#at least i know the rough plot by now and can laugh about it lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luffles424 · 3 years

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Theory into Practice

☼ Pairing: Yoonji x reader x Jungkook

☼ Genre: fluff, smut, pwp (with some plot), teeny bit of angst, f2l, college au (technically more so grad school au)

☼ Count: 10.2K

☼ Warnings: 18+, drug use (pot), mentions of alcohol use, threesome, dom!Yoonji, dom!reader, sub!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, teasing, dirty talk, one thigh smack, thigh riding, fingering, hair pulling, breast play, oral (f & m receiving), face sitting, unprotected (pls stay safe), aftercare

☼ Summary: A normal night in with Yoonji leads to some interesting revelations with her and surprisingly, Jungkook.

☼ a/n: lmao it’s been a while. Hope you enjoy the Yoonji thirst, my girl doesn’t have enough fics out there. Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~

———

“Who of our friends do you think is the subbiest?”

You blink. It’s really a testament to how much you and Yoonji have smoked tonight that your immediate reaction isn’t to splutter at her question. Instead, you just blink slowly, the question slowly making its way through your synapses before you can articulate a response. You take another hit, using it to buy yourself a little more time. Holding the joint back out to her, you let the smoke slowly seep from your lips.

“Who says I’ve thought about it?”

You know exactly who you want to be subbiest. But you’re not going to reveal that. Maybe not yet. You might be high, but you still have enough of your wits to keep from spilling things you want to keep hidden. You’ve had good practice at that, smoking often with her and never divulging your crush, even when the topic of partners has come up. Which does come up fairly often as you both attempt to navigate dating while in grad school.

There’s a snort from the other end of the couch and Yoonji’s head lulls against the back of it so she can fix you with hazy, unimpressed eyes, though there’s a smirk just barely tugging at her lips. “I didn’t. But we’re talking about it now.”

Pursing your lips, you think of how to respond. In truth, you’ve thought about it a little, but not particularly in relation to your whole group of friends. Maybe just a person or two who you were particularly interested in that are in said friend group. Most notably, the women sitting on the other end of the couch from you currently.

Yoonji laughs, foot kicking out to nudge you, and you grin at the flood of happiness that always accompanies hearing her laugh. “Damn, it’s not that deep. Why are you thinking so hard?”

Catching her foot, you dig your thumb into the sole of her foot, causing you both to dissolve into giggles. “We have a lot of friends,” you shoot back. An excuse and you both know it.

You and Yoonji have been friends for too long for you to really be able to avoid answering a direct query. It’s only been luck that has kept your crush hidden from her. You’ve been friends since you met in 2nd year of undergrad, paired randomly as roommates and then continuing to remain roommates until even now when you live off campus in an apartment together. And many of your friends have come together and you both now share a common friend group.

Once Yoonji wrestles her foot free of your tickling grasp, she shifts in her seat, face far more serious than the topic at hand should really call for. “Fine, fine. I’ll accept your excuse,” she gives you a look that’s hard to interpret, though you mostly just don’t want to think too hard about the calculating look she’s giving you. It leaves you feeling exposed, like she can read your thoughts and knows all of your deepest secrets. Which is partially true, you and Yoonji share everything, save your feelings for her. “Which way do you think Jimin goes?”

She’s really going to make you do this? Well, you might as well give some actual thought to this. “With his praise kink? Definitely more sub leaning?”

Yoonji raises an eyebrow. “Leaning?”

“Well yeah. He’s definitely a switch. You’ve seen how he is when he’s focused. But he also likes helping others. Plus,” you pause, mostly just to be dramatic as you smirk knowingly, Yoonji leaning closer as she waits for what you’re going to say next, “Siyeon said he’s as good a dom as he is a sub.”

Scoffing, Yoonji reaches over to give you a little shove. “That’s cheating!”

You giggle, catching her hand before she pushes again. “It’s not!”

“It is! That’s insider information! This is supposed to be our opinion.”

Waving her off, you settle back onto the couch. “I gave my opinion. I would’ve had that before Siyeon told me. All she did was confirm.” You pause thoughtfully for a moment. You don’t want this to be all you, so you pose the next friend to her instead. “What about Seokjin?”

Yoonji drums her fingers on her bare thigh and you have to fight the urge to get lost in staring at the vast expanse of smooth, exposed skin she’s subjecting you to tonight while you’re impaired like this. You want to know if they’re as soft as they look. You know her hands aren’t, not anymore since she started learning guitar, finger’s growing rough and calloused. The first time she had held your hand after had startled you, now you love feeling the slight roughness brush against your skin. Dragging your gaze from her fingers to her face, you watch as she starts to speak, trying to remain focused on her words and not the way her pretty pink lips form them.

“As much as I’d love to say sub because he would be just absolutely gorgeous all tied up and begging. I think he’s a bit more dom-ish.”

Mulling it over for a moment, you nod. He likes caring for all your friends, you can certainly see that transferring over into the bedroom. You add, “Yeah… But like, a soft one, ya know? He’d be so gentle and caring about it. I bet his aftercare game is amazing.”

Shifting, Yoonji stretches her legs out and echoes your thoughts. “Definitely. You’ve seen the way he cares for all of us, but definitely the younger guys. He’d be so amazing at that. What about Taehyung?”

“Hm, a dom. Maybe a little less gentle than Seokjin, but still a soft-ish dom. Namjoon?”

“Dom leaning switch. Sometimes he just really needs to get out of his head and let go of control. Hoseok?”

“Straight up switch. I think he probably doms more often but he’s all too happy to go with whatever his partner is in the mood for. Jungkook?”

Yoonji’s face lights up. “Oh,” she coos. “The sweetest sub ever.”

You stare at the way her eyes seem to glaze over with her words and something like jealousy swirls with heat in your belly. You can’t tell if the spike of jealousy is about the way she sighed her answer so sweetly, like she’s thought a lot about this. Or if it’s because you have the same thoughts and some part of you feels possessive over Jungkook. “Why’s that?”

She shoots you a coy smile that leaves you feeling slightly uneasy. “He’s just such a sweet boy and always so eager to please.”

You can’t deny that you’ve also thought that, dreamed that were true. You’ve heard rumors of how Jungkook is in bed. Domineering, cocky, rough. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining him beneath you, whimpering and begging. Yoonji nudges you and you blink at her, realizing that you must’ve zoned out for a moment. She purses her lips, barely hiding her knowing smile.

“One more,” she declares.

Frowning, you think through your shared friends, but can’t imagine who she might be referring to. “Who?”

Her answering smirk has your heart stuttering in your chest, equal parts dreading what’s about to come out of her mouth and anticipating. “Me.”

You swallow. She’s really going to make you answer that to her face? While you’re both high? You chew your lip, looking her over slowly. You know exactly how she leans, the benefit and downside to living together for so long. The words stick in your throat though, not quite able to bring yourself to voice your knowledge. To give yourself away like that, to show just how much you’ve paid attention. Yoonji says nothing though, looking at you expectantly as she waits for your answer.

Taking a deep breath, you rationalize that this is just a game. You’re just giving opinions. It doesn’t have to be incriminating to anything deeper. You just won’t give reasons, just an answer which way she leans. “Dom.”

She grins, looking pleased with your answer. “You too.”

“What?” you blink at her, confused by what she means.

“I think you’re a dom too.”

Your breath catches. You hadn’t thought about the fact that if you knew her preferences then she likely knew yours well. You’ve both talked about your sex lives with each other, but you’ve never delved deeply into what happens when you’re in your room with others. Staring at each other, your mind races. How much has she heard? How much does she truly know? Her gaze drops to your lips for a moment.

But before the conversation can go any further, there’s a knock at the door. The tension that built between the two of you suddenly breaks as Yoonji crows happily, jumping from her seat to go retrieve the food you’d ordered. Burying your face in your hands, you take a few deep breaths, trying to get your thoughts under control. You really can’t be sitting here, high and horny and thinking about Yoonji and Jungkook. Especially not while one of those people is sitting here with you.

By the time she’s back with food, you’ve got your tangled thoughts mostly controlled and the previous conversation isn’t brought up again. Yoonji complains about something Namjoon did while they were studying earlier in the day and then you’re both complaining about school and theses and classes and thoughts on doms and subs is forgotten about entirely. And you’re all too happy to just forget it happened at all.

At least for the most part. You can’t help it if in the late hours of night, when exhaustion reigns and sleep eludes you, if you let your thoughts slip to less pure things as you hand slips into your panties. If when you’re alone, you think of you and Yoonji knelt over Jungkook as his big, shiny eyes shine brighter with overwhelmed tears and begs his noonas to let him cum. You don’t let it leave those times though, left in the dark and forgotten in the daylight hours. You ignore the thoughts when you go to lunch with Jungkook, have dinner with all your friends, go grocery shopping with Yoonji, let yourself act as if that conversation never happened.

You assume Yoonji has forgotten it too. Or at least chosen to leave that conversation with that night.

Until you come home from buying snacks one night for the weekly smoking session to find Jungkook there too. Which in and of itself isn’t too strange. While you and Yoonji are the primary partakers of this night, all of your friends rotate in and out when the mood strikes. Most of the others usually go out drinking. Or study. And everyone rotates between the three activities with whatever strikes their mood (or is required by their grades).

But Jungkook had said earlier in the day that he was going out with Tae and Jimin. He’s not even dressed for it, like he was just stopping by for a moment and then going to meet up with the others. Instead dressed comfortably in loose gray sweats and a matching sweatshirt, his blond hair still slightly damp from a shower under the hood he still has pulled up.

You give him a smile as you set the snacks on the coffee table and move to sit on the couch. “I thought you were going out to drink?”

Jungkook shuffles from foot to foot nervously, glancing from you to Yoonji, who’s sat on the other side of the couch. “I uh… changed my mind?”

You frown, unsure of his odd behavior. He’s acting as if he’s never been to your apartment before, despite the fact that besides the two of you, he’s here the most. But Yoonji simply beckons him to sit, which he does so after a moment of hesitation, nervously tugging his hood off his head. Once he sits, you expect Yoonji to pull out a blunt and get the night started, but the silence stretches and she makes no moves to do so. You reach out to nudge her, head tilted questioningly.

She gives you a quick glance before looking at Jungkook. “I have a proposition. For you both.” Brows furrowing, you’re about to question her when she continues. “Your noonas have a little theory they’d like to test.”

Your heart stops. There’s only one possible thing she could be talking about that would involve both a proposition and a theory that you both had. Is she just planning to ask him? But that wouldn’t involve a proposition…

Oh.

She’s planning to ask him to let you both dom him. Stomach knotting uncomfortably, you worry that this could ruin the friendship the three of you share. That it could ruin the entire friendship dynamic of the whole group. You could lose a roommate, friends. But even with the bad scenarios running through your mind, you can’t deny the bolt of heat that sears straight to your core at even the barest hint of possibility of getting the pretty boy before you underneath you instead.

Jungkook swallows, gaze darting from Yoonji to you and back. You wonder what Yoonji said to him to get him to come tonight. “What… What’s the theory?”

She gives a soft smile, but there's a predatory edge to it. You’ve seen it on her when you’ve gone to bars and clubs, wielded against unsuspecting people that she wants to spend the night with. You’ve seen the effects of that look on people and Jungkook is no different, already looking like he’s hooked on her every word, even if there’s still a touch of nerves in the tense line of his shoulders. She gestures for Jungkook to move from the chair to sit between you both on the couch. He hesitates before shuffling the short distance to sit where directed. You can’t help but note that he’s good at following instructions. It makes something hot twist in your belly.

Yoonji shifts, kneeling on the cushion so she can press closer to Jungkook, close enough to whisper in his ear, though her tone is loud enough for you to hear too. “Your noonas have a theory that you are just the sweetest little sub ever.”

Jungkook tenses up at the words, and though it’s hard to tell if it’s from discomfort or just shock at Yoonji’s bold statement, you slide closer to be a reassuring hand to counterpoint Yoonji’s boldness.

“If anything makes you uncomfortable, Jungkook, just tell us. We don’t want to cause you any discomfort, okay?” you murmur soothingly, hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. Yoonji peaks around to give you a grateful smile, although you’re unsure if it’s because you are joining her in her proposition or if it’s because you know enough to ensure that Jungkook’s comfort is the most important thing here.

Thinking for a moment, Jungkook gives a small nod and Yoonji takes that as her sign to continue. “Would you let your noonas find out if they’re right?”

“B-both of you?” he swallows, gaze darting between the two of you.

Leaning closer, you let your lips brush his ear, relishing the shiver you feel run through him. “Your noonas have seen the way you look at them when we dance together on nights out.”

He stiffens beneath you and you pull back just enough to see the flush starting to color his cheeks. In truth, you know he’s not the only one that does. Jimin and Taehyung fairly regularly comment on how you both steal the show. And you and Yoonji aren’t blind, you know the way you both captivate an audience when you’re together, dressed up and putting on a show just for the thrill. But you’ve definitely caught Jungkook staring the most. Eyes hooded and lips parted like you and Yoonji are there solely for his entertainment. The way you’ve seen him have to restrain himself from approaching the both of you. It’s even more thrilling than the eyes of strangers on you.

Yoonji coos. “Do you like watching your noonas together, baby?”

She doesn’t allow him a chance to answer though because as soon as the question has been asked, she’s nudging him back so he’s more reclined, leaving the two of you staring at each other over his chest. A moment passes, where you just stare at each other, as Jungkook looks between you both.

There’s a wry twist to her lips and then she’s reaching out to pull you in for a kiss. The sudden press of her soft lips to yours has your brain short circuiting. All thought and reason leaving you, focus narrowed entirely down to the pressure of her mouth on yours. She tastes like strawberry and the sudden, lightest brush of her tongue across your lip has your brain kick starting again just as she starts to pull away. That simply won’t do. Hand tangling in her hair, you keep her close, keep the kiss going as you deepen it and you relish the slick slide of her tongue against yours.

You’ve imagined kissing her so much, but it’s nothing compared to reality. Yoonji is demanding, just as demanding as you are, and there are moments where the kiss turns a little rougher as one of you tries for the upper hand. It’s addicting, the feel of her, the rush, that you get lost in the kiss. So much so, that you entirely forget about Jungkook beneath you until he lets out a soft whimper. Pulling away from Yoonji, you both glance down at him and you nearly coo at the sight. He looks much like he does on nights that you’ve caught him watching you dance. But up close like this, you can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his tongue darts out occasionally to lick at his pink, bitten lips, how blown his eyes are already and he hasn’t even been touched yet.

Disentangling yourself from Yoonji, you run an affectionate hand through Jungkook’s hair. “Do you want this, baby?” When he starts to nod again, you tighten your hand in his hair, halting his movement. “We need your words, Jungkook.”

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He clears his throat, eyes darting down in embarrassment before trying again. “Yes, noona. Want this… Want you both…”

Pleased, you let your hand drift down, cupping his cheek and thumbing gently along his cheekbone. “Yeah? Have you thought about this a lot? Have you thought about your noonas often?”

Swallowing, his gaze darts between the two of you nervously. And oh, you had just been teasing. But the nervous flit of his gaze, the way he won’t focus on either of you for longer than a moment. He has thought about the two of you. You wonder what he’s thought about, for how long. Has he touched himself while thinking about one of you? Both of you? Yoonji seems to pick up on the implication of his nonanswer too, because her lips are curling into a teasing smirk.

“Have you, baby? What a naughty boy. Thinking about your noonas like that.” Jungkook squirms, mouth open like he’s about to protest the statement, but Yoonji continues speaking. “Noona has too. Thought about how pretty you’d look and how good you’d be.”

Jungkook falters, blinking big eyes up at Yoonji with wonder. Like he never imagined that either of you would think of him the way he thinks of you. A breath shudders out of him as his eyes squeeze closed. You make the decision to move this from the couch if you’re going to go through with it.

Shifting, you push yourself to your feet, glancing at Yoonji to see that she follows your actions with a questioning furrow to her brows. Jungkook blinks his eyes open at the movement, blinking up at you both. You hold your hand out and after a moment, he takes it. Pulling him to his feet, Yoonji grabs his other hand and takes charge in leading Jungkook down the hall to her bedroom.

The air in Yoonji’s room feels thick with heat. She flips a light on, letting soft, purple light fill the room and leaving it cast in subdued shades. You both release Jungkook’s hands, moving in near perfect synchronicity despite the fact that you’ve never done this before. There’s something unspoken that moves you both together. Standing side by side, you both face Jungkook, gazes slowly trailing over the younger man. He shuffles on his feet under the scrutiny, hands clasping in front of him like he’s a child about to be scolded.

Yoonji’s head tilts, finger coming up to tap her chin in thought. “Something seems wrong here, doesn’t it?”

Humming, you nod in agreeance. “Yes, yes it does. Jungkook,” the boy starts at the call of his name, head jerking up to stare at you, like a deer caught in the headlights.

Yoonji snaps her fingers. “You’re right. Jungkook, baby, strip for your noonas.”

“N-now?” His fingers twitch where they’re clasped before him.

It’s cute how shy he has become. You’ve seen him shamelessly strip his shirt off at parties to do body shots, confidently pick up women at bars, boldly barge into rooms and capture everyone’s attention. You’ve only seen him this shy once, and that was when you all had first met him, before he had come out of his shell and grown close to you all.

When he makes no move to start undressing, you speak up. “Jungkook,” you wait until he’s looking at you. “Do you know the stoplight system?” He thinks for a moment before nodding, face clouded with confusion. “Color?”

Gaze darting from you to Yoonji and back again, his tongue peaks for a moment. “Green.”

Yoonji grins proudly at the answer. “Aw, are you just shy then, baby? Nervous about being naked in front of your noonas for the first time?”

