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soulwillower · 3 years

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semi-charming • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :) + AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH + don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au,

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional.

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that.

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake.

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise.

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door.

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes.

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either.

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music."

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off."

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation.

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding.

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give.

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in."

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it.

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him.

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?"

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms.

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?"

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person.

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst.

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg.

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall.

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!"

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him.

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either.

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts.

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet.

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack."

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf.

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot.

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you.

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip.

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane. "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly.

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth.

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away.

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid.

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh.

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from.

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done."

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated."

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly.

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are, i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk.

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out.

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you.

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you.

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own. "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving?

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants.

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes.

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down.

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate.

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once.

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure.

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?"

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to."

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock.

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back.

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly.

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan.

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums.

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out.

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce.

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building.

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours.

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

"you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to.

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids��of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already.

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple.

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours.

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close.

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters.

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall.

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous.

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease.

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffeew

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough smut #losers club x reader #losers club smut

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like for suggesting the backstory thing!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Additional Scene || Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Hot single in your area! 😈 Find your solemate!

Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer.

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already.

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message!

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you.

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you.

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact.

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo.

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh.

“Okay, what now?”

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge.

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing.

It never comes.

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards.

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack.

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement.

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?”

He stares at you.

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that.

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long.

Fuck, he really had only one option.

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him.

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference.

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition.

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation.

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

“I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?”

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated.

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it.

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it.

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.”

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips.

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by.

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?”

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion.

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects.

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.”

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead.

Fucking finally.

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place.

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight.

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam.

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming.

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him.

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly.

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you.

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious.

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment.

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying.

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles.

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.”

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles.

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm.

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.”

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified.

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground.

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below.

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient.

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes.

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.”

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand.

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally.

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly.

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.”

“See you there.” Sam nods.

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure.

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business.

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that?

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all.

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry.

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available.

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly.

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?”

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued.

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour.

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.”

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb.

Tony has an idea.

And that was generally bad news.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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calaofnoldor · 3 years

Text

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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1kook · 4 years

Text

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That��s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

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i-like-writing-stuff · 4 years

Text

sorry [five hargreeves x reader]

request: wanted to say I love ur 5 fics and how you portray their relationship as old partners :”) 💖If it’s not trouble to do (Dont feel obligated plz) I had this idea of 5 and reader having a fight and them being too prideful or bitter to apologize. Reader ignores him for some time and Five gets grumpier than usual bc of that. To the point where, one of his siblings tell him to just stop being children, apologize and give them flowers. But he finds it hard bc he is not good with that kinda of stuff ☺️

a/n: thank youuu <3, i try my best to keep the tua characters in... well, character lol- as much as possible! i hope this fic turned the way you wanted it, anyway- enjoy!!~

summary: five gets grumpy when his girlfriend gives him the silent treatment for being a jerk... shocker.

“Could you stop for one damn second and relax?!” You yelled at your boyfriend, already stressed out by the way he had been almost carving a hole through the floor of the living room with all his pacing.

“Relax?!” Five yelled, turning to glare at you, “Do you even realize how stupid you sound?! How could I relax- I lost my last lead on that fucking eye!”

“Come again?” You raised a brow, crossing your arms as you watched him curiously. Did he just call you stupid indirectly?

Your nerves were tugging at the last threads of patience you had left within you- they had been doing that for a few days. You knew that life wouldn’t be quiet when you decided to give a relationship with your partner a shot, but you never expected things to get so messy.

Not only you followed his grumpy butt all the way to 2019 to stop an apocalypse- which you couldn’t care less about, now you had been stuck in your younger bodies because he miscalculated something before traveling in time. On top of all that, he had been a jerk to his siblings- which you grew quite fond of and viceversa, he also started being an asshole to you, all because he couldn’t find a way to stop the apocalypse.

“Five Hargreeves, did you just call me stupid?” You asked, seeing that he was frozen in place, going back over his words in his mind.

“Not exactly.” He knitted his brows in confusion, before realizing the irritated look on your face, “I don’t have time for this, Y/N.”

“You think I had any time these past two years putting up with your shit?” You retorted, making him raise his brows in surprise by your sudden burst, “Screw you, asshole.”

“Now that was rude!” He yelled after you, once you started walking out of the room, completely ignoring him, “Y/N!”

You had been with the Commission for over four decades, you completely trusted its choices, since you never were given a reason not to. Well, that was until the Handler recruited Five Hargreeves. He was about four-five years older than you, but nonetheless still had the impeccable skills of an assassin- just what the organization wanted and needed.

You, being one of the Handler’s most trusted agents, she assigned him under your wing in the beginning until he’d get adjusted. So, he became your partner, it didn’t take long until he became your partner in the real sense of the word.

Five was in love with you- stupidly in love with you. He loved your wit and your kindness, he loved that he could have intellectual conversations with you for hours on end, he loved the fact that he’d feel whole again with just one look at your face, your smile, your eyes.

But he was a prideful man, he knew that. If he was wrong- which he rarely was, he had no intention of apologizing. You knew how important stopping the apocalypse was to him, but... it pained you to see him almost lose his shit completely when he loses the last remaining lead.

For the next couple of hours, you completely avoided him at all costs until he’d get that stick out of his ass and apologize.

And he’d better have a grand way of doing it.

You knew that it was not like him- he’d never apologize, and the fact that you were avoiding him was not making it any easier on him, but you were beyond pissed. Even if he may not have meant it, all you tried to do was help him relax for a moment, take a breather before that pretty head of his would explode. And in return?

In return, Five fucking Hargreeves continues being an asshole- what a surprise.

“Jesus, where did all the caffeine in this house go?!” Five groaned, searching the cupboards in the kitchen, feeling grumpier than usual.

“I told you- dad didn’t like it.” Allison reminded him, as she and Luther sat at the table, watching him in confusion, “What’s got into you?”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, not done yet with his search- he wanted at least something that felt like coffee, “Come on- we don’t even have... coffee flavored fucking chocolate or some shit like that..?” He mumbled, shutting the cupboard with a loud smack.

“She means... you’re... grumpier... than usual...” Luther hesitantly explained, afraid that his little-older psychotic brother might have finally snapped.

“Mind your business, will ya?” Five asked with a fake smile, stomping out of the kitchen.

“I love Y/N, I swear I do... and oddly enough, Five too.” Allison spoke up, “But honestly, what was she thinking becoming his girlfriend?”

“I am just happy for her they’re not married.” Luther shrugged, resting his hand on his palm, as Diego walked into the kitchen;

“Is it just me or is Five a lesser ray of sunshine than usual?”

The following day, you treated Five with the same coldness as the prior day, which really drove him insane. Not only he spent the night in his bed alone, since you decided to bunk for the night in one of the empty rooms, but now you were still giving him the silent treatment.

Luckily, during breakfast, the Hargreeves siblings finally managed to understand what was going on.

“Hey, Diego, do you think we can pay Eudora a visit at the station after breakfast?” You asked the man, “I promised her the other day some files to help with an investigation she has on the side.”

“Sure thing.” Diego smiled, looking forward to seeing the detective again, even if he bickered with her from time to time.

“What files?” Five asked curiously.

“Vanya, can you please pass me the salt?” You ignored him, smiling at his sister.

Vanya raised a brow, unsure what to do, as the other siblings were piecing the puzzle together. Five raised a brow, as you avoided eye contact with him, waiting for the salt shaker which was, ironically, closer to him than Vanya.

“Here.” He said, reaching for it before his sister, handing it to you.

You looked at him with a smile, then at the salt shaker that was waiting on you to pick it from your boyfriend’s hand. Instead, you scoffed, getting up from your seat with your plate in your hands, suddenly losing your appetite.

“I am gonna go change.” You declared, placing your dish in the sink, “Diego, I’ll wait for you in the car.”

“Unbelievable....” Five muttered, throwing the salt shaker somewhere on the table, before abruptly getting up from his seat to pour himself a cup of freshly made coffee- Klaus made sure to stock up since Allison and Luther told him what had happened the other day.

“Why is Y/N giving you the cold shoulder?” Diego asked his brother, raising a brow.

“Leave me alone.” Five muttered, leaving the room even grumpier, with his hot cup of coffee in his hand to at least soothe him down a bit.

“Five!” Allison yelled after him, but he was already out of there, “Urgh, he’s such a child!”

After you and Diego had left the Hargreeves mansion, Five found it hard to focus on trying to get another lead on the prosthetic eye- he could not stop thinking about the fact that it almost had been twenty four hours since the woman he loved had chosen to deliberately ignore him, all because his stupid mouth could not help snapping at her.

What a moron he was, he knew that.

“Y/N told me what happened.” Allison told her brother, entering his room softly, watching as he laid on his bed on his back, “And woah- aren’t you an asshole?”

“What do you want, Allison?” He asked, rolling his eyes, staring up at his ceiling.

“Here’s a crazy idea... why don’t you apologize?” She suggested, crossing her arms.

“Have you... met me?” Five frowned, lifting his head to watch his sister in confusion.

“Look, you and Y/N both need to stop being children!” She said, “I know you may have teen bodies, but aren’t you both like over fifty? Honestly, Five...”

“Knowing I will regret this, what do you suggest, Allison?” Five asked with a sigh, watching as his sister smirked in response.

You and Diego didn’t really take long to finish your business at the police station. In about thirty minutes, you both were back on your way home, unaware of the big surprise that was waiting for you.

You entered the house, stretching your arms, already telling yourself you needed a drink, even if it was only noon. You figured a glass of some expensive bourbon would calm you down, so you made your way in the living room, as Diego went to his room in his own business.

Although, you couldn’t help but widen your eyes in surprise, as you stopped in your tracks once your look fell on Five, who was sitting at the bar with a Margarita in one hand, and a big bouquet of flowers rested in his lap.

“Five?” You frowned, stepping towards him confused.

Never in his life, would Five ever think he’d be so happy to hear his name on your lips. He softly smiled, realizing that Allison’s plan was working, as you finally spoke to him, even if it was one word.

“Y/N.” Five gulped, setting down his glass to jump off the stool, “These are for you...” He hesitantly said, stretching his hands towards you, as he held the big, colorful bouquet of all sorts of flowers towards you.

“I... Uh... what?” You frowned, taken aback by the gesture.

Five wasn’t necessarily the romantic type, so this was the first bouquet of flowers you ever received from him. You knew he loved you with all his heart and he was in love with you, that’s why you didn’t care about the romantic gestures he never did- but, right now, watching his cheeks turn into a slight shade of pink as he was biting on his bottom lip anxiously- your heart melted.

Allison had given him all sorts of advice on how to apologize to you with the help of Vanya, since they were both well aware of the fact that their brother was not capable of saying such words by himself. But right now, as you stood before him, Five had forgotten all that they taught him.

“I... I suck at this kind of stuff, I gotta be honest.” Five sighed, stepping closer to you, still with the bouquet in his hands, as you were still hesitant, “I... I shouldn’t have snapped at you, Y/N, I know. You didn’t deserve to be told that, even if I didn’t mean it at all. I swear, I was only mad and I never meant to take it out on you.”

“Oh my God.” You covered your mouth in shock, “Are you... actually... trying to apologize to me?”

“Sort of... yeah...” Five sighed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “Look, what I am trying to say... What I am trying to say is that I appreciate your love, and having your support with me, and I know you care about my well-being.”

“Keep going...” You smirked, stepping closer to him, “Come on... they are three simple words.”

“Right...” Five sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Look, Y/N? I... I am...”

You didn’t even let him finish, as you softly took the bouquet out of his hand not to squish it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a tight hug. You knew how hard it must have been so far for a know-it-all like Five to say that, so you didn’t want to push him further. To you it was enough that he at least felt sorry for bursting like that.

“I love you.” Five sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist, “And I truly mean what I said earlier.”

“I love you too.” You smiled, not yet pulling away from the loving embrace, “And I know... I know...”

Five pulled away to smile down at you, “Thank you for being so understanding... and supportive.”

“I’d say it is my pleasure, but I’d be lying.” You teased him, bopping his nose with the free hand that was not wrapped around his neck still and holding the flowers.

“Hilarious.” Five sarcastically said, slowly leaning in, “I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking.”

“Really?” You scoffed, but before you could continue the playful banter, Five had already captured your lips into a soft kiss, finding a better way to shut you up.

#tua #tua netflix #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #netflix #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader

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kelieah · 3 years

Text

going on dates with arvin russell

request (summary): anon: I read one of your head cannons for Arvin the other day and loved it!! Could you do one with a drive-in movie theater where they get a little steamy or another one where they go dancing maybe the reader is shy about dancing and Arvin’s all sweet about it? I just love both date ideas and so much could happen! You don’t have to do either, I know it’s vague but I’m here for just about anything:)

anon: Hey Arvin x reader fluff just going on a date

word count: 1.7k

warnings: fluff fluff luff, lil bit of suggestive content

a/n: ugh the idea of going on a date w arvin fking russell during the 50s? yes pls,, and thank you sm doll! decided to do multiple dates bc yes. also yes i decided to make this a head canon bc im too lazy / busy to write out a whole ass fic, but this is still going to be a long ass head canon so ennnjooooyy i hope ehbejsf

main masterlist | arvin russell masterlist

when you first met arvin you never thought of him as a romantic guy

but oh you were so wrong

so wrong

your first date with arvin was nothing what you’d expect to be

i mean

it’s not like you expected arvin to show up with two cans of beer and a carton of cigarettes

but you didn’t expect him to go all out either

you remember your first date with that damn boy like it was yesterday

he showed up to your house with a bunch of flowers

you could tell he picked them out from the park or something

but it was the thought that counted and it warmed your heart

god what a sight he was

all doe-eyed

face still mean as hell though

and pretty too of course

you liked to call him pretty boy and he called you stupid

anyway

his eyebrows were a bit furrowed and knitted together

but the look in his eye and the small smile on his lips

enough to make any girl swoon

“hey,” he said briefly, pushing out the poor yet lovely flowers in his hands

some were fully bloomed, bright yet dull

some lopping over

some dead

even a little bit of dirt and roots hanging from the end

but you could tell he tried

he tied a bit of woven rope around it all to keep it together

before you could speak he interrupted

“i– i know girls like flowers. but i couldn’t get you em fancy ones from the store cus. yanno. m’ sorry doll, but this is all i could get,” he held them out again and you gladly took them

“there’s no need to apologize, i love these arvin. thank you,” you smiled and leaned close towards him, kissing his cheek

his cheeks were instantly dusted with pink at your affectionate gesture

“y’ of course. my pleasure. well, uhm. if you’re ready, my car’s parked a bit down the road, cause you said your parents?” he trailed off, glancing behind you.

you nodded and giggled softly

“yea, they usually don’t like it when boys come over. but i don’t give a fuck,” you whispered the last part and sent him a wink

god he loved it when you cursed

he found it kinda hot he told you

he flushed and looked away, chuckling

“well alright, do you want me to wait in my car?” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking back at you

“yep, i’ll be out ina jiffy,” you said, about to turn the other way and put the flowers in a vase

“wait,” he coughed while taking a step forward

“yeah, arvin?” you turned back towards him

“you look real pretty,” he complimented you

it was then your turn to blush

“why thank—” before you said anything he turned around and walked off to your car

you always found him such an interesting fella

you giggled to yourself and retreated back into your home

he first took you on a long drive

which honestly scared you a bit

“you sure you’re not taking me somewhere to kill me?” you muttered and looked around

nothing but trees and road was in sight

“i think,” he replied blankly, one hand on the wheel while the other was on his thigh casually

you blushed at the sight

you weren’t sure why you found it attractive

but you sure did

“how reassuring,” you teased, catching a smirk beginning to curl at the end of his lips

he eventually found a spot and parked on to a hill, that looked over knockemstiff

the sun was setting and the town was dark

it looked absolutely beautiful

he got out of the car and soon opened your door, holding out his hand

you jokingly froze and looked at him suspiciously

“you sure y’ not gonna kill—”

before you could finish your sentence he pulled your arm towards him, holding you close

you let out a squeal and looked at him with a flushed expression

“no, i’d never. you hear me dumb one?” he cupped the side of your face

you blushed and nodded into his touch

“m’ only teasing. jeez.”

