially for you.

“ja- jake...” you barely manage to push him back by the shoulders, stopping the man from doing what those lips were literally born to do. he looks at you with concern as he stands to his feet, arms immediately holding your sides to pull you closer.

“what’s wrong baby?”

you may regret this later but you knew it was the right thing to do... before you fall even further.

“i don’t want to do this anymore jake. lets... stop.”

end(????)

2024 © jongseongsnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar.

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos.

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter.

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt.

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then.

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole.

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out.

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh.

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks.

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.”

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve.

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time.

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country.

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here.

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn.

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears.

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken.

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening.

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone.

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him.

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone.

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs.

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone.

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt.

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters.

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car?

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho. And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is.

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says.

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums.

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish.

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham.

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else.

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time.

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again.

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles.

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands.

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest.

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses.

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees.

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink.

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before.

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt.

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips.

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful.

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message.

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out.

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall.

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently.

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it.

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them.

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock.

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex.

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner.

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity.

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly.

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!”

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd.

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument.

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve.

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares.

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder.

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

#gay bar au #steddie #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #featuring robin as the worlds worst wingman #i'm never not going to bully eddie for walking on those tables #'why does everyone here hate me🥺' mf it's bc you keep putting ur nasty ass shoes where people eat #i've said it before and i'll say it again. someone should have yanked on his leg and made him faceplant. he would have deserved it #we stay billy bashing 💪#in this au the byers didn't move to california #jonathan still goes to school there tho #why? bc he and argyle are soulmates and time and space moved for them to make sense next question #i need u to know eddie does not have sex magic and steve isn't actually as smooth as eddie thinks. they r just obsessed with each other #that one person who was in my notes truthing ab a stoncy threesome. i was excited when i saw that bc i had this written hope u see it <3

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vivwritesfics · 4 months

Text

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Four

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.7K

Series Masterlist

She was late for work, again. Her boss was going to kill her.

Just like last time she rushed around the house, grabbing what she needed before she left. This time she managed to grab lunch before she rushed off to the office.

When she got there, nobody noticed how late she was. There was a buzz of something else as she slipped into her cubicle, unnoticed. Everybody else was looking towards the bosses office, whispering to themselves.

"What is it?" She asked the girl in the cubicle beside her own as she leaned over.

The girl in the cubicle was also looking towards the bosses office. Staring, actually. "The hottest guy I've ever seen just walked into Oliver's office," she hissed. "Does Oliver have a son?"

"No way," Y/N answered. She too found herself staring towards the office, captivated.

Inside of the office, Lando was beating the shit out of Oliver Cooke, boss of HC Publishing. "You got the money yet, Oliver?" Lando asked between punches. His knuckles ached in the best way.

"Yes!" Oliver cried, thanking god that his office was soundproof. If his employees heard this, he'd never get over it. "Yes, I'll pay you!"

Lando stopped punching just long enough for Oliver to run over to his chest and pull out a stack of bills. He handed it to Lando, flinching when Lando raised his hand to count the stack of bills, to make sure all of the money was there.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said and strode out of the office.

Immediately the employees went back to work, glued their eyes back to their computer like they hadn't just been waiting for him to walk out of the office. The girls were pretty, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing into the cubicles.

Until he came across her.

"Y/N?"

She looked up at him, her eyes wide in surprise. "Lando, what the fuck?" But then a smile crawled across her face. "Are you stalking me? I'm flattered but, seriously, you didn't have to go to this length."

"Not stalking," he said quickly. "But incredibly surprised to see you. I had no idea you worked at HC Publishing."

That was because she hadn't told him where she worked. They talked about everything but their jobs when they drank in his club. "Listen," he said as he leaned against the cubicle. "I've got to go to Spain for a few days. Do you wanna hang out before that?"

"As long as we can do something that isn't drinking in your club until the early hours of the morning. If I'm late again, my boss is gonna kill me."

Lando could do something about that. One word with Oliver, one flash of his bloody knuckles (which were currently hidden in his pockets) and she'd be able to do whatever she wanted in this place.

"Do you wanna have dinner at mine?" She offered.

"Yours as in where you live?" Asked Lando. He had no need to know where she lived, but it would certainly help. "Yeah," he answered, nodding his head. "That would be nice."

"Perfect," she said and quickly wrote something down. "I finish at five." She ripped the piece of paper out of her notepad and handed it to him.

Lando couldn't stop himself from grinning as he said his goodbyes. He was practically skipping out of HC Publishing, and he didn't give a flying fuck who saw.

"Y/N, what the fuck?" Several of her co-workers called.

She looked around at them. "What?" She asked as she logged into her work computer. "What did I do?"

"You know the hot guy that had a meeting with Mr Cooke! How?" They all asked as they crowded around her cubicle. It was all very intense.

She was the talk of the office for the rest of the day, a never ending source of gossip. She ignored it, pretended not to hear it when they theorised how they knew her. There were several people that theorised that she had slept with him, others that had kinder theories. One person straight up asked if they were childhood friends.

The end of the work day couldn't come quick enough. As soon as the clock hit five, she grabbed her things and rushed out of the office. Her co-workers were still whispering even as she left.

As soon as she got home, she checked in her fridge. There wasn't enough in there to make a decent dinner for two and she wanted to pick up some wine.

Showering and changing into her sweats, she headed down to the shops. It was a small shop and everything was marked up, but she still shopped out, purely out of convenience. She bought what she needed, plus two bottles of wine, and headed back up to her apartment.

With no idea what time Lando was arriving, she began cooking. She multitasked, managing to get dressed while she cooked.

What she didn't know was that Lando was outside of her apartment. He was dressed down, his suit jacket missing and the top three buttons of his shirt open, revealing his necklace against his chest. He leaned against one of the trees lining the street opposite her apartment and stared up at the apartment he thought was hers.

She ran past the window on her way to and from the kitchen and Lando knew. It was definitely her apartment. The area around wasn't the nicest; Lando had done enough shady deals in this area to know. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest.

He strode forward, making his way into the building. He already had her addressed memorised, reciting it in his head as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Lando passed two other front doors before he was standing in front of her apartment. The light in the hallway above him flickered as he raised his hand to knock.

"Fuck!" He heard from the other side of the door. There was a crash before the door opened and she stood there, hand on her hip as she smiled. "Welcome to mi casa," she said and stood to the side, letting him in.

Lando looked around as he strode in. There was no sign of what had made the crashing noise, and he could only assume that she had cleaned it up. "Nice place," he said, looking at the pictures on the walls.

There were some generic ones that she obviously hadn't changed from when she bought the frame. Pictures of family, pictures of pets, pictures of friends. They made her walls bright and colourful.

She had lights strung up around the apartment. Comically large hearts lit by fairy lights, classic chilli pepper lights and more. The couch was covered in blankets and cushions and a giant eight ball rug on the floor.

The apartment had a good feeling spreading through his chest.

"Thanks," she said as she pulled the first bottle of wine out of the fridge and opened the top. "My friends say my calling is interior design. My bank account says to stop buying everything that looks cool." She poured out the wine and handed a glass to Lando.

They tapped their glasses together and she invited him to sit on the sofa. They talked and she managed to take his mind away from his impending trip to Spain. Periodically she ran off to check on dinner and set the table.

After a good fifteen minutes of drinking and chatting, she plated up the food and invited Lando to join her at the table. He brought his wine with him, slipping into the seat opposite her as she lit a candle.

"Do all the guys get a candle lit dinner?" He asked with a teasing smile.

"What guys?" She answered through a laugh.

For a moment, they ate in silence. Well, almost silence. Lando let out a series of moans as he took the first bites. "Fuck me," he said as he got more food onto his fork. But he had no more positive words as he wolfed everything down at an inhuman speed.

She was eating just slightly slower. "So, why were you at the publishing house?" She asked as she picked up her glass.

Lando stopped eating. He should have expected her to ask, but he hadn't. "Uh," he began, trying to formulate a lie. Not that he wanted to lie to her, but he wanted to keep her as far away from his world as he could. "Uh, the people I work for own the building that you guys rent," he said. "I was... having a chat with Oliver about the changing rates," he finished and quickly went back to his food.