Ducking his head, Jungkook gives you both a quick nod that you just want to coo over, however inappropriate that reaction may be right now be damned. Instead, you shoot for comforting. “How about we start slow then? Just your shirt. You can do that, can’t you, baby? We’ve seen you shirtless plenty of times before.”

Jungkook fidgets for another moment before his fingers grip the edge of his baggy sweater. Eyes squeezing shut, there’s only only a second more of hesitation before the sweater is being pulled up and off. He clings to it, the fabric hanging in his hands in front of his chest, but doing very little to hide anything. He peaks an eye open and sees the way Yoonji quirks an eyebrow at him and the sweater drops from his hands to the floor.

You’ve seen Jungkook shirtless plenty of times. Your entire friend group has. There was a period of a few months back towards the beginning of your friendship after he had gotten comfortable with you all that you would’ve sworn that he was allergic to shirts with how often you saw him shirtless. You know how toned he is, have been subjected to his ridiculous workouts on occasion, how diligently he works out simply for the fun of it. Muscles that shift under golden skin that you’ve seen at parties and on beach trips, that you’ve allowed yourself to glance out, appreciate and take in, but never to stare for too long and get caught.

Now though, you drink your fill of the sight before you. Jungkook is tall, and when he’s shirtless he exudes a cockiness born from the hungry looks of others; his posture always making him seem taller, take up more space. But now, now his shoulders are hunched, like he’s trying to make himself smaller, seem less big even though his muscles make that nearly impossible.

He glances up at you both through the curtain of blonde bangs and you can see the way the flush from his cheeks starts to spread down his neck and chest. It makes you itch to mark the pretty skin up, stake a claim on the sweet, shy boy before you.

There’s a pleased hum from beside you. “Such a good boy, Jungkookie. You’re so good for your noonas, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly, eyes positively shining at the praise. Well, you both certainly pegged that one right. Oh, now there’s an idea. That might have to wait though. You don’t want to completely overwhelm him right at the start.

“Now the pants, baby,” you grin, watching the way he swallows at the command.

Hands trembling slightly as he reaches for the waistband of his sweats, his nerves seem to grow now that he’s about to be fully exposed before you both. He takes a deep breath and then shoves his sweats and underwear down his legs. Your breath catches in your throat and you know Yoonji must be having a similar reaction given the sharp inhale you hear from her.

Jungkook is absolutely stunning naked. You’ve known that his thighs were thick and just as toned as the rest of him, catching glimpses of the thick, corded muscles whenever he ditched sweats and his baggier clothing for jeans that looked like they’d been painted onto him. His hands immediately come together again in an attempt to cover his cock, already hard and leaking. But his hands do little to cover his long, thick cock, but it’s endearingly adorable that he tries.

“So pretty,” you murmur, eyes tracing over every inch of skin. You don’t know what you want to do first to him, so many ideas flash through your mind as you stare at him.

“So good, too. Can you lay down on the bed for us now, baby?”

Shyness seemingly forgotten for a moment, Jungkook nearly launches himself onto the bed, landing with a little bounce before he’s shuffling around so he’s stretched out in the middle of Yoonji’s bed. His eagerness is a good sign, showing that even if he’s nervous, that he very much wants to be here. The dark bedspread makes his skin seem to glow more and he looks absolutely gorgeous spread out for you.

Yoonji moves closer to the bed and you move to follow suit and stand beside her at the foot, both of you just taking a moment to look at Jungkook. His cock twitches where it rests against his belly and heat pools in your belly at the knowledge that it’s yours to touch. At least for tonight.

She turns to you then, hands landing on your hips to pull you closer. Chewing her lip for a moment, there’s an emotion that briefly flits across her face but before you can pin down what exactly it is she’s leaning in to press her lips to yours once again. Not letting yourself dwell on her expression, at least not now when there’s a very eager boy spread out for you both and Yoonji’s tongue slipping into your mouth. You can overthink later. Right now, you should just let yourself fall into the feel of her.

Her fingers dig into your hips and you let her get away with it only because you take the opportunity to slip your hands beneath her shirt, gripping her waist just as tightly for a moment before you’re tugging her shirt up and off. Kiss momentarily broken, you take the brief pause to look her over. Her bra is black and lacy, pushing her breasts up in a way that makes you want to get your mouth on them . You also know for a fact that it’s her ‘getting laid’ bra. Meaning she must have been pretty confident that the two of you would agree to this. You’re a little mad that she didn’t give you any sort of heads up to let you wear something better than just a comfy, colorful bra you use for daily wear. At least it’s cute.

Leaning in, you nip harshly at her bottom lip in retaliation and you know by her giggle that she knows exactly what it was for. What a cruel tease, you’re definitely going to get her back in the future. You don’t know how just yet, but you will. You sooth the bite with your tongue, but you don’t get a chance for another proper kiss because Yoonji takes the opportunity to tug your shirt off as well. She pulls away after dropping your shirt to the floor, hungrily eyeing you up as her tongue wets her lips. You feel a heady rush at being able to pull such a look from the typically collected Yoonji.

A moan pulls your attention back to the bed, where Jungkook has taken it upon himself to start lazily stroking himself, muscles shifting as his hips flex up into his grip. Exchanging glances, you and Yoonji quickly rid yourselves of your bottoms before climbing onto the bed on either side of Jungkook. This behavior simply won’t do.

Sitting on your knees beside his thigh, you're quick to let your hand smack against the skin there. The sound echoes in the quiet room and Jungkook jerks, though you don’t know if it’s more from the sudden sound or the heat that blooms across his thigh even if the smack you gave him was fairly mild in terms of punishment. But it has the desired effect, his hand halting on his cock, though he doesn’t remove his hand from himself. His expression morphs into a mix of betrayal and confusion.

“Oh, sweet boy,” Yoonji coos, hand wrapping around his wrist. “Have you ever done this before?”

Swallowing, he looks nervous again, gaze darting around the room, but never landing on either of you before he minutely shakes his head. Yoonji gently pulls his hand from his cock, letting it slap wetly against his belly.

“Aw, you poor thing. Have you always had to be the one in charge, huh? Do those girls see your big, pretty muscles and tattoos and just assume that you’re going to be domineering too? No one’s ever taken care of you like you deserve?” Yoonji murmurs, eyes burning as she speaks.

Jungkook’s breath hitches as he blinks up at Yoonji. He shakes his head slightly and you can see how deeply he wants this. Wants to try, to let go and have someone else take control for once. Letting your fingers trail up his thigh, you trace a single fingertip up his cock with a featherlight touch, drawing a delightful gasp from him. He’s so sensitive to touch, it’s going to make this so much more fun.

“Lesson number one, baby. No touching without permission. That includes your pretty little cock. Bad boys get punished.”

“And punishment can get much worse than a little slap on the thigh, sweetheart.”

His eyes widen. “I-I’m sorry! I d-didn’t know!”

Shushing him, you rub soothingly at the red mark you left on his thigh. It’s light and fairly small, a testament to how tame the smack was, but it makes you want to leave more, make them darker. Marks that remain for days, that remind Jungkook of your hands on him. “It’s okay, baby. You’re still learning. You won’t be punished.” You smirk teasingly. “This time at least.”

Licking his lips, he looks between you both. You can tell he’s thinking about something, but you can’t tell if the thought of punishment might actually be enticing to him or if he’s trying to figure out the rules without being told. Always the overachiever.

Yoonji releases his hand, letting it fall to rest against the bed once more. “We’ll go easy on you, baby, don’t worry. You’ll be a good boy for us, won’t you?” Jungkook nods quickly, hands clenching at the bedspread. “What do you want, baby?”

“Want…” he licks his lips, seems to think slowly over his wants in this moment. “Wanna see you kiss again.”

You giggle. “Aw, sweet thing,” you glance over at Yoonji, “doesn’t even want a kiss for himself.”

Yoonji tsks, wide grin matching yours. “Someone must really enjoy watching.”

Planting a hand high on Jungkook’s thigh, Yoonji mirrors your actions as you both lean closer to meet over Jungkook once more. This kiss is slow, you take your time and enjoy the feel of her soft mouth against yours. You could easily get lost in the kiss again, it would be so easy. Jungkook’s thigh twitches beneath your hand and you give him a small squeeze, acknowledge that you haven’t forgotten about him and it draws a soft moan from him.

The sound seems to spark something in Yoonji, as she surges closer, deepening the kiss. Her free hand comes up to rest on the side of your neck, thumb brushing along your jaw. Not wanting to be outdone, you reach out and let your fingers trace her collarbone before following her sternum down until you can palm at one of her covered breasts. That draws a soft gasp from her that you greedily swallow down.

Her hand tightens on your neck, pulling like it’s possible to pull you closer and her other hand abandons Jungkook’s thigh to grope at your breast. You both get greedy for the feel of each other. Your hand quickly leaves Jungkook’s thigh as well, slipping behind Yoonji to undo her bra. It falls slack on her shoulders, hindered from coming off by her hands on you. Bumping her hands off for a moment, you tug the offending article free from her and toss it off the bed. Yoonji wastes no time in getting her hands back on you once you’ve removed the bra and you’re now free to palm her tits in your hands.

Jungkook whimpers below you both, his hand bumps your thigh before it’s being jerked away. “N-noona…”

Parting with a gasp, you both look down at Jungkook, his hands fisted at his sides, knuckles nearly white. Your hands fall from each other as you give the prone man your attention. You’re impressed with his restraint, you hadn’t expected him to be so well behaved the very first time. But that’s actually pretty typical of Jungkook, excelling at anything he tries.

His pupils are blown with lust and he swallows his nerves as he speaks. “C-can… Can I touch too?”

“You wanna touch your noonas while they kiss, baby?” Yoonji asks. He nods, eyes wide and Yoonji’s answering smirk is bordering on mean. “Why?”

“W-what?”

“Why do you want to touch your noonas while they kiss, baby? I thought you just wanted us to kiss and touch each other?”

He looks to you, seemingly lost by the question. But you simply raise an eyebrow and wait for an answer. He squirms a little, cock twitching. “Um… I… I…”

“Have you thought about touching us before?” you murmur, reaching out to cup Yoonji’s breast, thumbing at the nipple and drawing a sigh from her. “Have you thought about noona’s pretty tits and how they’d feel in your hands?”

Whining, Jungkook nods his assent eagerly, eyes fixed firmly on where your hand plays with Yoonji. Yoonji presses a quick kiss to your lips, casting a teasing look to Jungkook before she’s reaching up to unclasp your bra and tug it off of you to toss it behind her. Yoonji raises herself up onto her knees, pulling you with, and she leans you both together until your breasts press together. They’re just as soft against you as they were in your hands. If you weren’t focused on teasing Jungkook, you’d pin her down and get your mouth on them.

She glances to the side to look at Jungkook. “How do you wanna touch, baby?”

His eyes drag down your bodies slowly, gaze darting so quickly like there’s so much he wants to touch and he doesn’t know where to even begin. “Noona…” he whines.

You chuckle. “Aw, baby. Do you need your noonas to help you?”

“Please.”

“Put your hands on our hips.”

He’s eager and quick to comply, hands coming up to rest hot and heavy against the curve of your hip. His fingers flex against you, like he wants to move his hand to touch more but they remain in place. Yoonji leans in to kiss you again and you think you could kiss her forever. After a moment, you break the kiss, trailing your lips along her jaw and down her neck. Laving your tongue over her pulse point, you relish the shiver that runs through her. You’re overcome with the urge to mark her and so you let your teeth sink into her skin before soothing it with your tongue and sucking kisses. Yoonji groans in the back of her throat and you move down her neck to suck another dark mark and draw more noises from her.

You know logically that she’s been as affected by all this as you, but hearing the proof is intoxicating. It goes straight to your pussy and the longer you go on, the more you feel drip from you to soak your panties.

“What do you want next, baby?” Yoonji pants, hand reaching to cover the hand on your hip. His gaze drops to where your breasts are pressed together, but he doesn’t say anything. “Do you wanna touch noonas’ tits? Greedy boy,” she chuckles breathlessly, ending in a gasp when you nip at her collarbone.

His hands twitch against you like he is fighting the urge to just do what he wants, to do what he’s always done with women. But he remains diligent and keeps his hands where he was told too. Pressing one last kiss to Yoonji’s neck, you pull away, staring at the darkening marks while a possessive heat curls in your belly. You shift then, nudging Jungkook’s thighs slightly apart and then you’re throwing a leg over to straddle his thigh, dropping down to press your clothed pussy against the corded muscle. The damp material drags deliciously against your pussy and any other time, you would ride his thigh until he was begging you to touch him or let him touch.

Gasping, Jungkook’s hand tightens enough to bruise and you grin down at him. “Can you feel how wet noona is for you, baby?”

He nods a little dazedly, looking down where you’re pressed against his thigh like he can’t believe what he’s feeling or seeing. Giving a little grind, you feel a rush of desire run through you at the breath that rushes from Jungkook’s lips.

“Baby,” you purr, “didn’t you want to touch noona’s tits?”

“Please…”

“Go ahead, baby.”

His hand quickly abandons your hip once he’s given permission; big, warm palm cupping one of your breasts like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched. You have to fight down the urge to giggle at the unexpected tenderness. Yoonji moves beside you, straddling Jungkook’s other thigh and she takes the opportunity to move Jungkook’s other hand for him, placing it over one of her breasts.

Gaze darting from one hand to the other, his hands remain frozen for a long moment before he’s tentatively squeezing. Then he quickly grows more confident, seemingly more familiar with at least this part as his fingers tease at your nipple. Leaning slightly to the side, you press a kiss to Yoonji’s shoulder until you have her attention and then you’re pressing your lips to hers once more. Letting your hand slip into her hair, you tilt her head, deepening the kiss. Her hand lands on your waist, fingers tracing a burning path down until they can grope at your ass.

Your hips jerk, clit dragging across Jungkook’s thigh and a moment later, you feel his muscles shift as he flexes. Breaking the kiss with a gasp, you glance down at him with a smirk. Jungkook looks perfectly debauched beneath you both. The flush dusting his cheeks stretches down his chest, his bright eyes burn with want as his hands work on both you and Yoonji. His cock rests heavy against his belly, tip dark with neglect, but he seems wholly oblivious to it even as your attention zeroes in on it.

“What a good boy you’re being. Giving noona something to grind against?”

His dick twitches at that and you let a finger brush gently down the length. A loud gasp leaves his lips, hips straining upward but he can’t get very far with the combined weight of you and Yoonji pinning his legs down. You give a deliberate grind down, Jungkook’s eyes quickly zeroing in on where your clothed pussy meets his bare thigh. Hands falling still on your breast, he licks his lips before his hand is slowly sliding down to timidly tug at the waistband of your panties.

“Can… Can these come off?”

Yoonji hums. “Wanna see noona’s bare pussy, baby?”

Nodding quickly, he looks up at you both with wide eyes. “Yes, please. Wanna see.”

The hand on your ass slides around to rest just on the waistband of your panties. “You wanna see just how wet our pretty baby boy has made us?”

Breath shuddering, he nods again, eyes trained on Yoonji’s hand as it finally slips into your panties. You groan as her fingers slip between your folds, fingertips teasing across your clit before dipping lower to gather your wetness. Before she can do much more than leave a few teasing touches, she’s pulling her hand from your panties and holding her hand up for you all to see. Jungkook’s gaze bores into the glistening digits, licking his lips slowly.

“Open,” she commands and his mouth falls obediently open, hope shining in his eyes when her fingers inch closer to his lips. “Do you want to taste noona?”

“Yes,” he breaths out, tongue extending like it’ll get Yoonji’s fingers to his mouth faster.

She stops just before she reaches his tongue and when he strains closer in an attempt to touch, she pulls her fingers away, keeping them teasingly just out of his reach. “Answer noona’s question first, baby. Good boy’s always answer when asked a question. And you wouldn’t want to be bad, now would you?”

Blonde hair flies as he quickly shakes his head no. “No! I’m good! I promise! Please, I wanna taste noona!”

Yoonji’s smile softens. “What a good boy.”

With that, her fingers press against his tongue. Moaning, Jungkook’s lips close around the digits as he sucks enthusiastically. You wonder if he’s as enthusiastic when he’s eating someone out and your pussy clenches at the thought. A few moments later, she pulls her fingers free and Jungkook’s lips purse in a pout, drawing a laugh from both of you. You shift, finally tugging your panties down to discard over the edge of the bed. Jungkook’s eyes are drawn back to your pussy, now bared for him to see.

His hand twitches where it rests against your hip, but it doesn’t move and there’s a rush of heat that accompanies the fact that he’s doing so well already. Turning to Yoonji, you begin to tug at her panties, earning a laugh from her as she moves to help you get them off of her.

As much as you want to take in Jungkook’s reaction to you both being naked before him, you can’t stop the greedy part of you that reaches out to slip your hand between her legs to touch. A soft sigh leaves her lips and you can’t help but lean in to smother the sound with a kiss. Your fingers find her just as wet as you are yourself and you relish in the moment to tease your fingers along her pussy.

Whining, Jungkook squirms beneath you both, thigh inadvertently bumping your hand harder against Yoonji and further smearing her wetness across your palm. You pull your hand away and Jungkook follows the movement with laser focus.

“Want to taste your other noona, baby?” you tease.

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

Biting your lip on a smile, you move your hand slowly closer to his open mouth, watching the way his eyes light up with excitement. But before you reach his lips, you stop, drawing a pretty pout from the boy. Then you wink and you quickly bring your fingers to your own mouth instead. Twin gasps greet the action as you slip two fingers into your mouth and moan at the taste of Yoonji on your tongue. Your eyes slip closed as you suck your fingers clean and when you pull your fingers free and glance down to Jungkook, you’re met with a look that is equal parts jealous and hungry.

Hand dropping to the bed beside him, his eyes widen as you lean over him. “Still want a taste, baby?”