he chuckled and pulled you carefully toward the front of his car

“gimme a minute,” he walked off towards the back of his car

you smiled and leaned against his car, looking out at the stunning scenery in front of you

soon arvin came out with a picnic basket

he’d hear you before the both of you went on a date that you loved picnics

so of course, he had to take you on a picnic

it was so sweet

a basket full of sandwiches, pop, and some cheap snacks he managed to buy

with change, he scrounged all over his room, place, and car

the both of you shared your first kiss that night

“i’d genuinely never met a girl like you,” he murmured, looking down at you as lied across his lap

“well i sure as hell never met a boy like you,” you whispered and looked back up at him

you both leaned closer and closer towards each other’s faces

and then pure

bliss

your lips fit perfectly on his

his floppy hair that was surprisingly not hidden underneath a cap fell onto your face

he held your face so gently and you held onto his shirt like you were going to fall

you both kissed the night away

he’d never put so much effort into dates before

most of his past dates were sexual, but he didn’t tell you that until later

the more dates you two had, the better they got

now this one date you took him on

you don’t know how you did it

but you managed to get the poor boy to go rollerskating with you

and lord

was it a great laugh for you

as soon as the two of you rolled out into the arena

arvin was wobbling all of the place

you had multiple fits of giggles and laugh

“how the hell!” he grunted and continuously slipped

eventually having to hold onto the railing

“honey, you just glide y’ feet,” you snickered and held his hand

“yeah no shit. it’s like m’ a goddamn baby again learning how to fucking walk,” he muttered frustratingly underneath his breath

“awe you poor poor baby,” you teased and squeezed his hand. “just watch me lover, look at me feet. move with me, ready?”

he nodded and stared at you closely

you began to move your feet slowly, watching him as he watched you

“yes! see you’re getting there, slowly. yep. wow arvin, didn’t think ya had it in y—”

course

before you could even finish your praise

he let out a loud yelp while slipping, bringing you down in the process

you landed on his chest

he let out a grunt, holding you up before you could hurt yourself more

you both looked at each other in disbelief and burst out in laughter

it was moments like these where the both of you truly enjoyed each other’s presence

some dates were steamier than the other

the two of you were supposed to be watching the movie

while in his car and snacking

but of course y’all couldn’t keep your hands of each of other

his hand was already up your skirt

caressing your skin

while your tongues pressed against each other

your hand tangled in his hair

you felt his finger brush against your lower area and you gasped in response

yeah you and arvin had made out before

but it’s never gotten farther than that

so lil touches like that surprised you

“oh m’ sorry baby doll. did you not like that?” he pulled his hand away immediately

he cupped your face with his other hand and looked at you with pure concern

you blushed and shook your head

“no i liked it. i’m just scared, but you can continue. please?” you leaned into his touch

“okay, i got you,” he smirked slightly and pushed his hand back under your skirt

let’s just say

you saw fireworks for the first time that night

and not any typical fireworks

as the weeks went on

you and arvin were inseparable

everyday was a date and the both of you couldn’t be happier

one day he really surprised you

he got you and him tickets to some dinner and dance

“ain’t no way, you, arvin russell got these,” you looked down at the tickets in your hand

“gee thanks darlin’, but yes. i did get these, for us,” he stuffed his hands in pockets and looked down at the ground sheepishly

you let out a loud squeal that scared the hell out of him

you jumped into his arms and crushed his bones while hugging him

he laughed softly and held you up, spinning you around

honestly, you thought the two of you would just go for the food

for some reason you didn’t think he’d like the dancing

but oh were you wrong

again

“c’ mon beautiful,” he begged and dragged your hand toward the dance floor

“i don’t know about dancing baby, you know me,” you whined and hesitantly followed

“oh yes i do know you y/n. and i know i got you tied around my finger. so you know damn well you’re going to dance with me right now,” he said lowly underneath his breath, leaning close toward your face

his hot breath fanning your skin and sending chills throughout your face

cocky motherfucker

you huffed and glared up at him, “yea i know, i know.”

“okay perfect, follow my lead gorgeous,” he placed his hands around your hips while he brought your arms to snake around his neck

“n-now what?” you said awkwardly, your body still a bit stiff

usually he’d hate to do this in such a crowd but since you were there with him

he felt like it was just you and him

all alone

that’s always how you made him felt

like it was you and him against the world

“i got you. alright? just move with me, it’s just you and me. don’t focus on nobody but us,” he murmured softly and began to sway

you smiled timidly and swayed along with him

you kept your eyes on your shoes, afraid to step on him

“don’t worry about that, just look at me angel,” he reassured

you sighed and looked back up at him, “mk. since when did you dance?”

“mama taught me when i was a kid, she’d dance with me,” he confessed sheepishly

your eyes softened

“i love you,” you nuzzled your nose against his

his heart hammered in his chest at those three goddamn words

“shit,” he mumbled as his cheeks burned red

“w- what?” you said a bit panicked, about to pull back

he pulled your body closer and embraced you while pressing his lips against yours

you complied and kissed him back, smiling against his lips

he moved back and placed his forehead against yours, “i love you a lot more, flower.”

and right then and there

you just knew you were the luckiest girl in the world

to be able to be with someone like him

to be able to go on dates like these with arvin russell

taglist + inbox link under the cut! thanks for reading ツ

leave a comment, give me some feedback pls! it’s greatly appreciated mwah

click here for the taglist form

@veryholland @hollandcrush @ptersmj @peterbenjiparker @sunsetholland @marvelouspeterparker @spideyyeet @fallinfortom @theamazingtomholland @geminiparkers @musicalkeys @cocoamoonmalfoy @starlight-starks @dummiesshort @madz-holland @axen-gers @repostcentral @theliterarymess @peterspideyy @calltothewild @lillucyandthejets @missyouhollnd @lowkey-holland @hufflepuffprincess24 @thehumanistsdiary @ambivalent-anarchy @musicalkeys @parkerpeter24 @spideyspeaches @peter-ethereal-p

#kelly's headcanons #arvin russell #arvin russell fanfiction #arvin russell imagines #arvin russell headcanons #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell x you #arvin russell x y/n #arvin russell fluff #arvin russell smut #arvin russell one shot #tdatt #the devil all the time

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blazedgraysons · 3 years

Note

virgin reader giving grayson a bj

a/n: i promise i’m working on requests, my life has just been incredibly busy along with me working on the no nut fic and some other exciting things for y’all!! anyways thank you for the request angel, hope you like it🤍🤍

warnings: first-time bj’s, lack of communication between these two, and grayson having a bit of innocence kink if you squint

this is a continuation of this request. you don’t have to read it to understand what’s going on here (but you should read it anyways bc it’s kinda good lmao)

---

If you were to list your worst moments when it came to love and dating, your first blowjob had to be near the top.

It was high school, junior year with some football player named Chad Daniels. You both were at a party, and honestly, the whole experience was less than extraordinary. It only took two seconds before Chad immediately tried facefucking you. All you could remember is the pain you felt from gagging and choking and almost instantly pushing him off of you.

Needless to say, it wasn't your favorite activity nor something you were that desperate to try again. Until Grayson.

It wasn't like you were dumb; you knew how much guys love getting their dick sucked. And with Grayson doing everything he can to please you, you wanted to return the favor.

You had planned to wake him up with morning head after that first time he ate you out, something cute, intimate, and if you're honest, probably very ambitious for your first time.

However, any worries you may have had were proven to be completely unnecessary when you woke up to Grayson licking into you. You jerk roughly awake, legs only staying in place due to Grayson's firm grip. It doesn't take long before your scream of surprise turns into moans, growing louder when you watch your insanely cocky boyfriend wink at you.

"Grayson, what the- what the fuck?" You softly moan out the last part, shuddering at the way he starts sucking on your clit.

He pops up, a cheeky grin on his face and lips red and shining.

"Morning!" He goes back down and continues working you higher and higher to your orgasm. It doesn't take long, melting under Grayson's touch. He watches your face, his expression star-struck, and just so fucking in love as he sees how he just made your body fall apart.

"You couldn't wait until after breakfast?"

"Angel, that was my breakfast." He kisses you softly, leaving you dazed as he walks to the bathroom.

It started to become a drug for him; Whether he was stressed, happy, or even just bored, Grayson was beginning to find a new home in between your legs. And with him dropping to his knees more and more, it only furthered your desire to do the same.

You started to notice. He would eat you out, make you cum, and then leave to go take care of himself. It was an annoying pattern that was being formed, but no matter what, he wouldn't let you do anything about it.

"Step-by-step, remember? This is about you." was always his answer, and while you appreciated his devotion to your pleasure, you were starting to crave him. Crave the weight of him in your mouth, the heady taste, and most of all, the visual of him cumming from your doing.

If you were ever going to take this any further, you needed to figure out how to show him that you're not just doing this out of an obligation, but because you absolutely desire to make him feel as good as he does to you.

So you follow his advice and take it slow. You start with light brushes, lingering touches on his chest and thighs, flirty glances. Grayson notices; he makes a few quips about how touchy you've become but ultimately believing it's the result of the two of you taking your relationship further. You move on to suggestive comments, openly making jokes about blowjobs and talking about his dick. If he notices, he doesn't say anything, just laughs and shakes his head, playing it up for the vlogs.

You sit on his lap when the car is too crowded, he moves you so you're not directly on him; you suck a lollipop in front of him, he goes into another room to "finish editing." It was almost as if the roles had reversed, him now being the one to run away. You were starting to feel frustrated, thinking he was getting some twisted joy from seeing you so flustered.

So you decide to approach it head-on, bluntly asking him during lunch,

"Why won't you let me suck your dick?"

He chokes on his sandwich, staring at you, shocked.

"Angel, what?" He dramatically coughs out, and you roll your eyes at the theatrics.

"Why won't you let me suck your dick?" You enunciate, speaking slowly while raising an eyebrow. He just stares back at you, not speaking or moving before going back to his food.

"S'fine, Y/N. I can take care of myself. This is about you." He doesn't look at you when he speaks, more preoccupied with his vegan BLT (which he made so you know it can't be that damn good)

You pout, pushing your food around with your fork. It's the same response he's been giving, and at this point, you're worried you might snap if you don't get a real answer.

"Are you seriously trying to tell me that whatever you're doing with your hand is better than my mouth?" He takes a sharp breath, pushing his plate away from him.

"Enough, Y/N. I don't want to talk about it.". If you were stupider, you would've dropped it, let him continue with his lunch, and let him go at his own pace. But you were becoming worried, wondering why he would shut you out instead of opening up.

"Gray," You move to sit next to him, playing with one of his hands as you continue. "You told me all you want is for me to be honest with you. Can you please do the same?" He sighs, taking a moment before answering,

"I'm just scared that once we start, I won't be able to stop. It's not that I don't want you to, it's just— I don't want to lose control and ruin anything for you." Whatever you were expecting couldn't have prepared you for that, and honestly, you were a little surprised. Selfishly, your fears were centered around your own insecurities: that Grayson didn't think you were good enough to, that he wasn't attracted to you, etc. As usual though, Grayson shocked you with how his universe seems to entirely revolve around you and your happiness.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. That was stupid." Grayson takes back, scared that your silence is one of fear or disgust. You place a hand on his arm, moving closer.

"Amour, don't apologize." You kiss him lovingly, feeling soft over how sweet your boyfriend can be. You pull away, kissing his cheek before continuing.

"Us taking this slow isn't just for me — it's for you too. And you know that whatever you want to do, I'm obviously down for as well" He smiles stupidly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But believe me, you've been making me feel really good lately." He perks up at that.

"And I really, really, really want to make you feel good too." You take his hand, leading him to the couch. His eyes follow your every move, not wanting to miss a single thing. You kiss him again before pulling away quickly, a thought coming to your head.

"You're gonna have to help me. I haven't done this that much." He nods rapidly, pants growing tighter with every word. He doesn't have exact words to describe it, but there's something so hot about the innocent look on your face, the way you're looking at him wide-doe eyes and waiting for his instruction. Something so pure about the knowledge that you still held onto so many of your first, yet so sinful that he was going to be the man to ruin that. You lightly lick your lips as you put your hair up, and Grayson's mouth goes dry at the movement.

"I'm pretty sure I've dreamt about this before."

"Let's hope I live up to the standards." He groans lowly as you sink to your knees.

"Trust me, you're already pretty close." His heart sinks when you rest both palms above his knees, and he can tell he's working himself up. After going a while without doing anything remotely sexual, the slightest touch sends little shockwaves straight to his dick. If the anticipation meant anything, he would probably cum the second you actually touched where he needed you most.

You unbutton his pants, sliding them down with his help. You stare at how his boxers are already tented, forming a nice bulge. Already you're feeling overwhelmed, not sure where you want to start first while just wanting to show him how much you adore him.

You watch as he slides his boxers down, and your mouth starts watering. Grayson obviously radiates big dick energy, that's no secret to anyone, and you've seen him freeball in grey sweats enough times to at least have an idea of what he's working with. Seeing the real thing, however, has you more turned on than you've been before.

"So big," You whisper, and Grayson's sure he could cum then and there from the awestruck look on your face. You kiss his upper thigh, right next to his medusa tattoo, before tentatively kissing the tip.

"Angel, please." He could cry, finally having you where he wants you, but not doing enough to relieve any of the tension he's feeling. He knows you're not teasing, not even entirely sure of what you're doing to him, and while he's usually not a beggar, he'll do whatever it takes to finally get you on him.

You nod, growing wet at his soft pleas before licking from his base to his tip. You take him into your mouth, sucking the head while watching Grayson's head fall back onto the couch. You lean back a little, spitting before taking him back in your mouth, going further than before. You continue that for a minute, bobbing your head slightly. You moan softly at your boyfriend's blissed-out expression, eyes glazed over as he looks at you sucking him off.

"Your hands, angel —use them. Please," He moans out the last part, having already added your hands the minute he said the word. You stroke up and down the part that can't fit, experimentally twisting them.

You're drooling now, covering both your chin and his dick, and honestly, your jaw is starting to hurt, but the look on Grayson's face is more than enough to keep going.

"Wait, off. Angel, get off." You pull off of him, scared that you've done something wrong. One hand is still lightly jerking him off while the other rests on his upper thigh.

"Gonna —gonna cum. Didn't want to in your mouth." He's breathless, panting to calm himself down from how you've worked him up. You push the hand away that is moving to replace yours and start sucking again.

"You're okay with that?" He questions and you nod as best you can, humming happily. Between the vibrations, how wet your mouth is, and the way your hands are moving, Grayson is done, cumming with a silent moan and eyes closing.

You take every drop, swallowing before pulling away to jerk him slowly. You watch with big eyes as he twitches and slightly jerks in your hand, riding the after waves of his orgasm. Once you feel he's finally done, you move up to sit next to him.

"How was that?" You're genuinely curious, wanting to know if it was as good for him as you thought. He opens his eyes, pupils blown and breath still a little ragged.

"Perfect." He kisses you deeply, shivering slightly when he tastes himself. "You're fucking perfect." He moves his hand lower, already reaching for your shorts, but you stop him.

You're tired, exhausted really. So you take him to bed, silently suggesting a nap, unaware of Grayson's self-promises to make you feel twice as good when you wake up.