She nodded. "It's kind of cool," she said, her gaze on her food. "That you guys own the place where I work."

Lando nodded in agreement, but mostly because he didn't want to say anything else on the matter.

But she had more questions. "You said you're going to Spain, right?" She asked and he nodded his head, still eating. "So, what're you going for?" She asked enthusiastically. "Family holiday?"

Again, Lando didn't want to lie to her. But he had no other choice. He told her as much of the truth as he could. "We're having a wedding out there," he answered.

"A wedding, huh? Fancy."

No, it was going to be traumatising, Lando thought as he finished his food. It was going to be a beautiful ceremony, he knew, but he was dreading it.

It was switch turned on in his head. "Hey," he said suddenly. "Do you wanna come with me for the wedding?" He asked.

"Seriously?" She asked, surprise in her voice.

He nodded his head. "Yeah, hell yeah! It's gonna be a nice ceremony and they'll have an open bar, and I could use the moral support."

"I'd love to, Lan," she said, letting a smile cross her face. "Thanks. I can't wait."

So much for keeping her as far away from his world as he could.

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roseykat · 5 months

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Minsung taking their inexperienced babygirl's virginity omfg-

I actually got SO carried away with this so thank you for allowing me to just dump my entire brainrot about Minsung + inexperienced virgin reader.

They'd be so sweet with her :( Minsung would be so gentle and cautious with the way that they treat and handle her body. To them, she's so delicate and fragile that the thought of the two of them taking her at the same time, is going to seriously hurt her especially since she’s never had sex before.

For them, that just means as much foreplay as they think she needs and then some just to be absolutely sure. Possibly an hour, maybe even an hour and a half just to really ensure that shes anatomically ready to take them.

That makes the foreplay so much fun for her though. She gets to experience her first ever oral orgasm through Minho eating her out slowly. He's not rushing, not going anywhere anytime soon, which really drags out and elongates the length of what it feels like to cum. She squirms so much when he goes down on her! But Minho also has no trouble holding her down around her thighs to make sure she doesn't jump all over the place knowing that it's her first time being sexually stimulated in this way.

He had to really hold back from overwhelming her with his tongue and mouth though bc that man gives good - GOOD head, and Jisung can attest to that. But all he wants is to make sure that she is wet enough for when Jisung lends a helping hand to actually start opening her up.

Despite how wet her pussy is and the saliva leftover from Minho's mouth, Jisung thinks it best to play it safe and use some lube. It doesn't hurt to and lasts much longer than spit does to keep someone wet. So he'd smear some onto his two fingers and thumb, rubbing it together so that it heats up a bit before massaging it around her pussy.

As he gets her nice and slick for his fingers, Minho would decide to sit beside her for comfort. He holds her hand in the process as Jisung begins inserting just the first knuckle of his finger into her hole. Just about every minute, he'd check in on her to see how she's doing and if she wants more or less.

But she's so utterly aroused that she ends up asking for more. Soon, one finger turns into two and Jisung finds himself curling his fingers until he makes her eyes roll back as she cums and writhes around his fingers. Also the praise and body worship would go hard with Minsung. They’re as natural givers as they are receivers, which also extends praising her for doing so well, taking her orgasms well and what not.

However, because this time is special, they want to continue making it all about her. Never mind their own pleasure - there’ll always be another time for that. This is about her feeling good during her first time (even though the minute some type of hot heat wraps around their dicks, it’s hard for them not to lose it from pleasure).

Despite her protests to take them both at the same time, they both reiterate to her that it’s probably not the right time, yet. It excites them inside when they hear that though. So they assure her that most definitely in the future, but for the time being, they fuck her slowly and gently, one at a time. Jisung being the first to ease into her because he would’ve easily cum from just watching Minho fuck her.

Jisung fucks her in missionary which gives him the ability to reach down to rub her clit to help her cum too. Since it’s her first time, they know there’s a possibility that she might not cum without clitoral stimulation. So they make sure to include that but again, not so that it’s going to overstimulate her even though she’s been brought to three orgasms in total, and a fourth which is added to the bag when it’s Minho’s turn.

He fucks her on her side, both of them facing Jisung who lightly brushes her hair out of her face as she would look up to him in desperation. It’s a good starting position that allows for more sensual energy to invade. It’s almost like a back hug but…better, more fulfilling, clearly.

Afterwards, when she’s spent and tired, a little bit sore and now completely overstimulated, their aftercare is what keeps her afloat. Neither of them leave her side on the bed. Minho is still behind her, spooning her from the back and Jisung from the front, who has his arms wrapped around her tired body too. It’s the almost the same when they run her a bath almost twenty minutes later.

Jisung will sit against the wall of the tub and just allow her to lean back and melt into his front while Minho gently massages her legs. Then, it’s changing into fluffy, warm, and comfy clothes, a snack, maybe a hot drink in the mix, and then back to cuddling all together in bed.

In addition, Minsung would hope that she feels content knowing that her first time having sex was with people who end up loving her more than she thinks. That she felt good about the sensations they managed to give her and that she felt good in her body above all else.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #ask:roseyy #poly minsung #minsung x reader

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earthtooz · 5 months

Note

how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?

x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+ﾟ

in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.

a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration.

But it is true.

Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life.

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer.

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork.

Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left.

You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you.

Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again.

Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.

He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises.

“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.

“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers.

A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”

“Nothing!”

Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.

“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”

“But-”

“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”

Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.

Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space.

“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.”

“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you.

“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.

“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”

“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”

He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.

(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)

“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.

You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.

(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)

There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.

“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?”

“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”

For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.

“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”

There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.

“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”

Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible.

How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.

#earthtooz: genshin impact #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley fic #wriothesley x you

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zriasstuff · 3 months

Text

The real thing- Theodore Nott x reader

Short, fluffy drabble

Theo dislikes you reading romcoms lol (tbh I wrote this in like 30 minutes out of boredom :’))

After everyone had left your dorm, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, you thought to yourself. Unfortunately, due to the terribly cold weather, you had caught a cold. It wasn’t anything dramatic, but enough of a reason to not attend a class.

It turned out to be a blessing in disguise even. Now you could curl up in your warm bed, enjoy a hot cup of tea, listen to some relaxing music- and most important of all, read your favorite books.

Today's read was “the Spanish love deception”. Although reading and understanding classic literature was amongst your passions, cheesy rom com books still hit differently. Besides, since you were sick, you didn’t feel like thinking too hard.

Having read halfway through the book, you have to internally laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it was so utterly ridiculous.

“What’s so funny?”, you suddenly recognize an all too familiar voice. You move your head up, and break into a smile upon seeing your boyfriend standing at the door.

“Feeling better?”, he asks gently.

Even if you weren’t, simply seeing him already brightened your day by so much. When you first started getting to know each other, seeing him always made you nervous and fidgety. Now, every time you saw him, there was nothing but warmth and intimacy.

“Yeah, I am”, you reply. “Wait, shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Why would I be in class when I could be next to you?”, he answered naturally, hopping right into bed with you. Immediately, he starts telling you about how boring his day was without you, while lightly caressing your hair. You look deep into his glistening brown eyes, realizing yet again how lucky you were to simply have him next to you.

While he’s talking, his eyes glance towards your lap, where your book was lying. Theo, seeming highly intrigued, picks it up and starts checking it out by flipping through some pages. Feeling happy that he has taken an interest, you start telling him what it’s about. Perhaps you could read it with him.

“Basically, there are these two people that work together and they hate each other. But, in reality the guy doesn’t hate the woman. Quite the opposite actually. Ugh- and he’s sooo sweet, does all these things for her, protects-

“Soo, you enjoy reading about perfect fictional men?”, he interrupts you mid speech. Theo didn’t sound so sweet now, rather a little doubtful.

“Well, it’s fun”, you admit. “It’s not the best literature ever, but a girl can imagine right?”, you say hoping for some form of agreement.

“Why imagine when you can have the real thing?”, he says insistently, which makes you chuckle. So that’s why he was a little off, he was jealous of a fictional man? Theo was of course just as perfect, and even better- he was real.

