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ghost-proofbaby · 2 days

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SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Can I kiss you, Sugar?”

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive.

This moment is no different.

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head.

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years.

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained.

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way.

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss.

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future.

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now.

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they?

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.”

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair.

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home.

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks.

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads.

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared.

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment.

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.”

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance.

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain.

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him.

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his.

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret.

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere.

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter.

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight.

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone.

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it.

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be.

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call.

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.”

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it.

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile.

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight.

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize.

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised.

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then.

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down.

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear.

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it.

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.”

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you.

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this.

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away.

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption.

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off.

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we?

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption.

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.”

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.”

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened.

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it.

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours.

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on.

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man.

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses.

Always have, always will.

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined.

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into.

You’d forgotten just how well you know him.

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind.

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens.

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him.

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core.

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response.

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.”

“Please what, Sugar?”

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-”

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command.

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention.

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now.

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day.

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned.

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water.

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would.

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer.

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago.

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up.

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night.

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.”

You mean more than just the sex.

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does.

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again.

You don’t know when the tears started.

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet.

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.”

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use.

“When I get back, all I care about is you.”

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains.

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you.

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable.

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die.

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #maroon #this is not edited please don't come for me PLEASE #that phone call in the middle of it all is important btw <3 #truth be told i think this had also been my least favorite chapter to write #it gave me fucking hell

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aaagustd · 1 day

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room for two | jjk: prologue

a series from the "Misfit Parent Collection"

⌞banner and dividers by @itaeewon

title: room for two

pairing: heir/retired boxer!jeon jungkook x single mother!reader

genre/rating: angst, slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, ceo!jungkook, divorced!reader, aged up characters (in their mid thirties), surrogacy/pregnancy au; 18+

summary: As you signed the contract, you thought all your problems were solved—and so did he. However, no one can predict what life will throw your way.

Despite your prejudices, this journey will reveal that the bond you share goes deeper than your womb.

wc: 1.7k

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions a sh*tty parent, character death, borderline inappropriate workplace relationships but nothing has exactly happened, swearing, mentions boxing & knockouts, people either like jungkook or they hate him, let me know if i missed anything

release date: april 26th, 2024; 10:50pm est

note: the prologue is here !! i hope you all are ready for this ride. it's been a two year journey for me and i'm so happy you all get to join me. we have a lot to cover and so many people to meet. i hope you're ready !!

series masterlist | main masterlist | inbox | join the taglist? | read on ao3

One year ago.

The doors open to reveal the setting sun on the horizon. Shades of orange and red paint the sky as the faint presence of stars patiently awaits the giant orb's departure.

Jungkook steps out into the crisp evening air without regard for the gusts that violently displace his perfectly styled bangs.

His urgent steps have nothing to do with the conditions. After a long and exhausting day, he tends to enjoy a nippy pre-spring breeze.

When he approaches the exit, his energy is almost completely drained. The first step he takes out of the building is like an instant charge, and the wind hitting his face is like a slap that brings him back to reality.

If that isn't enough to wake up his brain, the sharpness of his security personnel's tone will surely have him alert.

Two men of large stature guide him to his Porsche. He can only imagine the twinkle in his eyes when they land on his baby—resting idly while she waits for him to claim his rightful seat behind the wheel.

Jungkook nearly bypasses his guards as he takes excited strides toward his vehicle. However, a muscular bicep forms a barricade directly in front of the young CEO, reminding him of the dangers of wandering ahead of them in public.

Only authorized staff are allowed on the premises. Still, even a company as large as Sport's 5 cannot dictate who stands on a public sidewalk. Fortunately, most of the people who choose to spend their time out here are harmless. However, he still understands the importance of safety.

Some people are so desperate they'd do anything to get a picture with the Big 5—a panel Jungkook used to sit on before being offered an executive position.

Sport's 5 comprises five individuals who have had exceptional professional sports careers. These are mainly retired sportsmen and women who still love the game.

Jungkook was offered a seat at the table before he could properly hang up his gloves. Everyone wanted to know his story, his input and opinions, and his firsthand account of the KO he delivered right to Joey "The Rhino" Reese.

Although it was the best highlight of his career, he's never publicly spoken on that night out of respect for the legend and his family. It'd be pointless to keep retelling the events when they're online for everyone to see.

Despite keeping his mouth shut about the fall of an icon, he still receives his share of hate from the boxer's diehard fans.

"Coward!"

He hears a man shouting insults from across the street, but most of his words are inaudible due to the distance. It can't be anything good because a family walking by promptly covers their child's ears every time the man opens his mouth.

Like on any other occasion, Jungkook shrugs off the spew of hate and gets into his car, wishing security a safe night. The engine roars as he pushes start. The sound of purring grasps one of the men's attention, and he turns around with a point, a silent compliment that Jungkook accepts with a nod as he speeds away.

With only headlights in his rearview mirror, Jungkook zooms through the city—wondering where his journey will take him. After the day he's had, home seems like a great option, but he isn't in the mood to spend a weeknight surrounded by silence in a large penthouse.

So, he drives downtown, aiming for any bar without a crowd. That shouldn't be too hard. Most people have work tomorrow, and they aren't in the mood for a party, and neither is he.

A distraction is all he needs to ease his restless mind.

He reaches the heart of the city and parks near the curb. Heads turn as he exits his vehicle, wondering who he could be. With his shades on and natural hair color, it's hard for people to recognize his identity these days.

Still, everyone is captivated by the car he steps out of. They could care less about his appearance. The real attention grabbers are the wealth that oozes from his body and his Porsche. Without money, he's just another guy.

Jungkook adjusts his suit as he scopes out the area. He notices the establishment across from him has upbeat music blasting through the speakers. Judging by the people lined up, waiting to get in—it's more of a nightclub than a lounge.

He sighs as he eliminates one place after another, eventually deciding to walk the strip and see what it offers.

He nearly misses it as he strolls aimlessly, but tucked in the corner—dark and rustic—is just what he's been searching for.

Somewhere laid back and secluded; just somewhere you go for a drink and maybe a few rounds of pool.

He can count the number of occupants in there on one hand, so before anyone can figure out who he is, he steps inside and removes his glasses. He scans the room and acknowledges those who randomly lock eyes with him.

Jungkook can't help but admire the way this place is set up. The outside doesn't do it any justice; he can't even remember the name on the sign. He'll have to check on his way out; tell some of his colleagues to visit so it can gain some more customers.

He'll have to look into that another time, though. He wants to spend only a little time here, so he makes his way to the bar.

Two women stand on each side; one is at the register printing someone's bill, and the other is already waiting for him to order.

The greeting he receives is warm and sincere. One you will only find in a few places. He offers a smile, the best he can give, at least.

"Hey. Just a Jack & Coke for me," he replies.

With a slight nod, the bartender begins preparing his drink.

While Jungkook waits, he starts going through his phone, checking texts he missed while he was up to his neck in paperwork.

Most of them are from associates, his trainer, and…

His assistant?

The number isn't saved because he hasn't used it, but he sees the name in a previous message—letting him know he's speaking with the woman he hired four months ago.

6:54 pm (###) ###-####: Hi! I think I dropped my earring in your car when we grabbed lunch today. Can you check?

He doesn't have to.

Jungkook saw when the earring "fell" between the center console and the passenger seat. It happened right after its owner dropped it there.

He can't help but laugh at the whole thing. Had he remembered, he would have said something immediately, but he has to admit that the low-cut blouse was a great choice. He can't count how many red lights he almost ran, sneaking glances.

Usually, he has no problem keeping things professional, but with all the flirting and teasing over the last few weeks, the temptation is becoming a bit unbearable.

Maybe he should take a detour on the way home and return the "lost" item.

7:49 pm Him: I'll look in a few

After he sends the message, his drink is placed before him, and he abandons his phone without hesitation.

"Tab or no?"

"No, love. That's it for me.."

He places a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and pushes it toward the woman behind the counter.

"Keep what's left," he insists.

She takes the cash and walks to the register, leaving him alone to sip his liquor and bob his head to some classic rock.

As soon as the glass touches his lip, he takes a large sip, and regret washes over his entire body.

"What the—"

"Don't drink that," the other bartender whispers sharply.

She rushes over and takes the glass from his hand, instantly replacing it with a new one.

"She's trying, but…"

Jungkook understands entirely. She's still learning. Everyone's been there, even him.

"Don't worry about it," he insists. "Let me grab my wallet—"

She declines.

"It's on me, sweetheart."

Before he can argue, she walks away and disappears with the horrible drink her coworker made.

Despite the little hiccup, Jungkook is glad he found this little gem. It seems like a nice place for a good time, but also somewhere to unwind. There's a bar, a dance floor, a billiards table—and whoever is in charge of the music has great taste.

He'll definitely be back, maybe even tomorrow.

The next sip he takes does exactly what it's supposed to do. "Goddamn it."

The liquor makes his mouth and throat tingle as it travels into his body. He can feel his body relaxing already. Now, all he needs is a shower and—

His phone buzzes in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Once again, the number is unknown.

Jungkook intends to ignore it, but his thumb accidentally presses accept. He stares at the screen in disbelief as he hears the faint sound of someone's voice on the other end of the call.

Slowly, he brings it to his ear and acknowledges the caller.

"Hello?"

"Hi, son."

Great, this is just what he needs right now. A call from his father, someone who basically disowned him for chasing the same dream that led to his wealth and success.

"Yeah, I'm kind of busy. Can I call you back?"

He lies so he can end the call. There isn't a drink here that can give him enough strength to put up with this man. He can't deal with this tonight, and he won't.

"Hold on!" he shouts through the phone, making Jungkook release a defeated sigh.

He's entirely prepared to hang up in his father's face if he has to, but he'll entertain him for a few more seconds.

"Look, I don't know who pumped your balls up so large that you have the audacity to call me, but—"

"It's your grandfather, Jungkook."

There's a pause.

There is a long, dreadful pause. It's as if Jungkook already knows what he's about to say, and unfortunately, his instinct is right.

"He's dead."

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #jungkook fics #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #aaagustd.fics

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brujahinaskirt · 2 days

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I will never shut up about how Kingdom Come: Deliverance is the most tenderly written game served to the most loutish horde of jackasses. I think it is possibly one of the greatest pieces of popular fiction made about feudalism in recent history, even if it's not always the most historically accurate.

And that's because the whole damn thing is about the profound, authority-enforced inhumanity that self-propels feudal order... but this time, it's written from the perspective of, for lack of better word, "humanity undermines, and humanity wins."

Love wins, if you want to be cheeky.

This was originally meant to be a reply to @feelinungry's excellent post on the subject, but it outgrew itself and got super bloated, so I'm plopping it in its own post to not be obnoxious...

KINGDOM COME: DELIVERANCE MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW

And the reason all this about humanity and love is so important to the core of the story, to the very backbone of the narrative (even beyond the plot), is that it exists in opposition and to the impairment of the feudal system. Kingdom Come: Deliverance means to teach us, by way of deeply dramatic plots following individuals, how feudalism works and why it worked the way it did. And why and how that system fails.

The vehicle by which the game does this is by showing us, over and over, how the stratification of feudal class is eroded and sometimes outright dissolved (either in general, as with Henry and Hans, or when it matters most, as with Radzig and Henry) by plain and simple love.

Feudalism, like most class-stratified systems, relies upon 1. dehumanization of those beneath one's appointed status; 2. fealty (mock-love) to those above one's status, their title-appointer class; and 3. the maintenance of a deep separation between these artificially bestowed statuses, as enforced by church (as in word of clergy, not word of god) & state (legal rules and law). Those words and laws existed to propel the system by divide-and-maintain (of the workforce populace, placing it firmly below the next class in line, etc.) in the service of unify-and-profit (for the ruling class).

Sigismund & his invading army are wholly separated and adherent to the feudal theory, even if they have flouted codes of warfare & inheritance; they are presented to us as the main dehumanizing force of the story world, a wave of Order that indiscriminately burns opposition flat rather than an individual leading a royal coup, a cyclical destruction that paves the way for the next flavor of rule to continue the feudal system ad infinitum. They're thoroughly separated from the story even when they are burning down a village in front of our eyes and generally move as one, with Markvart occasionally stepping out of that mass of Feudalism and its antihuman nature to give it a face. They're more a force of nature than an individual as far as the narrative goes.

And we are meant to understand that in sharp contrast to the "close" story, the cast we get to know and watch as they attempt to answer this force of nature. And the second we see these characters get close enough to each other, by raw proximity, to poke a pin into the wineskin of feudal order as dictated to them by authority, it bleeds--everywhere. Not in the sense of ruination but in the sense that a tiny wedge of empathy cracks open the dam and leads, yep, to rehumanization--and love, the most human driving force there is.

And that changes everything, for everyone. Not just internally, as with a character's personal development arc (i.e., Hans learning why his duties, which he resented and viewed as an impingement on his freedom when dictated to him by authority, are incredibly important for real people who experience pain) but externally as well (as @feelinungry so elegantly points out in the original post).

Over and over, at every stage of the story, it's the rehumanization of and by these decision-makers (at a family level, at a community level, at a regional level, at a national level) that cracks the feudal cycle, even if in very small ways. Hans really brings this back home in a petri dish in late game, after the siege, when he complains to Henry about the noble's code (letting Istvan go) potentially leading to pain and disaster for the common people Istvan's machinations are likely to harm in the future. He chafes--and we chafe, and so does Radzig, and so does Divish--against feudal stratification because he has learned a general empathy through loving an individual, and that has in turn reshaped the way he sees the world.

And that's exactly why and when feudalism begins to fail, and why it thrashed itself the way it did, from the enforcement of sexual mores (though this wasn't exactly like it is in movies) and gender law to terror upon its own populations.