His gaze darts to your lips as he nods. You seal your mouth over his, taking advantage of the surprised part to his lips to slip your tongue in. He whimpers, hands coming up to rest on your hips as he chases the taste of Yoonji on your lips.

Kissing Jungkook is nothing like kissing Yoonji. He’s like putty beneath you, following your lead where Yoonji fought you for control, kept you on your toes. Not necessarily aggressive, but Yoonji kisses you with a consuming hunger, burning you from the inside out. Jungkook is like a breath of fresh air, he’s soft and needy, making these quiet little huffs with each brush of your tongue. You wonder if he realizes that he’s moved his hands, that he’s touching you when he’s not supposed to be, but you decide to let it slide just this once. You’re much more interested in drawing out more of those sweet, little sounds from him.

A moment later though, his hands are being pulled away and Yoonji is tutting him as she leans against you to pin his hands to the bed. “Naughty boy, what did we say about touching?”

With a whine, he pulls away from your mouth. “‘M sorry... “

You snicker. “Is noona so good at kissing that you forgot the rules, sweet thing?”

Jungkook lets out a low whine again. “Noona.”

Yoonji shifts against you, hands adjusting her grip on Jungkook’s wrists and you’re momentarily distracted by the press of her breasts against your back. Pressing again, she forces you to drop fully against Jungkook as she hooks her chin over your shoulder.

“I’ll just have to hold you while noona kisses you, hm?”

He squirms beneath you and you see him strain feebly against Yoonji’s hands. You all know that he could easily break her hold; that the strain he shows is feigned and exaggerated. But his acquiescence to her grip, to you both taking control, is the most telling thing to his desires. He wants this, just as much as you both. Even if he’s new and inexperienced in this aspect, he wants.

His lips part with small huffs and you can’t help yourself when you dip back down to kiss him. He squirms again before melting entirely into the kiss, letting Yoonji hold him still while you lick into his mouth. A heady rush fills you at his pliancy, you always imagined him submitting, but it was nothing like this. Jungkook behaves like he’s been subbing for you both for ages, like he knows the routine, that the momentary lapses in following the rules is nothing more than being a little bratty to provoke a reaction.

The kiss stretches, you don’t know for how long, getting lost in the feeling of Jungkook beneath you and the softness of Yoonji’s breasts pressing into your back. Jungkook’s hips twitch, his cock brushing wetly against your side and you finally decide to have some mercy on him. Lifting slightly, Yoonji gets the hint and sits up fully, allowing you to do the same. You smile at the way Jungkook is laid out, eyes lidded, lips kiss swollen and flush sitting high on his cheeks. He looks fucked out already and barely anything has happened yet.

Taking Yoonji’s hand in yours, you lift it to your lips to press a soft kiss to the palm. “I think it’s time to reward our baby, hm? He’s been so good for his first time.”

Her fingers brush your cheek as she smiles. “He does.” She turns her attention back to Jungkook. “How do you want your noonas, baby?”

Swallowing, his gaze flicks back and forth between the two of you. He takes a long time to answer, seemingly nervous. “I… I don’t know… I’m s-sorry…”

“Aw sweetheart, there’s no need to be sorry. You’re just overwhelmed, huh?” He nods, lips pursed in a pout, and you continue. “Do you want your noonas to pick something for your reward for you?”

“Yes, please… There’s too many things… I can’t pick…”

You pat his side affectionately. “It’s okay, baby. Noonas will take good care of you.”

His eyes shine at your praise as he nods eagerly. You and Yoonji exchange looks and seem to be thinking the same thing as you move off Jungkook’s thigh to move further up the bed and Yoonji shifts to fully straddle his hips.

Yoonji grins as she sees the way Jungkook follows your movement. “Ever had someone sit on your face, baby?”

Eyes widening, his gaze darts to Yoonji before turning back to you and you raise an eyebrow when he doesn’t answer. “N-no…”

“Pinch my thigh if you need to stop for any reason, okay, baby?” You wait for him to murmur a quiet ‘okay’ before moving to throw your leg over his head.

You feel his breath hot against your wet folds and when you glance up at Yoonji, you see her focus is trained where you sit just above Jungkook’s mouth. With a lick of your lips, you lower yourself until your pussy presses to Jungkook’s mouth, which instantly falls open, tongue darting out to lap at your slit. Groaning, you grind against his tongue, giving yourself a few seconds to enjoy the pleasure sizzling in your belly.

Then you’re reaching up for Yoonji, grabbing her hips to tug her until she’s hovering over Jungkook’s cock. One hand slides from her hips and you let your fingers trace lightly along her slit, knuckles brushing his cock as you do.

You hold Yoonji’s gaze as you begin speaking, fingers dipping between her folds to tease at her clit. “Gotta get noona ready for you, baby. Get her nice and stretched for your big, pretty cock.”

Jungkook whines against you and Yoonji lets out a low moan as you slip a finger into her. Yoonji is warm and wet and tight around your finger and your breath stutters as she clenches around the digit. Letting your finger curl, you rub against her walls, searching for that spongy bundle of nerves.

It takes a few seconds, your attention being pulled by Jungkook’s tongue as he enthusiastically eats you out. But you find it quick enough, signaled by the sharp gasp that leaves her lips when you finally brush against it. Grinning victoriously, you tease at the bundle until her thighs begin to quiver, pleased to have wrung such a reaction from her.

Her hand darts out suddenly, gripping your wrist tightly. Her gaze is dark when it meets yours and she arches an eyebrow at you. “I think you’re enjoying yourself more than getting me ready for our baby,” she teases.

Your body heats. She’s not wrong, you maybe did forget what you were doing a little bit. Grinning, you slide your finger out until just the tip remains before thrusting back in with two. “Guilty.”

She opens her mouth to speak again but you let your thumb brush her clit and it effectively silences her retort. She glares for only a moment before letting her head fall back with a groan and letting herself enjoy the slow pumps of your fingers.

Slipping a third finger in, Yoonji’s hips start to move, little grinds that push your hand against Jungkook’s cock. You lift your hips slightly, giving Jungkook a moment to breath.

“Are you ready for noona to ride you, baby?” you ask as you pull your fingers from Yoonji.

All you get in response is a whimper as you grasp his cock with your wet fingers, other hand settling on Yoonji’s hip and you guide him to her entrance. You give her hip a squeeze and she lets herself drop, pulling your hand away so her hips can settle flush to his. You can feel Jungkook’s breath panting hot against your pussy, his hands squeezing tightly at the sheets.

“How does noona’s pussy feel, baby?” you murmur. He whines and you give his nipple a pinch, making his hips jerk. “When noona asks a question, she expects an answer.”

“‘M sorry… Noona feels good…”

You let your free hand settle on Yoonji’s other hip. “How’s he feel?”

“Fuck… so good. He’s such a good boy.”

Jungkook’s hands suddenly wrap around your thighs. You jerk in surprise, ready to reprimand him, but before you can say anything, he’s pulling you back down onto his mouth. Yoonji laughs breathlessly, hands coming to rest on his belly as she starts to lift her hips.

“How’s his mouth?”

Giving her a groan in response, you grind against his tongue, toes curling as his fingers tighten against your thighs. Both of you fall quiet, save for pants and moans, letting yourselves be consumed with chasing your own pleasure for a moment. Heat simmers in your belly, building with each swipe of Jungkook’s tongue and teasing suck to your clit. Jungkook’s efforts combined with the view of Yoonji riding his cock has your orgasm building until one harsh suck pushes you over the edge.

Head falling back, you moan as your orgasm spreads through your veins, igniting like fire and leaving you shuddering as Jungkook seems to get even more enthusiastic below you. You vaguely hear Yoonji swear under her breath, but you don’t have it in you to look at her as Jungkook draws your orgasm out.

Finally you lift your hips, overstimulation beginning to creep in, and you and Jungkook pant together as your high slowly ebbs away and you come back to yourself. Blinking your eyes open, you see Yoonji’s have slipped closed as she moves and you find your gaze glued to the way her tits bounce with each movement.

Seeing an opportunity, you reach forward, letting your fingers find her clit and her eyes shoot open with a gasp at your touch. You grin, shifting so you’re knelt beside the pair. “Baby,” you coo, “look how pretty noona looks sitting on your dick.”

It takes him a moment, but Jungkook’s head lifts and your pussy clenches at the sheen of your slick covering the lower half of his face. His lips are parted as he makes sweet, little noises, soft moans and whines, and his hazy eyes trail over you both like he doesn’t truly know where to look. You swirl your fingers, drawing a wheezed gasp from Jungkook and you can’t help the teasing grin that forms.

“Aw, baby. Did noona tighten up? Is she close? Are you gonna be good and let her cum on your cock?”

Jungkook’s nodding before you even finish speaking, hips twitching in small little thrusts and you pick up the pace on her clit. Leaning forward, you take one of her nipples in your mouth, teeth teasing the bud before you sooth it with your tongue.

“Fuck… gonna-” She cuts off, moving faster until her hips slam down as she starts to cum.

You keep your fingers going, gradually slowing down as her orgasm shudders through her. Jungkook whines and squirms beneath her, but remains more still that others would. She tugs your hand away finally as she continues to shiver with aftershocks. You bring your fingers to your mouth with a teasing glance and lick them clean as she watches through hooded eyes.

Jungkook whimpers, drawing both of attention to him and Yoonji lifts herself off his cock, drawing an even louder whine from him.

You pat his side soothingly. “Don’t worry, baby. We’re gonna take care of you. Want your noona’s mouth?”

He blinks wet eyes at you both, cock twitching where it lays against his belly and Yoonji laughs. “I think that’s a yes.”

She takes him in her hand and his hips strain up into her grip. He’s so desperate already and you have barely even teased him or drawn this out. He’s definitely going to be fun in the future. Leaning down, you let your tongue swirl around the tip, licking up the taste of Yoonji and Jungkook together. They taste wonderfully divine. His hips strain upwards again and you and Yoonji each use a hand to hold his hips down as you continue your slow, teasing licks. Once you’ve licked all traces of Yoonji from him, you take him into your mouth, humming in content at the way he stretches your lips.

“‘M g-gonna… please… please can I?”

“Aw, you’re asking permission? You’re such a good boy. Of course you can cum, baby. You’ve been so good to your noonas.”

It takes only a couple bobs of your head for his back to bow as the first spurt of salty fluid hits your tongue. He cries out, body strung tight as he cums down your throat. You let your tongue rub at his frenulum as you and Yoonji work to draw out his orgasm as long as possible. When he begins to tremble and whimper, you finally pull away, licking your lips clean as you do.

Jungkook’s eyes are shut tight, shuddering through the last aftershocks and he looks beautifully debauched. Glancing at Yoonji, you see the same fond look on her face that you know to be on yours. Leaning down, you pepper a few kisses to his lips and cheeks before stretching out beside him and cuddling up to his side.

“You did such a good job, baby. You were so good for us,” you murmur, letting your hand rub his belly.

Yoonji mirrors you and after a moment, halts your rubbing by interlacing your fingers with her. The look on her face is hard to read, but she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“The best baby,” she agrees, turning to Jungkook and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Jungkook gets a goofy grin, seeming to melt between the both of you at the praise. At the rate he’s going, he might have a bigger praise kink than Jimin. You all fall silent, breath evening out and simply enjoy the afterglow. You assume Jungkook at the very least has fallen asleep as your mind begins to swirl with the implications of what just happened.

Leave it to your overthinking to ruin a nice postcoital cuddle. But you can’t help but wonder where this leaves the three of you. Was this just a one time thing? Does it mean anything deeper? You want so badly for it to mean more, but you also know that getting your hopes up leads to more hurt in the end.

Jungkook surprises you by breaking the silence, voice rough like he’s fighting sleep. “What does this mean?”

He sounds so small when he says it, it makes your heart ache a little. You’re not sure how to answer him though, because you also don’t really know what this means. You know what it means for you, but you can’t speak for Yoonji, or even Jungkook.

Yoonji pushes up onto her elbow so she can look at you both and you see that same fond look in her eyes again. It makes something warm and content twist in your belly. “I thought I had made my intentions clear, but I guess not. I like you.” Before the hurt you feel can stretch too far, she looks at you. “Both of you. I had intended to get that done first tonight. But, uh, well things got a little carried away.”

Jungkook snorts. “Only a little?”

She pulls her hand from yours, giving him a quick pinch. “Hey! Don’t go getting mouthy now.”

Grinning in response, he wraps his arms around you both, tugging you somehow closer. “I like you both too… I have for a really long time…” he pauses, seeming to think for a moment before continuing. “And I really liked tonight… What we did… I’d like to explore more of that…”

They both look at you and you can’t help the giddy grin that spreads across your face. You push yourself up just enough to lean across to give Yoonji a kiss and then turn to give Jungkook one too. “Of course I like you both. God, who couldn’t? You both are so wonderful.”

Jungkook giggles happily and then in the blink, he’s managed to get you and Yoonji pushed together as he hovers over you both. He gives you each a kiss to the forehead. “So does this mean you’ll be my girlfriends?” Laughing, you give him a nod and he glows with happiness. “I have the prettiest girlfriends.”

You and Yoonji both reach up, each cupping one of his cheeks. Warm floods you, feeling happy and content with them both.

“And we have the prettiest boyfriend.”

#bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #yoonji x reader #yoonji smut #yoonji fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts smut

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youngbloodlisk · 4 years

Text

Kitten // Kim Younghoon

"Your dirty, slutty dream came true, babygirl."

- hard rough dom younghoon

- smut with no plot whatsoever

- thank you to my subconscious for giving me dreams about this

- and thank you 🌙 anon for giving me more and more ideas relating to this and coaxing me on with this whole scenario and getting me super needy and inspired to actually write this out. you're a real one

- "accidental" miniature voyeurism w jacob

- choking

- oral (fem rec)

- unprotected sex WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT

- filthy

- degradation

- fluff near the end if you turn your head and squint

- usually i leave the first line before the cut, but since this one jumps right in with the smut i don't think i'm gonna leave the first line lmao

- the title is rlly just bc this is the first time i've properly used the pet name "kitten" in my writing lol

He presses on my back, arching it further, before returning his hand to my hip.

Younghoon is slamming his body against mine at a rapid pace, hitting extremely deep every time. With my back arched more, he can now reach even further inside me.

Explicits roll off my tongue and I press my face into the sheets to muffle my sounds. My hands are grabbing and clawing at the sheets like my life depends on it.

My his sweatshirt is still on my body, but bunched up. The only part of me that isn't exposed is my chest, a bit of my back, and my arms. Meanwhile, he's still fully clothed, with his pants just low enough to have his cock out.

He actually likes to use the excuse that he's self-conscious, but I know full well that he isn't insecure at all around me or any of the guys anymore. I can also just tell when he's lying. I think he doesn't wanna admit that he finds it super hot to fuck me with as many clothes left on as possible. I'm not gonna complain though. It is pretty hot.

My vision is starting to get blurry, and my body almost feels numb to my mind. All I can think about is how good he's making me feel.

He's mostly silent, letting out a few low grunts and growls, unless he's talking to me.

He digs his fingers into me, clearly starting to lose himself in the feeling.

My body jolts with each thrust from him, but only slightly, thanks to his ever-tightening grip on my hips.

I stare at the door, which is wide open, as I have been almost the entire time Younghoon's been drilling into me like this.

I've been waiting and waiting for someone to walk by and see way more than they bargained for.

I'm sure they've been avoiding walking this way though, as the sounds have definitely given away what's taking place.

My whining, my muffled moaning and screaming, his grunting, and skin against skin...

So, I'm not sure why Jacob ends up walking by the door... or why he stands there and watches for a moment, frozen, locking into my tear-filled eyes.

I struggle as I try to prop myself up on my elbows, trying to at least be in a position that wasn't so humiliating.

Younghoon is quick to notice this, and notice why I'm doing it.

"Your dirty, slutty dream came true, babygirl. Someone caught you." He says in the most condescending way possible before going even harder and faster (which I didn't think was even possible).

My arms go entirely weak and my face falls back onto the mattress with an embarrassing, involuntary cry of pleasure.

Jacob quickly realizes he's been watching, and turns to leave, but not before accidentally letting his smirk show.

"Did you notice how hard he was getting, kitten? I bet he's going to his room to jerk off thinking about you getting ruined like this..." I clench around Younghoon at his words. "Oh, you like that, you slut?" His hands leave my hips, one of them wrapping around my stomach and the other wrapping around my neck. He tightens both grips and pulls my body up to be as far against his as possible without pulling out.

Younghoon's sweet, yet (in this context) demonic voice whispers in my ear.

"I hope you always remember that you're only mine to ruin." He emphasizes words with hard thrusts. "You know I'm the only one who can make you feel like this, don't you, kitten?"

All I can force out of my mouth is mumblings and whispered moaning, my brain entirely going haywire as his hold on my neck tightens again and he thrusts up into me.

My legs feel like gelatin.

"I've got you speechless, huh?" He lets go of me, let's my almost limp body fall back onto the mattress before grabbing my hips again, and drills into me.

He's truly showing no mercy.

"Tell me, kitten... do you think Jacob would fuck you like this?"

"N...No-" I barely squeeze out.

"Who fucks you like this, huh? Say his name."

"Y-Younghoon..." It comes out like a whisper.

He digs his fingers into me again, on purpose this time.

"Say it loud, you slut. Who?"

"Younghoon!" It would have taken all of my energy to scream his name the way I did, but it didn't. He started to rub circles on my clit while still pounding into me, causing me to scream his name naturally.

I can feel his ego rise by the second.

He gives me no warning, besides his thrusts becoming jerky and inconsistent, before he coats my insides with his cum.

He pulls out once he's done and I whine, being so close to my own release and suddenly having nothing.

My hand reaches down to touch myself, but he grabs my wrist and pushes my arm away. Younghoon flips me over and within seconds has his mouth attached to my pussy.