You take the book from him and put it on your night stand. “Theo, don’t take it that seriously, you shouldn’t care about what I read”, you say. Still, you couldn’t believe that his reaction was…well how he reacted.

“I don’t care, I just don’t understand why you would read about something like that, if you weren’t trying to tell me something…”

Hell, why was he being so difficult about this? You didn’t imagine that one could read into this so much. But, you had the perfect response for him.

Not letting him say anything else, you cuddle yourself into his arms and give him a small peck on his burning cheek. It was your way of telling him to stop worrying so much and to just shut up.

He must’ve picked up. Soon, he hugged you even tighter, and gave you a kiss on your forehead, whispering “I love you”. “And remember”, Theo adds quietly, “the real thing is so much better than anything you could ever read about”.

Ridiculous.

#slytherin boys #slytherin #harry potter #harry potter oneshot #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys fanfiction #harry potter drabble

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itostea · 6 months

Text

better than me?

Gojo comes home to find you fangirling over a book character named Aaron Warner

warnings: uni! au, reader is called pretty girl, fluff, idiots in love, idk what this even is

Unread messages. One Five missed calls. No good morning or good night texts.

As of late, Satoru thinks you’ve been distant towards him–ghosting him while he was suffering on a trip his parents forced him to go to. It gets to the point where he thinks he did something to upset you and before he can drive himself mad with far-fetched possibilities, he thinks he should check up on you.

“Honey I’m back!” He bellows out, discarding his shoes to the side of his apartment that you practically live in now. His brows furrow at the lack of response, a bit disappointed at the fact that you could’ve been out.

It’s only when he catches a whiff of your shampoo and perfume that he allows himself to grin. His place was already overtaken by your presence: the scent of vanilla, the sweaters you leave neatly folded on the couch whenever it got too hot, the extra toothbrush in his bathroom. He missed you.

He rushes to the living room, his entrance dramatic as his words. “There you are! Why weren’t you there to greet me at the door? Do you not love me anymore?”

“Oh ‘Toru,” You mumbled absentmindedly and it only took him a while to catch sight of the book in your hands–considering the fact his eyes landed on your (his) hoodie you wore. “You’re back. How was your trip?”

He frowns, his lips parting to release a sigh. “That’s it?”

His heart does something funny when you finally look up at him, tilting your head in genuine confusion. “Hm?”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Wait one sec let me finish this chapter first, Satoru.”

It’s ‘Toru, 'he wants to say but settles on walking to where you sit, his eyes landing on the stack of books on the table–most of which seem to be of the romance genre. There’s a colorful display of sticky tabs decorating the pages of the book and a pen you keep close to you. He leans down to squat, his fingers playing with the book tabs–his mind wandering to the time you mentioned reading to him. “I thought you were reading literature. Like Shakespeare or I don’t know! Not sappy books about love.”

“Sappy books about love is literature. And who reads Shakespeare for fun?”

“Like I would know,” he mutters, standing up to walk behind the couch where he can get a peek of the pages–an offended laugh escaping his lips the moment he sees what scene you were reading so seriously. He easily steals the book out of your hands, ignoring your protests. “So Aaron Warner huh?”

“I was reading that!”

“Baby I can’t believe you were ignoring my messages for this,” he clicks his tongue. “This is worse than catching you make out with another man.”

“Okay that’s a bit of a stretch and besides, you go on trips all the time. Also, who would I even make out with?”

“Aaron Warner!”

You roll your eyes. “Satoru, he’s literally words on paper.”

He narrows his eyes at you and for a moment, you think he’s going to stop. Yet, he continues to observe the stack of books on the table all over again. “So that’s what my money goes towards? Books about other men–”

“Hey! I bought these books with my own money!”

“Oh,” he huffs, suddenly looking insulted. “So you don’t spend my money?”

Your lips release an annoyed groan and you roll your eyes for the nth time–wondering how his mood was all over the place. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Why do you need to read about Aaron Warner when you have me?” He says, climbing over the couch to sit next to you. You don’t object when he easily props you on his lap and discards the book to the side–his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Your heart clenches at the feeling of his hands gripping your hips as if it were second nature to him–how he looked at you like he had the world on his lap.

You clear your throat, not able to resist the urge to tease him. “You know. I wish I had a strong, handsome man holding me right now.”

“What? Like Aaron Warner?”

“That’d be great actually–” Your words die on your lips as he begins his assault of kisses on your face–peppering them along your jaw and neck. Gojo can’t help but smile against your neck at the sound of your surprised laughter, his head coming up so he can flash you a boyish grin.

“Still think he’s better than me sweetheart?”

“You’re jealous of literal words on paper!” You try to retort, your lips a bit swollen and your hair fairly all over the place. He can’t help but press another wet kiss to your cheek, laughing at your sound of disgust.

“So what if I’m jealous? My girl’s not paying attention to me squealing over–”

“I was not squealing–!”

“--Squealing over a book character,” he finishes, taking his hands off your hips to cross them.

You frown, heaving a sigh at the sight of him–a bit affected by the loss of warmth his hands provided. You open your arms, looking at him expectedly. “Fine. I’m sorry I didn’t respond to your messages or calls while you were on your trip, in your billion dollar vacation house by the way.”

He only huffs at your sarcasm but you don’t miss the way his lips twitch in amusement. “And?”

“And,” you roll your eyes again. “I’m sorry I said Aaron Warner was better than you. So you can please just hold me again?”

Your boyfriend watches you carefully, pretending to sulk at the sight of your teasing smile. You’re cold to the touch–your hands and feet always contrasting the warmth of his own. You still smell like yourself but he likes how he can catch a whiff of the body wash he uses on you. I miss you, is what his hug says.

His arms easily flip you on your back as he presses his weight over you, his grin wide and lovesick. “You know what? I think I might read the book myself to see what’s so special about this Aaron guy.”

You laugh. “Are you being for real?”

“For real, real, pretty girl.”

Bonus:

It’s been a week since Satoru’s returned from his trip and you’re starting to think he likes the books a bit too much. And you’re still convinced he’s not over your petty argument about Aaron Warner–seeing as he rushes to you on a peaceful evening.

“You wanna know something sweetheart?”

“What is it now ‘Toru,” you groan, having just woken up from your nap.

“Aaron Warner’s only 5’9.”

“What about it?”

“I’m 6’3.”

“...”

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“Add that onto the list “Why Toru is better than Aaron Warner.”

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #fluff

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lilyacorn · 1 year

Text

Yandere popular student! X gn! Tutor reader

Hes from this post and i hope u enjoy it!

Yandere popular student- who is always lively and sweet around others! He claims that they’re just really nice then people end up thinking he’s innocent at first glance! Their basement now says otherwise-

Yandere popular student- who was a normal student until he met you! And… your other friends.

Yandere popular student- who was ecstatic to have another “friend” pawn in his group!

Yandere popular student- who realizes that he needed to abort the “friend” pawn plan once he saw you. “…w-why… is my heart beating so fast?”

Yandere popular student- who suddenly gets hot and stutters when you smile exist at him like that! “H-huh?!”

Yandere popular student- who keeps implying to his friends that he just wants to be “friends with you!” Just an excuse to not hang out. And maybe stalk- “oh! No i just wanna be friends with them! Seriously guys, they’re just a friend future lover.”

Yandere popular student- who really wants to become friends! Lovers He says that “he’s busy” to convince friends that he can’t hang out with them. (He’s busy stalking- i mean, busy trying to be friends!

Yandere popular student- who’d dress nicer! Maybe some pants or a nicer jacket just to see if you’d compliment! “Look at me please…?” also gets a heart attack even when you look at him)

Yandere popular student- who realized that he needed to step up his game for you to become his “friend” totally because you’re not his crush or anything!

Yandere popular student- who heard that you tutor students! A better way to get closer if you tutored him! Even if his grades were completely fine…

Yandere popular student- who got up at 4 am in the morning to get ready for the session! Date “…do they like vanilla or flowers perfume…” also spent 30 minutes deciding over the perfume-

Yandere popular student- who arrived at the library and quickly sat down beside you to start! Weird how they kept fidgeting and stuttering around you tho…“uhmmm s-should we get started?”

