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headkiss · 11 months

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you’ll always know me

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: even as the crowds at his shows get bigger and bigger, eddie munson still has you, his very best friend. or, (for my swifties) eddie munson is your dorothea.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: fluff, a little angst, childhood best friends to lovers (sort of), weed and smoking, librarian!reader, first kiss, so many uses of the words “i miss you,” and some idiots in love !!!

a/n: hiiiii!!! this one took so long but i really love rockstar!eddie and i hope you do too!!! this is inspired by tis the damn season and especially dorothea by taylor swift <3 thank you to my love @inkluvs for encouraging me on this one ily!!!

♫♩♪♬

It’s surreal to watch someone close to you grow so much bigger than the town you live in.

To know that the person you see on the news, at award shows on your TV screen, is the same one who used to push you on the swings at the playground, who used to walk with you to and from school, who grew up beside you, closer than anyone else ever could have.

Closer than anyone ever would, still.

To most people, he’s Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of Corroded Coffin. To you, he’s Eddie, the best friend you’ve ever had.

You can go back years and years, and Eddie’s woven into your life for so much of it. So is his music. You can pick out the points: watching Corroded Coffin play for the first time in middle school, watching their first gig at the Hideout, being in the front row for it all wearing the widest smile, having the loudest cheers.

Even the late night phone calls you’d get when he’d be stuck on lyrics, when he wanted someone’s opinion and chose to dial your number instead of his bandmates’.

(“Hello?”

“I can’t get this line to sound right.”

“Let’s hear it, Munson.”)

You’re often in disbelief of where he is now. Not because you ever doubted him, but because even after so long, it’s strange not to see him every day. You’re insanely proud of him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.

Because you do. You miss him so much.

A box sits on the top shelf of your closet, one filled with newspaper and magazine clippings, articles about the band’s success, positive reviews about their shows and their albums. Things to show that Eddie’s dream came true, and that’s a rare thing.

There’s only one kind of tabloid you choose not to keep: the ones booming with rumors you selfishly hope aren’t true.

‘Lead singer of Corroded Coffin has a new spark? Read more to find out who’s caught famous bad boy Eddie Munson’s eye.’

You see him constantly in pictures, through a screen, but you only really ever see him on holidays, when he’s able to come home. When he comes bursting back into your life in vibrant fireworks with his stupid, pretty smile and stupid, shining brown eyes. When he comes back only to leave all over again.

You only have yourself to blame, really, for letting it tear you up. Because more than anything, you’re happy for him, so happy you could never express it properly, but still, there’s an ache in you when he crosses your mind, when the feelings linger.

Life in Hawkins for you consists of working at the library, reading your days and thoughts away, hanging out with the gang when you’re up to it, and that’s about it.

Eddie always knows where to find you when he does come home, usually barging into the library with his arms open for a hug, one you rush into easily. You always spend the couple days he has in Hawkins together, being the you and him you’ve been since you were kids. But the lingering reminder doesn’t fade, the reminder of him having to leave looming over you like a storm cloud.

Eddie Munson comes home sporadically, unknowingly taking your heart with him wherever he goes. And when his inevitable departure takes place, you’re forced to regrow what’s missing from your chest. Every single time.

Besides his uncle Wayne, who could only ever see him as a troublemaking kid, you’re the only person who’s never treated Eddie any differently.

Not in high school when he was labeled a freak, not even when the fame rose so suddenly it felt like a tidal wave. You kept him afloat. You keep him afloat.

He knows he should call more often, he knows that even if the phone works both ways, you really don’t have a way of keeping track of which hotel he’s in, which state, which country, even. He knows that falls on him.

Your phone number’s burned into Eddie’s memory. He could never forget it, and still, he can’t seem to find the time to dial it. He’ll get called away, or he’ll just be getting back from a show and barely have the energy to shower before getting in bed. Worse, he’ll get the panicked sense that you won’t pick up anymore.

At least he’s never missed your birthday. That, he’ll always make time for, usually phoning you at the same time that a bouquet of flowers arrives at your door. And somehow, even when he’s away, you don’t miss his birthday, either.