I swear that we're gonna get a noise complaint because my hand is doing a really shitty job at covering my screams and moans as Younghoon licks and sucks on me, pulling me closer and closer to the orgasm of a lifetime.

My toes are curled tight and my chest rises and falls intensely.

He's told me a million times when he's being this rough that I'm not allowed to touch any of him without permission, so no matter how badly I wanna tug on his hair, I resist.

One hand holds tightly to the sheet while the other one covers my mouth.

Younghoon glances up at me and grabs my hand, pulling it away from my mouth and holding me by the wrist.

He stops just long enough to say:

"Be loud, kitten. I love hearing your voice."

His lips wrap around my clit and he sucks hard, finally allowing my orgasm to wash over my exhausted body hard, and I moan his name loudly.

There's no way that a single person in the house isn't aware of what's just happened.

He licks between my folds to help me come down from my high, careful to avoid my clit so he doesn't overstimulate me too much.

"Younghoon!" Sangyeon's voice yells from across the house. "Did you forget about the Love Revolution cast event tonight? Jihoon's outside with his car to pick you up!"

"Oh shit..." Younghoon's eyes go wide and he quickly starts taking off his casual clothes. "Tell him I'll be there in just a minute!"

I laugh when he falls over trying to pull his sweatpants off, and he remembers my presence. "Babygirl, I'm so sorry I have to just leave you like this." He rambles as he gets dressed in some nice clothes as fast as possible. "Don't go home, stay here tonight. I promise when I get back I'll cuddle you and give you kisses and talk to you as long as you want. I'm so sorry, I know it's just terrible of me to be that rough and then immediately leave you. You know I wanna be here to care for you-"

"Younghoon, shut up." I chuckle, sitting up on the bed. "I do know you wanna stay, but you have responsibilities. It's okay, really. I'll be here when you get back, baby. Just have a fun night with your cast-mates, okay?"

He finished tying his shoe and sighs, coming over to me and landing a sweet kiss on my lips. I can still taste myself on him.

"I love you." He says with the most thankful and gratitude, as if to imply a "what did I do to deserve you?".

"I love you, too."

"Kim Younghoon!" This time it's Jihoon's voice, clearly coming from the front door.

"Coming!"

Younghoon hurries out of the room and I notice he left so fast that his phone is still sitting the bedside table.

I grab it and follow after him, silently thanking this sweatshirt for being long enough to fully cover my bare body. My legs are still pretty much fully exposed, but as long as no one sees me walking around with my ass hanging out, that's fine by me.

"Younghoon! Phone." He turns and I toss his phone to him, which he catches swiftly.

"Thanks, baby. See you later."

"Have fun!"

I feel a few pairs of eyes on me and look around to notice Kevin, Chanhee, Sangyeon, and Jihoon all staring at my legs.

"Park Jihoon!" Younghoon mocks Jihoon's tone from before.

"S-Sorry!" Jihoon follows Younghoon out the door, but Younghoon quickly peeks his head back in before the door shuts.

"No one touches my girlfriend or they're dead, got it? But look at her all you want." He tosses me a teasing look and a wink, finally closing the door behind him.

#ciiikbwork #kim younghoon smut #younghoon smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #im gonna tag my anon under here too #bc they helped a TON with this #🌙 anon #crescent moon anon

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cryinginthebackseat · 4 years

Text

initials t.c.

Fandom: Open Heart

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x MC

Words: 7.299 (I’M SO SORRY)

Summary: Tobias Carrick makes Claire an offer she can’t refuse.

Warnings: 50% plot, 50% smut, swear-a-thon, blasphemy

Author’s Note: when the book first introduced us to tobias carrick, the first thing that hit my mind was “okay, but that dude is like the carbon copy of jesse williams and that’s hot” but then, once it reveals who he is and what’s his role in the book i went “interestinggggggg” cause you know, i’m a sucker for morally grey characters and all, and i’m not even ashamed to admit it. also, carrick is shaping up to be such an interesting character with each chapter and maybe one day- okay, maybe this sounds like a pipe dream- but one day, i hope he can be a li (let a girl dream plz) lmao

also if anyone’s interested, i made a PLAYLIST to accompany reading the fic.

the title is inspired by serge gainsbourg’s initials bb

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Cast down off heaven Cast down on my knees I’ve lain with the devil Cursed god above Forsaken heaven

To Bring You My Love - PJ Harvey

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Whenever Claire thinks about Tobias Carrick, admittedly, unfortunately, tragically, she always thinks about his eyes first before remembering what a colossal pain in the ass he is.

It always comes in that order. Like the number 3 always comes before 4, like the seawater dragging back from the shoreline before a tsunami occurs, like pouring milk before the cereal (she honestly didn’t get what the fuss is about until one day Elijah cried ‘oh, hell no you don’t, satan!‘ one morning and proceeded to give her bullet points why pouring the milk before the cereal is considered a sin and more of an abomination than Nephilims’ existence and that there’s a higher probability that she’s a psycho for being a ‘milk first’ kind of person). So apparently, Claire’s a psycho now which explains so many aspects- but she digresses and the point is, the reaction is uncontrollable and she high-key hates how she can’t control her goddamn mind most of the time.

The point is, she needs to stop thinking about him to begin with.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Claire Castelnuovo was born in the summer, under the sign of Gemini. Marilyn Monroe once said that stands for intellect, being a Gemini, but she was too blissfully unaware of this guerdon that she devoted her adolescent years to being outdoors instead. Too many days she spent trampling along the cornfields with her cousins until the skies faded out with brilliant purple-tinged amber and she was carrying a piece of the sun in her skin and smelled like one, stuffing wildflowers inside her boots as she walked around the neighborhood with her dad’s old stethoscope, napping in a hammock with Oasis’ All Around the World on repeat. By the time she hit 15, her black strands had turned brown from repeated sun exposure. She loved it.

But it was a different time, a different place. Somewhere that only exists on the margins of her memories, lost and hidden.

Now, Claire prefers the night.

It’s 9:30 pm when she arrives at a hotel bar in downtown Boston. A newly christened establishment which has somehow become a regular spot for Hemingway’s enthusiasts once the Boston Globe wrote an article about their Hemingway Daiquiri and how, as they wrote it, ‘probably the only place that’s brave and crazy enough to adhere to the 1930s original recipe’ and bourgeois party birds at wee hours during the weekend.

Her eyes are gritty, dry and strange. Her mind’s much worse for the wear- she feels like shit, like in the middle of watching that scene from The Green Mile shit when all is hopeless and you feel like walking out of the theater, but you’ve spent your last savings just to buy the ticket, so you decide to stick through it.

Claire makes a beeline for the bar, tries to flag down the bartender. She orders an Old Fashioned, making sure to specify to double it because she’s not a regular here and he’s not Reggie and that’s how she’s been taking her drink for years.

She knows well deep in her bones that she should be somewhere else. Somewhere more familiar, somewhere where Tim Mcgraw often plays from the subpar speakers, and the rustic wooden bar countertop is gouging and discoloring from the cheap household cleaners and alcohol stains, and her friends are cramming together in the same booth in the back, reveling and laughing until they close the bar down and make a mess all over. Perhaps it’s a mistake coming here, where no one’s a familiar face and the drinks are a tad overpriced for her budget.

But then, perhaps this is exactly what she needs; the unfamiliarity, the visceral feeling knowing that she doesn’t belong here, where no one knows her name and the huge deal of weight she’s currently carrying on her shoulders. Perhaps, she can’t face her friends after what happened, after what Esme has done. Shit, how could any of this happen? Claire knows this all on Esme’s, but her guilt has grown hopelessly tangled with her anxiety. She’s her intern, for fuck’s sake, Claire’s supposed to prevent this from happening in the first place.

Man, where’s Declan Nash when she feels like punching someone in the face?

Claire makes the mistake of drinking her drink too quickly, because it hasn’t been ten minutes and she’s drained half of the content. Then she reaches for her phone in her bag, fiddles with it, absent-minded, equal parts bored before then settles on watching the band performing Art Pepper’s You Go To My Head and immediately thinks of that time she accidentally dropped her brother’s saxophone in a moment of her rather graceless, wine-soaked self with the whole family present.

Someone plops down on the empty stool next to her. Claire’s now scrolling through her phone- again, bored. Sienna commented on the post Elijah shared to the group chat with a few unnecessary-yet-totally-necessary emojis to the already convoluted series of texts and Claire only reads them in silence, not only because her friends’ texting behaviors are too chaotic for her to follow sometimes but she’s not really feeling like talking to anyone right now.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Famous last words.

Claire freezes in her seat. Her phone’s still glowing in her hand, alighting her features. She recognizes that voice- too well, that is and it’s enough to set off her flight-or-fight response.

She glances up from her phone, preparing for the worst.

Well, what’s presented before her is literally the worst.

“Of all the gin joints…” she says once her eyes find Tobias Carrick sitting next to her, still in his work shirt, sleeves rolled-up, a few buttons undone, reeking of smoke, soap and antiseptic with a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

She should have gone to Donahue’s instead.

“Evening to you too, Castelnuovo. Drinking your dinner tonight, I see?”

“What, this? No, this is breakfast. 100% daily value of alcohol and pretty much nothing else. I mean, it’s not the weekend without a bad case of hangover and an aspirin snowglobe in the morning, am I right? You know, like a glass of aspirin? Not a literal snowglobe?” she blabbers, realizing just so by the time she hears him snort. Claire chokes down another sip to shut her mouth up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m about to commit first-degree murder and burn this whole place to the ground,” he drawls, the ever goddamn sarcastic. “What do you think? I’m trying to get dru-”

“No, I mean what are you doing here, of all places? Can’t you get drunk somewhere else?” she interrupts, her midwest accent does funny things to the vowels and consonants- something that only happens whenever she’s in distress, or at least according to Jackie.

“Last time I heard, this joint’s still owned by the Hilton, not a certain junior member of the Diagnostics Team at Edenbrook hospital.”

“Dude, what do you think of the H in Claire H. Castelnuovo stands for?” Deadpan, trying to keep up with the rolling sarcasm, she retorts. He smirks.

“Horatio?”

“Get the fuck out of here,” she mutters, mid-eye-roll, mid-snickering.

He chuckles, his voice rich and smoky amidst the late-night swing and distant chatters. Carrick doesn’t leave, of course, typically him- if those anecdotes Ethan told her has taught her anything about his character, that is- defying everything, scheming his way to the top, the embodiment of ‘those devilish boys with their heavenly eyes’ type your mother warns you about.

Not that the latter is relevant.

“Or what?” His mouth twitches but there’s a hard, challenging light in his eyes that she knows too well by now.

“Or I’m leaving.“ She shoots him a glare. He’s testing her patience- again, like it’s his finesse. Some things never change, it seems.

“Come on, Castelnuovo, don’t be a sourpuss. The night is young and I can promise you, the last thing I am is a horrible drinking buddy.”

With a touch of irony, she replies: “I’m sure. I bet you asked your friends to fill out a questionnaire every time you went out with them, did you?”

Carrick hums.

“You’re funny.” But he says it in the same tone that someone might say Jesus fuck, you’re probably one of the most frustrating creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Also, because the next thing he says is: “A little rough around the edges, but funny nonetheless.”

“That makes one of us then.”

Carrick frowns, which is kind of a surprise because she’s half expected him to flash her that signature cheeky grin of his.

“Listen, I’m just trying to make a friendly conversation here. I know we haven’t really seen eye-to-eye with each othe-”

Claire snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. “That, doctor, is an understatement of the fucking century.”

“Okay so, we’re like Tom and Jerry but sans the background music and a naive little duckling running around calling one of us his momma, but I feel like now’s the time to call out a temporary truce between us.” A beat, then: “I heard about what happened with the intern.”

Something flashes across her face- and Carrick must have noticed it, because his face does this odd thing- it softens, even for a moment. She hates it. He’s not supposed to be looking at her like that, not supposed to see her at her weakest state or saved her ass- And Jesus, why does she have to be indebted to Tobias Carrick, of all people- But god forbid, the last thing she’ll ever do is crying in front of him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, barely audible, trying to temper her fluctuated emotions.

“Then don’t. We can talk about anything else or fall into some sort of endless, meaningless platitudes. Whichever will work.” As if sensing Claire’s lingering hesitation, he adds. “Tell you what, to sweeten the offer, your next drinks are on me.”

She assesses him for a long minute, eyes narrowing. She’s shaking her head, but her mouth, as if against her will, instead says: “Careful, Carrick, there’s a chance I’ll be abusing that offer and run you dry.”

"Hey, if you want to butcher your liver so bad, don’t stop on my account,” he says. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure to save your ass again this time around. Pro bono.”

Claire looks as if she’s just swallowed a dead rat. “Thanks, but no thanks. Death seems more like an appealing choice.”

“Well, I stopped death from interfering then, I’ll stop it again.” Carrick winks, she pretends to gag again yet remains still in her seat, so Carrick waves at the bartender for their order- she orders for a refill and he, a martini and Claire is this close from asking 'shaken or stirred?’ but then remembers who he is and immediately washes the question down with her drink.

“You know, if anyone told me weeks ago that I’d be having a drink with you tonight, I probably would have socked them.“

Carrick is in the middle of lighting his cigarette, but laughs instead. “The Times They Are a-Changin’, as Bob Dylan said.” A puff of smoke escapes his mouth, curling around his fingers. Claire instinctively looks away. “Which reminds me of that one time your mentor sang Ballad of A Thin Man on the fucking subway when we were 20.”

She swivels her head to his direction, on the verge of choking on her drink. “Hold on, hold on, Ethan Jonah Ramsey sings?”

“Give him a dare he couldn’t refuse and a few shots of whiskey, and I promise you he’ll sing like Sinatra on crack.” He grins, his eyes are all crinkled and bright; she thinks that means he’s genuinely amused. “Ah, good times. We were like- wait, who was it he’d like to say we’re like again?”

A small smile pulls at her lips. “Bert and Ernie.”

“Jesus, he really fucking compares us to some Sesame Street characters, huh?” She laughs at that, loud and bright. He does the same. “Personally, I’d always say we were like Butch and Sundance back then- rebels with a cause, a band of misfits, trying to leave our marks on the world. You know those types. We were young, we wanted so much- I still do. I mean, let’s be real, whoever’s wanted to be defeated at their own game?”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, not quite a frown.

“Nobody,” Claire concurs, hating herself for it. “But was it worth it? Betraying the closest thing you had to a brother or a lover…” Carrick coughs on his smoke from the latter. “or whatever in the process just to get what you wanted?” Claire was obviously aiming for that brash, hard-hitting jab, but it lands gloriously too soft.

The bartender finally places their ordered drinks down on the bar. Carrick reaches for it, taking a careful swig, then sets his glass down. He takes a deep breath.

"It’s nothing personal. It never was. I never considered him as my rival.”

“Yeah, but by doing whatever you did, you’ve made an enemy out of him,” she counters. “Look, Carrick, I know we live in a dog-eat-dog world and I know being good sometimes doesn’t get the job done. Perhaps Machiavelli was right. Perhaps, when necessary, you have to be ruthless, dissembling and manoeuvring- what did he say again? ‘The end justifies the means’? But if any worthwhile end can justify the means to attain it, if everyone outright surrenders to their darker side, then what’s left of our humanity?”

For an interminable moment, there is only silence. He simply stares at her, as if she’s a walking, talking Rubik’s cube he can’t solve or a book that he has opened and now he’s got to know so much more and she feels pinned under those warm irises, uneasy.

Suddenly, his mouth begins to take shape; the corners hike up, stretch and then he does the unexpected.

The bastard fucking laughs.

“Excuse me?!” she spits, white-hot anger lacing each word. Carrick laughs harder- the audacity- despite Claire’s growing razor’s edge stare. “Did you just laugh at me? I was being fucking seriou-”

“Sorry, sorry.” Wiping an imaginary tear from his left eye. “I was just remembering Harper’s words. She’s right, you really are on the side of the angels, aren’t you?”

She points at him with her glass, snarling. “And you, mister, are the devil himself with a medical degree and an egg head- and I don’t mean the slang for a highly academic person.”

“Ouch,” Carrick says out loud, still kind of laughing, borderline frowning. “Okay, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Damn straight. Though you have a lot to apologize for.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re still pissed about that one patient I stole under your nose?”

“The North remembers, ser,” she says, mean-spirited.

“Then does the North remembers that I saved her life?”

“Oh, so you’re discrediting the efforts of the other doctors that helped you make the cure?”

“Alright, alright. You win.” Carrick holds up his hands, the universal gesture of defeat and takes one final drag of his cigarette. He stubs it out, all the while keeping his gaze on her.

“So, how exactly can I make it up to you?“

Claire blinks- once, twice, thrice, realizing his intent. His voice drops an octave and he’s leaning in, close enough for her to notice the constellations of freckles splaying across his face and the way his brown eyes glinted like two shots of whiskey under a stream of light, intense and all-consuming. She feels her mind races, her brains feel as if they underwent a short-circuit and get caught on fire, and the fact that her mind’s on the precipice of exploring the idea is not helping.

A burst of laughter erupts from her throat, not that it’s funny- there’s nothing funny about the situation, but someone ought to diffuse this shift of tension between them, or that was her aim, at least.

“What, you wanna pay me back?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from cracking but failing miserably. Fingers trembling against her glass as she chugs nearly a quarter of her drink in one go.

He notices that.

"A Lannister always pays his debts, does he? If you think that I owe you one, then I’ll gladly pay.” His eyes flick back to her face, searing into her. The air crackles between them. The band is playing a different song now, a sound that only exists on the margin of her attention. If they’re in, say a mid 2000s rom-com movie, someone would probably interrupt this moment and save her from this. But this isn’t a movie.