And it's the crucial understanding I think we begin to forget after being exposed to so much Hollywoodification of history, where the oppression always exists for cruelty's sake alone rather than in active and deliberate service to a political construct.

And I think it's why we've "lost the plot" so horribly when it comes to understanding that people in history were still people, not monolithic one-mind entities (as the feudal system demanded they be). And why we somehow forgot that such people fall in love, in all kinds of love, in a way that has never given a damn about authority. And that this in turn undermines supposedly supreme authority, even divine authority, and will always continue to do so, as long as people are people.

This is what it always comes back to. Always. From Henry's parents and their mysterious bond with Radzig informing the protagonist's journey from "the past"--to Henry & Hans falling into stupidly fierce soulmatehood with each other in the present--from Istvan & Erik's destructive fuck-the-world romantic love on the "enemy" side--to Divish's humbling, humanizing realization that he loves Stephanie in some way, he really does, despite the chasm of age/gender enforced upon them by their adherence to feudal order that doomed their romantic love to failure.

People will always love each other, even when the world orders them not to, even when faced with death and worse. People will always, given proximity and shared experiences, learn to see each other as human again. KCD reminds us of that. It's why the "slow" storyline exists and why it works.

And that is why this game is so fucking fantastic, and why the genpop fandom has utterly failed it.

#kingdom come deliverance #kcd #kcd2 #henry of skalitz #hans capon #radzig kobyla #divish of talmberg #stephanie of talmberg #redmeta

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nocompassnosign · 2 days

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share what clicked about chloe or sam bestie!!

ok so full disclosure this is just how i see it based on vibes, listening to it an extreme amount of times and forcing myself to meditate on it because it was driving me crazy more so than any other song on the album.

the first thing that i could not figure out but that felt very important was the title name. i just think that taylor is either very specific with title names or the name is the name for obvious reasons (main phrase in the chorus). and i believe she went with the very long and demanding to be questioned title because it summarizes the song in that all those names are each different individuals and it doesn't necessarily matter who they are but just that they are separate people, so i think the song is also about multiple individuals and it doesn't matter who they really are what matters is they are all people she's loved or cared deeply for and that ultimately didn't work out BUT what if....

which brought me to the conclusion that the song is basically just the entire thesis of midnights wrapped into one song. why did these old relationships end? it keeps her up in the middle of the night until she sees phantoms of things that never were. in the third verse she even references midnights by saying scarlet maroon and by asking multiple questions...?

i also think the song is very reminiscent of what we've learned through the vaults which is that taylor knows when something is love and doesn't understand why her partner can't also see it. so she states 'if you want to break my cold cold heart just say "i loved you the way that you were"' it's painful to think wow maybe i didn't need to reinvent myself after every relationship ended to be a "better girl" maybe they really did love me all along and had their own issues for why they couldn't tell me.

i’ve already made this too long but i could truly go line by line and interpret how this song is just midnights summarized. i think the verses represent different people she's loved and i think the bridge represents the what if and the knowledge that we can never change what we missed out on so i guess we can just pretend it would have been magical. "you could break me open if you just tell me you really did love me then, and you do still think about it" it's sad in a way where she feels this is her legacy, forever being the one that got away.

#ttpd #chloe or sam or sophia or marcus #it has very quickly turned into one of my favorites #ask #anon #if this all sounds like nonsense pls let me know

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scientistservant · 2 days

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I'm sorry for sending in another ask 🙈 But I need to know your opinion, as I haven't had a chance to read it. Sooooooo, why is Long Live The Pumpkin Queen, bad? Did they fuck up the doc and Sally that badly? Like are we talking about Love Never Dies level of shitty? (musical sequel to Phantom of the opera that most of us fans loathe.)

Oh boy, okay

This is gonna be long, please bare with me 😭

So the book completely changes/“fixes” Sally’s origins. She wasn’t a creation, or never even FROM Halloween Town.

She’s a special princess of dolls from “Dream Town” and has parents who are also dolls. She was kidnapped from her bedroom when she was like 12 by Finkelstein.

This is fucking bullshit.

How she even physically ages or how dolls can even conceive is never brought up or explained. Nor is how Fink even kidnapped her in the first place. The book and author just expects you to accept this new canon, which conveniently comes out like three decades after the source material.

Because the book is in first person and in Sally’s point of view we NEVER hear any perspective or proper explanation from Fink or any other character about anything.

Fink is just reduced to a one-dimensional villain who kidnapped Sally all because he apparently can’t create life or bring things back to life via science. You know… HIS FUCKING JOB.

He despises that Jack and Sally get married, despite that Fink would be ecstatic at this (Sally’s his creation and Jack one of his very old friends.)

Sally is also reduced to a one-dimensional protagonist who never questions anything and every third word from her mouth/brain is either “sad”, “ragdoll”, or “stitches/seams”.

She just believes these two doll people who she’s never met before, and doesn’t bother to leave “Dream Town” to ask the elderly scientist she’s known for her entire existence about this (not to mention everyone in the entire world including the holiday realms are dead asleep at this point at this part in the book anyway…)

Oh yeah, the book has a main villain too, surprisingly. It’s not Fink, even though the book certainly treats him like it.

It’s the fake ruler of “Dream Town”, Sandman, who’s actually kind of cool and creepy. But his reasoning for his villainy is bullshit, just like everything else in this damn book.

He’s just tired.

Yeah.

The Sandman is tired because he can’t sleep and his sand doesn’t work on him so he can’t get to sleep. You’d think a being as powerful and seemingly dangerous as this guy wouldn’t need sleep, but apparently he does. He’s cranky and needs a nap with his blanky, boo-fucking-hoo.

The ONLY thing I actually sort of enjoyed in the book was the bit where Sandman was stalking Halloween Town, putting everyone to sleep, and Sally was hiding from him. That was actually kind of suspenseful and I wish Sandman was that threatening throughout.

And does Sandman get any punishment for taking over “Dream Town” and putting everyone in an eternal sleep?

Nope. But FINK gets punished! Firstly, Jack completely believes these two random doll creatures he has never met before and that say they’re Sally’s parents. He yells at Fink, without asking his dear old friend if any of this is even true. And then Fink gets 100 years of prison and community service, which is stupid because why the fuck would Holiday realm laws, much less HALLOWEEN TOWN laws, function the same as the real world’s?

Speaking of which, apparently Halloween Town’s an actual monarchy, and the Pumpkin King isn’t just a cool title for the face/mascot/figurehead of the realm. The book even lampshades this, but doesn’t take this anywhere further aside from Sally complaining she has to wear a crown and Jack doesn’t.

This whole book is stupid and I will never accept it as canon, ever.

What sucks about this is that I fucking PREORDERED the book! I thought it was gonna be a story about how and why Sally was created, and get some backstory/lore for Fink, as well as explanation of why his relationship with his creation got so bad. Maybe a little extra plot of how Sally and Jack met.

But it didn’t. I fucking cried. This book made me cry my fucking eyes out, out of anger and betrayal because my favourite character and his creation/daughter was butchered.

After reading the whole thing I threw the book in a little library and never looked back.

I’m still working on a complete and total rewrite/fix-it-fic, it’s just gotten put on the back-burner because of other projects I’m currently working/fixated on. Apologies for that. But I promise it won’t be forgotten!

EDIT: Oh yeah, and the Holiday rulers have a meeting about climate change. Because Holidays have super importance with the weather or some shit. I’m not fucking kidding.

EDIT 2: The author is also a New York Times best-seller which is already pretty suspicious since that is basically a huge scam. The book has hundreds of 4-5 star reviews that don't even really get into the specifics of WHY it's good. They're all either extreme Jack x Sally fans (the book starts off with them getting married and Sally's main dilemma is worrying about being "a good enough queen") that like anything tnbc/Jally related OR a bunch of people were paid to give this book glowing reviews.

#the nightmare before christmas #tnbc #long live the pumpkin queen #sally finkelstein #sally skellington #dr. finkelstein

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mortalfollies · 2 years

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look @ my fuckin haul today!!! winning!!! i love you second hand shops 🥰🥰🥰

#north by northwest 2 disc special edition!!!!#the doris day collection has 2 rock & doris romcoms i love + 2 of hers i don’t know #and every other title i either know it and love it #or have heard only good things about it. very happy very excited #folly’s follies

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bumblingbabooshka · 1 year

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Thinking about Vulcans prizing “calm” over “happiness”.

Like how humans look back on their childhood and remember how happy it was - joyful days spent running around in the sun, getting into a bit of trouble, laughing with peers and family - that’s how they know it was a good one. Meanwhile Vulcans might look back on their childhood and remember how peaceful it was. Quiet days spent studying, the warm glow of candlelit lessons in caves, getting along smoothly with ones peers - that’s how they know it was a good one. Humans typically chose their friends and romantic partners based on if this person makes them feel happy above all. The question of “Do you like being with them?” is interpreted to mean “Does being with them make you feel happy?” But since Vulcans don’t experience (or strive for) happiness there would have to be some other parameter. So I was thinking about like, what is a good relationship to a Vulcan? There’s obviously a big emphasis on ‘togetherness’ in Vulcan unions. The Pon Farr ritual Tuvok does with his [hologram] wife involves them committing to becoming “Two bodies one mind” and it’s stated that they give and receive from each other all that they are. There’s also of course the iconic “Never and always touching and touched”. This is all (as was said during T’Pol & Koss’ wedding) “The Vulcan heart, the Vulcan soul, this is our way.” Vulcans are also (ENT) expected to live together for at least a year after being married - I imagine so that they can bond with and get to know one another. In SNW T’Pring wants for Spock to honor the commitments he makes to her so in that case T’Pring values Spock keeping his word to her and placing her above other things. I see a bit of Tuvok in that, where he prizes his commitment to T’Pel over anything else to the point where he’d nearly rather die than break it: (Even though he eventually agrees to having sex with a hologram it MUST be of his wife and he lets Tom/The Audience know that he will NOT be making a habit of it. There’s no ironclad logical reason for him to react this way as a hologram is not a person but his commitment to T’Pel seems to take precedence and I believe that’s his reasoning. His bond with T’Pel is logical, sustaining and important to him and he’s loath to break it over some bodily need. some desire that will pass even if it kills him.) <- By this way of thinking, betraying T’Pel would be the emotional choice while remaining loyal to her is remaining loyal to his logical self. A strong emphasis on loyalty to one’s mate seems to be a common Vulcan trait. In the beginning this seems to be rooted in tradition but later on its probably assumed that the couple will be loyal to one another out of some sort of actual connection between two people as opposed to pure obligation. In ENT T’Pol says that a certain degree of “affection” is eventually expected to happen within a marriage (though the way she says it makes me think this doesn’t always occur and isn’t necessarily The Goal) and her mother says that she and her husband developed a “deep connection” to one another. All this makes me think that a connection and a sense of ‘togetherness’ or ‘compatibility’ would also be prized over more emotional things like a passion for one another. It’s a partnership above all and that would be prized over a romantic union. It makes me think of Vulcans’ roots in violence and war. Maybe this commitment to a steady togetherness, two people who don’t know each other being able to work together so seamlessly they nearly become one, is a way to show they’ve moved beyond that despite the pon farr remaining. Vulcans are a naturally very emotional species. Someone who incites that would probably not be seen as someone you should spend your time with. Someone who makes your heart pound, sets you ablaze, fills you with passion - that sounds like a bad Vulcan time v_v Tuvok says as much when he talks about how he was struck with “shon-ha’lock”. Humans wouldn’t see anything wrong with having a crush on someone (and indeed in that episode Tom only comes to the conclusion that it’s a shame Tuvok couldn’t act on these emotions) but it’s obvious that even a teenaged crush when uncontrolled can become a very big problem to a Vulcan. In one of the Star Trek Novels Tuvok even stops being friends with and talking to a girl because she tearfully admits she has feelings for him and he sees that her feelings for him cause her pain. Instead of thinking “Oh, she really likes me, good! We’re close friends so maybe we can make this work.” or even “I don’t like her romantically but since we’re close friends we can work through it.” Tuvok thinks “Oh, she really likes me. That must be causing her to become very emotional and I can see she’s clearly upset. I’ll remove myself from her life so my presence doesn’t incite those emotions anymore.” And while him flat out just cutting himself out of her life might seem weird and kind of cruel and a frankly hilarious reaction to someone confessing their love to you - I also think it’s something he thought of as a kindness. If his presence harms her (stirs up emotions in her) then he will remove himself to keep from harming her. Along that vein, calmness or the absence of strong emotions would be a good relationship and one worth staying in. Not that there can’t be any emotions (Tuvok and T’Les obviously care[d] deeply for their respective spouses) but that they must be controllable and able to be cast aside in the face of logic. I also think that “knowing” the other person would be considered very important (after marriage of course). If you’re to operate as a partnership, a team, and especially if you’re both telepaths you should be able to know your spouse pretty damn well. I see T’Pring attempt to do this in SNW where she is constantly fighting to get to know Spock which Spock self-consciously discourages since he’s been told/shown that his human side is unappealing to Vulcans. But yeah man idk...just picturing a Vulcan and a human talking for hours...walking along the beach...sleeping side by side...getting to know one another...and at the end of it all one says “You make me feel happy” and the other says “Your presence calms me” and it means, essentially, the same thing.