Yandere popular student- who made sure to use all the friend dating tactics in the book! He moved his shoulder close to yours to “see the book closer” liar

Yandere popular student- who was enjoying himself with you until he saw the yandere delinquent standing at the library entrance. “Oh! So thats how you do it- who’s that?”

Yandere popular student- who’s trying his best to steal your attention! “Hey, uhm what does this mean?” Points at a mf letter

Yandere popular student- who looks at the yandere delinquent with malice. He said a simple joke and you laughed! “Hahaha” their laugh sounds so nice! Just ughhhhhhh

Yandere student- who’s face sours up when the yandere delinquent copies “his tactic” and says the corniest joke ever! And you chuckled at it?! “…” HOW?! THAT JOKE IS SO- UGH!

Yandere student- who notices the end of the session, and stands up to walk you home but yandere delinquent says it the same time. back off bitch. Theyre mine.

“May i walk you home-“ “can i walk you home-“

So reader, who will you choose?

#yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yanderecore #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere male #yandere aesthetic #yandere #yandere x y/n

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bandgie · 6 months

Note

Hi! I ABSOLUTELY LOVED your Beast of a Man tarzan!smut. Seriously it was so engaging and you wrote him so well (HES SO HOT AGHH). He's such a hot character idk why others don't write about him, I'm starved for Tarzan fics...

Could you please make a part 2 to the smut? You have such a great/smutty idea going I would love to see you continue it!!

It would mean everything to me!

( ^◡^)

a/n: hi yes thank you so much and ofc! it's been so long since I've written smut on Tarzan so please bear with me! (fic anon is referring to here)

synopsis: You have successfully brought back the ape-man for research. Despite behaving like an animal, he's a lot more human in more ways than you originally thought.

warnings: MDNI 18+, recording during sex, oral (m!), 69ing, semi-public oral sex, cumming in mouth (m!&f!), rough throat fucking (f!rec), cum eating (m!&f!)

2.8k words

"Who the fuck is this?!"

Your colleagues screamed and ran upon seeing who, more like what, you brought back to camp. They hopped up on tables and held up papers as weapons. They eyed you both wearily, on the verge of tears as you stood just a few feet away.

"I think that's a bit extreme," you sigh.

The ape-man was beside you, clinging onto your leg like a child would do with a mother. He, too, was very wary around these strangers. You could hear him grunting and pulling at you as if keeping you from getting too close.

Cute yes, but this would mean it would take a lot of work to build trust in the entire group.

Slowly, the fellow researchers began to try and communicate with the man. Talking slowly and softly, just like you showed them to. All of you agreed that this being could be the missing link, the answer to the question anthropologists have tried to find for decades.

It took over a month for everyone to be comfortable around one another, but of course, another issue was raised.

"So does he just not have a name?" Professor Porter asked.

As of now, you all were just calling him 'the ape-man' or 'hey you' to get his attention. It never crossed your mind to give him an actual name.

"We're not gonna name that beast," Clayton butted his way into the conversation. Clayton, as big and strong as he was, seems the most afraid of your new friend. He's hostile, rude, and arrogant. Even if the ape-man cannot understand the words thrown at him, he can feel them.

The best thing to do in these situations was to ignore Clayton, he just loves the sound of his own voice.

"No," you turn your attention back to the professor. "Not that I know of at least. Should we come up with one?"

"Oh great," there's heavy sarcasm laced in Clayton's voice. "Here you are naming a dog you're not even gonna keep."

"With no due respect Clayton, please shut the fuck up," Terk, the youngest of you, speaks. Terk is small for his age, but he has built. A hairy man who's lively, talkative, and one of the natives that live here. He and the ape-man get along well, a little too well sometimes.

Clayton flips Terk the bird.

"A name for him would be nice, yes." The professor looks as though he's sweating from the tense atmosphere. "Do come up with one dear, I think the missing link would rather you do it."

It's no secret that the ape-man prefers you over the other researchers. He's constantly at your hip, following you like you have an invisible leash on him. Your colleagues, however, don't know how close you two actually are.

The conversation stays in your head for the rest of the day. A name. A name. Something everyone has yet is unbelievably difficult to come up with. Hundreds of possibilities run through your mind as you carry out your daily tasks. Even the ape-man, who's used to you ruffling his hair, grows confused about your behavior.

Nightfall comes with everyone in their tents and you still haven't come up with a name.

With a groan, you turn on your side to see the very person who's making you struggle already looking at you. His eyes are dark, but the candle in your tent lights up his features just enough. You reach out and brush a lock of hair out of his face, watching how he moves to try and get you to touch his skin.

You settle with resting the palm of your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb over it.

"A name," you tsk. You narrow your eyes and let your gaze travel over his body. He needs to look like his name, that's a must. "Hey, do you know what a name is?"

He doesn't answer.

"Something to call you. That's a name. Do you have one?"

He stares at you.

Well, this is going to be harder than you thought.

Pursing your lips, you say the first name that comes to mind, "Edward?"

He reacts to that. His calm expression turns into a scowl, bushy eyebrows coming together. You quietly laugh and shake your head, "Not that one okay."

"Tony?"

He frowns.

"Taren?"

He pouts.

"Okay, okay. I think I got it...Garrett."

The ape-man groans, mimicking the behavior he's seen you do hundreds of times. It shocks you to see him act so human, so you. It's equally adorable as it is terrifying.

He's gotten closer to you, a breath away. The proximity used to freak you out, but you've learned it’s how he shows his affection. His trust.

The ape-man is waiting for you to say a word he likes, a sound that comes off your tongue magically. Judging from your facial expression and earlier absent behavior, this is an important task for you.

You want the name to be strong, versatile, and not easily replaceable. The being you've found is one-of-a-kind, it's only fair his name is as well. You play with a few letters in your head, bouncing them in your mind until you think of one that suits him.

"What about Tarzan then? Do you like that one?"

His pupils dilate, watching your beautiful lips pronounce the word. His word.

"Yes."

You gasp, sitting up abruptly. Your sudden movements make him panic as he sits up with you. He scans the tent to find an intruder while you sit there stunned.

He spoke. The ape-man no! Tarzan just spoke to you. He understood language and used it, even if it was just a mere word. A one-syllable answer that has shaken you to your core.

"Oh my god. You just, Tarzan you just spoke. Holy shit, say it again. I need to capture this on video." You ruffle through your bag looking for your camera.

Tarzan stops searching the tent and looks back at you looking as confused as ever. Like he didn't just display human speech in a mere month.

Quickly, you pull out the camera and hit record, aiming the lens at Tarzan's hard, yet beautiful features.

"Repeat what you just said," you look at him through the monitor. Instead of complying, Tarzan stares blankly into the lens. "Do you like the name Tarzan?" You press.

No answer, his eyes flick from the red light to your eyes.

"Come on! Just tell me whether or not you like the name." You're starting to grow impatient. At this point, you're convinced he's just being an ass.

Finally, he adjusts his seating position. Tarzan glances down at his crotch then back up to you, then back to his crotch. You follow his gaze, trying to understand what he's trying to say. Then it clicks.

Compensation. If you want him to do you a favor, you have to do him one as well.

"Are you being serious?" You sigh at him. Tarzan gives a faint nod to you. Even if he can't do so, you swear you see him smirk. Asshole. Setting the camera down, you angle it towards the two of you. Might as well have fun with it.

You crawl your way towards him, parting his thighs slightly before giving him a playful glare, "You're such a man sometimes."

Unlike before, Tarzan wears cargo shorts rather than a mere piece of clothes from last time. Professor Porter made it clear that if he was to hang amongst you all, clothes were necessary.

They suited him nicely, even now. The way the material hugs his toned thighs, how his cock bulges through the shorts even when he isn’t hard. You couldn't help but run your hands along his muscular legs, finding his crotch.

He groaned as you palmed him, straining to not thrust his hips up. Tarzan learned to be patient with you, especially in the presence of others. Most animals didn't care whether they mated alone or in their pack. Even if Tarzan was raised by those animals, the thought of others hearing the sounds you make for him is repulsive.