Claire licks her lips, a candid reaction which encourages him to inch closer- or is it her? She can’t tell anymore. Tracing odd patterns on the palm of her hand with his finger and oh god, this is Carrick, the bane of her fucking existence, she’d shoot him first before she kisses him. But something about the prospect of fucking this bastard twists her insides deliciously into a confused mess.

“How? By fucking me?” she inquires, feigning scandalized- all that Catholic guilt bullshit.

He grins, all-teeth and wolfish and shrugs as if they’re talking about his life insurance policy or shit. “Well, that’s the idea.”

“But you don’t even like me.” It should come out as I don’t even like you, but even she knows that’ll be just another lie she tells.

“On the contrary, I enjoy our rivalry far more than I should, Castelnuovo,” he purrs and places a hand on her knee. Her throat bobs. She’s wearing a skirt, it didn’t seem important then, but now his hand feels warm against her skin, dangling on the edge of impropriety. Like gravity, all it takes is a little push for him to cross that line.

“I should be disliking the way you talk to me, challenging me and putting me on the back foot every goddamn time. I should be focusing on taking you down a peg, but the more I see you, the more I realize you have an attractive kind of power. And I’m just one man. And if there’s anything I learned, the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”

But then his movement suddenly ceases. Claire almost asks why.

"However…”

“What?” she stares up at him, eyes wide, breath hitching.

“However if you only accept alcohol as the currency for transactions, then I’ll tell the bartender to get us another round instead,“ he tells her, offering her one last chance to back out from this, from making this mistake with him.

Claire stares into her drink, actually mulling this over. Her mind tells her no, but the other part- the alcohol-infused part of her mind- whispers otherwise. She imagines if Ethan or any of her friends are here, they would probably grab her shoulder and shake the living hell out of her for even reconsidering his offer.

But then again, intelligence, alcohol and desperation have always had a bad history of getting along together.

“What about June?” Claire asks against her better judgement, after a long, considerable pause. Carrick raises a confused brow.

“What about her?”

“I thought you guys…” she trails off, makes a face, feeling all-kind of flustered and aroused and wow, she’s really doing this, huh? “I mean, I don’t know- I don’t wanna get in between you guys.”

“Nah. It was only a three time thing, but there’s never been anything between us.” He chuckles at Claire’s askance look. “If you don’t believe me, you can fact-check it with the woman herself,” Carrick adds, looking at her dead-on with his eyes like he wants to get the message across.

She regards him silently for a long second, and maybe she’s a touch drunk now, maybe the bartender put something in her drink, or maybe she just needs to blow off some steam after what’s been happening in these past few weeks and Carrick happens to be a decent warm body for the occasion, but Claire finds herself shifting closer.

"Then I want you to pay me back.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she answers, more sure this time, more determined.

Her nose bumps his, his breath fanning across her face all the while Carrick’s slightly pushing her skirt up, letting his fingertips travel higher. His eyes keep darting back and forth from her eyes and lips, checking for her reaction. There is no inhibition here, not anymore. People might be watching- heck, they could be already watching and it terrifies her that she doesn’t give a damn about it.

“But if you tell anyone about this, I swear to god… ” she warns and a shadow of mirth passes across his eyes, making her almost regretting this. Almost.

“Claire, darling.” It’s the first time he’s ever said her name and her stomach does a tango. “Your secret is safe with me.“ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He gets them a room in the hotel, it’s on the twentieth floor. Carrick handles the accommodation- he can afford it, apparently, which is not really surprising and the nuisating check-in procedure while Claire only waits in the lobby like a beautiful, agitated china doll amidst the turbulent sea the whole time until he comes back, flashes the room key at her and beckons her to follow.

She goes ahead of him, but he catches up. His body heat sends her anxiety rocketing sky-high through the roof as they walk next to each other, hands briefly brushing against one another but she ignores that (or at least she tries).

They are silent in the elevator, they are silent even once they reach the designated floor and walk down the hall to their room where the dim and shadowed lights follow their steps like vultures.

Carrick holds open the door for her and she enters, taking in the windows and the striking view of Boston skyline peeking behind the curtains, the TV and the queen-sized bed. The latter does nothing to assuage the anticipation that’s bubbling in the pit of her stomach, by the way.

Claire hears him shut the door, locking both bolts. She peers at him over her shoulder, half-turned, one eye on him. Their eyes meet, neither speaks. He’s taking off his black peacoat, back against the door, he’s looking at her as if wanting her is his full-time occupation and the realizations comes in like a mule kick, how that tiny voice inside her head, the one that tells her that this is a bad idea and she’s better off leaving never comes.

The room is not considerably huge (with $110 per night, you would have expected you’d get a bigger room), he could easily have her in six large steps, yet he stands there. Sizing her up, smirking rather devilishly, handsomely as if challenging her to make the first move. It’s another fucking game with him. A display of power, waiting who would fall first.

Claire finally turns around to face him. With a renowned determination, she removes her coat, letting it fall unceremoniously onto the carpeted floor. Her blouse follows next and her skirt, which she tugs it oh so slowly down her legs.

Carrick’s eyes widen, if she doesn’t know better, she thinks he’s speechless. He takes a deep breath, his gaze religiously following every movement as she twirls around once more to unhook her bra. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He’s having a hard time keeping himself in check which she takes an immense pleasure in. Claire just wants to see the man squirm for a change, even if she has to shed every article of clothing she wears.

By the time she slips off of her underwear, she is breathing raggedly. He hasn’t yet approached her so she crawls onto the bed, lying on her back with one elbow props her up, legs crossed. She kicks off her heels, rolls down her stockings with a bit of that noir come-hither, Lauren Bacall-esque heavy bedroom eyes.

Finally, Carrick steps closer until he’s only a hair’s breadth away, like a target, filling her line of sight. The tension in the room is hot enough to send the thermometer reaching its maximum limit and she’s burning, burning, burning right through the core.

Claire cranes her head up to meet his gaze, noticing the way he’s drinking in her body like a pirate ogling a bottle of rum. High-strung, tense, Carrick lowers his head to her, his fingers carding through her long hair. Dimness consumes him raw, his silhouette is starting to find its place amongst the shadows except for his eyes. Never does the fire in his eyes falter, merely alight.

They are already nose-to-nose when Claire suddenly raises her hand over his lips. He withdraws from her, looking confused and hot and bothered.

“Take a seat over there, will you?” She motions to the settee near the bed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

He smirks, but she can see his bravado if faltering. “Ordering me around in the bed now, are we?”

“Didn’t you say tonight is about you making it up to me?”

“Touche, touche.” Carrick straightens his posture and makes his way to the settee across from her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat given the growing issue in his pants.

With eyes still trained to his, Claire cups her own breast, fingers pinching her pebbled nipple before the same hand travels lower down her stomach, her thighs. Carrick leans forward in his seat, obviously liking where this is going before Claire slowly and teasingly part her legs for him to see.

A surprised groan escapes him.

“Jesus, Claire,” Carrick hisses. “Fuck, I didn’t know you’re a goddamn tease.”

She doesn’t bother replying to him, but a winning grin finds its way across her face as she lays on her back, her shame and modesty are distant, knees pulled up so he can have a clear view of her. With two fingers, she runs them along her folds, dragging them slowly up to her clit. Claire imagines they are his fingers- which once upon a time would have horrified her, but tonight, as she repeats the motion over and over, knowing that he’s sitting there, watching her without being able to get his hands on her, she decides to submit to this newfound fantasy.

A rustle pulls her back to reality. He’s undoing his own pants, palming his cock, runs his fingers over the leaking head.

A low moan catches in her throat at that, her gaze snapping up from his erection to his face where his irises have darkened and pupils dilated. He wants to show her, that’s he’s as depraved as her when it comes to wanting, that he fucking wants her and in spades and she fails to think like a normal human being anymore.

Claire uses that image to work on herself harder, faster, feeling the intense pressure beginning to build beneath her fingers. She’s so wet now, despite him being able to see that, she wants him to hear it as well as she uses her idle hand to tap against herself. Carrick growls, his pace matching the rhythm she’s setting.

She slips her fingers inside her, drops her head back against the mattress and bites a loud moan that threatens to escape her lips. Flushing scarlet all over her abdomen, her breasts and up to her neck. Her blood thumping louder than bombs in her ears, her breaths begin to come in gasps.

Another fast and hard thrust from fingers, and Claire finds herself sighing his name.

“Tobias…”

And every last bit of his self-restraint snaps.

In just a blink of an eye, Carrick is already on his feet, grabs her waist, harshly, and tugs her down onto the edge of the bed where he’s now kneeling before her. He doesn’t bother with the teasings or soft kisses or caresses, and even before Claire has the time to register what’s happening, he crushes his face between her parted legs and eats her out.

She gasps, high and fleeting, twisting the bed sheet between her fists while his tongue flicks over her, moving back up, back down, lapping along her folds in the same motions she showed him with her hand, how she likes it. Claire forgets how to breathe. It just occurs to her just how arousing the sight of him on his knees like this, sending her mind hitchhiking into outer space.

“Oh, fuck.” She breathes, back arching on the bed with a drawn-out moan. “Fuck, Tobias!” Her hips gyrate over his mouth and she presses her heels against his shoulder blades. She’s so close. All she needs is a little push to send her careening into oblivion and it seems that Carrick can sense it because he brings two digits to her entrance and slides easily inside her, setting a ruthless pace.

With her hands reaching out to the back of his head, Claire cries out his name and trembles violently. Encouraged, Carrick curves his fingers inside her, hitting that exact spot that finally undoes her as she comes, long and hard, around his mouth and fingers- the kind of orgasm that you can feel deep in your bones- and watches as fireworks dance behind her lids.

When she finally comes down from her high, everything is hazy. It’s like waking up from a deep slumber after a decadent soak in a scented bath and she loses all orientation, until she feels him nipping the inside of her thighs. She hisses, glances down, heavy-lidded eyes finding Carrick is leaving bruises after bruises all over her skin like some kind of a lewd memento of his work, like he wants her to remember this the next time she wakes up in her own bed and he’s not there.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Na'vi, doctor?” She asks, still kinda breathless, feeling surprisingly conversational despite having just experienced, if not, one of the best orgasms in her life. He smiles against her thigh and withdraws from her, only after her thighs are sufficiently bruised enough, licks his fingers clean and stands up at the end of the bed.

“Maybe. You’d make a cute blue extraterrestrial creature, though,” he replies cheekily, then undoes the button of his shirt, showcasing his naked torso.

Claire feels her cheeks heating up again, but forces herself to stare; eyes following his pectoral muscles, down to the toned lines of his abdomen while he slides off of his pants. The man is one fine specimen, alright, and he knows- smug bastard- and she thinks it’s such a shame that Carrick is… well, Carrick. If the man learns how to shut up for one minute or avoid trying to sabotage everyone’s career at Edenbrook altogether, maybe, just maybe, she’d consider him.

“But honestly, I just wanted to hear you say my name again,” Carrick continues, crawling his way up to her, pulling her out of her musings. He settles between her thighs. His lips finding her ear and nibbling at the lobe while his fingers pinching and pulling at her nipple. Claire shivers. Nails scraping along his skin, raising angry marks that would certainly be there tomorrow.

When they kiss, it’s so good that she can’t help but curl her toes. He kisses her like he’s trying to steal her breath or her name. She can taste herself in his mouth, which sparks so many feelings inside her. Her mind’s foggy, sweat pooling on her forehead. Carrick is but shoves his tongue into her mouth, lapping at her, biting, sucking and she leans hard into the kiss, retaliates by scraping her teeth against his bottom lip. It spurs him on. Making his cock twitch against her thigh and Claire decides she can’t wait anymore.

Claire rolls her hips at him. He takes the hint and rolls over to grab a condom from his pants. Then he’s back on top of her, his weight and heat crushing her most deliciously and brings her body further up the bed with him; she drapes her legs around his hips, hands gripping his arms. Her lust and anticipation collaborate to the point of near madness.

Carrick nips the taut line of her jaw and drives himself into her.

They both groan in unison.

“Oh, fuck.” Carrick mumbles between shaky breaths, his face pressed against her throat. “Fucking hell, Claire, you feel so warm.”

Claire, on the other hand, goes rigid under him. Her mouth hangs open and her world narrows down to the feeling of his cock inside her and the pleasure that builds up again in her abdomen.

This is happening, she thinks, he’s inside her and it feels so amazing. She might as well be crazy for agreeing to do this with him in the first place, but the promise of the thrill beats the doubts.

He starts slow, just the smallest fraction of hips, gently thrusting back and forth in shallow motions. She whines, frustrated and impatient, raising her own hips to meet his, but Carrick’s weight pins her onto the mattress and she can’t fucking move.

“F-faster,” Claire stammers, her molars grinding like toothache.

The bastard smirks, like he’s been anticipating the word coming out of her mouth.

“Beg for it.” His words are punctuated with every unhurried stroke he’s giving her, teasing her and if she’s not in the middle of being fucked right now, she would have kicked him in the balls.

Growling, she swallows her plea by pulling Carrick down for another kiss. This time, she’s the one who does the biting and the sucking, making sure he’s distracted enough and then just like with all the things she does in her life, she takes the matter into her own hands.

With all her strength, she scrambles up, pushes him off of her and knocks him onto his back flat on the bed. When she swings her legs to straddle him, his eyes pop.

“Holy shit, you are feisty.”

“Only cause I’m angry and horny,” she bites off. Angling herself above him and with one hand, guides his shaft back to her opening. “And you- you weren’t doing a proper job fucking me.”

He smirks. “I was trying to wind you up.”

“Fuck you.”

She lowers herself and sinks back onto his cock, relishing in his moans and growls.

“Baby, you’re doing it.” His hands curling around her waist, his head falls back onto the bed, exposing his throat and Claire is so hard-pressed not to bite him there.

Claire ignores his smartassness, naturally, and lifts herself, drops back down. Slamming her hips into his until she’s bouncing on him. Nails clawing at his chest. Finally be able to set a pace she desperately craves for, finally wiping that smirk off of his face.

Under her, Carrick is biting his lip in an effort to not to lose control. His hands are everywhere now; her stomach, her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. Leaving fire on its wake. She might still hate him after this is strange, little arrangement is over but at this juncture, he’s exactly the remedy she needs after everything.

Then Carrick wraps his arms around her and picks up the pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. Claire shakes. She can’t catch her breath, her forehead pressed on his shoulder, her teeth latching onto his skin. Breathing a string of 'fuckfuckfuck’ while he squeezes her ass and continues to fuck her with careless abandon.

"Tobias.” Her moans amplify. She’s close to climaxing again, her legs quivering. Eyes wide shut. “Please, please.” So much for not begging.

He pulls her to him so their foreheads meet. Their lips brush against each other, but they aren’t kissing, merely trading breaths. A hand touches her cheek and her lids flutter open, finding his eyes- those depthless, amber eyes that pretty much lead her to this point, are watching her, pulling her in.

“Say it again,” he encourages darkly, face twists in pleasure. “My name. Say it again.”

She does it again, it comes out as a groaned whisper, repeating it over and over again like a sacred mantra.

Her second orgasm sweeps through her, making her spine arches, it tears a winded moan from her throat and it’s more than enough to trigger Carrick’s own release; fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips, groaning gutturally.

Panting, sore but sated, Claire collapses on top of his chest, his arm still drapes around her. The rise and fall of his breath lull her to sleep. Before she knows it, he gently rolls her to his side, pulling the covers for them and kisses her on the shoulder, which comes out as… odd for her.

The bed moves and she feels him leaving.

He’s leaving.

She doesn’t know why it stings, but it does. But also Claire opts not to pay no mind to it and forces her mind to surrender to sleep that once again tries to take hold.

Claire wishes she doesn’t dream of him that night, but she does.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s way past midnight when she wakes up. The room is dark. The curtains are closed. She’s still naked and sore under the covers, mind reeling in from what has just transpired.

One might ask in which universe does Claire Castelnuovo agree to sleep with Tobias Carrick? Well, apparently they did it in this one and oddly still, she doesn’t regret it. Though she’s still low-key sad that he left her straight after sex, but hey, what can she do about it? This arrangement itself is nothing but a means to an end, anyway, a perverse alternative for him to pay back what he allegedly owes her, she shouldn’t be surprised if he left after the ‘debt’ is paid.

Feeling her mood somehow takes an unexpected dip, she gets us from the bed and gathers her clothes on the floor.

She’s in the middle of zipping up her skirt when the bedside lamp flickers and comes on.

Claire turns around. Carrick, rousing from sleep, looks at her, rubbing his eyes and stifles a yawn. His lips still tinged from her kisses and bites.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep and Claire thinks her mouth is hanging open, standing rooted to the spot like a spider on an icicle; frozen in time.

For a moment, she does nothing but stares at him, being rendered speechless. For many times, Tobias Carrick never fails to surprise her. Just when she thinks she has him all figured out, he comes sneaking in through her windows like a thief in the night and it just strikes her, how he really is an uncharted territory for her. Despite her having him pinned under her, exploring the hard planes of his body under the touches just a few hours ago.

The man is like a fucking myth, at this point. She knows him only from stories and her limited time around him, but who is exactly Tobias Carrick? Is he the competitive doctor at Mass Kenmore, the Machiavellian asshole that severed his friendship/relationship with Ethan for the sake of his greed and ambition? Or is he, Tobias Carrick, the man who saves her life, makes her laugh and kisses her shoulder in the afterglow?

She’ll probably never know.

“Yeah, my roommates will probably deploy a search party if I don’t come home tonight,” she replies, distracted, finally finding her own voice back. He nods, feigning disappointment- or is he not? She clears her throat and continues putting on her clothes. “I thought you left.”

He chuckles at the absurdity of her deduction. “And without saying goodbye?” Carrick rolls off of the bed and rises to his feet. He’s already wearing his pants- thank fuck for that- and approaches her. “I may be an asshole, Castelnuovo, but just so you know, my mother raised me better than that.”