#star trek #vulcans #Flipside to humans seeing Vulcan relationships as frighteningly cold and formal: where's the choice? the autonomy? the love!#Vulcans seeing Human relationships as exhaustingly turbulent meandering and estranged: where's the union? the commitment? the connection!#In the star trek universe my only contribution is that I write a book titled 'Vulcan-Human Relationships: Peace & Love'#and it's never important to any story it's just a background gag #Vulcan: Is that your husband? / Human: HUSBAND?? Haha we've only been dating like a year or two. / Vulcan: I can't with this. I have to go.#I don't ever know what to call these things #ummmmmmmmmmm I hope I'm making any sense #alien affections and value systems my beloved....#people who earnestly 100% do NOT desire human concepts of 'love' or 'happiness' - INTERESTING!!!!!#I like Tuvok a lot when i think about this bc he has a Vulcan spouse whom he cherishes while every other main Vulcan has either:#A human love interest and/or A vulcan spouse they don't want to marry #WHICH IS WHY I WISH. THEY HAD EXPLORED TUVOK'S RELATIONSHIP W ITH HIS WIFE. EVEN A ///LITTLE//// BIT.#-chewing at the walls- BUT ITS FINE. IT'S FINE THAT THEY DIDN'T AT ALL. /lie

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bigskydreaming · 2 years

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And the truly obnoxious thing is like, we know from countless interviews over the past few months, that like.....EVERY writer in the X-office wanted Bobby for their book. Orlando said he really wanted Bobby and Christian to stay on Marauders for his run, but they’d already been called ‘dibs’ on, part of why I was so hopeful Bobby was in X-Men Red was specifically because Ewing had mentioned wanting to use him, Spurrier’s said something about wanting him, Tini Howard mentioned something about a possible Bobby story, hell, even Leah Williams wasn’t shy about wanting to do more with him and at this point I would even have preferred....y’know what, let me not tempt fate, I’m still holding a grudge about that trainwreck of an X-Tremists mini and I need to just not go there even for the sake of hysterical, fanboy-in-a-state-of-high-dudgeon hyperbole.

I’m just.....

Pretty much every other writer in the X-office except for Percy has mentioned having a Bobby story they want to tell (literally all of the above writers being bi, just for the record) and Marvel’s like nah, let’s keep him with the straight writer who already HAD two plus years to do whatever the hell he wanted with the character and used that time and opportunity to.....literally do nothing at all.

SURE, THAT SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT.

#and literally the most common complaint about Duggan's X-Men title is that of the seven main cast members ALREADY on the book #he's barely given any of them actual focus or any kind of development whatsoever #....is it too soon for me to start hoping for an endpoint to his X-Men run so I at least know how long we've gotta be stuck with #him writing Bobby THIS time?#ugggggggggggggggh. this was NOT the news I was looking for today. Ill get over it and back to bored jaded ennui #soon enough - much like I'm managing to not be actively bothered by Taylor's Nightwing or the absence of me having #any interest in reading THAT book.....#but seriously. I only have three consistent comic book faves: Dick Grayson Kyle Rayner and Bobby Drake #all of whom are THEORETICALLY supposed to be pretty high profile and either A list or at least high B list #you would THINK it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to hope for at least ONE of three characters that high profile to have a consistent #presence in a well-written book and thus keep me occupied and entertained even if the other two aren't being utilized well or even at all #but nooooooooooooope. Kyle's still nowhere to be found as usual. Dick's being written as the walking embodiment #of every other character's support system and/or reliable showcase for them all to show off #how much more competent and better at dealing with all his enemies and threats are than he is IN HIS OWN BOOK #and Bobby's.....moving laterally from one book where he does fuck all but bring in readers for a writer who has zero interest in turning #that reader interest into actual storylines for him.....to another book where hey guess what? he'll most likely continue to do fuck all but #bring in readers for the same damn writer who has zero interest in turning that reader interest into actual storylines for him #YAY I LOVE COMICS THE END

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the-witheredroses · 5 months

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Oscar Isaac Characters Eating You Out

Minors DNI

Featured Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Moon Knight System, Basil Stitt, Anselm Vogelweide, Blue Jones, Poe Dameron, Nathan Bateman, Duke Leto Atreides, Prince John, Santiago “Pope” Garcia x afab!reader (Pronouns and descriptions aren’t used for the reader)

CW: SMUT (did you look at the title?), pet names, slight size difference, fingering, face riding, mention of periods, slapping, toys, anal, dub-con, sub and dom roles, squirting, overstim/crying, untranslated Spanish, and possibly some other things (All are just brief mentions)

These are just some short, dumb little rambles/headcannons of mine, so it’s not written the best. Not proofread or heavily edited.

(Lmk if you want more in the future)

Miguel O’Hara - Across the Spiderverse

Miguel is a tired man, always overworking himself with the Spider Society. All because he’s extremely thorough, never leaving something to be completed at a later date. Because of this, it’s not often he gets the chance to destress.

So, when it comes time to pleasure, he’s just as thorough. Miguel makes sure you feel just as much pleasure as he does.

Of course, because of his lack of free time, Miguel doesn’t care where or when it happens, he’s eating you out.

You’re in his office? Bend over.

You’re on your period? I guess he’s not beating the vampire allegations.

Pick a time or a place, he’s there, willing to thoroughly please you in whatever way he can.

Miguel is on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His claws gently pricking at the soft of your thighs as he holds you still.

If you squirm too much, he is glaring at you from overtop your heat, pinning you in place with one of his massive hands.

His tongue runs laps in your cunt, teasing your clit and slurping you up. He’s eating you like a starved man, letting out small growls every now and again.

Miguel will refuse to touch himself until you’ve climaxed multiple times. He has the stamina to keep going for hours, and this is just a warm up for him. Besides, he’d rather see either of your pretty lips wrapped around his length over his hand.

When you’re a trembling, sopping mess underneath him, he’ll finally stop. His lower face is shiny as he licks his lips and hungrily smirks at you.

“Don’t think this is over, mi amor. This is just the beginning…”

Marc Spector / Steven Grant / Jake Lockley - Moon Knight

Marc wants you to feel as much pleasure as possible, because while he denies it, a part of him is a people pleaser. He always puts his partners above himself, including during intimate moments.

Marc is experienced and he will take the time to know what you like. Marc practically memorizes your body and what gets you riled up. But if he has the choice, he has you on your knees as he eats you out from behind.

Marc has you bent over as his tongue hits that perfect spot, causing you to tremble and moan in pleasure.

He loves seeing you grasp the sheets as you bury your face in your pillow, to him it’s a sign of validation, evidence that he’s making you feel good.

His hands grab at your thighs and ass as he goes to town. If he feels you try to pull away, he’ll swat your rear until you stay still.

When his mouth starts to ache, Marc will pull up and insert his fingers instead. He’ll move them in the way that has your toes curling and has muffled screams coming from your pillow.

Of course though, he finishes the job with his mouth back on you, drinking up every ounce you give him. He’ll lick his lips clean and kiss your cunt in praise.

“You did so good for me, darling…”

Steven is the most insecure of the boys. He never had the chance to date before, so he’s always worried about making you feel good. He especially worries when he hears how Marc talks about your guys' time together. Steven wants to make you feel just as good.

But Steven isn’t as affirmative as Marc or Jake.

Steven will keep you on your back, his hands feeling his favorite parts of your body. He loves to caress you.

Steven likes to be thorough but also to go slow. He wants you to feel every little moment he makes.

His tongue hits the spots you love, but it’s methodical, careful.

Steven pleasures you as though you could fall apart if he were to be too rough. But if you grind your hips or grab his hair, he’ll go a bit faster.

He lets you have control, his goal is to make you feel good, so why wouldn’t he listen to you?

Despite being focused on you, Steven won’t hesitate to make himself feel good too. Whether it’s with his hand or just humping at the mattress in front of him.

He definitely gets pussy drunk, babbling as dines on you.

“So pretty… so pretty…”

Jake, on the other hand, prefers to be a bit risky.

As much as he loves private moments with you (like the other boys), the thrill of getting caught makes it more exciting for him.

He’ll absolutely eat you out in his car or in an empty alleyway. All because you dressed up pretty for him or gave him that perfect smile of yours.

Jake likes to be quick but efficient with you, at least in public.

Jake sinks to his knees and pushes you against the brick wall. His hand stays on your stomach, making sure you don’t scramble from his grasp.

He’d start slow, intentionally making you panic about getting caught, but as he gets quicker, you become a moaning mess above him.

Jake will smirk as he makes quick work of you, making you finish quicker than you thought possible.

“Tan perfecta/o, mi vida… tan perfecta/o para mí…”

All of them love you so much, so sometimes after a hard day, they’ll each take turns making you feel good.

Steven most likely starts, being that he’s the most gentle. He’s a good warm up and he’s good for calming down without actually stopping. But with the other guys there too, he definitely is being a bit more aggressive to keep up.

Marc and Jake will take their turns, teasing and riling you up. Just between those two alone, your position is constantly changing, there’s no chance you’re getting sore from being stuck in one place.

Each of the boys will make sure you feel good, prioritizing you above all else. They even monitor each other through the many mirrors littered throughout the apartment. They just want their darling to feel good <3

Each will take their time, only stopping when you’re an overstimulated, crying mess.

Soft kisses and cuddling definitely ensue afterwards.

“Our beautiful darling…”

Basil Stitt - Lightningface

Basil, the pathetic, desperate, possessive loner. He will do anything for your attention. He will follow your every order. You don’t even have to touch him, he’ll cum just from eating you out. He loves you that much.

Basil is aggressive as he eats you out, desperate to make you finish. Because if you finish, you’ll stay, despite his scars.

He moans and whimpers more than you do as you pull him deeper into your cunt. His hands grapple at every curve of your body, desperate to make sure you’re real, that you want him.

Why would anyone want a monster like him? Even his own girlfriend cheated on him before his accident happened.

As he tastes you, he desperately chases your climax.

He needs you to feel good. He needs you.

When your legs tense around his head and you start praising him, he starts crying and finishes as well, his seed staining the floor below him.

His head falls against your inner thigh as his tears fall fast. He grabs at you harshly, his fear causing his chest to ache.

“Imsosorry… staywithmeplease…”

Anselm Vogelweide - Big Gold Brick

Anselm is a weirdo, a big horny weirdo, let’s get that out of the way.

Anselm will touch you and do whatever he wants whenever he wants. This kinky switch of a man will eat you out in any way possible, and it’s never simple.

Per his request, he lies tied up with you over him. His arms are completely restrained as he lets you control the situation.

Your glittering heat flutters as he blows on you, smirking at every little reaction you have. He loves your noises, especially when you’re loud.

Eventually you sit on his face, and groaning happily, he licks up into you.

Your hips rock back and forth on his face, his nose hitting your throbbing clit harshly. You’re breathing heavily as Anselm eats you up, his beard scratching the back of your legs as your hips move.

Despite being such an odd man, he absolutely knows what he’s doing, like— he’s extremely talented with his tongue alone. With every squirm and noise you make, he’s watching you like a hawk.

Your high builds and comes crashing down quickly. But when you start to move off, he harshly demands you get back.

“We aren’t done yet, doll. If you don’t get back on, I’ll kill myself.”

Blue Jones - Sucker Punch

Blue doesn’t eat you out for your pleasure, no- it’s to prove a point.

He owns you, just like he owns all the people working for his club. And because he owns you, he has to make sure you know how good only he can make you.

You were in the dressing room when he approached you, his eyes hungrily scanning your body.

Whether out of fear or attraction, you do everything he asks. So when he asks you to strip bare, you do exactly that.

With his head between your thighs, it’s hard to remember that this man could kill you without a second thought. He’s just too talented with his tongue.

Running a club has its perks, including having lots of practice in making others feel good. With all this practice, this man will do anything to make you squirt. He sees it as a sign of victory, that his toy likes him the best.

Your back is arching as Blue hits your sweet spot. Your hips lightly hump his face and nose, chasing your high. His hands grip your legs, letting you ride his face more and more.

You squirt all over his face, causing him to hum in approval.

When you finish, he licks a stripe through your arousal. Blue’s eyes meet yours.

“Bunny, do you act like such a desperate whore with all the clients?”

Poe Dameron - Star Wars

Lover of the sky, Poe is known for being quite flirty. With the constant travel, Poe has had his share of hookups and romantic partners.

Which is why, of course, Poe would do anything to make you feel as much pleasure as possible.

He’s cocky, sure, but when he brags about how loud he makes you scream, you know it’s the truth.

After a long day of travel, Poe is clinging to your cunt.

As his tongue runs laps through your folds, you tightly grip at his curls.

He’s already made you finish at least twice, and he’s desperate for another.

Your cunt is trembling from overstimulation, broken moans escaping your lips as you lazily try to pull him away.

With every faint tug of his hair, he pulls your body closer towards his mouth, not letting you escape.

His tongue circles your clit like a dehydrated man, wanting you to release and give every drop of yourself to him again and again.

When Poe gets you to release over his tongue once more, he doesn’t back off, speaking as he licks every drop.

“Just one more… Can you handle one more for me, baby?”

Nathan Bateman - Ex Machina

Nathan doesn’t eat you out normally, he much prefers using his fingers if he has to.

This man prefers making himself feel good above all else, he only tolerates making you feel good. Which is why he always makes you finish quickly or sometimes not at all, moving on to make sure he can get his pleasure from this exchange.

The only time he has eaten you out was when he walked in on you having a wet dream, mumbling his name as your legs spread under the blankets.

You wake up moaning loudly, Nathan tucked between your thighs, mouth to your aching core.

As he hits your sweet spot, you instinctively grab his head. His buzzed hair provides nothing to grip to as your hips sleepily grinds his face.

Everything feels extra sensitive and good, the lack of previous priority making you extra needy.

His beard provides a scratchy and satisfying feeling as his tongue laps up your soaked folds.

He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve awoken, now on a mission to make you finish on his mouth.

His hands grope at your waist and ass, gripping at all the soft flesh he can.