Instead, he has to settle for brushing your hair from your face as you undo his buttons. Delicate fingers unzipping the seam until his half-hard cock sprouts in your face.

It doesn't matter how many times you've seen his dick, it makes your pussy quiver every time. All you can think about is how perfectly it stretches you, how the tip slides against your cunt deliciously. Your mouth salivates at the memory, and you let your spit drool off your tongue to land on his cock.

Tarzan loves the sigh. A pink tongue just hovering over his length. He also remembers the feeling of your hot mouth on him. The way your lips slowly come closer to the crown of his head, how your breath wafts over him. It feels euphoric when you finally make contact with him, mouth enclosing his flushed head.

It's so warm in your mouth, smooth as you lightly suck on him. The hand on your head slightly grips your hair, a sign that he likes the slow pace you've set. You hum around his cock, taking him a little deeper as you widen your jaw.

One of your hands makes way to grip the base, pulling the skin upwards in a stroking motion.

This makes his hips jerk, gagging you for just a split second. Your wide eyes look up at him, small tears peeking at the corners. Tarzan gives an apologetic look, but the sight of your teary eyes and pretty lips around his cock makes him fuck up toward you again.

You pull away from him, earning a whine as Tarzan throws his head back dramatically.

Maybe he thinks you're going to stop as punishment, but it's quite the opposite. Your cunt is sopping from tasting him, even if it was for a brief moment. Even if you have a task at hand, and your camera is still recording for 'research,' you have your own needs to take care of.

Tarzan is none the wiser as you put a hand on his bare chest and lay him down. He eyes you curiously but lets you push him all the way down before hopping on top. His eyes widen as he's faced with your clothed cunt. Underwear the same color as your tongue that holds the strongest smell of you.

He doesn't need any directions as he dives his nose into you. Tarzan is obsessed with your natural smell. His nose immediately grows damp from your wetness, his tongue poking out to lick the juices that leak out.

Softly moaning, you take a hold of his cock once more. You pump it a few times before taking it into your mouth. It's surprising to see that he's not humping in your mouth like normal, but he's so distracted with your pussy that he can't seem to bother noticing his own pleasure.

It's hard to focus on his hard length as his teeth tear off your panties. You gasp when you hear the fabric split, but it turns into a whine when his tongue finally makes contact with your bare cunt.

Tarzan has to grip your hips to keep you still. As much as he would love for you to grind on his face, he needs to have his meal first. His tongue runs over your folds, finding that little bud you love so much to be touched.

He sucks on it and pulls, stretching your clit. Your legs shake and you have to pull away from his cock to catch your breath. Lazy hands stroke his hard-on as you look back. You clench at the sight of his unruly hair peeking above your ass, the sounds his mouth makes as he laps at you.

Turning back to your literal task at hand, you find the energy to take his cock once more. You unhinge your jaw and exhale, taking Tarzan deeper and deeper until your eyes roll back. You hollow your cheeks and suck, moving your head back up until just the tip remains in your mouth, and go all the way back down.

Now Tarzan can feel the bliss of your mouth on him. He moans into your pussy and slightly jerks his hips up, making you gag around him once more.

Feeling you work so hard makes him want to reciprocate. He shakes his head left and right to try and bury himself deeper. He uses his grip to force you further onto his face. Tarzan's tongue finds the squeezing entrance that he's breached so many times. He digs his tongue into you, finally getting a taste of you from the source.

He's guiding your hips so you could drag your pussy against him how you like. Tarzan can feel your hips trying to pull away from him as the feeling of his tongue has gotten too much. And it has.

You're trying to distract yourself by deepthroating him, but it's no use. All you can feel is his experienced mouth, how he remembers every detail he knows you like. You can feel your orgasm approaching, and how it builds in your stomach rapidly.

Tarzan feels your legs shake. Your thighs trembling and giving out, full lower body weight on his face. He can taste how the wetness has changed, thicker and tart. Tarzan knows this taste like the back of his hand. You're going to cum, give him that white cream he loves licking out of you.

You've completely stopped paying attention to his dick. A part of you should feel bad for neglecting him, but you can't seem to care as Tarzan's tongue fucks you. Instead, you find yourself humping his face, his mouth following as you approach your high.

You squeal as you come, clamping a hand over your mouth as you finish. Warm gushes out of you, body quivering as the eager man under you happily drinks it all. Tarzan gulps and slurps until he's beginning dripping from the corners of his mouth.

He takes and takes until you're the one having to tell him no more, that you can't handle another orgasm.

Tarzan hears the desperation in your voice, the way you plead. It takes strength for him to pull away from your pussy, a soft growl emitting from his chest.

Then his thighs wrap around your head, securing you in front of his cock. You have no time to question him as you involuntarily take his cock into your mouth.

There's so much pre-cum dripping from the slit that all you can taste is its saltiness. He's throbbing, fucking his hips into your mouth as he holds you still with his legs.

All you can do is take it. Lips wrapping around his girth as he desperately slides his dick in and out. You gag and silently plead for Tarzan to be gentler, but he's having none of it. Your hands warp around his thighs to steady yourself, your head bobbing uncontrollably to match his movements.

Tarzan twitches in your mouth once, stilling his hips deep into your throat. Tears immediately prick your eyes and fall down your face, and you swear your vision goes black for a fraction of a second before he pulls out. You get the chance to gasp for air as he lines up his cock to your lips again and shoves it back in.

You think you might pass out. You're at the mercy of Tarzan, and he's still unable to see how much stronger he is than the average man. Your mouth is nothing but a fleshlight to him as he makes you choke around him. It makes you feel like a toy, a warm hole for him to fuck his seed into.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

The familiar twitch in his cock occurs again. Once, twice, then three times before he unloads in your mouth. Hot spurts of his cum find themselves in your throat, forcing you to gulp it down.

Tarzan's hips slow, letting his cock drag against your lips before he finally pulls out. You cough and pant as his orgasm drips from your tongue.

His thighs release you and you promptly plop down on them. You feel his hands rub soothingly over the curve of your ass, up and down your thighs. And an extra apology, Tarzan presses a kiss to your throbbing pussy. You chuckle and kiss his thigh back before sitting up, hoping off his face.

You have to crawl to grab your camera, breathing a sigh of relief to see the red light still shining. You aim the lens at his face as he too sits up. You can see the arousal on his face from eating you out, his swollen lips, and messy hair.

"So," you start. "Tell me, Tarzan, did you like that?"

Tarzan's lips quirk into what you think is a smile before he looks at you directly through the camera.

"Yes."

a/n: holy fuck I dont think y'all know how hard this was. I kinda went all out for the first one so the second one was hard as hell to match lmaooo. I physically and mentally can't do a third installment. this is the final one sowwy also I added some characters from the film! hopefully you caught that, I made Terk human, Tarzan needed a friend even if it's a fanfic

#smut #tarzan x reader #tarzan smut #tarzan 1999 #tarzan and his mate #tarzan #beast #jungle smut #tarzan of the apes #tarzan au #tarzan fanfic #holy fuck what do I tag??#professor porter

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roolette · 7 months

Text

Smoke NSFW alphabet

You guys don't understand how much I need this man.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He holds you in his arms and does not let go (unless you want to, but seriously, who would want to?). He's probably taller than you, and let's be real, he's a big teddy bear. He'll worry if he was too much, and you run your hands through his hair, comforting him. It's safe with him.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

He likes his arms. They're strong, and can easily lift you up. As for you, he likes your eyes. Yes, he knows that's cheesy, but let him be a romantic. He can get lost in your eyes, just staring as he realizes that this is real, and you're his.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

He wants to cum in you, if you'll let him. He likes the way it drips out of you after you're done, and it just feels good to cum in you. If you don't want to, no worries, his pull-out game is strong. He'll cum on your chest and guide your finger through it, leading your finger to your mouth.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He wants you to take control. As much as he likes being in charge, he'll easily turn into putty in your hands if you let him. Hold him by the jaw and make him look into your eyes, praise him while he eats you out, and tell him exactly where to put it. Trust me, he'll love it.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's fairly experienced, but not with something as loving as you two. Navigating this relationship is a new, exciting thing for him, and he wants to give you the best he can.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Missionary, and no it's NOT boring. He likes being able to look at you while he's inside you, and he likes the closeness the position lets him have. He'll run his hands up and down your body, kissing you and holding you, whispering praise into your ear.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He'll accidentally be goofy while trying to be serious, which turns into a lot of laughter and love.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Happy trail happy trail happy trail happy (I am forcibly dragged off stage)

Anyway, he has a happy trail and I'm barking at the walls rn, so let's move on.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Oh, my God. He is so loving and romantic. Constantly praising you, kissing you everywhere. Also, he usually gets you off first before he focuses on himself. He wants to see you come apart in his arms, it's the best for him.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

He doesn't jack off much. He's a grown man, and besides, he has you. Save the semen and all. Still, sometimes you're busy, and his mind and hand can't help but wander. He whines, by the way.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise. He'll praise you all the time, but PLEASE, praise him in return. Tell him how good he's being for you, and he'll melt for you. Call him a good boy. Tell him he's yours.