#remember ladies #if you're man doesn't kiss you after you suck him off #he doesn't deserve head #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan smut #dolan twins #dolan twins fic #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins smut #blazedwritings

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cupidhaos · 3 years

Text

not just on christmas

pairing: choi seungcheol x gn reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: fluff, angst w/ a happy ending, non idol au, slice of life, xmas fic

summary: after breaking up with seungcheol, you look back on some winter memories that you made together as you prepare to spend christmas eve alone

warnings: none

song rec: the best thing i ever did | twice

a/n: okay so this is like the first written fic that i’m posting that isn’t part of any of my social media aus and i wont lie im a little nervous im kinda shy (ಥ﹏ಥ) OKAY ANYWAYS i wanted to post this cute little cheol fic i wrote as a kinda christmas present to u all!! and if u don’t celebrate xmas then its just a present!! i hope u enjoy it bc honestly winter activities r so cute!! i hope ur all staying warm and healthy!! <33

choi seungcheol was the love of your life. the two of you had planned your futures out together, under the assumption they’d be together still. but as you sit on your bed sadly watching reruns of some cheesy holiday romance movies - you begin to think otherwise.

a misunderstanding and a wrong choice of words has now led to this misfortune that left you with a pile of tissues surrounding your bed. you don’t move from the spot on your bed until the buzzing of your phone was heard. lazily picking up your phone, you press on the call button to answer.

“hello, who is it” you groggily greet the person on the other end of the line.

“be ready in five minutes. i’m on my way” was all that they said before ending the call.

you weren’t even able to get a word in before the call had ended. sighing and placing your phone back down on the bed. you slowly get up and look at the picture frame that was placed on the side of your bed. it was a photo of you and seungcheol smiling happily on one of your very first dates.

“seungcheol! hurry up!” you called out to your boyfriend as you walk ahead of him, holding onto his hand tightly as you dragged him behind you. seungcheol lets out a low chuckle as he continued to let you drag him - slightly putting pressure on his feet against the ground to give you a harder time.

this didn’t stop you though as you continued to pull him behind. both of your mitten covered hands clasped within one another.

“i don’t even know how to skate!” seungcheol retorted playfully, though his voice was muffled by the scarf that covered half of his face. you just shrugged him off in response as the two of you neared the ice skating rink.

“i don’t either - but that makes it even more fun!” you told him cheekily as you two get in front of the outdoor ice skating rink.“two people please!” you said to the clerk, holding up two fingers.

“oh yes! two people please! one for me and one for my beautiful date.” seungcheol states as he gestures towards you with that last sentence. your face turns red as you try to hold back a smile “stop” you whisper to him as you playfully hit his chest.

“what?” seungcheol whispers back in feign cluelessness. you felt your face heat up even more as seungcheol wrapped an arm around your shoulder - pulling you closer to his warm body. he holds both of your hands up high as you two continue waiting for your skating shoes.

“excuse me!” he announces loudly, causing your eyes widen. you attempt to try and put your hands back down before he can say anything, but it didn’t help that his grip held you tightly. a couple of people passing by turn to look towards the two of you as he continues to ignore your attempts of stopping him. “this person right here!” he loudly says as he gestures down towards you.“is my very beautiful date!”

seungcheol then puts your hands back down as you hit his chest again. all he does laughs in response and pulls you closer to his chest. you bury your face into his sweater and he wraps his arms around your shoulders as he continues laughing at your reaction. you just shake your head at his antics as you shyly hug him back.

sooner or later, the two of you are in the ice skating rink.

“seungcheol!” you yell out at your boyfriend who was now the one to pulling you. he smiles as he watches your attempts in stabilizing yourself.

“aw come here” he coos as he pulls you closer towards the edge of the ice rink. you grab the edge and you both begin to skate slowly.

“you said that you didn’t know how to skate.” you pout at your calm boyfriend. seungcheol just shrugged though as his smile never wavered “guess you can say i’m a natural like that!”

you roll your eyes at him before he turns around to fully face you. grabbing your hands - you feel yourself slowly glide towards him. he mimics the pout on your face as he brushes a strand of hair from your eyes. you feel your breath hitch as he leaned in close.

your eyes fluttered shut as you waited for what was to come. that was until you felt his hand leave your face. opening your eyes, you see seungcheol staring at you with a playful grin. “you can get a kiss if you catch me!” were the last words you heard before he turned around and quickly skated away.

“choi seungcheol!” you called out with a laugh as you slowly started to skate towards him.

with a sigh, you slowly place the photo back down. a couple of minutes later, you hear the honking of a car outside of your apartment - indicating that your ride was now here.

the car ride was silent aside from the music quietly playing in the background.

“where are we going?” you quietly asked as jeonghan continued driving.

“you’ll see”

ten or so minutes of driving, you two finally reached the destination.

“why are we at a cafe?” you question after a couple of minutes waiting inside of the cafe. the waitress brings your drinks to your table and jeonghan just shrugs in response to your question. as he grabbed his cup to take a sip from it - he spits it back out quickly and you just hand him a napkin as you give a judging look towards your friend.

“okay - so that was hot. i suggest that you wait a while until you drink yours.” jeonghan suggests as he gestures towards your cup. you looked down at the cup of hot cocoa - staring at the swirls that the deflated foam created at the top of the drink.

“you have some whipped cream right there.” seungcheol pointed out as the two of you stood in the middle of a park on a cold winter afternoon.

“huh? where?” you ask, looking back up at him. seungcheol stares at you for a moment before quickly leaning in - catching his lips with yours. you didn’t have anytime to react though, because once you processed what was happening he had already pulled away.

“sorry i just had to - but hey! i got it!” he cheers and all you can do is laugh. you grabs his hand again as you both continued through the snow covered park. swinging your arms back and forth as you walked throughout the park.

it was silent between the two of you before you felt something soft land on top of your hair. curiously looking up, a wide grin soon spreads across your face.

“look! it’s snowing!” you gasped, causing seungcheol to look up as well. he looked back at you though as he watched you from the side. you admired the snow that fell softly, landing gently on top of your head. seungcheol lets out a small chuckle as he takes off the scarf he was wearing, wrapping it around your neck.

“huh?” you ask as you look back towards your boyfriend. he just shrugs though as he continues to adjust the scarf around your neck. “you looked cold - and i can’t have you getting sick, can i? i mean who else am i gonna kiss?”

you felt your face heat up at that last comment and seungcheol’s face did as well. he looked back up at you while giving you a knowing look. with an over dramatic gasp, he points towards your reddening cheeks.

“look! your cheeks are already red!”

your eyes widened as you bring your hands up to cover your face. he just grabs your hands with a laugh though - pulling them away from you “stop hiding your face - you’re cute.”

shaking your head, you raise a finger up to point towards his cheeks. “what are you even talking about! your cheeks are red also!”

the blush on seungcheol’s face reddens as he struggles to look for the right words to respond back with. you just give him a small smile though as you unravel the scarf from around your neck. seungcheol puts his hands up to stop you, but is too late once you wrap the long scarf around both of your necks.

“there we go! now both of us can stay warm and none of us will have to get sick.” you state - making the smile on seungcheol’s face grow ten times its original size. the two of you continue to smile at each other before seungcheol brings his hands up to softly cradle your face.

“and i can continue to kiss you.” he adds on as he squishes your cheeks playfully - right before leaning in to give you another kiss. the warmth of the kiss satisfies both of you as you continued to stand in the park as the snow falls gently from the cloudy sky.

“hello? earth to y/n?”

you quickly snap out of your thoughts as you look back up at your friend with a lost look “i’m sorry - what did you say?”

jeonghan just laughs at you which causes a pout to appear on your lips.

“i knew you weren’t listening. but i just wanted to talk to you again about joining me and shua for christmas eve tonight.” jeonghan offers you. you automatically shake your head though, kindly declining him “jeonghan i already told you that i didn’t want to bother you guys.”

a frown formed on jeonghan’s face at your comment. “you’re not bothering us! he invited vernon and the others over also so it isn’t an issue at all. we want you there with us!”

you just wave him off once again as you decline “it’s fine. seriously jeonghan - don’t worry.”

the frown on jeonghan’s face just deepened as he gave you a worried look. “how could i not be worried? you’re gonna be all alone on christmas eve.” he tells you with a pout. you just gave your friend a reassuring smile as he took a piece of his muffin and stuffing it in his mouth.

“seriously jeonghan i’ll be okay.”

the two of you finished up your food and headed back towards your apartment. as you exited the car, jeonghan leans over his seat and leans out of the window.

“i have to go and prepare for tonight, but just remember that if you ever change your mind - the party starts at 7, okay?” he yelled out as you walked away you just nod your head and gave your friend a thumbs up before entering into your apartment complex

as you came in, you sigh loudly. your shoulders immediately slumped as you plopped down onto the couch. another memory soon coming to mind.

“god you two are disgusting” jeonghan grimaces and joshua just laughs next to him. seungcheol sticks out his tongue playfully as the four of you continued to walk together. you just laugh from where you stood next to seungcheol as he squeezes your hand.

“you’re just jealous that i got a cute date with me aren’t you?” your boyfriend teases. joshua and jeonghan both scoff loudly at his question.

“whoever said we don’t like being single! you and y/n are just gross all the time!” jeonghan retorts.

“yeah! you’re both rubbing in your lovey dovey stuff all in our faces to mock us” joshua adds on. seungcheol just rolls his eyes at his friends as you all walked through all the decorative lights and attractions at the park.

“it’s not my fault you two decided to tag along on our date”

this causes the two roommates to gasp dramatically. jeonghan turns to joshua, ignoring seungcheol’s presence “joshua let’s go and check out those goats in the petting zoo since we’re apparently BOTHERING the love birds here”

“i think that’s a GREAT idea jeonghan!” joshua loudly announces before the two of them stalk off towards the direction of the petting zoo. its quiet for a little while before you and seungcheol turn to look at eachother.

“wanna go see the lights now?” seungcheol offers you, a wide smile spreading across your face.

you excitedly nod at his offer and the two of you quickly make your way towards the lights display. you both gasped as you began to look at all the bright christmas lights in awe.

“cheol look at that one!” you point towards another bright display a bit farther off. you both began walking towards the display smiling brightly as you stare at everything in awe. dropping seungcheol’s hand, you fish for your phone from your pocket to take photos of all the bright lights. seungcheol smiles fondly at you as he also takes out his phone. he starts to take pictures of the lights as well before his phone slowly drifts towards your direction instead.

you continued to take photos of the lights as seungcheol continues to take photos you. you glance towards to the side, causing seungcheol to act as if he was taking photos of the lights around you instead. a shy smile forms on your face as you place your phone back into your pocket. grabbing onto his hand, he puts his phone back into his pocket as well.

“i kinda wanna go see the goats now.” you sheepishly admit, causing seungcheol to laugh.

“honestly me too, i also may feel a little bad for sending shua and han off like that. don’t tell them i said that though”

bringing a hand up to your face, you feel a tear fall from your eye. glancing towards the clock, you just now realize just how long you had been sitting there.

the clock blinks 5:47 PM as you quietly sigh.

“ah screw this. i have nothing else to do i might as well go” you mumble to yourself. getting up from the sofa, you slip on your coat and quickly put on your shoes. as you open your door to leave, you feel your heart stop as you see who was standing on the other side.

seungcheol’s eyes widened as he freezes in his tracks - one of his hands in the air as if he was just about to knock on the door. you felt your breath hitch as you both stare at each other in shock.

“hi”

“hello”

you shake your head from your thoughts as you look down towards your shoes.

“what are you doing here?” you ask him quietly, gripping the sides of your coat nervously..

seungcheol looks away as he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

“jeonghan told me you were spending christmas alone and i just- i don’t know i guess hearing that led me back here. i was worried.” he admits, mumbling the last part under his breath. you felt your throat close up at his words.

“you were worried about me?” you asked, eyes widening at his confession. he quickly looks up at you with furrowed and confused eyebrows “i always worry about you.”

you weren’t sure what to say, all you could was stare at him in shock.

“i miss you” seungcheol blurts aloud, his face quickly turning red.

“you miss me?” you asked with a surprised look on your face.

“i’ve been missing you. i’m sorry about the fight, and i’m sorry about what i said. i want us to be how we were before. i just - i want you back.” seungcheol confessed as you stood in front of him frozen.

“but only if you want to be together again! but if you don’t i understand-”

“-i miss you too.” you confess, cutting him off. seungcheol stops in his tracks as a smile spreads across his face. the same smile that always made you heart race.

“so does that mean we’re together again?” he asks, hopefulness laced in his tone. you just laugh at his nervous demeanor.

“i mean… technically… if you really want to be...”

seungcheol just smiles before he takes something green out of his pocket.

“i brought mistletoe just in case this was the route we were to go down.” he says with a grin. you just look at him with a confused look on your face. “cheol that’s basil.”

he looks up at the stem of basil leaves he held above the two of you with confusion “but… jeonghan told me this was mistletoe”

“theres a bit of a difference between the two - how can you get it mixed up?

“i don’t know! i was in a rush and i just knew that it was green! can you just act like its mistletoe?”

“but it’s basil -” you start off with a laugh, before being cut off by a soft pair of lips.

out of all the things that were to happen tonight, kissing choi seungcheol underneath a stem of basil leaves hanging above both of your heads was something you would’ve never expected.

m.list

#kwritersworldnet #seventeen #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #seungcheol oneshot #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fics #written fics #seventeen oneshot #seventeen imagines #merry christmas!! its still xmas where im at even tho its ending soon AFHSDFHW #anyways happy holidays and if u dont celebrate holidays i hope ur days are filled withjoy anyways!!#aye who else in love seungcheol tho i know i am #i wanted him to be the first one i posted a written fic for

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maastrash · 3 years

Text

Fighting Fire with Froyo

oh my goodness hello friends plz dont roast my title bc @verryberriess already has LOL it is ✨quirky✨ anyways the first fic back is always rough to write and i got tired of editing so without further ado ...

Nesta pried the uniform hat off her head and wiped the dripping sweat from her brow. By the cauldron, it was burning up today. It amazed her that the frozen yogurt wasn’t melting right out of the machines. That probably wasn’t even possible, but the heat was making her delirious. Of course on the hottest day of the year something was wrong with the AC. She added calling the maintenance guy to her 5-page long mental list of things to do after her shift today.

She truly did not have the time to be working on the service line today. The Archeron sister froyo shop had opened almost a year ago and already she was talking to people about expanding it to become a chain. That’s what she should be working on instead.

Nesta supposed she should be happy their little shop was so popular. The sisters had been so nervous when they were finally able to launch their yogurt shop after years of planning. It was a dream come true.

They named it Archeron Delights and it became one of the most popular dessert places in Velaris. Elain was the mastermind behind the frozen yogurt recipes. People came from all over the country to try their unique flavor combinations. Feyre was in charge of all the interior designing. She remodeled the entire space and made it look modern with colorful signs and trendy photo taking spots - a necessity for kids obsessed with instagram worthy pictures. Nesta was the official manager which meant she dealt with finances, hiring the team, making schedules, and other administrative duties.

To be honest, Nesta never really worked at the counter, but Morrigan their newest hire, and Feyre’s best friend was sick with the flu. Definitely not a good idea to put her near customers. To make matters worse, the shop had been extremely busy today so she didn’t have time to take any breaks. Unlike her sisters, Nesta was already not the cheeriest service worker. It’s why she worked in the back in her quiet, private office.

At least she could distract herself by filling out their monthly budget summary while waiting. However, her calculations were soon interrupted by the cheerful bell dinging, meaning the shop door was being opened. Damn another customer.

Nesta began quickly finishing up the section she was on, “Hi I’ll be with you in one -”

“You need to get out of here,” the customer interrupted.

Nesta’s smile dropped so fast. Who did this man think he was?

“No, you need to get out,” she snapped back without looking up from her papers. If he was gonna speak to her like that she was gonna take her sweet time.

“Excuse me I -”

This time Nesta interrupted. “This is my shop and I say you need to leave.”

“Ma’am if you would let me explain -”

“Stop calling me ma'am, you have no right -” This time it was Nesta who trailed off.

She finally looked up to see a man equipped fully in firefighter gear staring right at her. Shit. She just yelled at a fireman. To make matters worse he was handsome. Extremely handsome.

“There’s a small fire in another location 2 units from yours. We’re containing it, but you still need to evacuate,” the man explained.

Nesta was still gaping. It seemed she was unable to form words. How was this man so attractive? He was wearing full protective fire gear and wasn’t even breaking a sweat and here she was, literally dripping.