When you finish with trembling legs, he lifts his head, his beard glistening in your juices. His hand palms over his cock as he sits on his knees and stares down at you.

“Get up. It’s my turn.”

Duke Leto Atreides - Dune

Leto is a very busy man, but he does worship you when he gets the chance.

Constantly being needed by everyone, it feels nice to relax and give himself to the one person he wants to: you.

Sure, sometimes you’re under the table servicing him, but it’s not often he gets the chance to do the same for you.

He’s on his knees, worshiping your pussy like it is a divine god. Leto is praying to you with his tongue.

Leto is so focused on you, he can’t even acknowledge his own pleasure before he knows you’ve had some release.

He has to give his baby some extra care while he has the chance <3

His hands touch every inch that he can, worshiping all of you that he can.

Leto’s nose bumps your clit as he watches you like prey, he just loves your blissed out expression.

When you two make eye contact, he makes his assault that much more pleasurable. Whether that’s adding in his fingers or reaching deep into you with his tongue. Man loves his eye contact.

When you climax, he’s smiling and peppering kisses over your inner thighs.

“I still have time, shall we go for another?”

Prince John - Robin Hood (2010)

John is a man of pleasure, and he will devour you as long as he gets some in return. Just… never mention your ex or past relationships, he gets jealous.

He loves different positions and experimenting with you, as long as you’re both having fun or a good time, then he’s more than happy.

John, the whiny man, is begging into your cunt as you two eat each other up.

Your mouth is wrapped around his length as he laps up your warmth.

With each stroke of your tongue, he moves his in tandem. Every moan you gain from him, wonderfully rumbles your pussy.

His hands grasp and pull your ass cheeks, kneading the soft flesh.

John eats you like a starved man, because despite his regal status, you are by far the best meal he’s eaten.

At least that’s what he’d be saying if it weren’t the end to your guys night of pleasure, and John didn’t need an heir.

He probably isn’t the most thrilled to be eating his and your cum out of your pussy, but it's you, so he can’t complain.

Together, you finish and clean each other of every last drop, leaving both of you exhausted.

John pats his shoulder.

“Come, rest your head.”

Santiago “Pope” Garcia - Triple Frontier

Santiago loves to tease you. No matter the situation or place, he will edge you until you’re crying.

He likes seeing you as a whimpering mess, begging for some relief.

You were just on the cusp of finishing when Santiago pulled away, watching as you begged him to let you cum.

He’d chuckle and hold your hands hostage, not letting you get the chance to finish what he started.

As you start to come down from your high, he’d go back in, licking and eating your cunt out.

As you squirm, chasing your release, he’d cage your legs in place with his arms and hands. You’re not allowed to escape him or his constant teasing.

When he finally lets you finish, you’re a trembling mess, your hole clutching at his tongue as he eats every last drop.

“You’re so cute like this… maybe I should go again?”

—————————————————

Thanks for reading!

Lmk if you want me to add more of his characters or do a different set of characters (like Genshin men for ex.)

3K notes · View notes

gyuzgrl · 2 months

Text

off the market ||csc||

summary- You have a crush on your favourite customer. He's big and kind and pretty and god the things you wanted to do to him were unholy. Little do you know, he feels the exact same way.

"welcome!"

That's all you said. All you could say. All it took for Seungcheol to fall hopelessly in love.

He was a regular at your pet daycare center. Him and his puppy Kkuma were there virtually every day, either to pick up a treat or to drop her off in your care for the day.

It was safe to say they were you favourite customers. Sure the dog was cute, but lord, Seungcheol had you acting like a schoolgirl whenever he came around. With his deep voice, his charming smile and god those arms- how could you resist?

You were almost certain however, that he wasn't interested. Sure, you'd caught him staring at you a couple times, sure it was a little odd how he'd tip you a small fortune every now and then, sure his hand lingered on yours for longer than necessary when paying, but there was no way, you were sure. No way a man like him was still on the market.

So you loved him from afar.

Well, as far as he'd let you go, at least.

"Kkuma!" you beamed, reaching out to take the eager fluff ball from Seuncheol's arms.

She snuggled into you, tongue lolling out as you scratched behind her ears.

"spoilt little princess, this one"

You look up to find Seungcheol's gaze fixed onto you.

"y-yeah, she's a little diva, aren't you baby?" you coo, "dropping her off again, Mr Choi?"

He hums, reaching closer to ruffle her fur, "work's gotten a bit much these days- timings are crazy y'know"

Your breath hitches at the sudden proximity. His hand was aimed at the dog, sure, but it was so close- ghosting over the plush skin of your upper chest.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you steady yourself.

"I can uh, I can imagine, sir. I'll keep her safe, don't you worry"

You say it out of duty, but something about that title has Seungcheol fighting demons in his head. Sir. Sir, you call him, like it's the simplest, sweetest thing in the world. Little do you know, behind the crescents of those pretty doe eyes, his thoughts are nothing but pure filth.

Hesitantly, he pulls away, clearing his throat.

"I'll be back in a couple hours, shouldn't be too long... thanks for keeping her"

"it's my job" you laugh, "you're paying me aren't you, sir?"

He coughs, eyes darting all over. Sir. There you go again.

"I'll um- I'll get going. Bye, y/n"

He turns around too quickly to see the crimson hue diffusing across your cheeks. God you loved the way he said your name. It rolled off his tongue so easily.

"bye-bye!" you call after him.

All your interractions had been similar to this. He'd stop by, make polite conversation and leave. But still, still your heart thudded in your chest at the thought of him. He was just so perfect.

A couple of hours later, you hear the door open. It's late at night, so your first instinct is to grab something sharp before you make your way to the cash register out front.

Meekly, you tiptoe outside, clutching a pair of kuromi scissors in your fist.

"y/n?" a familiar voice calls.

It's just Seungcheol. Good.

You breathe a sigh of relief, walking out right away as you greet him with that million dollar smile of yours.

"welcome!"

"hope Kkuma wasn't too much of a mena-" he pauses, glancing down at your hand, "what's up with the scissors?"

"oh- uh, nothing nothing, just as a safety measure- I didn't know it was you so..."

He tenses, unsure of how to feel. On one hand, you insinuated that you felt safe around him, while on the other, you think you're unsafe in the store.

"can I walk you home?"

You're stunned. Your legs feel like jelly and you can barely process his words.

"can you what"

"walk you home. If you feel uncomfortable walking alone this late, that is. I live a minute away, and it really wouldn't be a hassle to step out for a seco-"

"I couldn't ask that of you sir," you interrupt, "it's not that big of a deal either way"

"you aren't asking. I'm offering. and it is a big deal, y/n. I want you to be safe, to feel safe."

Oh that one went straight to your cunt.

"I-" you hesitate.

"look, I'm here almost every day anyways- if that makes you feel any better. if you're gonna refuse, don't do it 'cause you think I'd be inconvenienced. I won't." he says, now gently prying the scissors out of your grasp, "but if you honestly just don't want me to walk you home, I'll back off"

"no it's not that-" you add, urgently.

"how 'bout we try it out today, and you tell me if you wanna continue, that okay?"

You nod, lowering your head in a lame attempt to hide the furious red glow of your cheeks. Seungcheol seems to have noticed already, though. He places the scissors onto the register beside you, and turns to look into your eyes.

When he finds you staring up at him already, he's pleasantly surprised. There's a long silence- a pause in time- and the air around you stills. It's just you and him, gazing into each other's eyes, gauging what the other feels.

He must not know how intimidating his stare is, considering how he refuses to look away. That is until, of course, he spies movement in his vision.

Your hands are shaking. You didn't know they were, until Seungcheol's gaze leaves your own, dropping to your trembling hands.

He steps closer.

"your hands are all jittery today" his voice is low and gentle, "why're you so nervous?"

The space between you lessens as he moves closer, his hand reaching over to hold your trembling one, interlacing his fingers with yours.

You suck in a sharp breath, letting it go in a staccato shudder.

"do I make you nervous?"

Your eyes, wide and round, dart across the room, opting to look anywhere but at him.

"do I?" he pushes, squeezing your hand.

"I-" you start, "I just um- it's a bi-"

Your words are cut off by a shrill bark.

Fuck. Kkuma. You forgot about Kkuma.

"Kku-Kkuma," you stutter, ripping your hand out of his grasp, "I gotta get her out"

He groans, his arm chasing after you as you whip your head around and scurry into the play room. He was so close- he almost got through to you.

His frustrations subside instantly, however, when you return, carrying a sleepy Kkuma in your arms. How the little puppy nuzzled into you, so safe and comfortable, made Seungcheol's heart ache. Kkuma's instincts were never wrong.

"c'mere princess," he coos, and you look up at him with wide eyes. Did he just-

His eyes are on you, knowingly. "missed me, didn't you Kkuma?"

Oh. Right. The dog.

Seungcheol's gaze remains fixed on you, a teasing smirk playing at his lips as you draw closer.

"you're all red" he grins, "here lemme take her" Before you manage to protest, his hands graze the skin of your forearm as he scoops Kkuma out of your embrace and into his.

It was brief, the contact, but you felt something akin to electricity when his fingertips touched your skin. The glow on your cheeks only brightened in response and he bit back a laugh.

"I'll- I should lock up"

"mm you go do that,"

Even with your back turned, you can feel his eyes burning into you, an attentive stare watching all your actions- how you locked up the register, switched off the lights, reached up to pull your shutters closed.

It was endearing to him. You worked so hard everyday, did so much all alone. All he wanted was to help, really.

So he does.

As you nod towards the door, signalling that you're ready to head out, Seungcheol follows.

You pull the main entrance closed, reaching up on tiptoes to yank the outer shutters down, struggling to hook your fingers into the handle. He notices. Of course he does.

Silently, he brushes up against you, his chest dangerously close to your back. His arm extends above your own and he pulls the handle down with ease.

Your brain short circuits.

"what are y-" you gasp, turning around to face him. The air he breathes out fans across your face and his eyes are set on you. This was dangerous. The proximity between your bodies, the warmth of his breath, the way his eyes darted down to your lips- it was too much.

"y/n,"

"yes?"

There's a pause. Seungcheol's brows scrunch up as if he's trying to find the right words to say.

"you don't have to think so hard, Mr Choi," you offer, staring up him with wide eyes.

"Seungcheol." he states, "call me Seungcheol"

You're so taken aback you miss the desperate "please" he adds in at the end of his sentence.

"Seungcheol,"

"sounds so pretty when you say it"

There's a pull between your bodies. It's gradual and painfully slow, but you both feel it. He leans in, eyes darting to your lips, and your eyes flutter closed.

Hot breaths fan your face as you wait for him to kiss you, each exhale burning against your skin.

"is this okay?" he murmurs.

You try to say yes, to say something, but all that comes out is a shaky exhale. Lips parted, lashes fluttering, you looked so pretty. He couldn't resist the way you drew him in.

Slowly inching closer, Seungcheol presses his lips to yours in a soft kiss. It's tentative, hesitant, almost, like he doesn't want to scare you away. His plump lips cradle yours so gently, it's like he's barely even there.

You draw back, breathing hard. "we shouldn'-" you start, turning your head away, before he cups your jaw and pulls you in once again.

This time he works urgently against you, sucking at your lower lip so fervently, it leaves you breathless. Any semblance of doubt leaves your mind, and you pull him closer, fisting his shirt.

It takes everything in you to hold yourself together when his tongue licks at the seam of your mouth, demanding entrance. While he explores the hollow of your mouth, your hands roam the expanse of his broad shoulders, feeling each hard-earned muscle tense under your touch.

Your lungs burn for air, pleading for sustenance, even for a second, but his grip on you stays firm, holding you in place. Feeling woozy from the lack of oxygen, you have to push him away, almost, fisting his hair with one hand and tugging him back.

Finally, you breathe.

"woah, there-" he grins, when your knees buckle, causing you to faceplant into his chest.

You groan, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"c'mon, let's get you home, hm? we should probably sit down and uh, talk." he mutters, motioning between you and him, "about this, I mean"

"yeah let's- let's go home"

The walk is surprisingly pleasant. Any expected awkwardness, any uncomfortable tension, seems to have vanished.

You chat as you walk side by side, Seungcheol holding Kkuma's leash while you hold onto his free arm. It's painfully domestic, honestly. Your heart thuds violently in your chest with every step you take with him.

"...and then she told Hansol to call her his cutie sexy baby- you should've seen the look on all our faces, I wanted to quit my job then and there-" he shivers as he narrates an incident to you, and you giggle away like a schoolgirl. The way Seungcheol made you smile so effortlessly was commendable. No matter when he showed up, what he said, where he was going, he always made you smile.

"poor him," you offer, sympathetically, grinning from ear to ear as you neared your apartment. "this is me,"

"if you're tired from today, we can talk sometime else, oka-"

You interrupt him with a tiny peck on his lips, earning a look of disbelief in response.

"god help me"

Which is how you've found yourself here- stumbling out of the elevator with his lips pressed on yours, hands grabbing feverishly at the flesh of your hips.

"wai- Seungcheol hold on-" you giggle, fumbling to thumb in your house code.

He backs away, pouting and looks down at Kkuma apologetically.

"come in"

There's a hint of tension in the air now, with everything becoming far more tangible than before. This is happening. This is real.

You beckon him over to the couch, letting Kkuma settle on a rug somewhere in the kitchen, slowly drifting to sleep.

He sits beside you, leaving respectful distance.

"I uh, I don't want this to seem like I'm just fucking around- I don't usually do this,"

"do what?"

"this" he motions between your bodies. "I've been wanting this, wanting you, for so long you have no idea"

"oh-" You feel the breath knocked out of your lungs. Seungcheol felt the same way you did? He's wanted you for all this time, just like you've wanted him?