Biting. Mark THE FUCK out of his neck, thighs, chest, wherever. He'll wear the marks with pride, no matter how many sideways glances he gets.

Breeding. Look, he may not be ready to be a father, but he's going to fill you up with his cum and tell you how he's going to knock you up, make you his.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In your bed. He wants sex to be something special between the two of you, and he feels the most comfortable there. Sometimes he can be persuaded to fuck you against the wall during training, which is fast and rough. What can he say, seeing you fight is hot.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Sit. In. His. Lap. Do it, just do it, trust me. Give it two seconds, and he'll be hard. Running your hand through his hair will also do it.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He does not like to be called "daddy". It feels weird to him, especially if he happens to be older than you. Besides, he prefers more... submissive pet names.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man is a MUNCH. He especially likes it when you sit on his face, and he will hold your thighs down to make sure you don't squirm or move off of him. All or nothing. He'll tongue fuck you and kiss your clit, swallowing every drop. As far as receiving, he's hesitant. He wants to fuck your face, but he worries he'll hurt you, so it takes some persuasion. Once you get into it, though, he's gripping your hair, moaning above you and telling you how good you feel.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow most of the time, he likes to take his time making you feel good. Except after training or fighting. Get him while he's sweaty and excited, and you'll have him bending you over and fucking you on the nearest surface.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not the biggest fan, as he prefers to take it slow. Still, sometimes he needs you, and he'll take you quick and hard.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He worries about hurting you, but there are a lot of things he wants to try. Just talk to him first. Explicit consent is sexy!

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He can LAST. He loves overstimulating you, and will go until you're gasping and gripping the sheets. If you have the time, you can go for a couple rounds.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He'll hold a vibrator to your clit while he tongue fucks you. He sees toys not as a competition, but as an assistant.

Strap on. He takes you so well.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He tries to tease, but he just wants to give you whatever you desire, so being a brat with him will probably lead to some confusion. What do you mean, "make me"? How is he supposed to make you?

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Man is VOCAL. He whines and moans, and he is talkative, babbling to you about how good you feel. Tell him to shut up, though, and he's quiet.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Can lift you up easily, and will pick you up and throw you on the bed. In a non-sexual way, he'll sometimes just pick you up and carry you on his back.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's thicker than he is long, and uncut. The first time you had sex, there were some worries you couldn't take it, but don't worry, you took it well.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He thought it wasn't that high, really. Then he met you. He wants you as much as he can have you. This sort of hunger is new to him, but you're happy to satiate it for him.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He wants to stay up talking to you, and he tries, but it doesn't take long for him to doze off with you in his arms. You press your ear against his chest, feeling his heartbeat as he falls asleep.

#mk imagine #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat imagine #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

i’ve been craving summer a whole lot lately so i’d love to see what a summer day with tasm!peter would look like if you’re up for it!!

Thanks for requesting my love!

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 705 words

You come home expecting relief, sweaty and smelly and exhausted, but there is none. The apartment you share with Peter is as stifling as it was outside.

You go straight to the fridge. Maybe there’s some water you can pour over yourself or frozen peas you can shove under your boobs or something. As soon as you pad into the kitchen, Peter’s head pokes through the window to the fire escape.

“Hey,” he says, sounding about as peppy as you feel. “The A/C’s broken.”

“I can tell,” you sigh. “Have you texted the landlord?”

“Texted, called, faxed—he’s definitely ignoring me. I went to his unit, and I’m not sure if he’s out or just hiding, but if he doesn’t respond by tonight I’m going in through his window.” Peter lets his head loll against the window frame, face flushed as he looks up at you. He makes a very pretty puddle. “Kiss?”

You smile ruefully. “It’s too hot for kissing.”

He huffs a laugh. “Fair enough. There’s popsicles in the freezer, wanna grab a couple and join me out here?”

You open the freezer, and your heart inflates like one of those lifejackets they keep on airplanes. Peter—brilliant, considerate, genius Peter—has invested in a giant bag of tube popsicles. You grab a red one for him and a green one for yourself and climb out onto the fire escape.

“You’re so smart for these,” you say. He grins as you pass him one, taking scissors from the windowsill to cut the top off of yours before doing his own. Your calf rubs slickly against his as you slot your legs in between his own. You don’t mind as much as you should. “Why’re you out here?”

“The alley gets a breeze,” he explains, closing his eyes and tilting his head back slightly, the encapsulation of a golden retriever in boy form. A whisper of wind catches in his fluffy hair, just barely ruffling it, but Peter grins like it’s the most satisfying thing in the world. “Feel?”

“Gimme a sec.” You take the plastic covering of your popsicle between your teeth, freeing your hands to pull the hair off your neck and securing it with a ponytail. The sweat-slicked skin of your nape feels blissfully cool in the air, and your eyes slip closed too as you pull the popsicle from your lips. “Oh, yeah,” you sigh, “I feel it.”

Peter’s silent, and when you open your eyes he’s giving you a look. Eyebrows raised just slightly, one corner of his mouth tilted up.

“If you still think it’s too hot to kiss,” he says, “you’re going to have to stop being so hot.”

You scoff. “Peter,” you say, like come on. “I was just putting my hair up.”

“And you know what that does to me.” He takes a bite of his popsicle, crunching pointedly.

“It’s hot,” you complain.

“It really is,” he replies, with a grin that has you rolling your eyes.

“I mean that I’m—that my neck is hot.”

“Again, so true.”

“Stop it.” You narrow your eyes seriously, pressing your lips together hard to keep them from quirking. “There’s nothing sexy about how miserable it is out here.”

Peter hums noncommittally, raising one shoulder in a half-shrug before he leans forward to hook his hands under your sweaty knees. You laugh as he hauls you toward him, his knees caging your ribs. He purses his lips, and you succumb yourself to your fate, and then cool air kisses your skin.

You open your eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” he says, continuing to blow on your face. “Is it helping?”

You take a second, letting yourself get used to the feeling of his air soothing over your damp brow. “Actually, yeah.”

Your boyfriend grins, still puffing out air as best he can through his smile. It brings his sun-kissed cheeks up towards his eyes and makes his lashes kiss.

You let yourself kiss him right there beside his eye, a token of your appreciation, but that’s not good enough for Peter. He taps your cheek, nudging you towards his lips, until you oblige him.

“You’re my hero,” you tell him lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, get in line.”

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idyllcy · 3 months

Text

oops... i got married || TO SOME STRANGER!??!?!?

word count: 1.4k || Fic 5 of oops... i got married

summary: I'm gonna be fr with you. Your new malewife is a little sus

You get married as a joke.

Yes, there are limits to how much you can drink. Yes, there are limits to how insane you can get while drunk— but apparently getting married is not within that limit. You get married to some random guy— SERIOUSLY. SOME RANDOM DUDE. You wake up to a legally signed marriage document and them in your kitchen, and you blink at the confirmation email on your phone and then at your new lover at the door.

"You're going to be late for class."