So they’re back to their usual last name basis perimeter. That’s good, right? After all of this, she thinks a little familiarity would be nice for her sanity.

“Good to know, then.”

Silence encompasses the room. It’s awkward and overwhelming and it throws her a little off-balance. At the bar, they seemed to know exactly what to say to each other- especially him; but now, even she can sense the hesitation in his gait, at the way he’s looking at her and a faint alarm is trilling her head. Because if he’s making this awkward, she can do a whole lot of worse.

"Oh, before you ask, that makes up for pretty much everything, yeah. I mean, it’s alright.” You fucking dumbass, she thinks to herself, averting his gaze while a smile blooms on his face.

“Good to know, then.” He parrots her words and she huffs a laugh, freely and sweetly, like she’s currently not knee-deep in her problems or she’s just fucked the most incorrigible man that ever exists. He does too, but his gaze lands on her mouth before going back to her eyes.

Another silence passes. It’s time to go.

“I have to go now.”

He nods mutely and moves away so Claire can step past him.

She wears her coat. In the mirror, she still looks thoroughly fucked; her hair’s dishevelled, she smells like him now, but she really needs to go. She promises herself that this will be a one time thing because, Jesus fuck, she’s supposed to be smarter than this. She’s not fifteen anymore, and this is not the summer where she can watch the sunset from the cornfields with her cousins even though his eyes possess the same color.

Yet she walks toward the door in a daze, like she’s forgetting something but can’t pinpoint what it is.

“Can I-”

“Hey, do you-”

She stops, mid-turning, and closes her mouth. She doesn’t realize she’s interrupting him.

“Oh, sorry,” Claire says, embarrassed. “You go first, it’s alright.”

“Can I have your number?” he asks, uncharacteristically hesitant.

She thinks he’s joking or maybe he’s just feigning interest, but one look at his eyes and she can tell that this isn’t smoke and mirrors.

The eyes, chico. They never lie. It’s dumb, but that line from Scarface is the first thing that comes to her mind. That’s why when she hands him her phone, her hand is shaking slightly. She has to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a maniac.

Claire takes a cursory glance at her phone once he returns it. He saved his number solely as t.c. with the water drop, the syringe, the ghost, the eggplant, the firework emoji and she chuckles endearingly, questioning the universe how he can easily get both a rise and a laugh out of her.

“I’ll text you?” Carrick asks again and she nods a little too enthusiastically at it, but what the hell?

“Sure.”

“Alright.” He takes one look at her, steps closer and for a moment, she thinks he might be going to kiss her.

“Goodnight, Claire,” Carrick says instead and she nods, admitting the fact that he’s not going to do it.

“Goodnight to you too, Tobias.” Then pauses at the doorway, feeling surprisingly bold. “I gotta give it to you, though, for someone who’s become the bane of my existence for months, you’re a damn good lay.”

He barks out a laugh, obviously, that Claire can hear all the way down the hall. And she thinks she can get used to the sound.

fin.

Tag list: @villain-fuckarooni @beckaroo @arfeiniel @this-person-is-busy @colossalpainintheass @drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @theeccentricbibliophile

#playchoices #open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #open heart mc #oh mc #pixelberry #choices stories you play

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years

Text

another fic based in the magic misfits au compiled by @haworthiaace! this time: somebody pranks impulse by hiding catnip in his base, and zed recruits scar to take care of him.

featuring: demons are oversized cats, just a lot of fluff, impulse is full of love for his friends, for once team zit have a crisis that isn’t world ending, zed is a good(ish) impulse sitter, no real plot, only shenanigans.

warnings: unintended drug use, drugged character, it’s not anything serious he’s just a big cat on catnip lmao.

[Zedaph] Okay. We have no judgement when we ask this

[Tango] which one of you nerds gave Imp catnip?

[Tango] speak now or I will force it out of you.

[Stressmonster101] oh! was wonderin where me patch went

[Stressmonster101] got no answers tho, sorry boys :(

[Xisuma] catnip isn't harmful to demons, right?

[Zedaph] No...

[Tango] he's high, X

[Tango] like a cat.

[Xisuma] ah

[Xisuma] well, if you're handling it

[Zedaph] That's one way to put it.

"Scar!" Scar jumps up. He barely catches a glance of black and yellow before there are arms around his waist. With a strangled noise, he nearly falls backwards. Thankfully, whatever is clinging to him keeps him upright. Although Scar has to hold his hat on, his other arm trapped in the grip.

"Scar, oh!" Scar's panicked mind manages to recognise that voice. Zedaph. Something behind him is beginning to nudge into his hair, accompanied by happy little humming noises. "I'm so sorry. Impulse, come here-"

The pressure releases him. Scar's able to turn and find Impulse and Zed standing there. Zedaph has his arm wrapped around Impulse's, offering a nervous smile. Whilst Impulse... Impulse is currently flicking at one of Zed's ears with a bright smile and wide eyes filled with wonder. Scar frowns when he sees thin, reddened lines across the skin. Zedaph doesn't flinch at the scratches, holding onto Impulse and looking apologetic.

"Sorry, Scar, I lost hold of him." Impulse hums at Zed’s words as he bats his ear again, grinning as it bounces. Zedaph finally sighs, spinning Impulse around and picking him up into a piggyback. Impulse makes a sound suspiciously like a purr, melting into Zedaph's hair.

"Do you, uh, need help with that?" Scar asks, gesturing his hand between them both.

Zed gasps, "Yes! That's why I came, wasn't it? Yeah!" He nods to himself. "Tango's looking for where the catnip is, so he thought I could bring Impulse here for now. We have no idea how long he'll be like this, so..." Impulse makes another low hum. Scar is pretty sure that's purring. He's nudging into Zedaph's hair now, horns mussing it up further. Zedaph's lucky those points aren't stabbing him.

"Of course." Scar chuckles, shaking his head at the pair. Compared to the trio's usual problems, this seems tame. No interdimensional crisis, nothing that needs his spellbook or crystals. He can manage this. "Come on, then, let's get this demonic kitty somewhere to calm down."

They’ve only managed a few steps when Impulse sees a leaf floating in the air, leaping off Zedaph's back and sprinting after it. Zedaph groans, running after him with a call of his name. Scar stands in shock until his brain catches up and he's able to follow. Thankfully, Impulse doesn't get far. He holds up the leaf with a massive grin, bouncing on the spot.

"I caught it!" He declares, with such a proud look it kinda melts Scar's heart. Zedaph sighs, pushing his fringe back from his face.

"Yeah, yeah you did, buddy." He holds his hand out and Impulse takes it eagerly. "Now, we're following Scar, okay? Keep your eyes on him." Impulse turns to Scar, smiling and bouncing over to him instead. Scar follows Zedaph’s lead and is surprised by how rough Impulse's skin is when his hand slips in his.

"Scar! Scar, man." Scar keeps Impulse moving whilst he rambles. He nearly laughs when he notices how blown out his pupils are - almost entirely black, only small slits of the usual bright yellow visible. "Has anybody told you how good you are at building? Like, man, your stuff is so pretty. I wanna landscape like you. The stuff you've done this season, so genius-"

Zedaph must spot Scar's terrified look, because he giggles, "You get used to it." Impulse is still rambling whilst he talks. Scar didn't know there were this many compliments to give him. He has no idea what to say in response, not that Impulse notices.

By the time they get back to Scar's village, he could cook something on his cheeks. Zedaph's cheeky smiles aren't helping. Impulse is holding Scar’s hand in both of his, turning out compliment after compliment like a broken dispenser. The only time he paused was because he got distracted by a butterfly over Scar's shoulder. And now. Impulse gasps, eyes going cartoonishly wide.

"Are those tiny mushrooms?" He turns that amazed stare onto Scar.

"I swear you've seen those before, Imp." Zedaph rolls his eyes, reaching over to ruffle Impulse's hair. He leans back into the touch to the point he nearly falls over. Scar keeps him up with his free hand.

"They're so little," Impulse whispers, voice filled with childish awe.

"I can show you how I made them later, how about that?" Scar offers. Impulse's entire body perks up, bouncing on his toes. Scar’s relieved he isn’t supporting his entire bodyweight anymore.

"You would? Really?"

"Yeah, of course I can! Anything for my favourite demonic friend." Impulse turns to Zedaph.

"Did you hear that? He'll show me how to make them!" Zedaph nods, his face encouraging. "We don't deserve you, Scar. You're so great." Scar nods, gently sighing as Impulse swings his hand. He gestures to the house, and Zedaph skips ahead to open the door for them.

"How long has it been, now?" Scar asks. He tugs Impulse inside, ushering him to the comfortable, if worn, sofa. Impulse sees it and flops straight onto his back, sinking into the cushions.

"Twenty minutes, maybe?" Zedaph says, resting his finger on his chin. "Maybe closer to thirty now." Scar hums. All of these houses are cosy, but he thinks this will be perfect for Impulse. Wooden floor and walls, a red sofa that's ideal for curling up on and a carpet strewn out on the floor. There's an armchair next to a cluttered coffee table, which Scar plops himself in. Zedaph shoves at Impulse until he shuffles over and gives Zed room. Then he quickly settles his head into Zed's lap.

The moment Zedaph has a hand in Impulse's hair, the demon continues purring. He stretches out, his face soft as he nudges up into Zedaph's fingers. Scar finally relaxes, sinking back into the armchair. The sunlight shines through the door, catching on floating dust in the air. Scar really needs to clean these houses out. Most of them are just storage by this point.

"Do you think it'll wear off soon?" He asks. Impulse is staring at Zedaph's face. Scar's surprised how catlike he's acting. Impulse usually seems pretty down to earth, willing to help out, if a bit anxious. Scar imagines he has to be, dealing with Zedaph and Tango, even if it’s not what he expects of a demon. The three of them cause an impressive amount of problems. Scar would think they'd be more careful with their situation. They’re not. Evidently.

"I don't know," Zed whines. Impulse tilts his head so Zedaph scratches a specific spot. "At least he's calm now. I'm not fit enough to run around after him."

"You were doing a good job of it earlier," Scar teases. Zedaph gives him a look.

"When he nearly fell into a ravine, got halfway into a cave system, jumped onto you, or chased after a leaf?"

Scar laughs, "All of the above, obviously." Zedaph smiles, leaning his head to the side so he can reach the back cushion. His ear sticks out at an angle.

They both sit and chat idly. Impulse is distracted enough with the head pats. His movements are lazy and languid, pushing his feet against the arm of the sofa. Zed's communicator beeping interrupts a conversation about Scar's latest research. The elf pats his cardigan until he finds the device, holding it up above his head to read.

"Tango found the catnip!" He declares. His finger taps the communicator haphazardly as it wobbles in his hand.

"Impulse can return to his base safely," Scar agrees with a smile. Zed hums, rubbing his other hand up and down Impulse's horns.

"Thanks for letting us hang with you." Zed's smile is so friendly, and Scar can tell he means it. As many problems as they cause, the three of them more than make up for it. Scar has shulker boxes full of gifts and resources from them. They're good friends to have and he's more than happy to help them. "Hopefully we'll figure out who decided this was a good prank."

"My diamonds are on Grian," Scar offers. Zed lets out a dramatic sigh.

"So's mine. Grian or Etho." The two are interrupted by a knock at the door. Tango pokes his head around, redstone eyes sparkling in the light of the lanterns and the sun outside. It highlights the loose wisps of hair that fall from his bandana.

"Everything been okay here?" Tango asks. Impulse's eyes open, a lazy smile emerging.

"Tangy, Tango," Impulse reaches his arms out, grabbing towards him. Zedaph puffs out a breath as Impulse rolls in his lap, a horn jabbing his stomach. Tango laughs, striding over and plucking Impulse into his arms. Impulse shuffles around, curling against Tango's chest with a content noise. Zedaph gently adjusts Impulse's horn so it's no longer stabbing Tango's vest.

"Thanks for helping out, Scar." Tango gives him a tired smile. Impulse reaches to one of Tango's pockets. He unbuttons and buttons it distractedly.

"It's not a problem!" Scar holds his hand up. "He's pretty cute like this, if I do say so myself." Zedaph giggles, pressed up against Tango's side. He tries to fix his hair but it's a lost cause, blond fringe falling in his eyes.

"At least he's taking a break, I guess," Tango agrees, looking at the demon in his arms.

"I take breaks," Impulse replies, sounding as pouty as he looks. Squinted as they are, his eyes are entirely black.

"Mmhm. 'Course you do." Tango just smiles at the sight. Zedaph tugs at Tango's arm.

"Come on, let's get him home!" He exclaims with that same bright look. Scar smiles at the trio.

"Hey, maybe next time, try some milk?" He suggests. The look on Tango and Zedaph's faces is worth it. Their surprise quickly morphs into embarrassment. Zedaph makes a breathy giggle, hiding behind his hand.

"We'll... Yeah, we're not smart enough for that, are we?" Tango admits, raising his shoulders. Scar laughs, waving at them.

"See you next time you have a problem!" He teases. Zedaph quickly jumps over to give Scar a hug.

"Thanks again!" He tells him. Scar leans back as the three leave, settling into the cushions. He sighs, smiling and closing his eyes. That was certainly a welcome distraction.

#hermitcraft #zedaph #goodtimeswithscar #tangotek #impulsesv #tango tek #my writing #magic misfits au #pats impulse's head #you can fit so much love for his friends in this good boy #for the record: jevin did it

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roguerogerss · 4 years

Text

Sorry is a Sorry Word

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Plot: Steve fucked up - bad. He doesn’t really know how, or if, he should say sorry, until Dustin gives him a pep talk.

W/C: 3.1k

A/N: Just now realising how long this is oops, sorry. My first Stranger Things fic! Finally. (watch this flop so hard lmao) Remember to like and reblog if you enjoy! It really helps me out. As always, requests are open and any and all feedback is appreciated <3

————

"Dustin, Please, just leave me alone." She lay back on her bed, tears streaming down her face and hair amiss from where she'd run her fingers through it. "I'm fine, I just...give me some time."

"But, we tell eachother everything." Her little brother sounded so small and defeated that it almost broke her heart in two. She could hear him leaning his back against the door, the back of his head thumping dully against the wood a second later. "I feel like we're drifting apart. You don't talk to me anymore."

"Dustin-"

"No, it's okay. Don't worry." Dustin cleared the remnants of his upset from his throat, "We can talk later. I get that you need time."

And with that, he'd left. She could hear his muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor of the hallway, walking away from her bedroom and back to his own. She knew that she wanted to talk to him and vent about all of the happenings of the day, but she couldn't bring herself to let her walls down in front of anyone about her current situation just yet.

It was Steve. And it was bad.

They'd been together for a year and ten months. He'd been there for her through thick and thin. Whenever their mom went MIA, something that happened more often than not, during the days and weeks and months that Y/N was left to take care of her thirteen year old brother on her own with no notice whatsoever, Steve was there. And he'd take Dustin out to the cinema, give him free ice cream, play Dungeons and Dragons with him and his friends - even though Steve had no idea how to play Dungeons and Dragons. He'd sleep over, make her feel like she wasn't alone. It filled her with pride to see him taking Dustin under his wing, more like a dad than even an older brother.

When they lost Hopper, who'd become more of a parental figure than she and Dustin's mom was to her, he was standing by her side at the funeral, hand grasping her own smaller one with force and squeezing it every so often, just to remind her that he was there. He was there after the funeral, too, when they went to the cabin and went through Hopper's things. He was there when she found the birthday present that Hopper had bought for her, a necklace with, 'you're pretty cool, kid', engraved on it. Hopper's way of saying that he loved her. It came with a letter, one that she cried so hard while reading that she couldn't see the words on the page.

The point was, that Steve had been there through everything. And now that they'd had a huge argument over - of all things - Nancy Wheeler, she was unsure of whether or not she'd have Steve to lean on anymore.

It wasn't so much a stupid argument as it was a stupid mistake on Steve's end. He even admitted to himself that what he'd done was more than a dick move. Tina was having a party, a big one, for old time's sake. Y/N wasn't invited, having been socially considered as 'uncool' while in High School, while Steve was invited. He said that it wasn't a big deal, it didn't matter, he wouldn't go.

Except that it was a big deal, it did matter, and, well, he did go.

He'd gotten really drunk, so drunk, in fact, that he had no recollection of the night at all and managed to stumble to Y/N's front door at five in the morning.

He'd told her that he went to the party, that he was sorry. She'd been mad, but she was so tired that she said she'd deal with it in the morning and told Steve to sleep it off on the sofa. Before going to sleep, however, Steve had told Y/N that he 'thought he might've kissed Nancy' that night.

They'd argued about it the next day. She'd dropped him off at home, neither of them speaking at all in the car, and they'd screamed at eachother in Steve's living room. Little did either of them know, Steve hadn't actually kissed Nancy, he was just so drunk that he made himself believe that he had. And then, Y/N told Steve that they were done, and he'd said 'fine', and she'd left and cried in her car for an hour.

And now, she was here. Crying on her bed, little brother probably thinking that one of her friends had died or something.

She hated herself for blowing up and flying off the handle and literally breaking up with Steve. Steve, on the other hand, hated himself for even going to the party, hated himself for - possibly - kissing Nancy, hated himself for going to Y/N's front door and waking her up so early in the morning.

In the grand scheme of things, Steve Harrington had been an asshole. And he was all too aware of it.

It had been around half an hour since she got home when Dustin knocked on the door again. This time, she'd managed to calm down enough to allow him to come inside. She looked horrifying, hair messed up, tear stained face, cuddling a pillow and wearing one of Steve's shirts, but Dustin was her brother, he had no right to judge her.

The door swung open slowly, and Dustin was there, grinning and holding two pints of ice cream, spoons, and some movies. "Thought we could put a movie on and eat. And you can tell me about your problems and I promise I'll listen."