"I'd like to take you out on a date. Properly. I really like you, y/n-"

It's a miracle you don't melt into a puddle of mush then and there.

Choi Seungcheol. Hot customer. Has feelings for you.

"and it's okay if you don't feel the same way- really- I just uh, didn't wanna kiss you and leave things unspecified"

"I-" you start, staring up at him as you searched for the right words to say, "I like you too"

His face softens, a soft smile taking over his lips. You feel an all too-familiar heat growing between your legs.

"I'm glad"

The distance between your bodies is bridged by his hand- a galiant soldier crossing borders into foreign territory. It slides over yours, interlacing your fingers in a firm knot.

A sharp breath puffs out your lips, and all you can do is say his name. You aren't sure why, you aren't sure what you're asking for, but you call him- your voice airy and desperate.

"Seungcheol,"

"hm?"

Words escape you. There's nothing you can find in yourself to say. You stare into his eyes, watching the way the brown of his irises hold your picture within them.

"oh, sweetheart..."

And his lips are on yours.

Seungcheol guides your hand to his shoulder, sliding his own to your waist as he draws you closer. The way your lips mold against each other is nothing short of perfect, like you were made for eachother.

He nips at your lower lip, dragging it as he pulls back ever so slightly, and you can't help but moan. He grins. Your face grows beet red and you pull away, panting, embarrassed.

"you're adorable, y'know that?"

"shut up"

"you've got a lotta attitude for someone who can't handle more than a little teasing"

"I- I can handle more" you argue, brows furrowing as you shuffle closer to him.

"oh?"

Your eyes widen.

"n-no I didn't mean it like tha-"

"like what?" he smirks. "how'd you mean it then?"

You lower your gaze, opting to stare instead at the fabric of his trousers. Seungcheol hooks a digit under your chin and tilts your head right back up, forcing you to look at him, cheeks burning.

"who're you hiding from, hm?"

"m'sorry," you breathe, looking at him through your lashes.

"I wanna make you feel good," he mumbles as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ears. "may I?"

It's a simple thing- asking for permission- but it has your heart fluttering. He asks you 'may I?' like he's at your mercy. Like you have him bewitched. He'd do anything and everything you ask of him, now more than ever.

You nod, leaning in to kiss him yet again, before he lifts you off the couch and into the bedroom. His strong arms hold you steady, and all your worries fade away. All the questions in your head dissipate, until all that's left is him.

Only him.

"this okay?" he murmurs, placing you on the bed.

"more than okay"

"I'm gonna take this off now, hm?" Deft hands slide up your torso, lifing your shirt off to reveal the lacy bra underneath. He has to pause for a moment to compose himself at the sight.

"so pretty,"

"Seungcheool" you whine, tugging his hands to your breasts, "touch me"

Any resolve he'd built up, to control himself for you, comes crumbling down.

Like a man starved, Seungcheol devours you, placing hungry, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he trails his lips to the cup of your bra.

He kisses the swell of your breasts, while his hand slides under your back, unclipping the garment with ungodly precision. You gasp when your nipples brush against the loosened fabric, sensitive and hard.

"fuck," he drawls when he tosses your bra aside to reveal your bare chest. Seungcheol kisses the tender skin, taking one of your nipples into his mouth while his hand caresses the other, pinching at the sensitive bud.

His actions elicit a whine on your part, back arching into him with every swivel of his tongue, every pinch of his fingers. There's a dark grin painted across his handsome face when he pulls away, looking down at you.

"look so pretty under me, sweetheart"

You turn away, bashfully, feeling small under the weight of his stare. It's hot, how Seungcheol's self-assurance radiates off of him. He's confident but not pushy, not arrogant like the other boys you've been with. The prolonged eye contact feels more intimate than anything you've ever experienced- just you and him, gazing at each other like the world outside is a problem for another day. Right now, nothing exists but the two of you.

A hand travels down the valley of your breasts to the hem of your pants, teasing the skin right under the waistband. He wants to savor this, to savor you. But god you're so desperate he can't bear the thought of dragging this out any longer.

"gonna make you feel good, yeah sweetheart? would you like that?"

"please" you whimper, rubbing your thighs together.

Anticipation swells in your belly as Seungcheol crawls down to face your cunt, keeping his eyes fixed on yours with each sultry motion. He grasps the button of your pants with his teeth, tugging it open before his hands slide them down your legs, fingers ghosting over the smooth flesh of your thighs.

"pretty, pretty girl"

Shamelessly, he spreads you open, rubbing along your slit through your soaked panties.

"fuck baby- you're dripping" he groans, pressing the fabric into your folds. Your body jerks at the touch, and you let out a pathetic whimper.

"all of this 'cause of me? such a good girl" he coos.

"all 'cause of you Cheol- fuck- only you"

That was it. Seungcheol considered himself a patient man, usually, but tonight? God, he wanted to rip those flimsy panties off of you and have you cum on his tongue again and again until you were crying.

In one swift motion, he leaves you bare, shoving your panties in his back pocket like some kind of trophy. His tongue finds your hole, dipping in just a little to collect your arousal before dragging it up to your clit.

"oh-"

You feel him grin against you, lapping at your clit slightly faster now. Your hands fly down to hold him in place, back arching as loud moans flood the room. You can't recall the last time a man has made you feel this good. Heck, you can't recall if they ever have.

"please- fuck don't stop don't stop," you whine, hips rolling up to match the rhythm of his tongue.

He groans when he realizes how you're using him for your pleasure, sending tingles across your skin.

"that's it, sweetheart- fuck that's my good girl" he mumbles against your cunt.

You feel your high approaching with the expert flick of Seungcheol's tongue, and you pull him closer in a desperate attempt to reach your orgasm. He senses you're close with the way your thighs begin to tense and quiver under his hold, so he slyly slips a finger into you, without warning, sending you straight over the edge in seconds.

Your voice breaks as you moan, head tipping back into the pillows as he pumps his finger in and out of your heat, working you through your orgasm.

"there we go, pretty- just like that, shit"

Seungcheol licks you clean, sending sparks shooting up your spine, before drawing back up to your lips to pull you into a messy, sticky kiss.

You taste yourself on his tongue, moaning as he licks into your mouth like he'd die if he didn't. The friction against your bare skin draws you back to reality, and you realize he's still clothed

"w-wait-" you pant, planting your hands on his chest.

He pulls away, eyes fluttering back open in confusion.

"what's wrong? d'you wanna sto-"

"no!" you interrupt, eyes widening. "not at all- I just..." you trail off, tugging at his shirt.

He chuckles.

"you just?"

"y'know" you reply, coy as ever, grasping his shirt once again.

"words, sweetheart, gotta tell me what you want" His voice is teasing, playful.

"your- your shirt..." you pout.

"mhm what about it?"

You glare up at him, brows setting into a deep frown. "don't be mean c'mon,"

"say it and I'll stop, promise"

"t-take your shirt off," you mutter, blushing wildly, "wanna see you"

He cocks a brow at you and you hastily add in a desperate "please", leaving him satisfied. Without wasting any more time, he settles back on his knees for a moment, yanking his shirt off to reveal his sculpted form.

Your mouth hangs open.

Sure, you figured he was fit- those arms were a dead giveaway- but this took the cake. Hard, chiseled muscles greeted you, sculpted by the gods themselves, and you felt your mouth water.

"oh wow" you breathe, reaching up to touch him and feel those muscles for yourself.

He grins, hovering back over you.

"perv"

"have I told you how much I like you?"

There's a pause, before you break out into a fit of giggles, grinning at each other like two lovesick teenagers.

Seungcheol shimmies his pants off too, kicking them away, leaving only his boxers on.

"are you gonna-"

"eat you out again? yes. yes I am."

You smack his chest, rolling your eyes.

"you can do that tomorrow- I wanna... wanna feel you," you whisper, "wanna feel you in me"

He mutters a quick "fuck" under his breath, hastily shoving his boxers down as he balances his weight on one arm.

"are you sure, sweetheart?"

"mhm"

"anytime you wanna stop jus-"

"just tell you, yes sir" you quip, rolling your eyes yet again, only this time, you take notice of the way his gaze darkens at your words.

Oh this is going to be fun.

"sir," you whine, rolling you hips up into his, "please- please fuck me I've been good, haven't I?"

You're unsure of where this sudden boost of confidence has come from, but Seungcheol's blown pupils and parted lips spur you on.

"I'll be so good for you, sir- promise," you pout.

"do you even- fuck do you even know what you're doing to me right now?"

"mhm"

"brat-" he snarls, dragging his cock against your folds. You moan, losing whatever semblance of power you managed to build.

"that's better,"

You're about to bite back, say something mean, but he interrupts, pushing his dick inside you, slow but firm.

"you're- fuck you're so big" you whimper, eyes welding themselves shut at the stretch of your walls. "it won't f-fit"

"I'll make it fit, I promise baby I won't hurt you, hm?"

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes when he pushes further. He was huge. Your toys had nothing on him. Nothing.

"shh sweetheart you're doing so well for me," he coos, pressing in until he bottoms out.

Your eyes brim over and you sniffle, trying to accomodate his size. It takes a minute, with him kissing your tears away and mumbling into your hair, but you finally give him the green light.

Automatically, his hips draw back and snap into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. His size was overwhelming, almost. He hit your g-spot effortlessly with each inward motion, and your brain fuzzed over with pleasure.

All you could think, all you could say, was him.

seungcheol, seungcheol, seungcheol- you chanted his name like a prayer, any notions of god, of a higher being, leaving your mind with him taking their place.

He held your life in the palm of his hand, commanding metaphorical deaths with his body. You'd be happy to die in his arms every night, and rise like phoenixes with the sun- souls unified after the previous night's escapades.

The steady but firm edge to his thrusts have you sobbing, crying on his dick, begging for something even you aren't sure of. Your cries echo through the room, followed by the sound of skin on skin. Your neighbours won't like this one bit, you'll definitely be in trouble tomorrow, but you can't bring yourself to stop.

He just feels so good.

"s-seungcheol I- please m'so close please please ple-" you sob, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer.

He leans into your lips, capturing them between his own. It isn't a kiss. Your mouths hang open, moaning and sighing into each other with breaths so hot you feel like you're on fire. Like you're alive.

Distracted by the heat generated by your enmeshed breaths, you fail to notice how his hand creeps down to your clit. You cry out when his fingers make contact with the sensitive flesh, rubbing tight circles into you as his thrusts increase in speed.

"m'gonna- sir m'gonna cu-" you moan, cutting yourself off when you feel your body slip into pleasure. Your throat has gone bone-dry, like the last time you touched water was when you were in the womb.

"shit-" he curses, using you to finish himself off, before quickly following suit and finishing on your thighs.

"you're so beautiful- you're so goddamn beautiful" he rambles, collapsing on top of you.

Your throat hurts, and all you can do is wheeze as you try to soothe your burning lungs.

He notices, and grins to himself, ripping his body off of yours- "wait here, I'll be back".

He's gone for a minute, before returning with a towel and some water. "here" he says, holding the glass to your lips as you shuffle to sit up, "drink."

While you do that, he crawls back between your legs and gently wipes away the mess he made on your thighs.

It's basic decency, you know it is, but you can't help the way your heart flutters at how caring Seungcheol is.

"thank you" you murmur, cringing at the sting in your throat.

He looks confused for a moment.

"f-for cleaning me up"

God you were so cute. He couldn't bear it any longer.

"I always will, you don't need to say anything, sweetheart"

You blush, for the nth time that night, grinning from ear to ear as you're hit with realisation.

Choi Seungcheol is officially off the market.

#seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #smut #choi seungcheol #seungcheol smut #scoups #scoups smut #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #shameless smut #PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK I'M DYING OVER HERE

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atlabeth · 2 months

Text

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode.

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets.

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown.

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it.

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.”

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?”

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.”

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him.

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.”

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.”

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize.

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size.

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper.

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun.

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning.

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked.

“She did.”

He frowned. “Where is she, then?”

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on.

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.”

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed.

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body.

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now.

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!”

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away.

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later.

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far.

…Gods.

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought.

“Luke—”

“No!”

“Luke, please!”

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—”

“She won’t know!”

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!”

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head.

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips.

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!”

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.”

“If you say a single word—”

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.”

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.”

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.”

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile.

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.”

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.”

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.”

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.”

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.”

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him.

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable.

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then…

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise.

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?”

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here.

“Never better.”

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said.

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people.

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said.

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?”

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.”

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.”

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night.

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity.

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say?

“I’m curious,” he decided.

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her.

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked.

“And how it killed the cat?”

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.”

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.”

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.”

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who’s her parent?”

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting.

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.”

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved.

He had a sister?

“I have a sister?”

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.”

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her.

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young.

Gods.

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?”

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.”

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry.

“How did you meet her?”

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school.

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly.

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.”

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance.

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.”

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about.

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.”

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.”

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes.

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy.

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?”

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said.

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.”

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.”

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.”

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself.

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.”

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.”

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off.

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.”

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.”

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.”

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.”

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.”

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front.

A letter.

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.”

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took.

So he took the letter when Luke offered it.

To the one and only Luke Castellan,

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash.

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this.

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is.

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry.

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her.

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.”

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it.

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.”

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.”

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke.

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.”

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her.

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to.

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…”

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming.

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.”

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father.

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.”

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck.

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along.

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.”

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.”

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again.

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.”

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?”

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.”

Annabeth went silent.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.”

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.”

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.”

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push.

“How did you meet her?” he asked.

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think.

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical.

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it.

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind?

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia—

Where was Thalia?

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age.

Thalia—

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else.

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?”

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids.

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!”

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—”

“Annabeth!”

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt.