To be quite honest she couldn’t tell if she was sweating because of the heat or the fireman’s burning gaze.

“Ma’am can you hear me? Ma’am? Oh for goodness sake.”

Before Nesta knew it she was being lifted off her feet. Literally.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Ah so you can still talk.”

“Put me down you oaf.”

“Oaf?” he raised a brow, “That’s a real nice way to thank the person saving your ass.”

“I’m serious,” she said crossing her arms angrily.

“Let’s get to safety first.”

Nesta gave the man a withering glare, but he continued to carry her bridal style to a tent where it seemed other shop owners were gathering.

“Oh my goodness Nesta are you hurt?” Aelin asked as they approached.

Aelin owned a dress boutique in the same plaza and they often grabbed lunch together. She was Nesta’s best friend.

“No I am being harassed,” she deadpanned.

“She means saved,” the firefighter corrected as he finally set her down.

“Woah he’s hot,” Aelin whispered in her ear.

“Shut up or I’m telling Rowan.”

“Just an observation” Aelin laughed.

The man gave them a polite smile before heading back towards the rest of the firemen.

Nesta stopped him before he got too far. “I want to talk to your boss,” she said sternly.

“You mean the captain?” he asked.

“Yes.” Obviously.

“Why do you need the captain ma'am?”

“Stop with the ma’am, I’m serious.”

“Ok fine. What’s your name?”

Nesta stayed silent.

“Ok then, sweetheart. Why do you need the captain?”

Nesta growled at his stupidity. “I am not your sweetheart and I am reporting you for inappropriate behavior.”

Something like amusement crossed his face, but it quickly vanished, “I see. I’ll be right back then.”

For someone about to lose his job he did not seem the least bit frightened.

***

It was only a few minutes before the man returned. He was still wearing his fire pants or whatever they were called, but the protective jacket was gone. Now he wore a tight shirt that read Velaris Fire Dept. It framed his muscles a little too perfectly for her taste. How was this man real?

“The captain is busy at the moment but I will take your complaint and hand it to him myself,” he said, pulling out a pen and paper.

“How do I know you’re not going to rip it up as soon as I leave?”

“You can watch me hand it to him once we have this mess sorted out,” he assured her.

“Fine.”

“First I will need your name.”

“Nesta Archeron” she grit out.

“Nesta. I like how that sounds.”

She rolled her eyes. This man was absolutely insufferable.

“Ok, now your phone number.”

“Why do you need my phone number?”

“So the captain can contact you about this issue, of course.”

She grabbed the paper from his massive hands and scribbled her number down quickly.

“Ok and what are you complaining about?” he asked, clearly amused.

She rolled her eyes, “You already know what I’m complaining about.”

“Well, I need to write it down word for word,” he said, laughing softly.

His laughter was the last straw. “You know what this is ridiculous I’m going to find the captain myself,” she said, stomping off.

“That’s gonna be hard to do sweetheart,” he called after her.

“Oh yea, why?” she yelled back over her shoulder.

“Because I am the captain.”

That stopped Nesta dead in her tracks. She turned slowly to see the big oaf smiling.

“Cassian Nazari, Captain of Station 17,” he said, extending his hand.

“Are you playing a game or something?” she scowled, slapping his hand away.

“No,” he chuckled softly, “Just doing my job.”

“By pretending to not be the captain and stealing my information?”

He smiled again and half of her wanted to slap him, but the other half was tempted to kiss him. What was wrong with her?

“I take complaints seriously. So seriously, that I would like to hear all about your complaint over dinner.”

“This is not funny,” she said crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don’t tell me you’re not interested. You took one look at me and were absolutely speechless. I literally had to carry you out before you burned to death.”

“The fire was contained, evacuating was a formality you brute.”

“If you say so,” he said sarcasm lacing every word. “I’ll pick you up from your shop at 6.”

Nesta’s jaw dropped, the audacity of this man was astounding. She paused before answering, debating her options. She figured she could either continue pretending to hate him or just give in. Gods above, was she actually considering this?

“Say yes you idiot” Aelin whispered.

Nesta flinched in surprise. Where the hell did she even come from?

“Are you kidding I’m not going anywhere in this.” Nesta argued, gesturing to her work apron and leggings.

“I think it looks great,” Cassian said with a wink.

“Me too,” Aelin added.

Nesta gave Aelin a deadly look before saying, “Let’s meet at the Sidra at 7. That way I have time to change.”

Cassian only looked surprised at her suggestion for a second before agreeing, “Ok, I’ll see you there.”

He waved before heading back to the rest of his crew and Nesta against her better judgement waved back.

“Nesta Archeron, are you smiling?” Aelin teased as soon as Cassian was out of ear shot.

“Shut up. I am absolutely not,” she said, quickly bringing her face back to neutral.

And then it hit her...

She was going to dinner with Cassian - a fire captain she just met. What the hell was she thinking?

tags! @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @julesherondalex // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5 // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // // @perseusannabeth // @acourtofmarauders // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlovex // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit // @superspiritfestival // @wannawriteyouabook // @verryberriess // @courtofjurdan // @bookstantrash // @sannelovesreading // @ahappyhistorianreader // @cass-nes // @my-fan-side // @junsuichow // @sleeping-and-books // @yumna402 // @lordof-bloodshed // @emcarstairs578 // @gisellefigue08 // @maybekindasortaace // @starborn-faerie-queen // @empire-of-wildfire // @loveofbooksandwine // @sanakapoor // @silentquartz // @a-omgnaomithings-love // @aimee1602 // @jlinez // @creamcheesechicken // @steamedlattes // @sahsahprova // @elriel4life // @ireallyshouldsleeprnrn // @rowaelinismyotp // @thegoddessofyou

#nessian #nesta x cassian #Car writes #nessian fic #nessian fanfiction

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thisplace-ishaunted · 3 years

Note

OKAY. how about. ricky overstimulating the fuck out of trans vin in the au 👀

LMAO that this was supposed to be 5 sentences because I sat down and out came a 1500 word notfic so here you go.

OKAY SO THIS TOOK ME A WEEK TO ANSWER IM SORRY

It’s after my second Trans!Vin fic for Kinktober, which, you know what happens there, and maybe some of y’all do, but not everyone does. So, just, use context clues and guess what happened.

Vin waits a solid 36 hours to initiate something with Rick bc he wants to wait for the bruises and hickies on his hips and thighs to actually get as dark as they’re gonna get. He’s going for maximum impact here. But of course, because it’s vin, it’s hard for him to wait that long because he is a horny mess and as soon as he finishes the shenanigans in aforementioned fic, he already wants to run to Ricky and be like “LOOK WHAT I DID BEHIND YOUR BACK WHY DON’T YOU FUCK ME UP FOR IT, HUH RICK HUH RICK.” But he knows he should probably wait. Give his hole some time to recover, let the bruises blossom.

SO they’re at a venue, and everyone’s inside and setting up and getting ready and stuff, and Vin makes a pass at Rick, being like, “Do you wanna go pound one out in the bus before the show?” And Rick is like, yeah sure why not, and he had actually been thinking what was going on with Vin for him to be able to go the past approximately 4-5 days without initiating anything with Rick, there must have been something going on because that had seemed to set a record for the longest amount of time they hadn’t fucked ever since they had first started hooking up. Rick had started to get worried, but, ole reliable (as in Vin’s aching, needy boycunt), has beckoned once again and Rick is here to provide. They go to the empty bus.

Rick barely manages to get the door closed behind him before Vin drops his pants and throws himself down on the couch, lifting his shirt up to his chest and showing off his hip bones and his belly and the line of hair that runs from the middle of his chest down the center of his body. He tangles his hands in his shirt and wiggles his hips and tries to look pouty but he’s also like, we are here for a reason so lets get to it before someone walks in on us or we have to go finish getting ready for stage.

Rick joins him on the couch, leaning down in between his legs with his hands planted on either side of Vin’s chest, Ricky’s hair falls like curtains on either side of his face, almost grazes Vin’s face. Ricky takes a second to appreciate Vin’s fucking beautiful face and how it looks so cute and pouty and he is so glad that Vin is so fucking needy all the time and that he entrusts Rick to be the one to help him take care of that. It’s like, an honor.

So they kiss for a while and Ricky runs his hands through Vin’s hair and Vin does the same and Vin is already grinding his hips up and into Ricky’s still clothed hips, but can feel his hard cock through the jeans. Finally they stop kissing and then Rick sits back and realizes what is scattered around Vin’s hips and thighs and his jaw nearly drops. He’s like “where the fuck did you get these?”

And vin is like, “somewhere.” and he still looks cute and flustered and he is doing it on purpose because he wants to get Ricky all fired up.

Rick continues to ask questions, “when? Where? How?” and Vin refuses to answer any of them, which ends up kind of infuriating Ricky but in the best way possible, but he really doesn’t give a shit who Vinny fucks around with.

Ricky slides his hand over Vin’s hole, he’s already fucking wet and dripping because of course he is. Ricky shoves a couple fingers in him, and Vin whines.

“If you’re so fucking desperate to get off all the time, then that’s what you’re gonna get” Ricky threatens and plunges his face in and starts sucking on Vin and still thrusts his fingers in and out of him.

Vin loves it and squeezes his thighs around Rick’s face and grabs hold of Ricky’s hair. And since there is nobody on the bus, Vin gets to be Loud As Fuck and he moans and whimpers and Ricky fucking loves it because only very rarely do they get to actually let themselves be loud.

Vin realizes that he isn’t gonna get out of this any time soon so he let’s himself relax. Well, relax as much as possible when Rick is sucking his dick and has half his hand shoved in his hole. The stimulation manages to get him to come again and then Rick sits up but still doesn’t stop, pulls his hand out and its covered in slick and he rubs at Vin’s dick. Ricky’s other hand traces along the bruises on Vin’s hips, and he presses into them, knowing it’s gonna hurt, but he wants to make them darker, wants to make them worse, wants Vin to know that he is malleable.

Ricky makes Vin come and then doesn’t stop, doesn’t come up for air, just keeps going at the same pace and Vin doesn’t even get the opportunity to recover because it’s like he is shaking and his orgasm doesn’t actually ever end up stopping because the stimulation doesn’t stop.

At some point, Vin shoves his fingers in his own mouth, letting his fingers slide over his tongue and there is already spit sliding down the corners of his mouth because it’s basically a pavlovian response at this point that as soon as something gets put in his mouth, he starts to drool like crazy, which is hot for him, he likes it.

“Desperate mindless slut just wants to come all the time, huh.” Rick says. Vin is too overstimulated at this point to even feel like he could come again. He is squirming and he feels like he has fallen back into the cushions of the couch and the back of his head feels all floaty and he isn’t even sure if his hand is still in his mouth because it feels like he has been taken out of his body at this point. He could open his eyes to look at ricky kneeling above him, but he doesn’t want to, he’d rather embrace it, let himself fall numb, fall mindless, let Rick continue to pump at his dick and push into his hips and mark him up, reminding Vin that he can let his body belong to Rick if he wants it to.

Rick likes what he sees below him, the way that Vin’s waist curves in just slightly, the way his hand is pulling at his mouth, his bottom lip pulled down and the spit running down the sides of his face, Vin’s hair pooled around his head, his eyes closed and a light blush across his cheeks, looking dumb and overstimulated and letting himself be turned to mush. Rick feels honored that Vin lets himself get in this headspace in front of Rick, because of Rick. There’s a lot of trust there, Rick takes it seriously. He knows that Vin is pliable rn, he doesn’t want to do anything to actually hurt him.

Rick still wants to make him come again, so he doesn’t stop with his hand. He leans forward, gets his face next to Vin’s, kisses up his neck and behind his ear, telling him about how he is so mindless and he is just a plaything and how his only responsibility is to let himself continue to be slack and numb and let himself come again. And somehow Vin manages to do it, to let himself come again, by this time it doesn’t even really feel much different than the sensations that were already happening, it just feels like a completion. Vin surprises himself when Ricky finally stops rubbing at him and within like 30 seconds he already wants more but he knows he probably shouldn’t and it would probably just hurt but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t cross his mind that he still wants it.

Ricky lays on top of him but makes sure vin can still breathe. It takes multiple minutes for Vin to come back, he starts wiggling his toes and fingers, bringing the sensation back, starts moving his face around and starts to make himself coherent again, tries to stitch up the parts of himself that he let fall undone.

Rick kisses along his neck, talks to him sweetly, but does realize that there is a sense of urgency here. Maybe Rick shouldn’t have done this when they have to go on stage within the next hour or so. Vin is gonna need a red bull or something.

#after kinktober is over i will probably post this on ao3 just to archive it and make it more accessible #kinktober 2021 #dont lose #trans!vin gets passed around like a joint AU

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lesbian-dp · 4 years

Text

Undercover

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 707

Warnings: Undercover!prostitute!nat, use of false name (bc duh), car sex, public sex, idk i think thats it.

Request: Yes @imnotasuperhero, demanded that I do this, all bc of that gif ^^ up there. You’re welcome Vee, hope you like it lol.

Summary: Maybe the mission wasn’t to bad after all.

A/N: Just a lil drabble until I hopefully start posting fics again soon lol.

Ko-Fi

18+ ONLY.

***

The mission was classified to everyone but you and Natasha. If Steve Rogers got wind of any of this, he would be incredibly scandalised; his face brighter than a tomato.

Stars littered the dark -almost black- sky, the yellow glow from various lampost's, shining against the black metal of your rented car.

You just wanted to get this mission done and over with, as soon as humanly possible. Or inhumanly, possible for all you cared.

Pulling up to a random, back alley curb, waiting for the, now blonde, to get in.

A gentle rap sounded against your window, indicating you to roll it down.

So you did.

And there she was.

Leaning over to rest her arms in your now open window.

Your mission partner.

Natasha.

"You gonna take me for a ride, honey?" she husked.

You were so not in the mood for this shit.

"Just get in the fucking car."

"I think you should know my going rates first, baby."

"Get. In. The car," you bit out, not neer as harshly as most would think.

"Everything alright, Samantha?" someone called over to Natasha, suspicious of you, and how you were acting.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," she said back, opening your door, and sliding into the passenger seat. You, starting to drive off before she had even fully closed the door.

"You really got to act more into this, they're gonna start suspecting something."

Totally ignoring her off handed statement, you chose to ask a question, "How close are you to getting the info?"

"Real close."

"Then there's really no need for me to "act more into it"."

Natasha laughed at you, but you knew she disagreed with what you said.

After five long minutes, you pulled into a secluded spot, where seemingly no one would find you. Reaching into the backseat, you pulled the black backpack there, into your lap. Handing the laptop within it to Natasha, waiting as she punched in her mission update, telling you everything as she did.

"That will be one-hundred dollars, honey," she teased, once she was finished, and the laptop and the backpack were in its previous place.

You laughed, shaking your head. Hand rubbing the wheel of the still-running car.

"Isn't that a bit expensive?" you carried on the joke, "I mean, you haven't even taken off your shirt."

"Yet," Natasha pointed out.

"What?"

"I haven't taken off my shirt, yet."

"Nat..." you said slowly, "What are you saying?"

The Russian gave you no reply, only moving to climb over the middle console so that she was straddling your lap.

"Nat-"

"Don't you think it's about time we stopped beating around this thing?" she cut you off, her warm breath fanning over your face.

"I have no-"

"If you're about to tell me you "have no clue what I'm talking about" you're either blind or a liar."

Your voice caught in your throat. Unable to do anything more than open and close your mouth, like a fish out of water.

Growing tired of your silence, Natasha pressed her lips to yours. Tired of the both of you dancing around this moment, for years now.

That kickstarted your brain back into gear. You had this absolutely stunning woman above you, sitting in your lap, kissing you. You were going to show her just how much the feelings were reciprocated.

One arm came up around her back, pulling her closer to your body, gaining a moan from the red-head just beginning to grind herself into you. Your other arm, gliding across her hips and ass. Groping her now and again, only causing to spur on her actions even more.