"What the fuck?!"

You pause at the sight of your new husband, some random man, white hair and red eyes, and you pause. Did you get transmigrated? Are you in an isekai fic? Is this your main character moment? Seriously, how the hell did you manage to bag some random ass man!???!!? WHAT. WHY IS HE HOT.

"Wait." You pause. "How do you know I have class?"

"The backpack." He points. "Now, hurry on up now."

That does NOT explain how the hell you met your husband. Yet, you don't have time, grabbing breakfast from his hand as he waves goodbye to you at the door. Great day to pay expensive ass rent but live right next to campus. You wonder if your husband lives someone. You feel kind of bad that he had to take you home after you got plastered yesterday. But. That does not excuse the fact that he looked suspicious as fuck while staring at you sleep. Also, how the hell did he agree to marrying you? WHY.

You huff as you walk back to class, pausing and blinking when a piece of the ceiling breaks off and slams into where you were sitting, somehow missing all of your belongings by a hair. You blink, stupefied, grabbing your stuff from under the ceiling as you evacuate the lecture with the rest of the students. Someone hates you... or something. You don't know. You're surprised you didn't just die while drunk. Sometimes pianos fall out of the air and try to bomb you. Also, you have a husband to go home to now! He'd be sad if you suddenly died... right?

Wait. What even is his name?

"Casper." Your husband rolls his eyes as you pout. "You forgot your own husband's name?"

"Uh huh." You blink. "Are you just going to be my househusband now?"

"I don't see why not. Anything interesting happen today?"

"Oh!" You grin. "A piece of the ceiling slammed into my seat, but luckily for me I was in the bathroom. My stomach problems saved me for once."

Your husband gives you a smile half between concern and amusement. (he would have to try harder next time— what. that was not him. who said that.)

"I'm glad you're safe."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." He pauses. "Do you get acid reflux in the morning?"

"If I eat and sleep immediately after." You mumble. "Why?"

"Hotpot." He hums. "Spicy hotpot. Eat up."

Your eyes light up, brightening as he hands you a bowl of rice, watching as you dig in, humming happily as you watch him put his own bowl down.

"Is it good?"

"Mhm!" You beam. "Where'd you learn to cook?"

"I live alone." He hums. "Someone has to do the housework around my place."

"How about currently?"

"I live a little... far away." He pauses. "It would be hard for me to see you every day if I don't live at your place. Besides, my job is in the area."

"Will you move here? Or..."

"No. My management provides housing for free." He smiles. "Oh, the food's going to get cold."

You pause. "Can I apply?"

"No. We don't take applications."

"WHAT." You groan. "Ugh. I knew it was too good to be true. You probably sold your soul for it or something."

Casper doesn't speak up, placing a slice of lotus root in your bowl. "Eat up."

You raise a brow but don't pry further. It's not your problem if your husband sold his soul. At least he's hot.

Maybe he's secretly trying to eat your soul... demons... that checks out honestly. You did have a bad stroke of luck when it came to unfortunate situations, and you had an even more comedic one when it came to avoiding them. Always nearby, never you. You wonder if that would curse your husband. Though, from the looks of it, your husband would probably steal someone's soul before that curse could even lay a hand on him.

"What are you looking at?"

"You're very hot." You grin.

You laugh when you notice your husband turn red.

The vast majority of your days pass relatively calmly, and you grow into a comfortable pattern with your husband... that is until your husband shows up with a black card and tells you that he can cover rent for the rest of your life— that raises some questions. What does your husband even do for work? What is he doing with his life? How the hell does he have a better credit score than you? Where is his money even coming from?!

You force him into the corner of your house one afternoon with a broom in hand.

"Sunshine, I really think—"

"Spit it out." You stare him down. "What do you do for work. I refuse to believe I'm in a kdrama, so spit out something you can back up."

Casper presses his back against the wall, eyes darting to the wall as you shake the broom at him, and he grimaces.

"I'll get fired if I tell you—"

"NO ONE HAS A CAMERA IN MY HOUSE SO SPIT IT OUT"

"I'm a grim reaper."

You pause, blinking at your husband, words processing in your brain.

"I'm a grim—"

"They hire people for that?!" You blurt, pausing. "Wait. No. You're spouting nonsense at me."

"I am not."

"You are."

"Am not."

"Are!"

"Not!" Casper turns around to face you, shaking as your grip tightens around the broom. "Please... go through my closet?"

"So your job is literally... murder?" You pause. "My stay at home househusband is secretly some insane man who goes around killing people?!"

"It's not—"

"Then what is it?!" You raise a brow at him, unconvinced.

"We get a list." He sighs. "And we get everyone's name."

"Wait." You pause. "Why the hell did you agree to marry me then!?"

"That's not—"

You shake the broom at him.

"You were supposed to die years ago but kept avoiding death so I've just decided to marry you to see WHY you're not DYING." Casper braces himself for the broom's impact, but you're too stupefied to give him a proper answer.

"I'm supposed to be dead?"

"Well..." He grimaces. "You can't really... die."

"I'm immortal?"

"Your... soul." He pauses, turning his head to the side. "Your soul is endless, and you constantly give life to those around you... including me."

You pause. "So you married me because I'm a natural healer? Wait. No. You married me to kill me?! This isn't some josei manga, you know?!"

"Yes, but." Casper sighs, shoulders relaxing as you drop the broom. "You are so lovely."

"You're just saying that."

"I am not." He mumbles. "I would have just taken your soul if you were not."

"Oh, so this is pretty privilege?"

"It's not—"

"Wow, Caspie. I thought you actually loved me." You pretend to sigh.

"I do—"

"You didn't kill me because you think I'm lovely? If that doesn't—"

Casper grabs your wrists, holding them in place as he blinks at you, grumbling. "Would you shut up and listen to me for just a second? Goodness, sunshine, I love you. I'd go mad if I did not have you as my beloved."

You tilt your head at him, and he sighs.

"I love you. I'm not going to try killing you anymore."

You sigh, shaking your wrists loose as you press your lips to his, humming. Casper doesn't argue with it, humming as his lips slot against yours, hands moving down to your waist.

"So we aren't getting a divorce?" You mumble.

"No." He grumbles. "What do you want for dinner?"

A smirk spreads on your face as he sighs.

Still. He loves you.

#surprise mf you thought I was never gonna touch that event again did ya #the quality of these fics r like wattpad crackfics to me. send help #☾.fics #☾.events #grim reaper x reader #casper x reader #a date with death x reader #'martha honey I'm coming home— IM BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN!?!??!' -> me rn

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luvneymar · 1 year

Text

(1) LOVE TO HATE ME — NEYMAR JR

— SUMMARY: You & Neymar both were booked for a suggestive underwear photoshoot, the only problem? You both hate each others guts.

PARINGS: young!neymar x female!reader & young!lucas paqueta x female!reader

NOTE: any examples doesn’t not represent the race, body type or skin-tone of the female lead.

— “Yes! Just like that! A bit more slutty and you’ll be perfect!” The casting director yelled at you from the background of your Calvin Klein campaign, You laughed hearing the last part as you posed on the set strutting your body in different ways.

In the recent years of you becoming a rising star in both the athletic world & the modelling world you’ve been booked & busy with these kinds of activities & activities. The one thing that sold the most was your partner shoots with another male athletes or actors.

The first time it happens it was by total accident when the director doubled booked 2 models at the same time but seeing how much money it brought in for you & the companies, you had to basically expect for some handsome famous guy to come & sweep you off your feet.

As you were posing the casting director stopped the photographer as he walked onto the set to whisper something into your ear,“Darling you know how much I love your smile but, we don’t need it here. Look fierce! Look alive! Look sexy!”

He begun to adjust your facial expression by pulling your bottom lip out just a bit to create a naughty but nice type of pout along with curling your eyelashes a bit more to make them look “doe-y” at one angle then “siren-y” the next.

Once he backed away and resumed the shoot you took his advice & begun to pose is much more suggestive ways; ways that your mother would’ve smacked you for if she saw the magazine you’d be front & center in.

“Lovely! That’s what I’m looking for!” He yelled out waving his hands around in an attempt to hype you up.