“Luke, you’re hurt—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.”

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—”

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words.

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years.

“Luke?” you whispered.

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead—

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?”

“My friends—”

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.”

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.”

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading.

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever.

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought.

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep.

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock.

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert.

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it.

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story.

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?”

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.”

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?”

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.”

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff.

“You know what I mean.”

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them.

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?”

“The usual,” you mumbled.

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked.

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.”

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?”

“Bullseye.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.”

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh.

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke.

“Can you stay?” you asked softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Just like old times,” you whispered.

“Just like old times,” he agreed.

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke.

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it.

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead?

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough.

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

And by the gods, you believed him.

#reader is the mara of she ra the mikey berzatto of the bear the nellie crain of hill house DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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yandere-daydreams · 2 months

Text

Title: Intoxicated.

Pairing: Yandere!Fae King x Reader (OC).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Non/Con -> Dub/Con, AFAB!Reader, Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, Orgasm Denial, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

His chambers reeked of honey and lavender.

A stark improvement when compared to the raw stench of sweating bodies and animal fervor that’d hung over the celebrations still raging on in his banquet hall, but strong thick enough to turn your stomach, still choking enough to leave your head spinning, your vision distorted and dark around the edges. A thick, lilac smoke clouded the air, courtesy of the herbs smoldering in jars of stained glass on a nearby windowsill – only adding to your current haziness. It went without saying that none of it, of course, was aided by the clever, slender fingers slowly drawing lazy circles into your clit, the stimulation too much to block out entirely but not nearly enough to bring you any real satisfaction. It was hard to be frustrated, though, when you considered who that stimulation was coming from.

Aisling had positioned himself behind you, propped against the ornate headboard of his almost comically oversized bed. Two long, hoofed legs stretched out on either side of you – flecks of golden pollen still dusted over his dark fur. His chest was bear and cool where it pressed into your back, and his unoccupied hand alternated between wrapping snuggly around your midriff and prying your thighs apart when they attempted in-vain to shut. His touch, like most other things about him, left much to be desired. You’d lost track of how long you’d spent here, how much time had passed since he carried you out of those wretched rituals his kind called revelries, but couldn’t have been any longer than a few minutes, even if it felt like a small eternity lapsed by every time you let your eyes droop shut. He prided himself on his adeptness in all things frivolous and pleasurable, and you couldn’t imagine him taking this long to bring you to climax.

“I’ve grown quite fond of your meekness, you know.” His voice was a deep rumble, less a string of words and more a prolonged, inflected purr. Cold lips ghosted over the curve of your ear, and his fingers found a new pattern; one with enough force behind to it make your head lull forward, a slight whimper slipping past your grit teeth as the loose knot in your core began to tighten. “At first, it was rather irking to realize I would never be able to make love to you under the light of the full moon to the accompaniment of my finest bards, but I think I’ve come to like how—” A quirk of his wrist, a strange crescent-like motion. You withered against him, your hips bucking stiltedly into his hand. “—reserved your kin tend to be. It feels more intimate, locking ourselves away like this. Like we share a common secret.”

That fucking smell. The sickening sweetness of it seemed to claw and tear at your lungs, to lodge itself in the hollows of your skull and send a warm, steady pulsing down the length of your spine with every slight movement of Aisling’s fingers. You let your eyes fall shut, your hands kneading at the silk of his sheets as the knot sitting in your core coiled ever-tighter, as you came so, so close to that—

As Aisling pulled away, his touch skirting over the inside of your thigh before forcing two fingers into the dripping entrance of your cunt. You couldn’t bite back the fractured whine that bubbled past your lips, arching your back as he spread and curled his digits inside of you. “Still,” he went on, sighing in mock-disappointment. “I feel like our relationship has been far from reciprocal, as of late. I do adore taking care of you, and I don’t mean to sound unthankful, but—” Another pause, another sigh. “I am beloved to all folks of the land and air, worshiped by the valleys and mountains alike, and dearest to all beings with the wisdom necessary to appreciate true beauty. Why is it that the one I cherish most so evidently detests my very existence?”

“Be—” A broken moan cut you off, draw out by a particular scissoring motion of his fingers. It was a fight to find your voice again. “Because you’re a fucking prick.”

“Your honeyed praises will have to wait, for now.” The heel of his palm ground into your clit, but the friction was too soft, too half-hearted to do anything. His lilac smoke seemed to claw its way down your throat and dislodge a pathetic string of whimpers and mewls, filling the new vacancy with a sort of… a sort of liquid heat, strong enough to leave you panting and hot enough to have you squirming against him, eager to get that much closer to his frigid body. Your desperation earned a melodic laugh from Aisling, a tender nuzzling of his cheek against yours. “Oh? Do you have something you’d like to ask for, little fawn?”

He forced a third finger into your terribly empty cunt, and something inside of you seemed to break open. “Please, Aisling, I—” You paused, gasped as his fingers curved against the clenching walls of your pussy. “I need to cum. I can’t take another—”

Whatever you might’ve said dissolved into a broken, pained moan as he drew back entirely, his slick-stained hand moving to your chin and tilting your head back, his lips finding your own before your shock could fade into hurt. Pointed, cat-like fangs burrowed into your bottom lip as his rough tongue laved over your own, the gesture less of a kiss and more of an attempt to permanently attach a part of him to a part of you. His taste was one of fresh fruit and sugared cream, and by the time he pulled away, you were panting, heaving, clambering to stay as close as him as you possibly could, to get as much from him as you possible could. Aisling only laughed as you rushed to straddle him, taking your face in both hands and pulling you into another long, lingering kiss – his mouth just as sweet as his poisons.

“Such a beautiful song,” he muttered, pulling back far enough to speak, but not leaving quite enough distance to disguise the crooked smile spread across his lips.

“Perhaps, by the time we’re finished, you’ll love me enough to deserve to.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere fae #yandere monster #yandere oneshot

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munsonluhvr · 3 months

Note

can you make a virgin! Eddie x experienced ! reader smut plsssssss I’ve been wanted to read to read a good story abt something like that yk 🙈 but ima not be picky sooo anything Eddie x reader would be good 😋

Ty I love your stories 💙💙💙

ANATOMY LESSON

contents: virgin!eddie munson x experienced! reader. smut! 18+. Eddie reveals to you, his best friend, that he's a virgin and you offer him a little lesson - but the lesson turns into a lot more then either of you expected. word count - 3.5k

notes: dear requester - I love you for requesting this. There were sooo many different scenarios I thought of writing for this request, and I totally ignored the pile of homework I have to do to write this immediately, but I hope everyone enjoy this. It was awfully fun to write.

“Wait, what?” you say, a laugh lacing your tone. You lay on Eddie’s bed, your sock covered feet digging into his bedsheets. “You’re so lying, you haven’t done it yet? How did I not know that?”

Eddie doesn’t turn to look at you, obviously embarrassed by his admission. Finally, Eddie shrugs, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. “I don’t know, I guess we never talk about our sex lives with each other.”

“Well, yeah, because there’s clearly not much going on in that department in either of our lives, but I did assume you’ve had sex for the first time by now.” You say, leaning up on your arm to look at Eddie. You were honestly shocked by the admission; how had Eddie not had sex, especially since he’s two years ahead of you?

It’s the wee hours after you and Eddie have been released from school, opting to, as usual, spend time with each other. You and Eddie had been best friends for as long as you could remember, always bound at the hip. When you were younger, your parents had been friendly, pushing you and Eddie together. When Eddie’s parents left Eddie with Wayne, his uncle, your parents were quick to absorb Eddie into your family. However, you always made the distinction that you didn’t see yourselves as essentially siblings, everyone certainly knew that you two were the best of friends. Any free time you had you spent with Eddie, every secret you had Eddie knew. Eddie was your other half, and you were his.

Again, Eddie shrugs. “Consider that assumption wrong,” Eddie says, turning away from you.

You can’t help but snicker. Eddie was the coolest, most confident person you know. He never cared about what others thought of him, he owns the title ‘freak’ that Hawkins titled him with utmost pride. Sure, Eddie had never had a girlfriend but that doesn’t necessarily mean he hadn’t had sex.

“Do you want to?” You say, curious. Didn’t every young male want to have sex?

Eddie lets his eyes flick to you; he frowns. “Y/n, I don’t want to talk about it, especially with you.”

You gasp in an exaggerated fashion, leaning on your arm to place your free hand over your heart. “Why not? We talk about everything with each other.”

Eddie rolls onto his side, facing you, mimicking your position. He shakes his head. “This is different. Guy and girl best friends aren’t supposed to inquire about each other’s sex lives.”

You scoff. “That’s bullshit, it’s not a big deal, Eddie. It’s just sex, it seems ridiculous to make that the one topic we don’t talk about with each other.”

Again, Eddie shakes his head, looking off into the distance behind you. “I don’t know, it’s just weird.”

You can understand how Eddie must feel - embarrassed. For some reason, having sex, or talking about it in society is shameful but at the same time not having done it at all, especially as teenagers, is shameful. You decide to joke and make it lighthearted to encourage him to lighten up. It truly wasn’t a big deal.

“Eddie Munson, are you the waiting until marriage type?” You say, laughing as you shove him lightly.

Eddie groans, burying his face into his tattooed covered bicep. “Y/n, stop. Trust me, not having had sex yet isn’t a choice; I would have done by now if the opportunity ever occurred.”

“Is there someone you want to do it with?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. Eddie hadn’t recently expressed having a crush on anyone at school but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a girl he has his eye on.

“No,” Eddie says. He peeks up at you from his arm. “Okay, fine, yes.”

“Eddie, what the hell,” you exclaim. “Are we even best friends if you keep all these things from me?”

“I’m telling you now,” Eddie says, sitting back up. “It’s embarrassing; I like this girl but have no experience in that department whatsoever. I wouldn’t even know what to do if I got her back home.”

You are dying to know who Eddie likes, knowing that whoever she is, she’s lucky. You’d love nothing more to encourage Eddie to pursue this girl, but you know asking who she is might be a bridge to far for Eddie in this moment; you decide to stay focused on the topic at hand.

You’re silent for a minute, thinking over tips to help Eddie in the moment where he would have a sexual encounter with a girl – then a wild idea comes to your mind.

“I’ll help you,” you say, sitting up. “I’ll teach you what to do.”

Eddie frowns. “What? How would you teach me to have sex?”

You laugh, knowing what you’re about to say will shock Eddie. “I’ll have sex with you,” you say nonchalantly and as if Eddie should have understood that right away.

“Y/n,” Eddie says, jolting up from his spot on his bed. “Have you lost your mind?”

You shrug, starting to peel off your jacket you’re wearing. “Like I said, sex is no big deal. I can walk you through what to do so you know what to do when it happens with the girl you like.”

Eddie crosses his arms, sliding himself off the bed to pace at the foot of his bed. Your head goes from side to side as you watch your best friend walk from one side of his bedroom to the other side. “No, I can’t have sex with you, you’re my best friend.”

You hum. “To me, that’s exactly why you should have sex with me. Think about it Eddie, we have been in each other’s lives for as long as we can remember, we’ve done everything together and know everything about each other. We’ve always been there for and supported each other in any way the other needs; teaching you how to have sex is just another way I can support you.”

The idea to have sex with Eddie, with the end goal being that Eddie is more confident with a girl, sounded insane to begin with and even suggest, but as you explain yourself– it didn’t sound that insane at all.

Eddie laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair then crossing his arms over his chest. “This is a joke, right?”

You roll your eyes. “No, it’s not. Here, I’ll prove it: I’ll show you my tits.” You say, tucking your hands underneath your t-shirt and letting your fingers dig underneath the band of your bra.

Eddie yelps, covering his eyes. “No, y/n, don’t. Okay, I believe you.”

You laugh, dropping your hands into your lap. “I’m serious, Eddie. We can take it slow; I’ll teach you everything and answer any questions you have.”

Eddie glances at you, maintaining eye-contact as he mulls over a response to your question. Eddie is twenty years old, far passed the average age everyone at Hawkins has sex for the first time. Always, but more recently, he’s been worried about how his performance might be for the lucky lady and how she might expect him to be more experienced considering his age. Although he finds your proposition jarring, he decides to put the awkwardness aside and take up your offer. “Okay,” is all Eddie can manage to say.

You clasp your hands, happy that your oh so thoughtful offer was accepted. “I knew you’d come to your senses. Are you ready?”

“You want to do it right now?” Eddie says, his eyes growing wider. A hot wave washes over him, instantly becoming nervous.

You give him a curious look. “I mean, there’s no better time than the present, plus we didn’t have any other plans for later.”

You watch Eddie as he turns into a nervous wreck, his fingertips digging into his already crossed arms. You can imagine how being told you’re going to have sex on the spot can make someone feel, so you lean forward on the bed, outstretching your arm to grasp onto Eddie. “It’s okay, we’ll take care of each other,” you say, offering a small smile.

In response to your touch, Eddie lets his arms drop to his sides. He moves from the end of the bed to the side you occupy, getting several feet closer to you. “Okay, right now it is then,” Eddie says, nervousness lacing his words.

And you begin your lesson.

“Okay, so. Say you just took this mysterious girl that you like out on a date and things went so well, which she’s on a date with you so of course it would, that you take her back to here.” You say, gesturing towards his bedroom that you both stand in. “Once she gives you that look, a look that says, ‘I want to have mind blowing sex with you have to set the mood immediately.”

“Set the mood?” Eddie says.

You roll your eyes. “Kiss her. You have to start kissing her, Eddie. Feel her up a little, don’t be coy, I know you’ve watched porn before.” Eddie’s cheeks flush with embarrassment but you continue on.