Eddie’s sitting on the small couch in his dressing room, waiting to go on stage, thinking of you the way he often does.

He wonders if you think of him, too. If you miss him or if you’re angry that he’s gone so often, that he can barely even manage a fucking phone call. Though, you were never the type to be angry. Never with him, at least.

He wants to hear your voice, wants to hear you tell him ‘good luck’ before going on stage like you used to. He peeks at the table next to the couch. Eddie’s not sure how much time he has before he needs to go, but he figures it’s worth a try.

Just as he’s about to pick up the phone in his dressing room, there’s a knock on the door.

“Munson! You’re on in five!”

He’ll call you later, then.

“Beginning descent to the Indianapolis International Airport.”

The muffled sound through the airplane’s speakers is followed by the ding of the seatbelt signs being turned on. Eddie shifts in his seat to look out the window. He’s got his own little cubicle in first class, and though this is how he always flies now (other than when he finds himself on a private jet, which is even more unbelievable), he’s still not used to it.

He’s itching to get out of this seat, then he remembers that he’s still got the trek through the airport and the drive back to Hawkins. It’ll be worth it to see Wayne, who he doesn’t see nearly as often as he should, and get his classic hug with a slap on his shoulder.

It’ll be worth it to see you, who makes Hawkins feel more like home. You, who reminds him of the person he’s always been, the parts that get lost on the road. You, who hugs him tighter than anyone else ever has.

His hands clench into fits in his lap.

As soon as Eddie steps off the plane, his security team finds him. He’d assured them that he’d be fine, really, but this is how it is for him now. Through baggage claim and all the way to the car that’s waiting for him outside, security takes a step whenever he does.

Shutting the car door as he slides into the backseat, Eddie tips his head back and sighs.

The car ride feels shorter than usual, the city fading into trees and fields until the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view. The gravel crunches under the car’s tires as it pulls into the trailer park. Wayne’s got enough to get a better place now, Eddie made sure of it, but he never did. He’d never admit it but Wayne’s sentimental, and the trailer houses too many memories to let go of it.

After all, it was home.

Stepping through the front door there’s the smell that he’d never noticed until he’d been gone for weeks at a time. The settled dust, the faint smoke of cigarettes, coffee, and the room spray Wayne inevitably uses to try and cover it all up.

Eddie drags his bags inside, waves to his driver, and shuts the door behind him.

Then, Wayne’s warm rasp, “my boy. Get in okay?”

He’s wrapped in his uncle’s classic hug quickly, the pats on his shoulder and all. Eddie closes his eyes and soaks it in, just for a second, “yeah. It was fine.”

“Good, good,” Wayne says, pulling back and grasping Eddie’s shoulders, getting a good look at him. “Take a shower.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

“Nah, that’s me telling you that you smell like airport, boy.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” Eddie says, smiling.

He and Wayne have the kind of relationship that time doesn’t really affect all that much. Whether Eddie’s away for a week or a month, or two, or three, they fall back into things like he’d never even left.

He knows Wayne’s probably lonely, probably hiding more than he could imagine, but he also knows that he loves him, and that’s always a good thing to know, to feel. Loved.

“Shut up, you know I missed you,” Wayne shakes Eddie’s shoulders and lets go, “now go wash up and you can tell me about your last show over some coffee, sound good?”

“Sounds good. I missed you too, Wayne.”

Eddie carries his bags into his room, leaving them open on the ground rather than unpacking. He’ll just have to pack them all over again, anyways.

Before long, the trailer’s small bathroom is filling with steam as Eddie steps into the shower, dropping his neck back and letting the water run over his shoulders, his back. He stands like that for a bit, simply letting the heat melt away at the tension in his muscles.

By the time he steps out, the mirror is completely fogged with steam, and Eddie wipes away at a section to look at himself. The bags under his eyes, the mess of his hair that he doesn’t bother taming, the small scratch on his chin from one of his rings. He shakes his head and heads into his room with his towel around his waist.

He throws on a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded band tee, his hair soaking the back of it drop by drop.