Soon the flashes stopped as he turned to the photographer looking at the photos he took to approve them, he sent an approval nod his way signalling the standby staff to clear the set & hand you a robe.

As you walked off the casting director engulfed you into a hug patting the back of your head, “You did great today, your next set is in your change-room. As you know that’ll be your collaborative project. Get excited”

You both exchanged cheek kisses before your waddled to change-room feeling exposed & quite cold actually. As you opened the door you immediately searched for the clothes you were going to wear.

Except you only found a pair of pants & the iconic Calvin Klein underwear, not a shirt in sight. You begun to look around trying to see if your shirt was misplaced. Or at-least a bra; you never signed up for a topless shoot.

“My set missing a—!” As you walked out of the change-room holding the “outfit” you were supposed to wear you locked eyes with non other than— Neymar Junior. Neymar fucking Junior.

The Neymar Junior who broke your nose in Secondary School, The Neymar who cut your hair in middle school, The Neymar Junior Santos who tripped you in the halls. That Neymar Junior.

“He’s the super hot athlete? Oh, just kill me now.” You yelled out throwing your arms in the air as you spun your heels speed walking towards your change room grabbing your manager by the arm digging your nails into his arm.

As you slammed the door you shoved him into the couch throwing the clothes on the table as you flopped down beside him, “Seriously? Seriously! You hyped this up so much I thought I was gonna do a shoot with the Stephen Curry.”

“Just listen—” He tried to explain, you slammed your finger onto his mouth signalling him not talk as you shook your head side to side very slowly with an evil scowl on your face.

“I’m having a moment here! I specially said anyone but him! Did you know he broke my—!” You explained flailing your arms in the air as you fell over on the couch resting your head on the armrest.

“Yes I know you’ve told the story a million times and more, to be fair you weren’t all the kind to him either.” He cut you off as he stood up from the couch, “I tried to reason with them but you both are very popular on the internet. You even have fanclub—”

“Ew! Don’t even mention that to me. I’ll just suck it up & hold my breath till I die on set & blame him for 1st degree murder.” You grumbled swinging your legs off the couch as you sat back up staring right at the wall blankly.

“Your loss. I personally think he’s kinda cute—!”

“Get out!” You shrieked throwing your pillow at him as he rushed out of the room laughing at your reaction. You got up & begun pacing around the room chewing on your thumb nail as you pondered about how you could even do this.

You weren’t even worried about Neymar as much as you were worried about your long-term boyfriend Lucas Paqueta seeing this. You half naked pressed against another man; his best friend according to the concept photos you were given.

“I’ll just explain it to him later. He knows how much I hate him anyways!” You took a deep breath shaking off any negative thoughts you had lingering in your mind as you begun to get dressed.

It didn’t take long since all you had to put on was a pair of underwear, jeans, & a pair of nipple covers. Thankfully they ate last provided you with that seeing as how you felt as if you were about to film a porno.

You walked towards the mirror hands held on your breasts as you looked up and down at your attire embarrassed look melted onto your face. “Neymar Junior is going to see my boobs.” You muttered out, in disbelief.

“Neymar Junior is going to see, my boobs! As you took in the fact you begun to laugh uncontrollably at the irony of the situation, your arch enemy since your birth is going to be touching your boobs; a place only a select few were even allowed to see.

You wiped the small tears forming at the corner of your eyes due to excess laughter as you pulled out of your phone from your pocket feeling it vibrate from a text that read.“We’re ready for you.”

You sighed saying a small prayer before walking out of the change-room hands covering your chest, as the shoes you were wearing made noise the casting director along with Neymar turned their heads to look at you. “Woman of the hour!”

“Yeah.” You nervously chuckled as you slowly made your way to the edge of the set, despite taking literal baby steps you made it there in a shorter time than you’d like, as you stood there staring straight ahead right past Neymar’s eyes that didn’t leave your body.

“Did you look at the concept photos?” The casting director asked you as you completely zoned out all the background noises, your heart begun to pound as you took in that this was really happening.

“Yeah I did.” You muttered out as you turned your head slowly towards the director awkward smile on your face as you felt Neymar’s gaze being branded onto your skin.

“Well we’re scrapping that one, this is what the first pose will be.” The casting director handed you a photo face down already making you suspicious, when you flipped the photo your eyes nearly flew out of your sockets.

“What the fuck is this!” You whispered shouted in disbelief as to what you were seeing, not only were you going to be literally topless, Neymar’s head was going to be resting: on your breasts.

You hadn’t even noticed that his hands were going to be resting on your ass. “We are not filming a porno! You’ve gotta change this now.”

“This is what is going to sell. It sold back then it’ll sell now. Come one darling, just this once. For me.” He pleaded with you grabbing you by your shoulders.

“No! Not unless you pay me millions! Even if you can You’re gonna owe me. Big time. largely.” Hearing that the director smiled at you before ushering you onto the set where you stood awkwardly beside Neymar who had a stupid smirk on his face. “Alright places everyone.”

Once you heard that you grit your teeth and furrowed your eyebrows as you eased onto the floor of the set, you hesitated before crawling into Neymar’s lap hands hovering just centimetres away from his waist with him doing the same cringing away from your body.

Just before the photographer begun to take photos the director begun to yell once again,“Ugh no no no! Hands on her waist, hands on his waist, look seductive, look like you want to fuck each other!”

You grew goosebumps just hearing that as you muttered under your breath “ew”, you rolled yo ur eyes looking away from Neymar’s annoyed gaze, “This is an underwear company! you’re advertising underwear! hands off your sides and pose!”

“Don’t think I’m enjoying touching your repulsive body, I’m doing this because I have too.” He muttered under his breath emphasizing the “repulsive” making your skin crawl.

“Your breath stinks.” You replied pinching him in his side as hard as you could, seeing him wince in pain gave you a weird boost of satisfaction, as you both bickered with the occasional pinch coming his way you both tuned our the director till he yelled.

“I’m not paying you both millions to look like constipated scorpions! Positions! Now!” He yelled out using the paper in his hand to fan his forehead which was sweating quite heavily, hearing him be so angry out of nowhere frightened you enough to relax just enough to look natural.

Once you both had relaxed easing into each other the rest of the set had gone smoothly with minimal arguing from both of your sides; especially your side since you were quite literally topless. “Wonderful Job guys! Your cheque’s will be emailed to you shortly.”

Once the set was clearing out you stood there waiting for your robe to be handed to you as you shivered, the studio was a lot colder than you had realized. As you were standing around you noticed Neymar hadn’t left quite yet & he was looking a bit red.

“Ew, Are you blushing? I know I have great boobs, but no need to get embarrassed y’know? I’m sure your girlfriend—”

“My God, Will you just shut up?” Neymar shouted at you as he begun to scratch his skin, little blotches of red begun to show on his skin— not that you’d notice them of course.

“Shut up? Did you just tell me to shut up? Do you want me to rip your jaw off? Or did you forget who you were talking too? You turned your body to face him as you looked him up & down with disgust & annoyance in your eyes.

As you were cussing him out you didn’t even notice he hadn’t given you a snarky response back or just pushed pasted you like he always did confusing you, as you took a closer look at him you noticed he was developing a skin rash; hives.

“What the fuck? What type of rash are you developing?” You asked as you backed away wrapping your robe around your body tightly, watching him scratch his body frantically grossed you out enough to just leave the set & go back to your change-room.

Just before you were able to set foot into your room you heard a loud boom, along with a shriek alarming you greatly. As you rushed towards the noise you were met with Neymar breathing heavily on the floor with his assistant all over him trying to find out what was wrong.

A crowd gathered around him as some people were calling the ambulance while others were helping in anyway they could, as you stood there looking at him try to take in a breath you spun your heels turning back to your room.

“What the absolute fuck is going on?” You muttered out backing away from the crowd as you slipped back into your change-room slamming the door before locking it, you slid down the door trying to figure out why that was happening.

As you wondered it had finally hit you, recently you were gifted a body-care set that was based upon real strawberries giving you a long lasting strawberry scent all day— the only problem? Neymar was severely allergic to them.

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