You scoot over on the bed, allowing space for Eddie to sit. You pat the open space, tugging Eddie to sit next to you. “When you start with kissing, it makes it easier to transition to stripping clothes off and ultimately have sex, you know?”

Eddie nods, crossing his arms across his chest. You’re quick to uncross them, scooting closer to Eddie, the side of your leg touching his. “Okay, go, kiss me.”

Eddie’s mouth opens and the closes, his mind drawing a blank. “Okay, no, that is a bridge too far.”

“Eddie, did you really think I’d just let you dry fuck me without any foreplay? Foreplay is the most important part.” You exclaim, shaking your head.

Eddie looks away and then complies. He leans in, his hands placing themselves on your cheek, drawing you closer to him. Your lips meet, letting your mouths intertwine with each other, tongues beginning to dance. You thought Eddie would pull away quickly, but he doesn’t, letting your mouth stay connected to his. You can feel the eagerness in his mouth, every movement begging for more. You take your lesson to second base.

Swiftly, you lay back on Eddie’s bed, Eddie following you down. With ease, he arranges himself over you as you part your legs to let him rest on top of you comfortably. You lean your head back, letting your lips break away from Eddie’s. “Very good, now is when you start taking her clothes off – and yours.”

Eddie squirms nervously on top of you and you’re sure you feel his arms lightly tremble. “Are you sure about this?”

“Never been surer about anything, Munson.”

Eddie sighs, leaning back onto his knees. His fingers tempt the end of his t-shirt, lifting it up and off of his torso. You watch, looking at his tattooed covered body and noticing the necklace that has a guitar pick as it’s pendant that hangs around his neck. You roll your eyes; He loves that thing.

Eddie goes to unbuckle his belt, but you gently kick his leg. “Don’t take off all your clothes and then mine; make it a back-and-forth thing. You take your shirt off, then take mine off. It’s a joint effort, let her do some of the work too.”

Eddie considers this, coming to an understanding on your principle. He places himself over you, his fingers twitching as he plays with the hem of your shirt, beginning to lift it up and off your body too.

Eddie has never seen you naked, not fully at least. Sure, there was that one time you got caught in the rain and your shirt was so soaked that you stripped it off once you got to his house, opting to borrow one of Eddie’s shirts. He had seen your bra then, the way your breasts settled in your bra nicely, the raindrops dripping down your chest. There was also that other time he realized how comfortable you were with him when you stripped down to your underwear and bra on a hot Indiana summer day, unable to bear the feeling of your clothes on your body or against your skin. Eddie had tried, in both of those instances, to give you your privacy and not stare at your assets – but he couldn’t help it. His eyes were drawn to your silky, supple skin, your curves, and the way you were so close to being naked, revealing your most intimate parts to him, but he didn’t let himself think about you in that way – at least not then.

Eddie tosses your shirt on the side of his bed, letting it drop to the floor. He realizes he’s holding his breath as he’s looking at your breasts, one of your nipples poking out from behind the bra. You notice that he’s analyzing you, taking in your bare skin. You don’t mind, you find yourself comfortable under his gaze.

“Keep going,” you say, though it comes out as a whisper. Your hands travel to his crotch, your fingers beginning to unzip the fly of his pants. Once his jeans are unzipped, you and Eddie work together to shrug his jeans off. You kick his jeans to the side of the bed, letting the piece of clothing fall next to your shirt on the floor. Eddie is quick to attend to your pants, his fingers enveloping the band of your jeans, pulling your bottoms off swiftly. Your hands find their way to his biceps, steadying yourself as Eddie works to pull your clothes off.

Eddie feels himself getting hard against your thigh, his arousal growing stronger but he’s quick to try and hide that fact. You lean up, your front pressing into Eddie as you reach behind yourself, unclipping your bra. Eddie almost cums in his boxers as he watches your breasts bounce out of your undergarment. Eddie doesn’t know what to do next, his mind in a whirlwind. He closes his eyes, looking away from you as he shrugs his boxers off, his cock bouncing out of its restraint, showcasing his arousal.

You swallow hard, eyeing his larger-then-you-imagined cock. Eddie has never known if his cock is a decent size, never having anything to compare it to or someone to tell him so, but by the look on your face, he knows he’s just fine.

Eddie waits a beat, waiting for you to pull your panties down but you don’t move. You want him to take them off. Eddie catches on eventually, hooking his two fingers on either side of your hips, pulling your panties off with ease. Deep inside, Eddie’s sexual hunger grows, wishing he could do away with your rules, letting his primal nature guide the exploration of your body. But he restrains himself, waiting for your instructions.

You part your legs, revealing your most sensitive part and now it’s Eddie’s turn to swallow hard, beginning to imagine what’s to come.

“And now?” Eddie says, his fingertips brushing your jaw as he pushes a strand of your hair that clings to your face. You watch him intensely, feeling the tension grow between you and Eddie rapidly. A pit grows in your stomach, the stimulation of Eddie de-clothing you causing a rush of emotions. You’re hoping this doesn’t turn out to be a mistake.

You clear your throat. “I have a feeling you know what to do now.” In response, Eddie offers you a small smile, re-positioning himself on top of you.

Eddie lines himself up with you, cock in his hand, and he inserts the tip in, pushing himself into you slowly. You gasp, biting your lip as you let your head fall back; the feeling of Eddie pushing himself inside of you igniting a strong sense of pleasure throughout your body and limbs.

Eddie thinks back to the porn he’s watched, though he knows that’s not an accurate representation of sex or how girl want to be treated. He mimics some of what he’s remembered seeing, rolling his hips so that he pulls himself in and out of you rhythmically.

You let your legs wrap around Eddie’s waist; Eddie glances down, noticing how he’s drawn into you further when your legs attached to him – he wishes he could have your legs around him forever, holding him in place. He shakes his head at the thought.

“What’s wrong?” You say, your hands finding their way to Eddie’s face. Eddie continues to move in and out of you and a soft moan escapes your lips.

“Oh, uh – nothing.” Eddie says, adjusting his arm that rests next to you. His new position brings you and Eddie’s chests closer, your nipples brushing his bare skin. Eddie finds himself not being able to concentrate.

Your hands move from his face, moving them to let your fingertips brush Eddie’s back. His skin his warm, your body feeling cold and exposed. Your body heats up when you acknowledge how Eddie’s cock bulges inside of you, stretching the walls of your cunt to allow him inside of you. You had already had sex before, with two or three guys, but no guy was as big as Eddie – of course Eddie would have the biggest cock out of all the guys you’ve slept with.

While you’re thinking about how Eddie’s cock is painfully, yet pleasurably, big - Eddie is staring at your tits, wondering how they’d fit in his mouth. Just then, Eddie has no idea what comes over him. He suddenly has no regard for the concept of your ‘anatomy’ exercise, attempting to teach him how to have sex as his best friend – Eddie just wants to fuck the shit out of you. He wants to fuck his best friend.

Eddie dips down to your chest, his large, ring-covered hand, clasping your breast. His mouth engulfs your breast, his lips puckering around your hard nipples. Eddie lets his tongue flatten against you, roughly licking your tits. You gasp again, your body arching in response to his bold act. Instantly, your fingers lace into his hair, pushing him further down against your chest. Eddie, emboldened by your response, moves to your other breast, copying what he had done just seconds before.

Once he finishes with your second breast, Eddie keeps his mouth to your sternum, placing a trail of kisses from your chest up to your neck, leaving soft kisses underneath your ear.

“Go faster,” You say, your thighs clenching around him. You knew it was wrong, the feeling you have growing inside of you as Eddie thrusts in and out of you. You wanted him bad, in ways you knew weren’t the ways you should think about your best friends.

Eddie obeys, making his movements quicker, his thrusts rougher. Eddie loves the way he feels in this moment, the trembling of yours legs around him and the way your fingertips grip the roots of his hair. He never wanted this to end.

“Am I doing it right?” Eddie says, mumbling into your neck.

“You’re doing so good, that girl, whoever she is, is so lucky.” You say, a moan parting your sentence. “Fuck, this feels good.” Eddie smiles against your skin at your answer, his body moving smoothly against yours as if you’re two perfect fitting puzzle pieces.

Eddie feels a burning sensation growing inside of him, his skin beginning to flush. He was about to finish. Obviously, Eddie had jerked off before, a lot actually, so he knew what feeling close felt like but this time feeling like he’s about to come while inside of you feels a lot different – it feels so much better. He doesn’t want to stop, enjoying the way he’s come to having sex with ease, as if he’s a natural at it, but he knows the inevitable and not something he can control entirely.

You, being just as wild as Eddie, pull his mouth back to yours, enveloping your lips on his. The action made everything much more intimate, so much deeper than just helping your friend out. Your lips nip at his, begging to be paid attention to. Eddie leans on one arm, letting his hand trail to your face, his large hand cupping half of your face. He leans into the kiss, glad to pay attention to your mouth. Eddie feels the intimacy grow between you, making his arousal even stronger, and he comes – instantly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Eddie whispers, separating his mouth from yours. He looks down, noticing how specks of his semen are splatted across your inner thighs.

You laugh softly, secretly wishing you could go for a second round. You mauver your body under Eddie’s top sheet, hiding yourself from Eddie. “And that’s how you have sex. I’ll give you an A-, you should pay more attention to foreplay when the real thing happens.”

Eddie follows you, submersing himself under the sheets. “So, you’re saying I could use more lessons with you?”

You frown, looking over at Eddie. “What? You want to do this again?”

Eddie looks away, staring at his guitar that hangs on his mirror. His guitar is his prized position, a material object he finds so much confidence and security in. Eddie realizes it’s time to confess. “You know the girl you asked me about?” Eddie asks you. “Well, that girl is you.”

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut

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quokkawritesarchive · 4 months

Text

DANCE BETTER — MINHO.

pairing: minho x reader(afab) genre: dancer au!minho, enemies to lovers, smut, NSFW warnings: sub!minho, dom!reader, kinda touch starved minho, oral (f. receiving), handjob, praising, degrading, dirty talk, use of “slut”, “kitten”, “whore”; fingering, cumming untouched, mean minho in the beginning a/n: i decided to expand the scenario that i’ve written for this ask. enjoy!

dancing has always been a big part of your life. you danced since you could remember and it was the only part of your life that has “always been there” and brought you comfort.

after moving to soul and completing your biggest dream, the first thing that you did was sign up for a dance studio. it looked pretty fun, judging by the text on the brochure. unlike most dance studios in soul, this one had couples dancing. you have never tried this before, so you were very thrilled with the idea of new couples choreo you’d learn.

until you met minho. this guy has been a regular dancer in the studio for quite a long time. you didn’t get along from the beginning. it was honestly still a secret to you why exactly you didn’t get along. he seemed like a pretty chill guy, but with you he always seemed to turn into an asshole.

maybe it was your dancing skills, that finally put him into challenge. he was the best in the group, until you showed up. maybe it was his strategy - to bully you, until you give up and leave. but you were not one of the weak, you were not planning on giving up.

months went by and your dance teacher has acknowledged your skills. to everyone’s surprise, she paired you with minho. your partner at the time was the sweetest guy you’ve ever met. yes, he was a bit slow with learning new choreo and overall he lacked some skill, but honestly, you’d rather be paired with someone who lacks skill than with a man-child.

it quickly evolved into a fight for the title of the best, but now it was inside the pair. you gave your fullest in every practice. you didn’t want to slack off even for one moment. because you knew - the second you relaxed, minho’d leave a harsh comment about your poor dancing skills and that he needed to change his partner immediately.

his verbal bullying evolved as well and turned into putting pranks on you. at his very grown age, he still did some stupid shit, like tying your shoelaces on both sneakers between each other while you were not looking, making you fall afterwards. but you became used to it. you treated it as some sort of challenge that you need to overcome. dancing was no longer there to relieve stress and be your safe space - it became a battleground.

but it wasn’t just minho you were fighting with. your dance teacher didn’t help either. you were used to bullying and you could handle every prank that minho did on you. what you couldn’t handle though, was the sexy choreo that your dance teacher loved to put on. for some reason, she thought that getting random people who interact with each other only during dance practice, to learn the sexiest and most seductive choreography ever was a good idea. every time it became more naughty and awkward for you and minho.

it was your usual thursday after work hours, meaning you were gonna spend time in the company of minho and other people who treat you as an obstacle that needs to be overcome. to be honest with yourself, thoughts about quitting have been coming to you more often these days.

you wouldn’t lie that the new choreo played a big part in your thoughts about quitting. this time it was one particular movement that you refused to do at first. standing in front of your dance partner, you had to roll your hips in circle movement, almost touching your partner’s crotch, while he held you by the waist. awkward? yes. uncomfortable? obviously. too little words to describe your feelings.

you didn’t know, if minho felt the same way, but he never complained once, while you talked to the dance teacher several times about this move. the only response you got was that you need to grow up and it’s just dancing, not fucking. of course.

“one-two-three-four!” dance teacher was counting down, while whole group was repeating that particular part of the choreo once again. “one-two-three-four!”

you circled your hips, feeling minho’s hands on your waist. he didn’t look at you once, while you were repeating this part for the past few minutes - you could see him looking to the side in the mirror.

that’s how he usually behaved - ignored your existence, talked to you only when it was really needed. it was like you were not even there for him.

“good! a couple more times and we’ll move to the next part! let’s repeat that with previous moves and add this at the end! with music now!”

everyone nodded. it was a relief being able to finally go through choreo with music.

following the tempo, you began to do long-learned movements. minho gave you his hand at the right moment, spun you around in place, then turned you to face the mirror, preparing you for the next part of the choreo.

“one-two-three-four!” counting began again, echoing through the walls of the studio.

as always, you put all your passion into the movements. you were precise in the placement of your arms and legs, not wanting to be inferior to minho in anything.