In the kitchen, Wayne’s got two mugs of coffee sitting on the small table, a seat already pulled out for Eddie to take.

“Thanks.”

He nods, sipping from his mug as Eddie does the same.

In the silence, he can’t help but think of you, of how close he is to you now. Mere minutes away. He wonders what you’re doing, if you’re reading in bed after your shift, if you’d just showered like him, if you’re thinking of him, too.

“I saw her the other day,” Wayne says.

They both know he means you.

“How’s she doing?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll ask her that when you see her tomorrow, but she seemed good.”

“How'd you know I’m gonna see her tomorrow?”

“Come on, kid. You go to the library the day after you get in every time and think I don’t notice?”

Eddie looks down at the mug in his hands, his face warm. It shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t have him feeling all shy and nervous, like he’d been caught, but it does.

“She misses you,” Wayne adds.

“She tell you that?”

“Doesn’t have to. I’ve known that girl since she was little and running after you on the playground. I can tell.”

Wayne has always said that you’re as good as family, after all. Eddie used to joke that his uncle liked you more than him, and you used to laugh and joke back that he was right.

Eddie’s suddenly very excited to sleep, only to get to tomorrow quicker.

“I miss her, too.”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Wayne leaves it there, switching things over, “I saw you almost eat shit on TV the other day.”

“Come on!” Eddie groans. He’d tripped over a fucking wire on stage. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was still fuckin’ funny.”

“Of all the shows, you just had to tune in for that one.”

Wayne asks about the tour, about how Eddie’s liking it this time around, about whether or not there’s anything new he’s working on.

In return, Eddie asks about the mechanic’s, about whether or not Wayne’s back has been acting up (which earns him a light slap on the back of the head), about what’s changed in Hawkins since the last time he’d been home.

Even through the smiles he shares with his uncle, Eddie’s wondering how you’ll react when you see him tomorrow, picturing how it’ll feel to be near you again. He gets that feeling in his gut, the butterflies that are nerves and excitement and questions and feelings rolled into one.

He’s pretty sure he dreams about you, too.

Your shifts at the library are always long; full days of scanning and shelving books. You’re lucky to say that you actually like your job. The smell of worn pages, the peacefulness (save for when Dustin comes barging in with his stack of overdue books that you let him off the hook for every time), the interactions that are almost always short and sweet since it’s meant to be a quiet place.

Your eight or nine or however many hour days go by much quicker now than they did during your high school job at the grocery store, that’s for sure.

You’re pushing the put-back cart between shelves, humming a random song quietly as you place the books where they belong, sometimes pausing to straighten things out. It’s the middle of a weekday and you’re the only person in there anyway. That is, until the small bell on the front desk dings.

“Just a second!” You call, squeezing between the cart and the self beside it to walk over to the front desk. You think your heart stops altogether.

You’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, the dark, frizzy curls. Hell, you’d recognize that damn denim vest anywhere, even the stance of the person wearing it. “Eddie?”

He turns around at the sound of your voice, and something lifts from his chest when he sees you. A grin spreads wide on his face, splitting his cheeks and crinkling his eyes in the corners, “there she is.”

Usually, when he comes home, it’s on a holiday and you’re expecting him, watching the door and waiting for him to walk through it. This time, you had no idea he’d be coming home. It’s the best surprise you could get.

You’re practically running into his arms, and he wraps them around your waist easily, yours tossed around his shoulders. Your face is buried in his neck, breathing him in, making sure this is real. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His hands clutch at the fabric over your sides, his head twisting so he can place a kiss over your hair, “had a break from tour. Missed home.”

And sure, Eddie hadn’t really realized just how much he missed it until he came back, it’s crystal clear now, with you hugging him. He really, really missed home.

You want to say something stupid and emotional like it hasn’t felt as much like home until now, or I missed the sound of your voice and the smell of your shampoo, but that would probably reveal a little too much.

“Just home you missed or…” you tease, pulling back to look at his face, his brown eyes that sort of sparkle. Your hands stay on his shoulders, his on your waist.

“I missed Wayne, obviously,” Eddie replies, acting oblivious and smiling at the small furrow in your brow.