The car became hot and stuffy, with each and every moment spent in your passionate embrace. It only worsening with Natasha's pants, as you wetly kissed down her chest, pulling her shirt down to reach more of her soft skin.

Your hand, moving from her hips, pushing into her snug pants, feeling the wetness residing there. Natasha moaned loudly, leaning back as your fingers entered her tight heat.

A long, loud honk of the car's horn rang throughout the cold air. To some, it was an annoyance, ruining their night.

But to others, it was only the start of something new.

***

Permanent Tag List:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @natasha-danvers, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro

#original work #original drabble #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Text

what i want.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: takes place in s1 of hemlock grove just after roman’s coma and the aftermath.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: yeaaahhhh so i know this is st related but it felt more right to post this here over my marvel account? anyways, i just really really wanted to write for roman and this poured out of me yesterday (which is surprising bc i can’t remember the last time i wrote a fic all in one day) but even though i already know this is gonna flop, i wanted to post it anyway just for fun (: i hope you enjoy and if you do read, please let me know that you think!!!!

With an ear pressed to his chest and a hand cradling his neck, you counted the rhythmic beats of his frail heart.

He looked the same, felt the same, smelt the same; but the man we lay still below you wasn’t Roman. Not in the metaphorical sense at least. This man who’s lashes lay gently against the apples of his cheeks obscuring his large doe eyes, wasn’t your love. He was still and quiet and lacked the emotion of your Roman. Your Roman who could never hide how he really felt, who wore every feeling on his sleeve, unable to mask his emotion.

At least, always around you.

A soft french ballad played in the background as you hunched over his hospital bed in the attic of the Godfrey home. You could hear the faint scratch of the needle against the vinyl, more so when there was a lull between songs.

Heavy footsteps entered from your right and you knew before they reached you that it was Shelly to fetch you for school.

“I know, Shell.” You said quietly, like you might wake Roman from his restless sleep if you spoke any louder, “I just need a few more minutes with him.”

The tall girl loomed over you both, watching you stroke Roman’s cheek lovingly with your thumb, the rest of your nimble fingers still holding his thin neck.

She had never experienced the kind of unequivocal and palpable love that she did when she observed you and Roman together. She often wondered if all the tales of true love and soulmates that were regaled in some of her favorite novels were actually true? Because the way you looked at Roman, and the way Roman looked at you, could not be fabricated or faked.

After a long beat of silence, Shelly gripped her phone and typed out a simple message to you.

“I miss him, too.”

She could see tears forming in your eyes once more. Your eyes that seemed to have not ceased their perpetual filming for the last two weeks Roman had been under.

All you could was nod in response. When Shelly placed a dense hand on your shoulder, you silently wept.

It all felt so surreal. But Roman was always larger than life, you probably should have prepared for something like this. You were just so scared.

That night two weeks before, when he had come to you in the pouring rain, drenched to the bone, you had been scared then, too. Roman was dramatic, yes. But never anything like this. He trembled fiercely and his fingers twitched and his muscles rippled with fear.

He didn’t seem himself as you wrapped him in blankets and placed him in your bed to warm his icy bones. You had wound your arms around him as he cried into your neck, tears and snot streaking your skin as you soothed him the best you could.

“I’m ugly, I’m a monster, I am unlovable and disgusting.” He chanted between hiccups and deep intakes of breath, like he was under a spell.

“Please stop, please don’t say that. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not. I love you, I always will.” You whispered sincerely to him, beginning to shutter yourself at the uncharatieric behavior he was displaying.

He startled you even more when he grasped your wrists together with one hand and flipped you onto your back, meeting you with a fierce kiss before you could comprehend his actions.

It was all teeth and tongue and labored breathing as Roman pulled your strings in only the way that he could. Once he was inside you, he only became more brutal. It was more pain than pleasure as he looked at you with soulless eyes and his mouth agape. But everything Roman was, was good. Even now he felt like heaven.

When he had finished and pulled two orgasms from your body, he collapsed on top of you. You cocooned him with your limbs, whispering loving words and frightened questions as his body seemed to pass out from sheer emotional exhaustion, anchoring you beneath him.

The next morning, you were dressed in nothing but Roman’s cardigan and tucked underneath your duvet with no knowledge of his departure the night before.

It was only minutes after you woke that Olivia called to curtly inform you of Roman’s condition.

You placed your own hand, the one not holding Roman, over Shelly’s and squeezed it.

“He is so lucky to have you.” You said, swallowing thickly to look up and give Shelly a smile, “He loves you so much, I know he’ll wake just for you.”

Shelly knew you were trying to soothe her as well, something you had a knack for since you came into the two Godfrey’s lives. She appreciated it greatly, but wished you would let yourself swim and stop trying to make sure she stayed afloat.

“You, as well. He will wake for us.” Shelly typed and you squeezed her hand in a tight pulse.

“We can only hope.”

You dropped Shelly’s hand as she went to turn the music off while you kissed Roman goodbye.

“Where, today?” Came Shelly’s mechanical voice as the music ceased.

“His left eyelid.” You replied, standing up and stroking Roman’s porecelain cheek.

You had taken to kissing a new part of Roman each day as you left him. To cherish him even while his mind was missing. You were saving his lips for when he woke, hoping his subconscious would crave your mouth on his enough to jar him from his slumber. Roman was never quiet about his appreciation for your lips.

“And tomorrow?” She asked.

“The other.”

As you sat in english class, you couldn’t help but feel Peter’s absence in the seat next to yours. With neither him nor Roman around, you felt off kilter. The boys had been going through a rough patch lately, but Peter was still your friend when Roman wasn’t looking. Giving you winks that would reply with an eye roll, and chatting between classes. You believed you could mend the fence between the two men by simply being Switzerland, but after the police incident, Peter wasn’t so sure.

But you and Roman were alike in many ways, you told Peter as much.

“You two will work this out. Even if it gets hard.” You say flippantly one day as you rummaged through your purse for a tube of lipgloss.

“Yeah? And how do you know? Are you an oracle and just haven’t told me?” Peter jokes as you take the cosmetic from your bag.

You remove the fuzzy doe-foot applicator from the pink make up with a loud squelch and smirk at him.

“Because not only do I know everything,” a swipe of the goods on your lips, “But, I always get what I want.”

Now, his absence along with Roman’s seemed to be significant. Connected.

And then you got a call.

And the ID almost gave you a heart attack.

You fled the classroom without the formality of an excuse. It wasn’t any secret that you and Roman were a couple, so some teachers had been far more lenient with you since he had fallen under. Thankfully, Ms. Day was one of them.

You ran from the class and around the corner for the veil of privacy before you picked up the call.

“Roman?”

“God, how I’ve missed your voice.” He said, punctuated with his melodic laugh.

You burst into tears, clenching your phone tightly in your sweating palm as Roman cooed to you.

“Hey, hey, no. No tears, baby. Too fucking hot to be sad, you know that?”

“I’m not sad, God no! These are tears of joy, of fucking relief.” You felt suddenly very fatigued from the worry and dread escaping your body at the sound of Roman’s voice, and slid down the wall to the grey linoleum below.

“Good, hate to think you’d forget about me after two weeks out of commission.” You could see his smile in your minds eye and your stomach twinge with love.

“You know I could never forget about you.” You replied, whipping your damp cheeks on the back of your hand.

“I’m glad. I was counting on it.” You can see his smirk now.

“Dick.” You laughed and he did as well.

“Eh, you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

There was a silence and you wished so helplessly that he was in your arms. Your Roman. Not the still and sterile one. The one with a wicked tongue and a beautiful smile that he offered to you so freely.

It was in this silence though, that you heard the purr of an engine.

“Baby, are you in a car? Are you with Olivia?”

“Uh, no. Not exactly.” And the bubble of joy popped just as it had formed.

“Roman, where are you? Why are you in a car?”

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, my love.” He hummed quietly his adoration and immediately you knew what was happening.

“Put Peter on the phone.”

“How did you-”

“Just fucking do it, Roman.”

You could hear him curse, then the shuffle of the phone being passed between hands.

“Hey, (Y/N/N), how’ya doin’?” Peter asked, faking a calm tone.

“Let’s forget the goddamn pleasantries, Peter. What in the living fuck are you doing trying to track this wolf when Roman just rose from the dead?”

“Rose from the dead sounds a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Does it sound like I give a shit?”

“Frankly, no. It doesn’t.”

“And what does it sound like I give a shit about?”

“Probably Roman not doing this right now.”

“Bingo, Fiddo. Now you either take him back to his house or I am coming to find you two and I promise you, I can be scarier than Olivia.” You hissed into the receiver, looking around to make sure no rouge students in the halls were hearing your conversation.

“Oh I don’t doubt it. But this was his choice, (Y/N). Nothing neither of us can do anything to change his mind.”

“Peter, I swear to-” This time, you were the one cut short.

“Baby, listen,” Roman said after commandeering his phone back.

“No, Roman, you listen! I know you have some attachment to helping kill this thing, but now isn’t the time.”

“But it is. It’s complicated, but you just have to trust me on this.”

“I do trust you, Ro. I do. But I don’t trust whatever this thing is.” You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall, “Unfortunately I do trust what it is capable of. Which is a fuck tone pain.”

“I’ll be safe. I have Peter, Peter’s got me. I got this. We know what we’re doing.”

“Wish I could believe that.”

“Baby, I promise. I swear, even. We are gonna find some answers and then I’ll be home to you in one piece.”

You pause and Roman calls your name from the phone, his voice vulnerable.

“It’s funny. This morning you were in a coma and you were more safe then than you are right now.”

“I love you.” Roman says firmly.

“I know.”

Another pause and you know you can’t scold your way out of this one.

“Just… please call me when you get back. I don’t think I can take another minute of being away from you.” Your tears were beginning again.

“Me too. You’re all I can think about,” Roman sniffles, “I need you, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You both sit in silence on the line before Roman tells you he needs to go.

“Ok… but hey, Turner?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell Hooch to be careful. Both of you just… be careful.”

“Always.”

And the line goes dead.

After school you debated going straight to the Godfrey residence to wait for Roman to return, but decided against it. You weren’t sure exactly what Olivia knew and didn’t know, and didn’t feel like being alone with her while you figured it out.

So, you waited anxiously in your bedroom, doing everything possible to quell your shaking nerves. You had a perpetual tremor in your body as fiddled with your phone to try and distract yourself. Which was partly true, the other reason your phone was glued to your palm was so you would know the second Roman contacted you.

Though, as the sun descended in the sky and the night sky spanned for hours, you were becoming more restless. Whatever Peter and Roman were doing was no doubt dangerous and time sensitive, and it made you sick that it was nearing midnight without any word from either boy.

As the night continued to wear on and your mind ran away from rationality into an amalgamation of pure fear and absurdity, you decided you couldn’t sit around anymore. You weren’t going to wait for Roman to call and tell you he was home safe. You were going to drive to his house and wait for him there, and if he wasn’t back in an hour, you’d go out looking for him yourself.

As you put on a pair of house slippers and a sweatshirt over your nightgown, your phone vibrated on your vanity. Your heart began to speed up in your chest as you rushed over to the table and picked up your buzzing phone. On the screen was a text alert from Roman, with only one word present:

Come.

And you didn’t need to be told twice.

When you arrived at the Godfrey’s, you fled your car so quickly you almost forget the keys in the ignition. You ran up the front steps and banged both fists on the door needing to use your excess anxiety and adrenaline for something. And while you didn’t want to face Olivia’s wrath, your judgment was clouded by the chance of seeing Roman, alive and well.

When Roman finally opened the door, you wasted no time throwing yourself into his arms. He stumbled at the impact of your embrace, but was quick to remedy his shock by wrapping his arms around you. The feeling of this made your throat constrict.

“Jesus fucking Christ I missed you.” Roman all but growled as he firmly smoothed flyaways from your hair and placed his strong hand on the back of your neck.

“You have no idea how much I missed you, Ro.” You said, voice thick with tears as you began to pepper kisses anywhere you could reach.

Neck, jaw, ear, temple, cheek, shoulder, trap, clavicle, repeat.

Roman groaned appreciatively in your ear as you covered him in your lips.

“You scared me half to death you know?” You said between kisses.

“I know, I’m sorry. Things have been… odd. I still can’t remember it all.” Roman says, his tone confused.

“Well, Olivia said-”

“I know what she said. I just don’t know if I believe it.”

You furrowed your brows and tried to wiggle in his hold, silently signaling for Roman to place you back on your feet, but he only gripped you tighter.

“Not yet. Just, stay a while.” His voice wavered.

You finally pulled back to look at him, his eyes red from tears and shadowed. Sometimes it was difficult to look at him, his beauty and pain were just too much.

“I’m staying, Roman. You couldn’t get me to leave if you wanted to.” You reply.

A wash of emotion washes over his features as his lip quivers and his eyes attempt to blink back tears. You opened your mouth to try and alleviate him of whatever he was feeling when his mouth crashed to yours.

You forgot how good his lips felt against yours as your mouths meshed together. The velvet of his tongue and the mint and smoke on his breath. His hands gripping you everywhere as he pressed you impossibly close, moaning into you with deep primal noises sounding from his chest.

“Roman, baby,” You pulled away for air and Roman promptly moved his attention to your neck and clavicle. “I need you. Take me upstairs, I can’t wait any longer.”

Roman groaned and bit you hard on the shoulder before hitching your legs higher on his hips and running you both up the winding staircase behind him.

Bruises, at the behest of his mouth and fingers, littered your body as you lay on Roman’s chest as you both still reeled in the blissful aftermath of your climaxes. Roman’s fingers idled along and spine while his unoccupied hand rested behind his head.

He had begun to tell the tale of his night, of Peter and the turn and Chasseur and his mother. He told you Peter was upstairs unconscious and that he was unsure what was going to happen when he woke.

“So, after all this, everything’s still shitty? Is that what you’re saying?” You muttered.

“Essentially. But I have hope… we’re going to figure this out. I know it.” Roman nodded, like he is reassuring himself more than you.

“Me too. You two are smart,”

“You flatter me.” Roman chuckles and looks down at you.

“Just trying to butter you up to get into your pants.” He laughs again and slaps your ass.

“Clearly it’s working.” He replies.

“Well that, and I always get what I want.” You say with a content smile.

Roman hums, “Don’t I know it.”

“You enable it.”

“Again, I know.” He kisses your forehead and you burrow closer to him.

You two lay in silence a bit longer before he sighs.

“I think we should move to sleep in the attic. Just in case something happens with Peter and he needs us.”

We. Us.

The small implication in his word choice makes you smile and once again fall under a wave of emotion, just so happy that your Roman was back to you.

You don’t know what you had done if there was no we or us with Roman any longer. But you choose to not fixate on the past.

You just nod and kiss the underside of his chin. Roman gives you a small grin and begins to get up. As you do the same, Roman throws you one of his white button downs, giving you a stern look as you raise an eyebrow in question.

“Just put it on. I got two weeks to make up for, baby. It started with reuniting, then fucking, and now you in my shirt.”

You try to hold off the wide smile that was threatening to take over your face and put on the shirt, buttoning it to just above your cleavage.

“Yeah? And what’s next?” You ask, watching Roman round the bed toward you.

“Sleep.”

Now in a pair of threadbare silk pajama pants and nothing more, Roman extends his hand to you.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” You reply, taking his hand, weaving your fingers as he led you to the attic.

i hope you enjoyed even though it was for a different show!! and if you did, pls i’d love some feedback (:::: also let me know if you would possibly want another roman fic bc i have other ideas lol

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just-my-sickly-pride · 4 years

Text

Come On So Heavy || Joe Mazzello x fem!Reader

summary || you like your friend joe. you really like your friend joe. but you don’t know if he likes you back. maybe all it takes to find out the truth is a little (a lot) of liquid courage.

rating || explicit (18+ only). do not read if you are under eighteen. semi-public sex, unprotected sex, sex while under the influence of alcohol

word count || 3.8k

author’s notes || i stumbled across this half-finished fic while looking for something else, and decided to finish it off and post it! hope everyone is doing all right with social isolation. the title is from ‘get down, make love’, bc of course it is. this fic is... she’s a real messy one. i usually don’t write or post unprotected sex, but both people in this fic are very drunk. enjoy their shenanigans, but please don’t use this as guidance as to what safe sex is lmao. also this gif just too good not to use for a drunk joe fic sdfjsdflkdfsa

masterlist

You raise your hand, and rap your knuckles on the door. You can hear the sounds of a pregame coming from inside, and, in a few seconds, the door in wrenched open.