"Is the ice cream cookie dough?" Y/N asked, sniffling, and a watery smile crossed her face. Dustin laughed, happy to see his sister perking up at least a little bit, even if it was over ice cream, and turned the carton to reveal to her that it was, in fact, cookie dough.

"Only the best." He tossed one of the cartons and a spoon at her, and turned on the TV set that sat across from her bed. "Besides, I know it's the only one you'll eat when you're sad."

"You know me entirely too well." She hugged her knees to her chest and dug into her ice cream, relishing in the taste of it for a second, "Oh my God, I haven't had this in so long. And the Scoops cookie dough is so bad."

"Right? I know Steve thinks it's the best, but he is so wrong." Little did Dustin know, one mention of his name would make Y/N's meltdown begin all over again. Soon enough, she was crying hot tears into her ice cream, and she allowed Dustin to lay his head on her shoulder while she explained everything.

"Okay, I have to go somewhere." Dustin knew what he had to do, and Y/N's eyebrows furrowed as he got swiftly up from her bed. "I'll be like, maybe half an hour. But you can eat my ice cream if it starts to melt."

"Dustin! Don't leave me!"

"Watch the movie!"

And then he was gone, and she was by herself, with only some ice cream and E.T. to keep her company.

Meanwhile, Dustin had found Steve at work. He was insanely hungover - although, the headache and sickness had gone away thanks to Robin and her Tylenol, but the tiredness still remained - and reminded Dustin faintly of a particular zombie in Day of the Dead when he walked into Family Video to find him leaning on the counter. The grim look on his face wasn't so much because of the hangover, though, it was more to do with the fact that he and his girlfriend of nearly two years had broken up half an hour ago, and he'd been forced to go to work.

"If you're here to talk to Steve, I wouldn't. He nearly punched me when I asked him if he wanted Tylenol. And I'm a girl." Robin stopped Dustin at the front door, a serious look on her face, but he shrugged her off.

"It's fine. He won't do anything. Besides, I know what this whole thing's about. That's why I'm here." He tried to walk off again, but Robin grabbed his upper arm, tugging him back and making him elaborate.

"Is it Y/N? I think there was a fight between them or something. He’s never looked this rough.” Robin looked concerned, and she was. She’d never seen Steve so upset before. “He was crying when he came in.” She added.

Dustin shrugged, “Yeah, I’m gonna talk to him. He’ll be fine tomorrow.” He decided not to give Robin any more information on the situation in case Y/N or Steve would've gotten mad at him for it.

"Henderson, hey." Steve said quietly when he noticed that Dustin had entered the store. He looked like he'd been crying, and Robin was definitely right when she said he’d never looked rougher. "If you're here to hang out-"

"I'm not here to hang out, Steve. We have to talk." Dustin crossed his arms sternly over his chest, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head in the direction of the store room. Steve grumbled and complied, unlocking the door and ushering Dustin inside.

"You have to apologise."

"Apologise? Apologise for - what exactly are we talking about?" Steve rubbed a hand exhaustedly over his face, leaning against a sealed box of movies that he was supposed to have put away by now.

"You know what for, Steve. Y/N. You hurt her. Like, really badly. I don't think I've ever seen her so upset." Steve already wanted Dustin to stop, but he continued, really wanting him to get the message of just how hurt his sister was. "She cried in her room for half an hour before she even let me talk to her, and now she's at home by herself, probably crying some more because you went to a stupid party. I mean, seriously man, couldn't you just have stayed home? What was so important about it?"

Steve threw his head back and hid his face with his hands, wanting the floor to open up and swallow him whole. He knew that he'd been a dick, he knew that he'd hurt her, but, Jesus, knowing the details made his heart flip in his chest and his stomach hurt. He hated seeing Y/N upset at the best of times, nevermind when it was his fault.

"Yeah. Yeah, I should've just left it. Jeez, Dustin, I'm such an asshole."

"Yes. An asshole, you are. And what was that other shit? About you kissing Nancy?"

"I didn't kiss Nancy, okay? My drunk mind just kinda...made me believe that I did. I called her today just to confirm." Steve swallowed, suddenly having the nausea of his hangover coming back to him.

"Does Y/N know that?" Dustin had his arms crossed, back against the wall, looking unimpressed as Steve shook his head. "Seriously man? Don't you think that the first thing you should've done after finding out that you didn't actually cheat on your girlfriend, was tell your girlfriend that you didn't actually cheat on her?"

"My head's all over the place, Henderson. Cut me some slack, okay?"

"You have to come say sorry, you know that, right?"

"I will. I will, I promise. I finish in an hour, why don't you go home, I'll buy some flowers, take a shower and get changed, and I'll come chap on your door like none of this even happened." Steve had suddenly perked up, gesturing with his arms and almost getting excited to initiate his plan.

"Yeah. Sure. But it better be good, Harrington. You better make her happy."

Steve didn't even have time to respond before Dustin was running off, getting on his bike, and cycling back home to his sister. He promised himself internally that he'd do all it took to make her happy.

Y/N had finished her ice cream and Dustin's had started to melt by the time he got home. She hadn't cried any more, had been too focussed on the movie, and Dustin was relieved to see her laughing at something on the screen when he entered her bedroom.

"Hey." She smiled. "Your ice cream's melting, you'd better eat it."

Dustin smiled and bellyflopped onto her bed, sending her into a fit of laughter. They both laughed so hard, in fact, that they barely heard the doorbell ring, and Dustin almost got up to go and get it.

He stopped himself though, not wanting Steve to call him an idiot or something along those lines. "You should go. I have to eat my ice cream before it melts." He said sheepishly, sitting back down from where he'd jumped up. Y/N rolled her eyes and threw the pillow that she was holding at Dustin's face.

"Alright, make your sad sister get the door because you have to eat ice cream." She stood up even as she spoke, knowing that Dustin wasn't going to budge. "Nice one, asshole."

Y/N had left her bedroom before Dustin could retaliate, bounding down the stairs and realising that, if anyone saw her the way that she looked now, they'd probably never respect her again. The doorbell went again, and she sighed quietly at the lack of patience from whoever was on the other side.

She - stupidly - didn't even bother to look out of the window that stood next to the door to check who it was before opening it, and nearly closed it again when she realised who was standing there.

"Hey, woah, don't close the door yet!" It was Steve, his eyes widened from the possibility that he'd come all the way to her house so that she could slam the door in his face, holding white lilies and a box of chocolates, which was - in Y/N's opinion - the cheesiest apology ever. "Just...listen? For like, a minute."

She slowly let her hand slide off of the door knob, watching as Steve relaxed a significant amount even from seeing her do that. "A minute." She crossed her arms over her chest, chewing her cheek. "You have a minute."

"Okay, uh, yeah, okay." Steve began his rambling. "Listen, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have gone to that party, I know I shouldn't have gotten so drunk that I managed to convince myself that I kissed Nancy. Did I already say that I didn't actually kiss Nancy? I called her, and she said we didn't even speak. Bottom line is, I'm an asshole. I know that, and I hate myself for hurting you. Dustin told me how upset you were and I...I couldn't even comprehend the fact that I did that."

He paused, looking down at his feet and waiting for Y/N to say something. Something that didn't come, she simply stood, looking at and biting her fingernails, trying to figure out whether or not she should give in and forgive him or not, so he stopped waiting and spoke some more.

"I'm sorry. I love you. I love you so much. And I know that I fucked up, and I don't expect you to forgive me-"

"Steve." Y/N stopped him. He looked up at her, expecting that she'd look upset or annoyed, but she was smiling and shaking her head. "Come here."

"Seriously?" He already wished he hadn't said what he did before he'd even finished speaking. Seriously? What kind of thing to say was that? "I mean, you know-"

She was already hugging him before he could finish speaking. She knew that he'd ramble on for hours if he could, but she also knew that she already forgave him and didn't need to listen to his rambling. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"Oh, thank God. I thought I'd lost you, really, I did." He sighed into her hair, realising that he was probably ruining the bouquet of flowers with the way that he was crushing them against her back.

"Well, you were an asshole. You had every right to think you'd lost me." Steve had always loved her subtle sassiness, it was a habit that she often fell into unknowingly, but it made him chuckle.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I was an asshole."

She let go of him, finally, and stood back. He was wearing his light blue jeans, a black t-shirt and belt, with a blue jacket. It was an outfit that she'd seen him in before, quite a few times, but he never failed to look good in it anyway. His hair was slightly amiss, as though he'd gotten ready as quickly as he could - which was true, but she didn't know that for sure - but it still had his Steve 'the hair' Harrington charm.

"So, can I come in, or are you just gonna stand there and mock me?" He grinned and she stood to the side, allowing him to join her in the hallway. He went straight for the kitchen, taking out a vase and filling it up with water, then placing the flowers in it and leaving it on the kitchen counter.

"I didn't say you could-" She was trying to joke with him, but he didn't seem to care much, as he cut her off by dipping his head towards hers and kissing her passionately. He hated to admit it, probably something to do with the small part of his King Steve persona that he still carried around with him, but he'd missed her, and it had only been a few hours.

"Woah, easy tiger." Y/N laughed, pulling away when Steve's hands started to travel downwards. "We haven't even properly spoken yet."

"Yeah. Sorry." Steve said sheepishly. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and smiled down at the floor. "Do you wanna talk?"

She shrugged. "Not particularly."

"So, really, it's okay for me to do this," He closed the gap between them again, beaming at her while he searched her face for any sign of disapproval and admired the little flecks of contrasting colours that danced in her eyes. And then he kissed her again, lips soft against her own, gentle - something that wasn't widely believed, Steve Harrington was actually one of the most gentle people that Y/N had ever met.

"Well, yeah." She grinned, breathless. "But I'm sort of in the middle of watching a movie, wanna join?"

And so they spent the rest of the day, wrapped in the blankets on Y/N's bed and Y/N wrapped in Steve's arms, watching movies that Dustin fished out from the cabinet under the TV that Y/N didn't even know that they had.

She had to say, Steve's apologies were often cheesy and terrible, but this one wasn’t so bad as it was enjoyable.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #dustin henderson #billy hargrove #new writers corner #rogue writes #rogue does stranger things

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xboxdudett · 4 years

Text

So I heard you’d like a part 2...

@monster-bait @azureisgod

Your prayers have been answered, lmao! I opted to write this instead of my paper that’s due tomorrow, so I hope everyone enjoys. 😅 I’m contemplating stretching this into a multi-part piece and making it into like ‘he leaves without a trace and you run into him a few days later and the awkwardness ensues.’

Oh, and by the way, I was freaking out this morning because I realized that now I’m posting my own content, I can actually participate in my favorite month: Orctober!!! I’ve already started writing down plots for little stories that I can release every day of the month. 😂😂😂

And last but not least, thank you thankyou THANKYOU to all of the kind words of encouragement that I received on the first part of this. They all mean so much to me, as do all of the likes and re-blogs that you kind people bestowed upon me. THANK YOU!

NSFW below the cut!

Light filtered through the window, landing softly on your face. You slowly opened one eye, squinting in the light as you slowly drifted awake.

Letting out a small groan, you tried to shift so that the light wasn’t shining directly in your face but something around your waist seemed to be holding you still. Blinking in confusion, you glanced down in time to see the arm draped across your middle tighten its grip, pulling you back into a wall of heat.

You sucked in deep breath as the events from last night hit you. Flashes of memories from being fucked outside to then being flung onto your bed raced through your mind as you struggled to sit up. Your bed partner groaned and turned to look at you, confused as to way you were moving so much. Freezing, you realized that this was the first time you’d actually gotten a good look at them.

Dark brown eyes met yours, nestled under bushy black browns and seated in a face that looked like it belonged in the finest art museum. A sharp nose that was slightly crooked with a scar over it gave him a wild look, though you were sure his jawline was sharp enough to cut glass. Looking at his plush lips made you blush as you remembered the heat with which he had kissed you last night, and how that mouth had traversed your body.

Your eyes began to wander lower, taking in his broad shoulders and the way his collarbones pushed against his dark olive skin. His arms were corded in muscle in a way that was more reminiscent of hard work than something that had been created in a gym.

You’d just caught sight of a tantalizing little trail of black hairs that continued down, down, down-

“You know, my eyes are up here.”

Face catching aflame in a blush, you snapped your eyes up to find a smirk that looked wayyy too good on him.

Mouth hanging open and struggling to think of a response, you opted to just throw the sheets in his face and to flop back down onto the bed with your back to him.

Hearing a deep laugh, you felt him pull the sheet off of himself and throw it down towards the foot of the bed. His arms wrapped themselves back around your middle, and much to your embarrassment, you automatically shifted back into his embrace, his chest pressing against you.

You finally found your voice, saying, “You know, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, mister.”

He groaned in response to your words, knowing that this would have to be discussed at some point.

But that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try to avoid it for as long as possible.

Pressing his lips lightly against the back of your neck, he began lightly kissing across it, letting his warm exhales sweep across your skin.

You shivered as his mouth moved to your ear, feeling goosebumps break out across your body as he mouthed at the sensitive flesh. You leaned even more into him as his hands started to slowly roam your body, his palms smoothing over your skin.

Feeling an upwelling of shame fill your veins with icy cold dread as he pawed at your doughy stomach, you made to push away from him and jump up from the bed.

His arms might have of well have been made from steel for how they gripped you, not letting you move an inch.

“Oh no baby, none of that now,” was accompanied by a sharp sting to the side of your neck as he sucked a hickie into your skin. Gasping, you grabbed at his hands that were still on your stomach, pushing at them to let you go.

“My sweet little lamb, you are the finest treat that I’ve come across. Don’t think for a second that I’m not going to worship every inch of you. Now, are you going to let me treat you right, baby?”

Blushing furiously, you nodded your head, only to have your breath leave you in a gasp as his hand came down, smacking your ass.

“No no, precious. I need to hear you say it,” he said as he rubbed the spot where he’d just spanked you.

Caught off guard, you stuttered out “y-yes,” before you were met with a low growl that you’d become intimately familiar with the night before.

You barely caught the ‘good girl’ that was growled out as he turned your face back towards him, catching your lips in a deep kiss. As he began to slip his tongue into your mouth, his hands once against started to roam.

He traced your curves with his hand attached to the arm wrapped under you as the other moved upwards towards your heavy breast, cupping it into his rough palm once he reached it. Massaging it in his hand, he lightly traced around your nipple before pinching it between his digits, gently twisting it with his fingers. The gasp that you let out allowed him to deepen the kiss, encouraging you on.

Reaching behind yourself, you ran your hand down along his side, feeling your way down south. Upon reaching his bed of curls, you ran your fingers down the length of his hard cock.

He groaned as you wrapped your hand around it, feeling the weight of if in your palm. As you began to stroke, up and down, you marveled at how the velvety softness contrasted with the solid hardness within.

Bucking into your hand, he growled in your ear, “Such a naughty little lamb.”

Letting go of your abused nipple, he slid his hand downward over your stomach and in between your thighs. He hummed his approval as you shifted your legs apart, allowing him access.

Running his fingers through your curls, he massaged your mons. Deft fingers slowly made their way downward, until he was cupping your sex. Careful to avoid touching your clit, he began to work his fingers around your pussy, spreading your slickness.

Arching into his touch, you let an involuntary whine escape as you tried to get him to touch you where you wanted most. A dark laugh met your attempts as you wiggled your hips, vying for more friction. A light slap to your aching groin stilled you though, as he said, “Be still for me, and I’ll reward you.”

Groaning, you placated him by spreading your legs further and ceasing your incessant moving. Skilled fingers began moving up and down, tracing your labia and making sure that you were well lubricated.

Pleased at your compliance, he began tracing wide circles around your clit, slowly zeroing in until it was all you could do to keep from rocking your hips into his hand. Slowly but surely, he began to rub your clit, making your head fall back into the pillows with a happy groan.

Small circles were rubbed into your sensitive little nub until you were left panting and gyrating your hips with him, desperate for his touch. The small ember that had sparked to life in your lower stomach was now growing into an inferno, racing through your limbs and making your toes curl. Seeming to sense the twisting knot that was beginning to grow in your stomach, he removed his fingers from your clit, though before you could complain, he slipped one of them further down and to your entrance.

Pressing inside, he slowly began to rub small circles on a spot that had you quickly seeing stars. He pulled his hand back only to slip forward again, this time stretching you with two of his thick fingers while he rubbed your g-spot.

Realizing that you were moaning like some wanna-be porn star, you released your grip on his cock and opted to cover your mouth instead. Displeased with this, he bit the side of your neck hard enough to leave a bruise and tsked, saying, “Let me hear you. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You let go of your mouth, grabbing ahold of his other arm that was still wrapped under you and around your waist, holding you to him. In doing so, you were able to feel him reach down with it and take over the job of stimulating your clit as his other hand fucked you.

Unable to help it, you moaned and whined out loud while moving your hips against his hands, now desperate for release. Just as you were thinking that this couldn’t get better, you felt the press of his hard cock against your backside as he ground it against you, desperate for some relief himself.

Spreading your legs ever wider, you hooked your top leg back over his hip, giving him complete access to you. Desperate to cum and approaching the edge quickly, you began begging, “O-oh, please please pl-ease, I wanna cum! I’m so close, p-please.”

His answer came in the form of a low growl against the back of your neck and by pressing harder and faster into you.

You shook apart in his arms, riding out your orgasm as he continued to move his fingers. Feeling the pleasure break over you in waves, you moaned and gasped as your writhed against him.

Feeling his fingers leave you, you were about to complain when your words caught in your throat as he suddenly pressed his cock into your pussy from behind, your leg still draped over him. Still sensitive from the treatment he just gave you, all you could do was gasp and whimper as he set a brutal pace.