“now the hip part! one-two-three-four!”

you rolled your hips at the count, maybe too passionately, carried on with the thought of beating minho in this unspoken dance battle, cause you forgot that the distance between your ass and minho’s crotch was too little to begin with. it was a soft sigh that reached your ears, causing you to stop your movements.

your eyes widened in surprise. you looked in the mirror, making eye contact with minho, but he broke it almost immediately, looking away, hands still on your waist.

did you really just hear that or was it your imagination?

“cmon, girls! i want you to be passionate about this dance! look at y/n and minho, they always give their best, even if choreography seems “too sexy”, as you all say.”

right. too sexy.

“okay, let’s go through this once again, but now i wanna see a good hip movement, girls!” teacher clapped her hands and put the music back on.

you were trembling, but you couldn’t figure out the source of it - fear or anticipation? because of the constant fighting between the two of you, you’ve never had a change to look at minho in this way. and objectively, he was an attractive guy - veiny hands, big muscular thighs and heart-shaped lips. you bet he had abs too, but you’ve never seen his stomach. for some reason, he hid it and wore only oversized t-shirts.

the thought of touching his crotch with your hips again sent chills down your spine. you had to feel him again.

following the countdown, you let your hips circle a little bit wider, making it seems like an accident again. as soon as you felt your ass slightly brush against minho’s crotch, you heard a quiet whimper. the fact that you could hear it over the blasting music made you aware that minho was not holding back. his grip on your waist tightened, as you saw him close his eyes through the mirror.

oh, he was having a boner for sure.

the realization made your pussy throb. you felt yourself getting wet, panties started to soak with your arousal.

this minho? the same minho who constantly bullied you ever since you took your first step into the studio. the same minho who pulled pranks on you and got on your nerves. the same minho who was currently having a boner, because you rubbed your hips against him.

you thought you were dreaming.

without any thinking, driven by pure lust, you scooted closed to minho and brushed your hips against his bulge, but now with more pressure. the sigh that he let out tightened the knot in your stomach. you had no idea where you were going with this, but the sounds this man was making were driving you crazy. thankfully, the teacher was giving harsh comments to the back line, so you had plenty of time to yourselves.

like a cat in heat, you leaned against minho again, leaving no room between your bodies and pressed your ass right into his boner. he responded so readily, whining out, quietly, brokenly. it sounded so pretty it sent tingles down your spine.

you took a look at his face in the mirror again and smirked. his eyes were shut, eyebrows slightly raised and he looked almost helpless as he breathed heavily. the scene was endearing. you would never have thought that you’d see your main rival in such a state.

his boner was obvious now. you could feel him behind you, throbbing in his sweatpants. but for some unknown reason, he was still not grinding against you. he was not doing nothing to prevent your moves against his boner, but he himself was not moving at all, as a matter of fact. his breathing was becoming heavier with every grind of your hips, little puffs of air hitting the back of your neck, his hands twitching on your waist.

it felt amazing. you’ve got yourself so worked up by just grinding against him. his breathing was tickling your neck and you were biting your lip to hide your own moans.

“alright! back to where we left off!” the voice of your teacher was so sudden it made you jump.

oh, how were you gonna be able to keep dancing like this? your panties were so soaked they were leaking through your sweatpants. minho’s face was slightly red. he probably felt even more uncomfortable than you with a throbbing dick between his legs. this problem needed to be sorted out now.

“sorry! i need a quick bathroom break!” you came up with the dumbest excuse and rushed out of the studio hoping that minho would have enough brain cells to understand and follow you along.

the cold air in the hallway helped you get back to your senses a little. there was a layer of sweat on your forehead and it wasn't because of the dance - minho made you feel this way. so now you were standing in the middle of the hallway with your thighs trembling out of nervousness. what will he do? flip you against the wall and say dirty things in your ear? be rough with you and leave read marks on your ass? you couldn’t keep calm while waiting for him.

seconds passed, but minho didn't show up. you decided to take it as a sign of refusal and were about to return to the studio and continue dancing as if nothing had ever happened. but as soon as you put your hand on the door handle, the door swung open and minho literally flew into you, almost knocking you down.

“oh shit! sorry!” he grabbed you by waist, keeping you in place. your eyes collided.

did he just apologize?

never in your life did you think that you’d be able to hear minho saying these words to you in all seriousness.

“it’s… fine. don’t worry. i thought you weren’t coming, so…” suddenly you felt awkward. you were talking to minho like this? in private?

“ah, she made me show some moves again, cause these idiots still can’t remember shit.” minho chuckled, looking at you searchingly under half-closed eyelids.

sexual tension disappeared, so now it was only two of you in the hallway, looking at each other with questioning looks in the eyes.

he was leaning against the door that went back to the studio, so pinning him right here was not an option - he could have been heard.

you decided to take action slowly, since he was looking at you dumbly, as if he had never touched a woman before. slowly you leaned closer to his lips, brushing yours slightly against his. this simple action made him vocal already.

“shh…” you pulled away, put your fingers on his lips. “if you gonna be so whiny, we have to find another place.”

his nod in response made you chuckle. what happened to the usual asshole that you feared? it seemed like a completely new person was in front of you.

it didn’t take long to find a more private place. locker rooms were free since whole group was currently dancing in the studio.

to your surprise, even now minho continued to act like a shy bitch. his eyes were looking anywhere, but at you. it was honestly adorable and made you horny again.

you took a step closer, pinning him against the wall again as your arms slithered their way to his waist. he gasped when your hips pushed him further against the wall and your knee went between his thighs, parting them apart. a muffled whimper escaped his heart-shaped lips. he couldn’t hold back his low whines, desperation evident through his hard-on that you felt twitch under his pants with each grind of your lower body. you decided not to kiss him yet, even though you craved to feel his soft lips on yours.

instead, you trailed kisses down his neck, while you hand began toying with his crotch. that made minho choke out your name in the most pretty and desperate voice. you hummed against his skin as your lips left slick spots on his neck. minho was already falling apart.

there was not much talking, but you desperately wanted to say something, to degrade him like he did you this whole time.

“so weak for me.” you finally spoke. “what happened to your pride? all gone just because you finally felt some pussy on your dick?”

grin appeared on your face as you heard him moan at your words. his dick was already pulsating in your hand. you could feel it through the fabric. he muttered, trying to get his mind back, which turned blank at your movements.

minho was flustered from head to toe. each rub of your palm was accompanied by a gentle thrust of your hips, and minho couldn't hide the little whimpers that came out of his mouth. you smirked, pressing soft kisses on the corner of his mouth, finally capturing your lips together.

hearing his whimpers against your mouth made you even wetter. his lips were soft as you imagined. he was so cute - falling apart under your touch, but still eager to kiss you, moving his lips along with yours. his legs were trembling in place, still trying to process what was happening.

he made a disgruntled sound, his expression jumped to frustrated when you moved away slightly. feeling the cold surface of the wall against his back was a big contrast to how hot you had made him feel in the blink of an eye.

you had never done anything like this. of course, you had a lot of sex experience, but it was mostly an average sex with some occasional dirty talk from your parter. now it was different. minho made you act like this - so dominating, making him feel like he was yours to touch, and yours only.

feeling the confidence, you slid your hand through his waistband, capturing his throbbing dick in your palm. your quick action made his hips buck up in your fist, eyes widened in surprise.

“looks like someone is about to cum untouched.” you teased, starting to stroke his dick, touching the tip of it with your thumb occasionally.

“please, please, don’t stop-“ he looked at you pleadingly, eyes watering. he needed more.

it struck you how easy it was to get him to beg.

“oh, you look so cute right now.” you cooed at him, freeing his throbbing dick out of his pants. it was swollen and painfully hard, the tip of it red, leaking with precum.

minho was seeing stars already. his body was so sensitive, reacting to your touch in this almost embarrassing way. he had never felt like this before.

“please, don’t tease- just- make me cum-“ his eyes were shut, lips parted, revealing his bunny teeth.

“what makes you think I will make you cum?” you asked him, slowing the pace, but still stroking his hard cock with your hand.

“b-because I’ve been good-” he stammered hopelessly with his words as he tried not to sound so desperate.

you chuckled. “have you? i only remember you’ve been acting like as asshole to me since the day i saw you.”

“‘m sorry-“ he cried out, soft whimpers leaving his mouth. “‘m so sorry, i will be good now.”

“yeah? is that what you’re saying? that you’ll be a good boy?”

“yes-s…”

“say it.” you squeezed his dick in your fist, making him choke.

“i’ll be a good boy! i promise! i’ll be good! just please-” oh he was a mess. a whiny, whimpering mess under your touch. your words and your attitude made his dick twitch, which didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“you like it when i say stuff like that? you like it rough?” the grip on his dick tightened with these words. “oh, you are such a slut, minho. who would’ve thought.”

minho groaned, both frustrated and unbelievably turned on. you looked up at his face. eyes shut, pretty flush covering his cheeks and ears. you wanted this face on your pussy.

“get on your knees.” you commanded, feeling more powerful than ever. this man made you act like this and you were enjoying using him however you liked.

minho froze for a second, but still obeyed, slowly sitting down with his face right next to your pussy.

your hands immediately found a place on his head, bringing him closer to your crotch. minho let out a whine, but allowed his face to be dragged, shivering when he realized how compliant he was.

“can you smell it, kitten? how good you making me feel?” you rubbed your hips on his face.

oh he looked so unbelievably hot sitting on his knees with his cock out of the pants, precum dripping on the floor, face buried in your clothed pussy.

“yes-s-“ minho hummed into you, sending vibrations with his voice.

“that’s a good boy.” you praised, pulling minho closer. “now lick.”

there wasn’t much friction with his actions, but the fact that minho was sitting on his knees with his soaking dick in plain sight, licking your pussy through the sweatpants, almost made you cum.

low groans were coming from his mouth and sending vibrations through your cunt, making you even wetter. you had to stop him now, or you were gonna cum without even feeling his lips on your clit.

“enough.” you pulled him away with your hand. “take this off and get to work.”

minho swallowed. the way your voice was saying these things like it was a natural occasion for you two.

he quickly brought his hands to your waistband, sliding everything down in one motion.

it amazed him how wet you were for him. honestly, he still thought that it’s some sort of prank and you were about to show the hidden camera and laugh at him. it couldn’t connect in his mind, that your pussy was clenching around his mouth, while you were desperately trying to mute your moans.

a whimper left your mouth when his tongue started circling around your clit. you honestly thought you’re about to pass out. damn, this man really knew how to eat pussy.

then, you felt the pad of his index and middle finger sliding right into your slit. you were too soaked to make him take his hands away and beg to touch you, so you just let him finger you.

his fingers kept going in and out, while lips were making out with your clit. small little whines were leaving him at your taste. you couldn’t help, but started whining as well, holding onto his head.

he quickly realized that you had nothing to hold onto besides his head and your thighs were starting to tremble.

“i think you should-“ he pulled away for a second to gently tapped you on your thigh, signaling that you should move closer to the wall.

now that you had more support, your self-confidence was back and dirty talked continued. minho didn’t even wait for your order, immediately attaching his lips back to your cunt.

"you are such a slut, aren't you-" you moaned.

his puffy lips wrapped around your swollen clit as he sucked, pushing his nose against your cunt. he desperately tried to take more than he could possibly handle.

for some reason, he knew exactly how to please you, exactly how to lick and suck on your clit to have you gasping out for air. slipping his tongue all along your folds and lapping at you eagerly, he couldn’t get enough of your taste. it was supposed to be a punishment for him so that he could fuck you later, but it turned out to be a reward. who knew that minho loved eating pussy. you've completely flooded his senses. the only thing he could smell, the only thing he could taste on his tongue was your pussy.

“such a good boy you are.” uncontrollable moans left your mouth as you kept riding his face. “or should i say kitten? slut? whor-“

suddenly a warm, white load spilled over your leg, cutting you off. minho’s lips left your clit as he kept cumming over the floor and your leg. and all of that because you used some dirty talk?

the flush on his face deepened. broad chest heaved with every pant.

“come on.” you gave him a minute to restore breathing, then bringing him back to your pussy by the hair again. “i’m not done with you.”

he was a little shaky and boneless from coming, but still obeyed, latching his pretty lips back on your pussy.

the image of him cumming under you untouched and spilling his cum all over your leg replayed in your head, helping you reach you climax quickly. you held onto his hair harder, bringing him impossibly closer to your throbbing pussy, riding his face through your orgasm.

your legs trembled as you almost fell down on the floor, but minho’s strong hands held you in place, tongue never leaving you as you kept cumming.

“wow…” you breathed out after finally being done with your orgasm.

minho was still sitting between your thighs, looked like he liked it there.

flush was still all over his face. you didn’t know of what exactly he was ashamed of, but you guessed it was all together. you sat down in front of him and cupped his cheeks, leaving a quick peck on his lips.

“i don’t know how you really feel, but i am just gonna say, that i enjoyed it and we can talk about it later, if you are not ready now.” you looked into his eyes, making your words clear. “there is no need to be ashamed of anything.”

minho didn’t have time to reply. the approaching sounds of voices made it clear that the training was over and your group was heading here.

minho panicked. he was still in the women's locker room, on his knees with a dick hanging out of his pants. the puddle of cum was still underneath you.

in a matter of seconds, he shoved his dick back into his pants and ran to the door. but he was not fast enough, colliding with one of the girls in the doorway.

she didn’t say anything. just let him run out of the room and then shot you the dirty glare. well, apparently everyone has already found out.

-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡

masterlist | taglist

#stray kids #skz smut #lee know #skz minho #skz x reader #sub minho #sub lee know #dom reader #skz lee know #lee minho #lee know smut #minho smut

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