It’s Joe, unexpectedly - this isn’t his house - and your heart leaps so dramatically in your ribcage that it feels like it almost jumps out of your body entirely. “[Y/N]!” he crows, throwing his hands into the air, and you immediately know that he’s already had quite a bit to drink.

“Hey, Joe,” you say with a grin.

“Come in, c’mon.” He takes you by the wrist and tows you inside, and you have to kick the door closed behind you, because he just keeps on dragging you until you’re in the living room. “Look who it is, everybody!”

You wave hello to your group of friends, and everyone greets you enthusiastically. The room is scattered with empty bottles and cans, and there’s a half-finished bowl of chips on the coffee table.

“Can I get you a drink?” Joe asks, and he’s standing closer than he normally would, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and you suddenly forget how to speak.

“Um– uh, y– yeah– no, actually, I brought my own. But thank you.”

“Okay,” Joe says with a chuckle. He shoves a hand into his pocket, cradling his beer close to his chest. “You look, um– I like your…” He gestures vaguely to you with his beer.

You giggle, and you kind of hate yourself for giggling. “My…?”

“Your, like, everything,” Joe says with a grin.

Oh, God, the butterflies. The butterflies in your stomach. They’re unbearable.

“Thank you,” you say. Play it cool, play it off as a joke, don’t make it weird. “I also like your, like, everything.”

“Oh, well, thank you very much,” Joe says, holding out his arms a little, like he’s presenting himself. He’s wearing nothing too unusual, just jeans and a nice collared shirt, but he could be wearing nothing but moth-eaten rags and you’d still be stupidly attracted to him.

The way he looks at you makes you think that maybe he feels the same way about you. But you’re never quite sure. You’ve been crushing on him for over a year now, but you’re too scared to initiate anything. He broke up with his last girlfriend, Trish, almost a year ago, but it was pretty messy, and you don’t want to make him feel pressured. He hasn’t really tried dating anyone since then, so you’re fairly sure that’s an indicator that he’s still recovering.

Which is fine. You’re fine with that. You’re fine to just be hopelessly in love from afar.

The problem is you’re not very good at hiding it. Maybe Joe likes the attention, maybe he likes you back, you don’t know. You don’t like to think about it too much if you can help it – it’s too confusing.

Whatever. You’re just happy to be around him.

By the time you’re all heading to the club, not a single person is sober. Barely anyone is just tipsy anymore – you’re all drunk. Not blackout by any means, but the security at the door gives you all the hair eyeball before reluctantly letting you into the club.

You can’t remember the last time you went out clubbing. As soon as you walk in, you suddenly remember why. The ear-splitting music, the crush of people, the sticky floors, the stupidly long lines to the bar. Not to mention the price of drinks.

But then Joe’s hand is on the small of your back, and he’s leaning in to yell into your ear, “Want a drink?” and suddenly maybe the club isn’t so bad anymore.

Joe buys you a shot, and you knock it back in one. He raises his eyebrows, impressed, and you give him a scathing look that you hope conveys, That really isn’t something to be impressed with. He has a shot himself, and pours it down his throat, and only coughs and winces a little bit. He gives you an expectant look, and you make a face and shake your head. He pouts and gives you the finger, and you laugh.

You lean into him as you laugh. Luckily, you can blame it on the alcohol. You end up on the dancefloor. Joe likes to pretend that he can dance, but it’s not really the sort of dancing that suits a club, and he always takes himself a little too seriously when he does it. But you think it’s sweet that he puts in the effort.

Then he gets that look in his eye – that look that tells you he’s about to do or say something that he thinks will be hilarious – and he shimmies closer to you, and then turns around so his back is to you, and pretends to grind on you.

You scream and flail away, laughing and pushing him off you. “Joe!”

He grins delightedly, ever so pleased with himself, and you hide your face behind your hand. He takes your hand and tugs you a bit closer. “Not up to scratch?” he teases.

You shake your head. “Terrible.”

“What?”

“I said, you’re terrible.”

“What was that? You said you’d show me how to do it properly?”

You gape at him and take your hand back to smack him in the chest, and he laughs.

“You couldn’t handle it,” you say.

Joe’s eyebrows raise, and he says, “Think I could.”

Oh, no, now you’re getting turned on, and you know you should diffuse the situation, because it’s probably just the alcohol talking and Joe doesn’t really like you that way, he’s just flirting for the fun of it, and you don’t want him to do anything he’d regret, and now you’re taking this far too seriously when all he’s doing is just having some fun, stop overthinking everything and just relax for once.

“Oh, you couldn’t handle anything I do,” you say challengingly.

You’re almost nose-to-nose now, and your body feels hot, and your heart is racing like a stallion. You’ve stopped dancing now, but you don’t even feel the people moving around you, bumping into you.

Joe’s eyes drop to your lips, and half of you is screaming that you should stop this, and the other half is screaming at you to go for it, but then the decision is taken from your hands when someone spills half their drink on Joe, and he flinches away from you, spitting out a curse.

“Yuck,” Joe whines. You’re both in the outside section now, where all the smokers hang out, but at least it’s marginally easier to talk, and the cool night air is helping dry Joe’s shirt. The beer’s all down his side, and on his arm, too, although he’s already been to the bathroom to wash it off.

“What a jackass,” you say in sympathy.

“Yeah.” Joe grimaces, and shifts. “Gonna smell of cigarette smoke too.”

“Yup.” You sigh. “This is why I don’t go out anymore.”

“Mm.”

The tension from before is gone entirely, which, despite yourself, is really fucking frustrating. You’re still horny, and the alcohol is not helping, but you’d gotten yourself all worked up, and now there’s no outlet for it.

You rub your hands over your thighs. “Do you know where the others have ended up?”

Joe watches a group of people across the way laughing and talking. None of them can even stand up straight. “Nope,” he says.

“Just us, then.”

Joe looks to you, and there’s still something lingering in his gaze. “Could be worse.”

Your stomach flips. “Guess so.”

“Can I buy you another drink?” he says.

You snort in amusement. “You wanna go back in there?”

“I want some more alcohol. Gotta make some sacrifices.”

When you re-enter the inside area and the crowd is once again suffocating, he reaches behind him and takes your hand.

When you reach the bar, it takes him a while to let go.

You buy the drinks this time, despite his protests, and you find yourselves on the edge of the dancefloor, not quite in with the crowd, but still very much in the dancing zone.

The extra alcohol really starts to hit you a few minutes later, and you definitely feel unstable on your feet. It looks like Joe’s in a similar boat, and you’re both dancing, but it’s more just shuffling around, bopping to the beat, trying not to trip over your own feet.

It doesn’t take long for you to find the nearest wall to lean against, pretending it’s all part of your plan to try to do something sexy, some hot sliding down the wall or something, but really you’re just tired of standing properly. Joe’s still swaying in front of you, and you don’t think he’s really on beat anymore but it’s hard to tell.

He tries to do some silly dancing against you again, but a blind man could see that it’s just an excuse to get near you again and make you laugh, and he’s only really half-committing to the joke. You laugh anyway and push at him lightly.

“You don’t like it?” he says.

“Hate it.”

“Oh, man,” Joe complains. “I can’t win. What do you like?”

“I like–” But, somehow, you manage to swallow the end of the sentence.

“What?” Joe says, and he moves in close to you, and you know he could hear you just fine before, but it thrills you to know that he’s wanting to stand this close to you.

Unthinkingly, you slip a finger into the waistband of his jeans, tugging him even closer. “I like a man who takes charge,” you say into his ear, although you’re not quite sure why you say it.

Joe pulls back, searching your face with somewhat glassy eyes. “Yeah?”

You nod, biting your lip. The world swoops and swims around you.

Joe licks his lips. “Bit stereotypical,” he says, and it’s a joke, but he seems too distracted – or too drunk – to put in the proper effort to play it up for laughs.

You shrug a shoulder. “Just how it is.”

Joe props his hand against the wall beside your head, and, his eyes watching your face, his other hand brushes over your side. Your breath catches, and, seeing your reaction, his hand comes to rest more firmly on your waist.

You know that alcohol is a depressant, it’s meant to dull your senses, so why Joe’s hand feels more real and warm and firm that anything else you’ve ever felt in your life, you don’t know.

“I’m…” But, luckily, you swallow that sentence too.

Joe’s other hand moves from the wall to your other side, and you instinctively pull him closer. He’s pressing you against the wall, and you can barely remember how to breathe. You’ve never felt more turned on in your life.

“What?” he says.

Your hands rest against his chest. “I’m– I–”

Then he kisses you.

It’s not gentle, either. It’s rough, and hot, and messy and desperate, all right off the bat. You whimper against his mouth, wrapping your hands around his neck, and his hands tighten on your waist.

Now you’re those people. Those people who make out in a club, far too passionately to be appropriate where a whole room full of strangers can see, but, Jesus Christ, you don’t care.

Joe’s a good kisser, even as drunk as he is, and when he pulls away to kiss your neck, you think you might die.

“Joe,” you say breathlessly. “Joe, I–”

He hums against your skin, and raises his head. His lips are kiss-swollen, his hair a disaster from your fingers.

In that moment, the only thing you can think to say is, “I’m really– I’m so– I’m really fucking... turned on. Right now.”

Joe laughs, and kisses you once, then pulls away. “Don’t ask me why, but you’re really cute when you’re desperately horny,” he says.

You smile sheepishly.

Joe kisses you again, and one of his hands brushes along your ribs, just under your breast, and you whine shakily, needy, pressing into him. He moans, and you can’t hear it over the music, but you can feel the vibrations, and he reluctantly pulls away again to say into your ear, “C’mon.”

You burst into the disabled bathroom, stumbling, and Joe grabs your arm to steady you. You fall into him, giggling, and he wraps his arms around you, trying in vain to shush you, but he’s laughing himself. Twisting in his arms, you throw hook your elbows over his shoulders and pull him in for a kiss, and the two of you stagger blindly to the nearest wall, teeth colliding, noses bumping.

The breath is punched out of you when you hit the wall, but you barely even notice, clawing at the back of Joe’s shirt, rucking it up, getting your hands on his bare skin. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you moan breathlessly into his mouth.

“You gonna fuck me?” you ask him as he breaks away to press sloppy kisses to your throat.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough, and it sounds so hot that you have to close your eyes. But then the world spins, so you wrench them open again.

You paw at Joe’s jeans. “Off,” you demand, and Joe sways away from you, frowning down at his jeans, yanking at the button. You shimmy your underwear down to your ankles, and when Joe glances up at you, his eyes immediately latch onto your bare cunt. “Oh… my God,” he mumbles.

You absentmindedly, impatiently, start fingering yourself, just a bit, just wanting to feel good and get some relief. “Come on,” you urge Joe. “Want you in me.”

Joe finally manages the button, and only undoes the fly halfway, shoving his jeans and underwear down to his knees, and pressing himself to you, kissing you passionately. His hand replaces yours, and you fumble for his cock, pumping it, playing with it, getting it hard, and Joe’s panting shakily against your lips, his fingers clumsily circling your clit. His other hand tugs at the strap of your shirt, pulling it halfway down your arm, followed by your bra strap, and he yanks your bra down your chest a little, shoving his hand inside to knead your breast. You arch into him, moaning his name, and he responds with yours, bucking into your hand.

“Turn around,” he mumbles, and you do, shuffling, and he grabs your hip with one hand and pushes on your back with the other, bending you over, making you moan far too loudly, the sound echoing in the bathroom.

You feel the head of his cock sliding through your cunt, just teasing, and you push your hips back. “C’mon, do it,” you say.

“Tell me you want it,” Joe says. “I wanna hear you say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you say. “Please, come on, I’m so…”

“You want me to fuck your tight little pussy?”

“Yeah, I want it.”

“Fuck.” Joe moans. “You’re so wet.”

You whine. “Joe, please.”

Joe breathes out shakily, and then he pushes into you, and you both moan at the sensation.

You hold yourself up against the wall with your arms, and your legs are already trembling. You’re about to beg Joe to move, but then he does, pulling out and driving into you again, and you gasp, and then it’s all you can do to stay upright as he fucks you hard and fast. Moans and pleas and whines are tumbling from your mouth of their own accord, and your fingers grapple for something to hold onto on the wall, and every grunt and moan of Joe’s makes you weak.

Then he’s slowing down, and he draws away, pulling at your shoulder. “Wanna see your face,” he says breathlessly, and you let him manhandle you, turning you around again, and he presses you against the wall, kissing you deeply.

You try hiking one leg up over his hip, but it’s too hard to stay balanced, so you shake your head, and mumble against his lips, “Sink, sink.”

“Huh?”

“Fuck me over the sink.”

You both stagger over to the sink, and the reasonably sturdy-looking island it’s built into, and you hop up onto it, grappling with your underwear, pulling it off over your shoes. You tug Joe close to you, between your legs, hooking your ankles over the small of his back, and he wraps an arm firmly around your waist, sinking into you again.

You lean back against the wall to find a better angle, keeping one hand on Joe’s shoulder, and he leans forward, mouthing at the swell of your partially-exposed breast.

“Fuck, Joe,” you moan, and your eyes focus on where his cock is disappearing into you, and you find yourself fixated on the sight. It makes your whole body feel hot, like your blood is on fire.

Joe takes your arm, tugs you forward again so he can kiss you, and he pulls you closer by your hips. “Shit,” he gasps against your lips. “You feel so good.”

You press your forehead to his, occasionally nipping at each other’s lips, like you’re trying to kiss but you’re too focused on the movement of your bodies together to really try. He speeds up, his hips snapping against yours.

“You gonna come?” you pant.

“Yeah,” Joe grunts. “Shit.”

You wriggle a hand in between your bodies and start touching yourself, and your pulse spikes, and you whine.

“Fuck, I’m…” Joe’s arms shake, his rhythm stuttering. “Where– where d’you want it?”

“In me, want it in me,” you blurt out.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, just wanna feel it, fuck.”

Joe presses a searing kiss to your mouth, and you’re rubbing your clit furiously with one hand and clawing at the back of his shirt with the other, and then he breaks away to bury his face into your neck, moaning brokenly as he comes inside you, and you grip him to you, wanting to milk every so drop from him, feel it all inside you.

He pants against your skin, kissing your neck, and then he lifts his head to kiss your lips. “Shit,” he sighs, and his mouth is soft and pliant, his eyes warm on your face when he draws back to look at you.

You haven’t come yet. You don’t know whether to say anything about it or not. But you give Joe a smile anyway, and give him a brief kiss of your own.

He pulls out of you, and you make a small sound at the emptiness you feel. Joe kisses you again, and then his fingers find yours, and you moan as you realise he’s wanting to feel his come leak out of you, all over his fingers.

You twitch, breaking the kiss. “Joe, touch me,” you beg.

He does, his fingers clumsy in his drunkenness but confident and just the right amount of pressure, and he watches your face closely as he makes you tremble. He fucks you with his fingers, and the wet sound of it is obscene.

“So fucking hot,” he breathes. “You’re so perfect.”

“Joe, please,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby, I got you, just relax.”

You try to kiss him, but he pulls back. “No, I wanna watch you.” His mouth hangs open slightly, and you want to bite at his pouty bottom lip. “You look like a mess.”

“I do?” you say.

“Yeah,” Joe says. “Everyone’s gonna know that you’ve just been fucked in the bathroom. No way you can hide it.”