“Eddie!”

“Aw, come on.” He tugs you in for another hug, his cheek squished against the side of your head. “‘Course I missed you, trouble.”

Trouble. You never knew you could miss a single word so much.

Eddie started calling you ‘trouble’ when you were kids, sometime in middle school when you’d stolen a bunch of his mixtapes and only returned them weeks later, when he finally noticed. He’d snatched them out of your hands and muttered ‘you’re trouble’ and it just stuck.

“Thank you,” you say, laughing when Eddie pulls back frowning at you. “And I missed you, too. Duh.”

“Duh.” He mocks. He lets go of you fully but doesn’t go far, leaning an elbow against the desk, “you’re doing okay?”

“I’m good. Things don’t change all that much around here, you know that.”

“I’m not asking about around here, I’m asking ‘bout you.”

You tug at the hair tie on your wrist. “I’m fine, Eddie. Promise.”

He nods, and there’s a small lull in the conversation that pinches at your chest for some reason. The sort of silence that never used to be there when it came to you and Eddie, always filling it with conversation or letting it be comfortable. Now, there’s something like awkwardness stretching and it stings.

Because it shouldn’t be there, because he’s Eddie and you’re you and you’re best friends and that’s all there should be to it. But it isn’t. You’re the same people, but so much is different.

“You working late?” He asks.

“Until we close.”

“Care for some company?”

You tilt your head at him, “you really wanna hang around the library for the last four hours of my shift?”

“Sounds like fun to me. I’ll even push the cart for you, and you can tell me what I’ve missed while I was away.”

It’s funny that he thinks he’d ever have to convince you to spend time with him, when you’re practically pulling at any thread of him that you can, when you’re taking anything he has to give you. Two days, a week, a couple of phone calls.

It’s all better than not having him at all.

“Only if you tell me what I’ve missed, too. Like all the cool celebrities you’ve met.”

“Not as cool as you, trouble.” Eddie taps your nose, smiling at the way you scrunch it in response.

“Shut up and start pushing the cart, Munson.”

He stands straight and salutes, “yes ma’am.”

You’re still smiling when you shake your head, “idiot.”

Eddie really does spend the rest of the day with you, pushing the cart while you re-shelf books, sitting in the extra chair behind the counter while you file returns, ducking when someone else walks in.

He asks you about Robin and Steve, Dustin and Lucas, how the kids are finding school, whether Nancy’s been hired at a big paper yet. He asks you about your family, and most of all, about you.

He hangs onto every word you say. And not once do you say anything to make him feel bad for being away, if anything, you can’t stop telling him how proud you are, especially when he talks to you about what’s in the works.

“I always told you you’d make it, Munson.”

“Wouldn’t have done it without you, trouble.”

The next morning, you’re sitting across from him in the corner booth by the window at Benny’s for breakfast. The same way you did every Friday in high school, at the same table.

Whenever you wind up at Benny’s when Eddie’s away, you tend to avoid that booth. It’s pathetic. Like his absence is clearer than ever sitting there when he isn’t. When he’s not putting whipped cream on your nose or stealing food off your plate.

Now, it’s his presence that surrounds you, his smile and his laugh, his foot nudging yours under the table.

The menu is sticky under your fingertips where you hold it, faded from sunlight and discolored from coffee spills that stain the page. You don’t really need to be looking at it—after years of coming here, you’ve probably got the thing memorized—but you need the time to collect yourself. To remember that this is Eddie, and there’s nothing to be nervous about.

You need the time to stuff down that flutter in your gut and in your chest.

On the other side of the booth, Eddie takes your distraction as a chance to really look at you. The details he can’t seem to picture when he’s away like the flecks in your eyes or the exact shade of your lips.

He never realizes just how much he misses you until he’s home. Until he’s sitting across from you and listening to the sound of your voice clearly instead of through a crackling phone’s speaker, until he gets to see the way your eyes light up slightly when you laugh.

It sort of hits him all at once, and he’s thinking, God, I should call more often. I should visit more often.

After a couple of minutes, you look back at Eddie, “you know what you want?”