His hips slapped into yours, the sharp press of his hipbones so different from the pillowey softness of your thighs and ass. Reaching down and pulling your leg up even higher, he was suddenly able to hit that spot inside of you perfectly as he pounded.

Your pleas of “too soon” and “sensitive” slowly turned into cries of “more” and “please”. You rocked back into him in time with his wild beat, seeing your next orgasm on the horizon.

Just as his hips were beginning to lose all rhythm, his free hand once again found your clit, urging you on toward the edge as well.

Clenching down around his cock, you came again, just as he finished inside you. Slowly his hips stopped their assault, as he instead pressed into you and stilled. He released your leg and wrapped his arms around you again, holding you to him as you two remained connected.

Already feeling sleep tugging at you, you couldn’t help but snuggle into his heat as you drifted off with him still inside you.

#exophilia #terato #monster boyfriend #monster lover #werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolf x plus size reader #monster x reader #monster x plus size reader #plus size reader #exo #Mary Writes

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bosspigeon · 3 years

Note

"no cis nonsense in this house" please 🤲🤲 i must know

oh this one's fun! so for the last couple years, i've been outlining a plan for a potential future NANOWRIMO project when i'm in a better headspace to sit down and properly focus on it? (also, maybe when i'm actually appropriately medicated lmao)

i’ve only got a vague idea for the plot, but it mostly revolves around Urraka, a 7+ foot dragon-man, and essentially a remnant of a culture/race thought to be entirely either extinct or just a myth, and his adopted kid, Talon. Urraka is a traveling mercenary, and has been for a loooong time, and Talon was sort of raised on the road from infancy, so he’s a bit of a wild child lmao. this whole bit makes me giggle, so it’s kinda long, but i can’t decide which tidbit to cut off, so you just get all of it!

Talon's left a trail of discarded clothing in his wake, and Urraka sighs gustily. He does not change his pace, but periodically he bends down to pick up Talon's battered leather breastplate, his vambraces and kilt, and a sideways glance every now and then to make sure Puck is still keeping pace notes the progress of a mottled flush working its way from the fidgety scholar's ears to his neck and further still beneath his starched clothes.

“It has been a while since we've had a proper wash,” Urraka explains as he catches the flash of his ward's bare backside streaking its way towards the river. Urraka can only hope no wild animals make off with the lad's breeches before he can retrieve them.

“I suppose regular hygiene is difficult to maintain with such a lifestyle,” Puck mumbles, burying his nose in his book pointedly. Talon's too far ahead of them at this point for his weak [human] eyes to make out any details beyond “probably nude” but Urraka keeps this to himself and simply nudges the squirrelly creature away from any obstructions in the path.

When they reach the river, Urraka has gathered most of Talon's gear, and he dumps it on a dry patch of sun-warmed gravel and starts the arduous process of hauling off his own kit.

It's the height of summer, so the river is more of a stream than anything, just barely waist-deep where Talon's splashing around more than he's truly attempting to get himself clean.

Urraka spots a few darker spots that may be deep enough for him to sink himself at least to the hips, maybe to his waist if he sits. But anything is better than nothing, especially when it comes to clearing out dirt between his scales. He rolls his shoulders, and swears he can hear the grit grinding in his scutes.

“Hey, Da, can you toss me the soap?” Talon shouts. Urraka hardly has one foot in the water (warm at the edge, but he's hoping there's at least a few cool spots) but he still rumbles his irritation loud enough for the boy to hear as he lumbers back towards his haversack where it sits slumped on the bank.

Puck stands alongside it, fidgeting like he always seems to do, squinting up towards the sky in an effort to avoid looking at either of his naked traveling companions.

“Doesn't make much sense to blind yourself on our account,” Urraka hums, bending to retrieve the hard tallow soap from his bag. “Modesty has no place on the road, but I'd recommend turning around if it bothers you so much. Better than staring at the sun, at any rate.”

His ruddy cheeks go even ruddier, and Urraka can nearly feel the heat radiating off his ears. His eyes flicker downwards for a split second, and, unfortunately for him, where they'd rest at about chest-height on an average-sized person, they land just at Urraka's groin. He makes a strangled sound and spins around, and the Dragoi bites the inside of his cheek so he doesn't laugh out loud.

“If it makes you feel better, my kind don't keep our bits on the outside.” Puck's back goes ramrod straight, and Urraka's not sure if he's going to start scribbling that in his journal or run for the hills.

“Hey!” Talon hollers from the river. “Where's that soap, old man?”

Without looking, Urraka tosses a bar over his shoulder, and smirks when he hears a satisfying thunk, then an indignant squawk and a splash.

He glances back to see Talon sputtering as he drags himself upright. “Fuck you, ya big bastard lizard!” he roars, sweeping his arms together in a furious thunderclap that sends an arc of water towards him.

Urraka doesn't flinch, seeing as, to him, it's hardly enough water to be anything other than slightly refreshing. But it is more than enough to entirely drench Puck's back. The lad fair squeals and darts away, but it's too late to save his clothes, and he turns a miserable gaze towards the river, where Talon's laughing so hard he's liable to drown himself.

Urraka strides forward into the water, scoops up his insufferable brat before he can gather himself, and hurls him towards deeper water, where he hits with a shout and a resounding crash that echoes down the valley.

“May as well join us,” he calls out to Puck, who appears to be frantically checking his satchel to make sure none of his tools, supplies, or books have been damaged. He looks up, face still fair glowing red, and before he can protest, Urraka adds, “Your clothes will dry faster without you in them, and you've been on the road with us for two days without a bath yourself.”

Urraka doesn't wait to see if the scribe will take his advice, since Talon's erupted from the water like a wrathful sea-beast and is striking out furiously towards him. He's almost twenty feet away, but a quick enough swimmer, so Urraka at least tries to wash his face and crest before he's got the little monster clambering all over him and trying, in vain, to drag him under the water.

A delicate splash at the water's edge and he turns towards Puck, who huddles in the shallows where the water is still warm, and squawks indignantly when he catches Urraka looking.

He simply arches the heavy ridge of his brows and looks away politely, lathering up his own soap and scrubbing the sage-scented suds over his chest.

Talon seems to have tuckered himself out, between the run to the river and the following shenanigans, and when he reaches Urraka he just punches him solidly in the hip and finally focuses on washing up himself. He grumbles something about being lucky the river is clear enough for him to have found his soap.

Once Urraka's sloughed off the worst of the grit and grime of two week's rough travel, he breaks off a bit of his own soap and offers it to Puck, making sure not to look directly at him. The lad mutters a quiet thanks and begins his own ablutions.

Talon rises from the deeper water and sloshes off to the bank to find a nice warm spot to lie down and dry off, and behind Urraka, Puck makes that scandalized, choked sound again. Urraka turns to him, brows quirked, to see those wide eyes staring at Talon as if he can't help it. A prickle of protective instinct itches under his scutes.

“You're really a g-urgh!”

Urraka's claws wrapping around his head and pushing him under the water cut his words off with a gurgle, and he comes up sputtering, his dandelion puff hair wetted down in sandy tangles around his face. “No,” Urraka rumbles at him, dangerously low, and up to this point, he's been careful with showing his teeth, because every time he's so much as smiled, the porcine stink of the scribe's fear-sweat was nigh unbearable. But now, he bares them with clear intent, and Puck goes from blotchy red to starkly sallow, eyes bulging wide with terror. “He is not.”

Talon hasn't taken notice of the exchange, too busy sprawling out in the sun-warmed grass just beyond the riverbank, and Urraka stares hard at the scribe, daring him to say anything more on the subject.

The lad is bumbling, awkward, and wastes all the energy that should go towards walking on chattering endlessly, but he's at least clever enough to figure out, in this moment at least, it's wiser to be quiet.

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randomestfandoms-ocs · 3 years

Note

What’s Kirsty’s relationship with Jess like? (I know you touched on it a bit in the Yale ask but I wanna know more!)

Short answer: “true friends don’t judge each other, they judge other people together” meets “slow burn found family”

Long Answer: oh boy buckle up we’re getting an Outline™ bc I really don’t know how to sum it up bc it’s a lot of growth and shit! it’s like... many many paragraphs so I’m tossing this under a cut bc i don’t want to be murdered lmao

(I’m just... v proud of how much work went into planning out their whole arc and how the dynamic shifts and how certain plots play into things and I just wanted to share it all I couldn’t chill and I’m like half sorry but thank you for this ask I love them)

So when they first meet they don’t really get along because they’re just generally both kind of abrasive and shit, like it’s not personal on either end but they both generally push people away so that they don’t open themselves up to get hurt which makes their first couple of meetings kind of rough

but then there’s the dinner at Lorelai’s and Kirsty went outside because the whole vibe was just setting her on edge, and she hears the Lorelai rant bullshit (hi lorelai he’s seventeen and your an adult grow the fuck up) and as he leaves she goes after him — she tries to apologize for “my mom being... well, the way she is” and Jess immediately snaps back that he doesn’t want her pity, and Kirsty just shrugs and goes “nah dude I get it, parents suck. My dad is a piece of shit and my mom, well, you’ve met her... not to mention she named Rory after herself and me after my piece of shit dad so I’m sure you can guess who her favourite child is” and just keeps it very chill and Jess takes that a lot better than pity and they end up talking for a bit and are like “yeah okay I can get along with you” and like they aren’t close but they both like pissing Taylor off and giving Luke ulcers so it works well enough

Kirsty absolutely flips her shit when Taylor calls the town meeting about Jess like she tears into him more aggressively than anyone has seen before and basically tells them all to shut the fuck up and “let him at least settle in before you pull out the fucking pitchforks” and goes off on them all for trying to bully a seventeen year old kid out of a town he didn’t even choose to move to and like Luke still gets there and flips his shit too but Kirsty is completely feral calling out the hypocrisy and telling them to get off their high horses and pull their heads out of their asses — like they might not be close but Kirsty is so far beyond pissed at the idea of Taylor calling a meeting literally just to get everyone to hate Jess that she can’t just stand there quietly

Fast forward a bit and they’re getting along a bit better, Kirsty spends so much time at the diner that she and Jess have taken to talking during Jess’ shifts and Kirsty helps out when she can so they’re starting to actually get along, Kirsty has figured out the tells for when Jess just can’t deal with people anymore and will make up all sorts of excuses to get him a break (anything from ‘hey can you read over this essay’ to ‘hey did you remember to grab that book from upstairs’ to basically anything else that comes to mind) which he appreciates and when he’s on his breaks he sits at the counter to do homework with her

By the Bracebridge dinner they’re like actually friends, and when Jess meets Tristan for the first time he’s fully prepared to hate him but when he sees how shitty Lorelai is being about Tristan he’s just like “okay guess we’re in the same boat” so the three of them end up working together to stay as far away from Lorelai as possible for most of the night and Kirsty is just very grateful for the buffer because like she just can’t deal with Lorelai and Jess remembers her comment on the “you can guess who the favourite is” and starts to see how much Lorelai’s disapproval actually bothers Kirsty

fast forward even more to Christopher coming to town and with Sherry and all that and oof Kirsty is not okay like her relationship with Christopher is terrible and Jess kind of knows this already (based on the fact that Kirsty asked Luke to stand in for her dad at the debutante ball because she wanted nothing to do with Christopher; and he’s heard her bitch about him before) but when Christopher and Sherry come to the house, Kirsty excuses herself for “dance rehearsal” and runs over to the diner and Luke is out at the moment and Kirsty is Not Okay™ and Jess is the one who sees her just standing in the doorway shaking and clearly about to start crying and he just quietly leads her up to the apartment and sits down and lets her sort of collapse on the couch and she tells him about Christopher and about how unreliable and flakey he always was and how Luke has always been more her dad than him and he always shows up and tries to play happy family and then bails as soon as he gets bored or something comes up and about how now he’s apparently changing and becoming mr family man and why wasn’t she worth changing for

and jess has no idea how to handle this whole breakdown because he's a little bit emotionally stunted (which is fair and so is she) but it definitely resonates with him and he ends up sitting next to her and telling her that if Christopher wasn’t willing to change for she and Rory then it’s because of him not her and trying to comfort her even though he really doesn’t know how, and ends up opening up to her about Liz and his life before Stars Hollow too. It’s more than either of them have shared with anyone before and it’s very strange tbh — at this point they’re definitely veering into the friend category but neither of them would admit it, not to mention they don’t talk that often because neither of them wants to deal with a Lorelai Gilmore Hissy Fit, you know?

(also a sidenote, Tristan is completely chill about literally all of this like he and Kirsty are the healthiest relationship and have very good communication skills now and he's just like “hey I don’t live nearby and Kirsty hates cars, I’m just glad she has someone to talk to”)

and okay so now we’re at the episode where Lorelai accuses Jess of stealing the bracelet and this is just as Kirsty is getting home, and Lorelai is more of a bitch than in canon (but seriously Lorelai grow up and let Dean deal with his own relationship issues ugh) — as Jess is leaving, Kirsty turns around and calls Lorelai out on being an absolute bitch and on the fact that she’s an adult and Jess is seventeen and to grow the fuck up because she’s acting like her mother and believe it or not she doesn’t actually know everything. Kirsty then sort of storms off, and Jess ends up walking with her and just goes “hey, thanks for that” and Kirsty goes “don’t mention it” and they just sort of laugh and part ways so she can go to Miss Patty’s but anyways I’m soft for Kirsty fighting the entire town for him

then we have the hilarious scene of Kirsty looking Dean in the eye, knowing full well that he literally just saw her getting out of Tristan’s car, and going “yes I’m completely in love with jess is that a problem” and jess going “oh Kirsty I’m really flattered but while you were gone I started talking to Paris and I think I’m in love” and they’re just such little shits I love them

and okay now I promise we’re getting close to the speedrun part of this relationship lmaooo

so Kirsty is the one who ends up tutoring Jess and like he’s not on the verge of flunking because Kirsty has already been forcing him to do his homework semi regularly but he has trouble staying on task (he’s a mood) so Kirsty is basically there to make sure that he gets all of his final projects done — they take a break to go get ice cream and the car accident happens and Kirsty gets injured and she’s having a panic attack and she begs Jess to stay with her so he does, she lies to the hospital staff and tells them that he’s her step-brother so that he can stay with her because she’s afraid of hospitals and doesn’t want to be alone. He stays with her until they hear Lorelai and then sneaks out the window; at this point Kirsty has finally called him her friend — while high on painkillers and introducing him to Richard and Emily, who she had him call because she knew Lorelai wouldn’t (they like him much better in this !verse than canon because Kirsty knows how to play them lmao)

Lorelai still pitches a fit to Luke and Jess still leaves and jesus christ when Kirsty finds out about all of that she flips her shit even more than she did at the town meeting, calls Lorelai petty and selfish and a shit mother and tells her that she’s more like Emily than she wants to admit, and this is very possibly when Kirsty finally drops one of my favourite lines of hers — “you and Rory might be best friends first and mother daughter second but I never needed a best friend, I needed a mom. And now I don’t want either.” — and crashes at either Luke’s or Miss Patty’s (and is not thrilled when she finds out that Lorelai called Christopher and that he’s now back and awnting to play dad again)

fast forward and Kirsty knows Jess is in New York but they haven’t talked and Sookie’s wedding happens and Kirsty and Lorelai have their huge fight (this is the other point where that favourite line might happen, I’m torn) and Kirsty packs up and moves to New York for the summer to play Victoria in Cats on Broadway

She gets to New York and she’s staying at a hotel provided by the production company and she’s lonely and miserable and she’s never really been alone before and low and behold she stumbles into some diner on the verge of tears (just a bad day and everything is too much and she’s about to break) when all of a sudden she hears “wow, deja vu. Coffee?” and she turns around and low and behold it’s Jess Mariano. She accepts and sits at the diner until his shift is done and then they leave together and catch up and he offers to be her tour guide, and over the next week they become really close (all of both of their coworkers think that they’re siblings at this point) and blah blah lots of details I won’t get into bc seriously how many paragraphs is this thing, but Emily and Richard end up renting Kirsty this huge penthouse apartment and she manages to convince them to let Jess live with her and they become super close and kind of codependent and skip right over the friend stage to the “this is my brother, Jess” stage lmao and basically everyone in stars hollow except for lorelai and rory (bc kirsty and lorelai aren’t talking for most of the summer and rory is in dc so she and kirsty aren’t talking much either) know because they all came out for her opening weekend and everyone thinks it’s hilarious and their new york friends think Luke is their dad bc he called them “my kids” without thinking about it

also Tristan visits as much as he can get away with and seriously he and Jess become really good friends too and they’re just like, an iconic trio okay I love them

fast forward they go back to stars hollow together the day of the summer festival thing and that’s when Lorelai and Rory find out about their friendship and Lorelai is Not Happy and then Tristan shows up and the three of them are being adorable and having a great time and Lorelai flips out and there’s yet another fight (seriously Lorelai pls stop assuming you always know best, you don’t) and the fight is angsty but there’s the softness of jess finally really accepting that Kirsty meant it when she said that things weren’t going to change when they got back to stars hollow and they don’t and it’s just great

and in season 3 they’re just still all soft and codependent and Lorelai is forced to accept that Jess knows Kirsty better than she does and Rory has some really fun “what the actual fuck” moments watching Lorelai & Luke and Kirsty & Jess have the exact same arguments because Kirsty did inherit Lorelai’s ability to annoy people into doing things like participating in town events and season 3 is just very very soft and there are so many scenes/episodes that I’m so excited for

and anyways this was so long and I’m sorry but also I’m not because like i just really love this dynamic and I want to just like skip two seasons and just write new york & season three because i love them so muchhhhhhhh and anyways yeah

TLDR they’re a slowburn rivals to found family with a speedrun towards the end and i fucking love them so much

#ask #answered #papergirlverse #kirsty gilmore #about kirsty #kirsty x jess #but like platonic

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