His thumb plays with your clit, and every so often his fingers slide completely out of you, dragging up to your clit, rubbing it, teasing it, and then he presses his fingers back into you. Your orgasm is building slowly, bit by bit, and you’re powerless to do anything but let Joe do as he pleases. All you can do is moan and squirm.

“Please,” you whine. “Please.”

“Shh, you gotta keep quieter than that,” Joe whispers.

You shake your head. “I– I can’t.”

“You gotta try.”

He massages your G-spot, and a gasping cry tears from your throat, your body shaking. “Fuck, please!”

Blissfully, Joe speeds up, and you’re so close. “Joe, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”

He speeds up even more, and you grip his forearm, sobbing, and then finally you tumble over the edge, your orgasm pulsing through you, and you cry out, your hips bucking.

Joe shushes you again, surging forward to kiss you, to swallow every noise you make, as he eases you through it.

Your orgasm seems to take forever to settle, but when it does, you sigh on a small whimper, and your kisses grow deeper, less frantic, more controlled. Joe draws his hand away and tucks himself back into his briefs, then sets his on your thigh. His fingers are wet, sticky, but you don’t care.

Finally, you and Joe break apart, and you meet eyes. You bite your lip, and glance away, almost embarrassed.

Joe kisses your cheekbone. “So hot,” he breathes. “I’m so obsessed with you.”

You laugh again, and bury your face in his neck.

“Go on a date with me,” Joe murmurs, and you lift your head.

“What?”

“Go on a date with me,” he says again. “I wanna take you out to dinner.”

Surely this is a dream. “Yeah,” you say with a grin, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Course.”

Joe presses a quick kiss to your lips, and then there’s banging on the bathroom door and someone yelling something incoherent.

You groan. “I don’t wanna go back out there.”

“Then come over,” Joe says.

You give him a look of suspicion. “What about that dinner first, hm?”

“I’ll buy you food on the way home,” Joe says with a cheeky smile. “Or I can make you breakfast in the morning.”

You sigh, and hum in approval, leaning in for another kiss. There’s another round of banging on the door, which interrupts you, and you frown at the door.

“C’mon,” Joe says, and helps you down from the counter. You both tidy yourselves up as best you can, and then Joe takes your hand, and you wobble out of the bathroom. Joe’s head is held high as he muscles past the line of irritated people, and you hide your face in his chest.

You both elbow your way through the club and out the door, and Joe calls you both a ride.

“You’re so obsessed with me?” you ask him.

He wraps his arm around your waist, and presses a kiss to your hair. “Mm-hm. Have been for months now. Glad you noticed.”

“I… I didn’t think you liked me in that way,” you say. “I wasn’t sure.”

Joe huffs a laugh. “Don’t know how I could’ve made it any more obvious,” he says.

“Well, you made it pretty obvious tonight.”

“And I’m about to make it really obvious a couple more times when we get back to mine.”

You scoff, and shove at him lightly. He laughs, and ducks his head to steal a kiss. You twist in his arms to kiss him back.

#my writing #joe mazzello x reader #bohemian rhapsody fanfiction #smut #rpf

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pynkhues · 4 years

Note

i know that the audacity of what im about to ask is off the charts bc you're already too good to us, writing fic left and right and updating a lot soon but im SO weak over the parenting group!AU that im right here to beg for a snippet of it, if you feel like sharing!

Haha, the audacity is not off the charts at all! I can give you a snippet! Sorry it’s coming a little later – when you sent this to me this morning, I was like ‘oh god, everything I have is too ugly to post’ haha, so it gave me an excuse to tidy up a scene I’d drafted already which is fun!

I will say as just a heads up, I’m operating now on a one-out-one-in system for multi-chaptered WIPs. So when I finish CYF (which is basically done, just got to post the epilogue!), I’ll be starting to post the pirate au, and when I finish See You in the Light, I’ll be starting to post this parents group au, and then finally when I finish If It Wasn’t for All the Lights, I’ll start to post the BDSM au! It’s probably a deeply flawed system, but it’s the one I’m going ahead with, haha.

Anyway!

A snippet of the parents group au!

“C’mon, pop,” Rio grunts, trying to get the tabs free on the side of the diaper as Marcus kicks out his legs, squirming up the back of the change mat like he’s trying to slip up on out of the thing, and shit, the last thing he needs is the kid to smear Rhea’s Earth Mama Angel Bottom Balm up the back of his new hoodie.

“I have spare diapers if you need to borrow one,” Beth says at the change table beside him, having apparently gotten Jane into her new one in record speed, and Rio lets his gaze stick for a second, watching as she makes even easier work of getting Jane’s thrashing legs back into her pink polka dot leggings, like it’s nothing at all. It’s enough to make his jaw rock, his attention twisting back to Marcus, trying to get the tab unstuck again, but his fingers are still oily with the diaper rash cream, and Marcus’ face is gettin’ redder, and he just can’t get his grip.

He tugs Marcus back towards him, dropping a hand to his son’s belly, tickling a little to try and calm him down, even as he levels Beth with an irritated look.

“Yeah, what part of this looks like the diaper’s the issue?”

Somewhere outside, he hears her friend laughing, the sound loud and warm over the pinging arcade machines and the banging of the bowling balls hitting the polished floor of the lanes, the crack of one hitting pins, and - - and he ain’t being fair.

Knows that.

It’s not her fault he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Still, when he glances sideways at her again, she’s unbothered by his tone – not pissed like Rhea would be, or wounded like his ma – and something about that bothers him more than it should. Instead, Beth shrugs, fixing her gaze back down on her daughter.

“It just looks like it’s one of those organic ones, right?” she says, gently lifting Jane to put her onto her belly for a few minutes of tummy time – just like Nance had told ‘em to in class – before turning to better look at Rio, her eyes tired as she watches him yank again on the tab of Marcus’ diaper. “I tried those with Kenny, and I just find the tabs always - -”

Riiiiiiiip.

He can feel his pulse in his throat as his cream-covered fingers clench around a handful of torn diaper, can feel it even harder behind his eyes, his blood thrumming hot beneath his skin and damn, it ain’t anger, it’s just - -

Fuckin’ exhaustion.

He pulls the diaper out from underneath Marcus’ bare, wet-with-diaper-cream ass and stamps his foot hard down on the peddle of the bin beside the change table, tossing the whole damn thing in with more force than necessary, and he’s expecting Elizabeth to have that look on her face again – that one that’s some mix of pity and judgement or even worry at seein’ a guy like him snap – but it ain’t even really a look at all. She’s just magicked up one of her kids’ diapers from that Mary Poppins bag of hers, and holds it out to him.

“If you loosen the tabs and open it up a bit before you get it under him it’ll be easier too,” she offers, and Rio grunts, plucking it from her hand and fixing his attention back on Marcus’ flailing legs, sucking in a breath to calm his frayed nerves, before gently lifting his son again to get the diaper up underneath him, adjusting it to get it in the right spot, trying to avoid Marcus’ kicking feet, and it’s just - - sudden.

That’s the thing.

Because Marcus’ legs calm down right in time with Beth’s arm suddenly pressing into Rio’s, and Rio blinks up to see Beth reached over and her finger is curled in Marcus’ tiny fish, and Rio tears his confused gaze away from Beth to look up and see his son smiling, that one that makes him look like the whole damn sun, and he keeps smiling, even when he shoves his fist – still clutchin’ Beth’s finger – right up into his mouth.

And he’s gonna stop it – ain’t like he loves other people’s kids chewing on his knuckles – but he finally gets Marcus properly into the clean diaper, and before he can do anything else, Beth’s just started talking.

“That is a strong grip,” she whispers, so quiet it’s almost like she doesn’t want Rio to hear, and her voice is light and bright in a way he ain’t really used to hearing. “And very warm slobber, which is what you want from slobber. I mean, can you even imagine cold slobber? Like a ghost. I will say Billy from class has some weirdly cold slobber, so you stay away from him, mister.”

Rio just - - blinks, his brow furrows, his lips parting, but when he opens them all the way, no words come out. Instead he just stands there like a dumbass, watching this woman half-bent over her kid and his at the change table of a bowling alley, her strawberry blonde hair falling down, concealing her face so all Rio can see is his son’s, and how whatever it is she’s doing makes his son happy, and he can’t really explain any of it, but he just - -

“Oh my god, Paulie! Twins!”

“Amber, don’t - -”

Whatever Paulie was about to say is lost to the rest of the parents’ room as Rio spins to see a skinny, leggy blonde thrust a toddler with milkshake-vomit down his shirt at some guy with frosted tips like this is the fuckin’ 90s, and dart towards them in a wave of too-sweet perfume. She’s so fuckin’ quick (or maybe just - - y’know - - awake given her kid’s old enough to vomit milkshake instead of formula), instantly peering over at Marcus and Jane on the change tables, an easier feat now that Beth’s standing up again, her finger reclaimed, rolling Jane back onto her back on the mat.

Amber’s cooing is instant, and Rio sighs, grabbing Marcus’ pants from where he’d slung them over his shoulder and starting to shake them out.

“Oh my goooodddd, they’re like those ones you see on TV! Paulie!! Look!! Like, one’s just like mommy, and one’s just like daddy.”

Which - - Rio blinks, looking sideways at Beth, who just seems to be watching Amber with that same neutral, Stepford Wife-look she gets in class. Rio sets his jaw, shaking his head, as he starts to bunch the pants up in his hands, ready to put them on Marcus, opening his mouth to correct the other woman.

“Nah, they ain’t - -”

“You think so?”

The words are offered so suddenly, so sharply, that Rio’s head spins back around to look at Beth again, his eyebrows raised at her interruption, but she doesn’t look back at him, just keeps her gaze fixed on Amber. She wrinkles her nose a little, purses her lips, before dropping a hand back to the change table while leaning forwards a little, almost conspiratorially.

“We’ve been thinking about signing them up for auditions, but I don’t know,” she waves a hand suddenly at Rio, who only blinks at her. “James here thinks it might not be the best idea.”

And okay, for starters, fuckin’ James? She really wants to play him like that? But also - - just - - y’know. What the fuck? Rio stares at her, taking in her widening eyes and her baggy mama sweater that does exactly zero to hide the fact that she’s stacked, but also the fact that she’s holdin’ herself kinda different all of a sudden. Like she’s caught him looking, her gaze darts towards him, and it’s so quick he almost misses it, the way she just sort of - -

Shrugs.

Rio scoffs a little – a sound Amber clearly reads as about the audition and not about this whole damn show – and turns around, putting on a smile for Marcus as he finishes bunching up the pants and pushing them up over his tiny feet.

“Men are always weird about this stuff, but you guys should totally be auditioning them! Like, I could literally see them in commercials for formula. You know they always put the cutest ones in them, because they want to trick regular people into thinking that their product’s gonna like, magic you a better-looking baby.”

Which - - look, Rio can’t exactly say it’s a surprise. He’s pretty sure his sister changed her kids’ brand of juice because one of the ads had one of the little girl’s playin’ Daisy Doctor instead of Holly Housewife. His thoughts are interrupted though when Marcus sneezes, and Rio leans over enough to grab a tissue from Beth’s diaper bag, vaguely aware of Paulie rounding the change tables for the sink, and tugging off his own kids’ shirt and it’s really only then that Rio realises he hasn’t even blinked at the smell of vomit, which - -

Okay, actually, that could be the fifteen years working in a bar.

“You know, I think I’ve heard that,” Beth says, and the girl makes a humming noise, her bowling shoes tapping a little on the tiled floor.

“Well, that’s an insider secret for you. I lived in LA for like, ever. It was almost two years. I mean, closer to one, but that’s basically 40 Hollywood years. I even once auditioned to play a mom in a Baby’s Only commercial. I mean I didn’t get it, but I think it was because I was like, too in shape, y’know?”

Which - - shit, Rio coughs a little to cover a sound he doesn’t even know, a laugh? A scoff? Why the hell is she even talkin’ to this woman?

“Wow,” Beth says though, her voice loaded with concern. “That’s gotta be discrimination.”

“I know right?”

And it’s Jane who wobbles at least, her bottom lip quivering, her legs kicking, and Beth turns around instantly, humming softly back down at her daughter, and before Rio can help it, his gaze darts over to her, watching as her face softens, her eyes glaze over, like they do sometimes, and he thinks of saying somethin’ to her, but shit, what? He doesn’t know jack about her.

A wave of perfume hits them again, and the second he finishes getting Marcus’ pants on, picks him up, turns around at the same time Beth does with Jane, Amber’s right in front of them, her gaze darting between Jane and Marcus, like she’s not sure which one to look at first.

Finally, she just sighs, clutching a hand forlornly to her chest.

“Like, I’m not even kidding. You made two really nice babies. Like, Paulie, tell them I’m not kidding.”

Over at the sink, Paulie grunts again, holding the toddler’s shirt under a furious stream of water, and Rio stares for a minute, watching the guy morosely clean up toddler vomit while the kid licks the rim of the sink. Rio resists the urge to gag as he bounces Marcus a little on his hip.

“How’d you two even meet anyway?”

And at least that much he should’ve expected. Rio shakes his head, gaze fixing back on Amber, the words ready on his tongue, but before he can say a damn thing, Beth’s cut him off again.

“It sounds so weird, but it was actually at an underwater research center.”

Which - - okay - - what?

His gaze flicks back to Beth, but she ain’t looking back at him. She’s just got Jane curled into her chest, nestling her face into her breast, while Beth hums a little, just - - blatantly fuckin’ lying.

“I was studying - - ” outside, a bowling ball hits the floor hard. “How sound affects - -“ she fingers her pearl necklace with the hand not clutching Jane, “Oysters, because I am a scientist, and James here was researching - - ” Beth’s gaze darts around, fixing on Marcus in Rio’s arms. “Marco Polo.”

Before Rio’s even had time to catch up to that, Paulie blinks up, confused, from his spot at the sink.

“In Detroit?”

It’s enough to make Beth stutter, her eyes blinking rapidly, and he really should just leave her to fix this herself, should leave her there gaping like a fish, scrambling for the tail-end of her own lie, and get back out to the group, but - - Rio sucks in a breath - - Marcus would be bare-assed right now if it wasn’t for her.

“Nah, man, west coast. We just moved back here to be close to family with the twins,” he drawls with a shrug, and maybe that makes it worth it – how quickly Beth reels around to look at him, and - - shit, have her eyes always been that blue? Rio blinks, jerks his head back around to Amber, rolling his shoulders back to undo the sudden knot in them. “One of those things, yeah? We met workin’ out there, but turned out we were both from here.”

He means to leave it at that. Should, really, but all he can think about is her in class – prim and proper and that look again, like she’s judging him, and she got them into this, right? Before he can think twice, he drops his free hand to her lower back, smoothing it around to hold the soft hip furthest from him, smiling toothlessly as Beth stiffens and then pointedly, deliberately, relaxes, while Amber holds her hand to her chest again, hums an: “Aww, that’s how you know it’s meant to be!”

“That’s right,” Rio replies, and he watches Beth turn her face up to meet him, her gaze darting across his face like she’s trying to figure something out, and shit, he’s just trying to match what she’s laying down. After a moment, Beth spins into him, her free arm dipping around his back, and something in him sparks hot and he just - - he hadn’t known how fucking small her hands were until one squeezes at his waist.

“Right, honey,” she says, voice high and too-sweet. “I was just so lucky. And speaking of our families, we should really get back to them.”

After that, it’s easy enough to pack up the last of the diaper bags, for Amber to dip down to help Paulie and the kid, and for them to slip out again under the distraction, and it’s just fuckin’ weird, he thinks, to watch that little character Beth had invented – all ease and charm – slip off her shoulders like a cloak, and he means to let it go, because what skin is it off his nose if she’s some sort of pathological liar? But as they duck between the groups of sprawling teenagers and middle America families ordering fries and picking bowling ball weights, guys shoving each other at arcade games, and kids feeding quarters into claw machines, he just - - itches.

So maybe he steps a little slower, matching her pace, maybe he looks at her, amused, a little goading as he says: “So you in some secret, new mama improv group, or what?”

And Beth just - -

Shrugs, and shit, she doesn’t even look at him when she says:

“You don’t ever get bored of just being you?”

Rio blinks, his step slowing all over again, taking in her tired look, the diaper bag slung over her shoulder, that shirt she’s wearing, stained with grubby children’s fingers and milk, that damn new mama smell that’s always up his nose with her, and he just thinks - - nah, not really, but before he has the chance to say it, it’s like she’s read it on his face. She hoists a snuffling Jane up a little higher and moves faster than she has any right to. Back across the bowling alley, back into their lane, nestled in the shelter between her friend and her sister, away from him.

#parents group au #one day you will have a title #inyoursheets

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gottlem · 4 years

Text

favourite song (lemonjuice)

a/n: well here it is! gonna keep this short and sweet but i wanted to say how much i love these two and i wrote this just bc i felt like we needed more lemonjuice fics !!! props the the handful of writers who have already written this ship, they’re all so great !! quick sidenote, i haven’t written in a while, so i really hope y’all find this up to standard !!! <3

summary: Juice found that the best way to get her feelings out was through writing songs, but she would never tell her best friend and long time crush, Lemon, about that. Well, until she does. (3.3k words)

Juice was never really the best at outwardly expressing her feelings. Even when she tried to open up to her best friend from childhood, Lemon, it was as if the words got lost somewhere between her mind and her mouth. And as someone with far too many emotions to keep bottled up safely, she needed a way to let them out. So she began to write songs. Over a few years, she taught herself to play a guitar she had found stocked away in her home, which had been surprisingly intact and functional for it’s age.

At first, her songs were mediocre at best. The chords sometimes wouldn’t sound right together and she couldn’t really get the lyrics to flow in the way she wanted them to, but after writing and writing she started to find her sound. And it was good. Once she was truly happy with the content she was creating, she didn’t want to keep it to herself any longer. It’s not like she wanted to become famous, no, the idea of fame scared her shitless. But she wanted somewhere to put her work, she didn’t care if one person or one thousand people listened. So she made a small Instagram account. It didn’t have her name, and she didn’t tell any of her friends, but over time it acquired a small but surprisingly active following.

It was Friday night when Juice started on a new song. It was one she had been meaning to write for a long time, but was about something she was scared to even admit to herself. Feelings she was scared to face. Feelings for Lemon. They had been there for a while, festering under the surface, and only recently had they gotten out of control. Nothing had triggered it, not particularly, but suddenly she had found herself thinking about her friend far too often to be considered platonic. They had been best friends for as long as Juice could remember, and she knew she was far into the friend zone. Lemon would flirt often, make jokes about them becoming girlfriends. Which was fine. It meant she was comfortable enough in their friendship. And as long as Lemon loved her in any way, Juice was happy. Or at least, that's what she told herself.

She was in the middle of writing her very first song about the girl when her strumming was interrupted by her phone ringing. Loudly. She should have remembered to just put it on mute. It’s ringing startled her enough to be taken out of the zone she was in, so she decided the least she could do was check who it was. And she figured the universe had decided to play a massive practical joke on her right at the moment, because the caller ID read “lem”. She answered it anyway, it was Lemon after all, how couldn’t she?

“Lem! Hi!” She cursed herself for how smitten she sounded, Lemon would be quick to figure out her feelings if she wasn’t careful.

“Juicy! What’s up? What are you doing right now?” Juice’s heart stopped. Partly because of the nickname that she still hadn’t gotten used to, and partly because she has no idea how to answer that question without having to explain why she’s kept this hobby secret for so long.

“Umm, well”

She didn’t actually know why she had kept this from Lemon all this time. Maybe telling her would be good, maybe it wouldn’t even change anything. So she bit the bullet and made the split second decision to let the cat out of the bag. She didn’t have to say what, or who, she was writing about, right?

“I was in the middle of writing a song, you actually kind of scared me, my phone was so loud” There was a beat of silence. Juice bit her bottom lip nervously and just hoped she wouldn’t be asked a question that she was absolutely not ready to answer.

“You were- since when did you write songs? Juicy how did I not know about this? Can you even play any instruments? What do you play?”

These questions, Juice could deal with.

“I uh, started a few years ago, didn’t tell anyone because I wanted it to be something I could keep for myself, and I taught myself guitar after I found one in that spooky cupboard you can never go into.”

Lemon chuckled, causing Juice to blush instantly. Because of course she did.

“Wow. Years, huh? Why didn’t you tell me though?” Juice didn’t expect her friend to sound almost hurt by the fact that she had kept this from her. But then again, they tell eachother everything. She didn’t really know why she never told Lemon. Maybe she was scared of opening up too much, sounding dramatic. Maybe she was scared she wouldn’t like her songs. Maybe she was scared she would.

“I don’t know Lem. Just didn’t come up I guess”

“Well, can I hear one? What about the one you’re writing now?”

“Not yet. Maybe next time you come over once it’s finished.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, definitely. Well I’ll let you finish it then, text me when it’s done!”

When Lemon hung up, the silence of the room fell heavy on Juice’s ears. Obviously, she wouldn’t show Lemon the song she was writing just then, but she didn't have to know that. She would show Lemon a song she wrote a month or two ago, she remembered it well enough and it’s not about anything too serious that Lemon doesn’t already know about. No harm done. Easy.

Lemon was set on hearing at least one of Juice’s songs. She couldn’t believe that after knowing her for so many years, she had hidden this from her! It’s not that she was angry, she wasn’t, she just wished she hadn’t missed out on all this. She wondered what she could have written about over the years, what she writes about now. She wondered what her voice sounded like, would it be smooth and silky, or breathy and soft? What would her songs even sound like? Does she have her own special sound, distinctive from everyone else? She just wanted to know. She wanted to hear them.

When Juice finally performed a song for Lemon, she was speechless. They sat on Juice’s bed, candles burning on the windowsill and hot chocolates resting on her nightstand. The moon shone from the window, it was quite late, probably too late to make any noise, but nobody was home to hear, so neither girl tried to keep quiet despite the late hour. From the moment Juice started to pluck a soft pattern on the nylon strings of the old guitar, she was mesmerised. The melody was soothing, and her voice was soft enough to send her to sleep if she closed her eyes for too long. It was a beautiful song, about a story Lemon had already heard a thousand times before, but never in this format. That made it feel brand new.

The pair fell asleep soon after that, limbs tangled in Juice’s bed just like all the other times before, except a soft humming could be heard that sent Lemon straight to sleep in her friend's familiar arms. Juice wished it could be like this every night. But her and Lemon were just friends, eventually she’d be okay with that reality. She’d have to be.

It didn’t take long for Lemon to find Juice’s account dedicated to her songs. After she went home that morning she went straight onto Instagram, remembering something Juice had said about an account where she puts all her music onto. At first, she didn’t quite know where to look, but she ended up searching through the followers and following on Juice’s main account and eventually stumbled upon it. She just wanted to hear more.

Lemon checked the most recent video posted, expecting it to be the same song Juice had performed for her the night before, since she had been told it was the one her friend had just written, the one she had interrupted the writing of. It took her a minute to realise the song was definitely not the same, but she didn’t think too much of it, maybe she hadn’t posted that one yet. Hearing one of her songs before anyone else made Lemon’s stomach do a little flip, something she was growing used to around her friend.

As Lemon scrolled through the account, listening to each and every song, she encountered one that sounded extremely familiar, posted months ago. It was the exact same one Juice had performed to her. But if she had only just written it, how had it been posted months ago? She tried not to dwell on it for too long, opting to just enjoy the music instead. Once she had sifted through every video, she followed the account, wanting to hear everything her friend came out with.

Juice’s songs were special. They allowed Lemon to feel more connected to her friend; she always felt as if Juice was biting her tongue, holding back. All she had ever wanted was Juice to open up around her, and if it was through her breathtaking music, then so be it. Some songs were about stuff that Lemon had never heard her friend even mention before, and she was tempted to give her a ring or text and ask her about them, talk more into detail about the contents, but she always stopped herself at the last minute. If Juice wanted to talk about something that was bothering her, she would talk. Maybe she was scared to.

Juice almost screamed when she saw the notification that Lemon had followed her account. She looked over every one of her posts, making sure they were all good enough for Lemon to see. She wanted Lemon to love her music now she knew about it, and hoped she would bring up one of her songs to her. She wondered which song would be Lemon’s favourite, and why. She wanted to know how many she had listened to. Had she just followed the account and left it at that? Had she watched her most recent video? Had she listened to all of her posts?

So Juice waited. She waited for Lemon to bring it up. But even after posting a couple of new songs, she got nothing. She was quick to come to the conclusion that Lemon wasn’t really looking at her new posts, though in reality that couldn’t be further from the truth. When Juice figured Lemon wasn’t listening to her new music, she found the courage to post her song about the girl. It wasn’t very specific, it was clearly about a girl she had some strong feelings for, but there were no identifying details that could lead to the conclusion of the song being undoubtedly about Lemon. This meant if Lemon did happen to hear it, there was no way she would know right off the bat that the song was about her. She didn’t need Lemon to know her true feelings.

When Juice posted her first song about Lemon, the feedback had been overwhelmingly positive. She received a few more likes than usual, and the comments were filled with well wishes for her and the mystery girl she had written a song about. But there was nothing from Lemon, as usual. Juice was confident that she wasn’t listening, so she posted more and more songs about her. It wasn’t like she only ever wrote about Lemon anymore, though she was definitely getting more comfortable doing so and began writing about her more often than not, allowing herself to fall deeper for the girl. As she posted more songs, they became increasingly more specific, but never enough to allow her to be figured out. Someone would only be able to tell it was Lemon if they were actively looking for that specific conclusion.

Lemon couldn’t believe it when she heard Juice’s first love song. She watched her best friend’s eyes light up on her screen while singing about this mystery girl, but there was something else to her facial expression that made it all seem bitter sweet. Maybe it was the way her eyes would lose that sparkle for just a moment every once in a while, or the way her lips never really formed into the beautiful smile Lemon had gotten so used to over the years. The song itself was beautiful, as always. Juice sounded as if she meant every single word, truly singing right from her heart.

It hurt Lemon a little to find out Juice felt so strongly about someone and hadn’t told her, but perhaps she was just getting round to it. It hurt her even more that it wasn’t Lemon she was singing about. She knew she had liked Juice for a while, but tried to keep things platonic in fear of her feelings not being reciprocated, and it looked as if that was the right move because now she was listening to Juice sing a love song that wasn’t about her.

Even though she knew she would be hurt by the truth, Lemon was determined to find out who Juice had been singing about in her more recent posts. Each song hurt to listen to more than the last, because she was creating a fantasy where Juice was actually singing about her. It was only made worse that everything Juice said about this girl and their relationship could be used to describe Lemon. She just needed confirmation that it wasn’t her and then she could move on with her life as Juice’s friend. And be content with just that.

Her idea was simple, but effective. Just ask her. Juice was a terrible, terrible liar, made worse when it was Lemon she tried to lie to, so she knew she’d be getting the truth about whoever this girl was. All she had to do was try not to show her feelings, and try not to get jealous of this girl. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Juice enjoyed whatever time she could spend with Lemon, but nothing could beat when she stayed over. They turned on fairy lights and lit candles before making hot chocolate and turning on netflix, watching from the comfort of Juice’s bed. Maybe she liked it so much because they always ended up tangled together. She just liked the way Lemon’s skin felt against hers, even if it was just some small brushes under the covers.

They were chatting about nothing in particular when Lemon changed the subject without warning, something she always did.

“Hey Juicy, I’ve loved your songs lately by the way. Not that I don’t always love them. I just thought I’d tell you”

Juice’s heart stopped. She could practically feel the colour drain from her face. Lemon listened to her songs. Her recent songs.

“You’ve heard my new ones?” Is all she could get out.

“Duh! I’m your number one fan, juicy”

“Oh.”

“Just one question though, who are all the love songs about?” Juice wouldn’t really describe them as love songs, more like ‘hopelessly crushing on my best friend who I have virtually zero chance with’ songs. But sure, love songs it is.

“Lem. You can’t really write a love song about a stupid crush. Love is a very strong word, I don’t love her. I can’t”

“Honey, you’re in love. You can see it in your eyes when you sing about her. Must be some special girl, huh?” Lemon rubbed salt into her own wound with every word she said. It almost physically hurt to ask about this girl Juice was so clearly smitten for, knowing it wasn’t her.

“Yeah. She’s special. But you don’t get it Lem, I can��t be in love with her. I just can’t”

“Why not?”

Juice just shook her head, defeated. She knew the answer to that. She can’t be in love because she’s her best friend. It would ruin what they have. She would get rejected. Everything would change.

Lemon wiped a stray tear from her friend's cheek.

“Hey. Look at me,” she did, “whoever this girl is, would be so, so lucky to have you. I promise you, one day you’re going to find someone who loves you with just as much passion as I hear in those beautiful, beautiful songs. You deserve to be loved by someone who loves you that much. Okay? Don’t cry baby”

The pet name slipped out of Lemon’s mouth before she could stop it, but it felt so natural as she took the crying girl in her arms. They sat there for a while, Lemon whispering little reassurances in her ear, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

Until Juice pulled away, took a deep breath, and looked Lemon straight in the eye. She was going to tell her.

“I just- Sorry for crying on you”

But she couldn’t. Love is scary. But Lemon is not. It was a painful cycle.

“Don’t be.” Lemon couldn’t stand seeing her Juice so broken, so she figured she’d try to lighten the mood and try to find out who it was so she could finally just get over her. “Sooooooo, who is it?”

“No, I can’t tell you” Juice managed a weak chuckle, shook her head affectionately.

“C’mon, do I at least know her?”

All Lemon got in response was a nod. She was confused, really. She had set herself up to be told a random girls name and have her heart broken. She would take a few weeks to recover, but eventually Juice and this girl would get together and they’d all live happily ever after. She had prepared herself for that. She had not prepared for tears and love and self doubt and secrets. They had never kept anything like this from each other. Ever since coming out to each other, they had vowed to be one another’s wing-woman, so what happened? The only reason Lemon could possibly think of as to why she couldn’t tell her who, was-

“Juicy...” Her tone felt unfamiliar in her mouth. It wasn’t sharp or soft, it wasn’t happy, angry or upset. It might have been hope. Juice just looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Is it-”

“Whoever you’re going to say, I can almost guarantee that you’re wrong” Juice almost found it funny that she was about to guess.

“Let me finish,” Lemon looked at her in the eyes, and smiled softly “ Is it me?”

“I-”

What was she even supposed to say to that? She couldn’t lie, Lemon would see right through it. She couldn’t tell the truth, everything would change. What if Lemon felt weird about it? What if she didn’t want to be as close with her any more? Was she uncomfortable with the idea of Juice having a crush on her?

Lemon giggled softly, “I guess the silence answers that question, huh?”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to anymore. I swear I can just move on and get over it. I really don’t want to ruin our friendship and I’d hate to make you uncomfortable or anything. Are you mad? I don’t blame you if-”

“Shut up” Lemon almost whispered, her soft tone still somehow cutting through Juice’s words like a knife. Juice said nothing. She let the silence take over for a second or two, before Lemon took a breath, and spoke again.

“Shut up, and kiss me”

So she did. Juice had always wondered what kissing Lemon would feel like, but now she was actually doing it, all her expectations didn’t even come close to the real thing. They fit together so easily, the kiss hardly ever breaking, staying as soft as ever. They had all the time in the world, so why rush it?

After that night, Juice wrote countless more songs for her now-girlfriend, and every single time a new one came out, Lemon would say the same thing.

“I like this one. I think it’s my new favourite song. I love you”

And Juice loved her back. You could see it in her eyes. Feel it through her kiss. Hear it in her songs.

#well... hope u liked it!!!!#i hope u know how long it took me to decide who was gonna be the songwriter #im happy with my decision of it being juice #anyways #pls give me validation #ty #lemon #lemon cdr #lemon gives you life #lemon queen #juice boxx #lemonjuice #rpdr fanfiction #canadas drag race #lemon x juice boxx #my writing:)

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