“I’ve been getting the same thing since high school, trouble. Don’t need the menu.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go order,” you say, placing your menu back in the holder by the window.

When you start sliding your way out of the booth, Eddie places a hand over yours on the table, “I can get it.”

You look down at your hands, his skin on yours, like you’d expected to see something there. A spark, a burn scorching your skin in the best way.

“I know you can,” you say, smiling at him. “But it’s my treat, okay? I want to get it.”

Eddie always feels sort of guilty when he’s not buying, because he has more than enough money to take care of it, more than he knows what to do with. Sometimes (often), people expect him to pay, even. And just like you’d known how he was feeling, you shut it down with a flash of your smile.

You shift to squeeze his hand before getting up and heading over to the counter, leaning on your elbows as you wait your turn.

Still, Eddie’s looking at you, his hand in the same spot on the table.

He knows that, despite it not being a busy morning at Benny’s, people are looking at him, whispering the way they did even in school. Only now, they’re saying they can’t believe it, look at him now, instead of calling him a freak. And just like in school, having you around makes the talk bearable. Hell, it makes it disappear, if only for a little while.

When the waiter finally comes over to take your order, you send him a kind smile, rattling off yours and Eddie’s orders.

Eddie watches the entire interaction. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make eye contact with anyone else, that it’s because he’s just making sure you’re alright. It’s certainly not because of how pretty he thinks you look today, not because of how hard it is to keep his eyes off of you.

The waiter is a younger guy, probably around your age. Someone Eddie doesn’t know. He seems to tell you a joke because you laugh, bright and sunny, and Eddie suddenly wishes that Benny was the one taking orders.

Because he should be the one to make you laugh like that, to be on the receiving end of your grin and crinkled eyes. Because there’s this weight in his stomach that feels a little too much like jealousy. Because you’re his best friend and he fucking misses you.

Eddie looks down at his hands and twists his rings around and around until you come back, the old booth squeaking as you sit down.

“You okay?” You ask, always noticing his nervous habit of fiddling with his rings.

She’s my friend, he reminds himself. My best friend, that’s all.

“‘Course I am.”

“The guy at the counter, Dan, wanted me to tell you he’s a fan.”

He shakes his head, “I can't believe I have those. Especially in this town.”

“Excuse me? Your biggest fan is sitting right here, in this town, Munson.”

He probably thinks you’re joking with the way he chuckles, chest rumbling. But, you’re not. The shoebox full of clippings says enough, and you don’t think he’d ever let you live it down if he knew about it.

“She want an autograph?” He teases, the heaviness in his stomach melting away. Your biggest fan.

“In your chicken scratch? Yeah right.”

It’s not long before your food arrives, plates of waffles and fruit, sides of bacon and hashbrowns. Of course, you inevitably end up with whipped cream on your nose and food missing from your plate.

It’s your favorite kind of breakfast.

You’re sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van—the same van he’s had since high school, that he refuses to replace—heading towards Steve’s place. It’s not unusual for either of you to be meeting up with the gang, but Eddie’s still nervous.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks you.

They don’t know he’s in town, and as sure as you are that they’ll be thrilled to see him, Eddie isn’t convinced. You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly as he drives.

“Everyone’s gonna be so happy to see you. Don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he says easily, without thinking, “just haven’t seen anyone in a while, you know?”

“We all miss you, Eddie. It’ll be fun!”

Logically, he knows nobody’s gonna kick him out, or treat him any differently, but it doesn’t stop him from getting nervous. You wanted to surprise everyone, and how could he say no to you? So, here he is, gripping the steering wheel too tight and worrying too much.

Pulling into the driveway, he nods, “here we go.”

You hop out of the van before he has it shut off, but he catches up quickly. He follows you to the side gate of the house, watches you unlatch it and stroll into the yard. The sound of voices mingling hits his ears as you walk around the house and find your group of friends sitting around in lounge chairs.

“Look who I brought,” You announce.

Your shout is followed by eyes flicking towards you, then Eddie who stands beside you. Then, a chorus of his name, plus Argyle’s “rockstar!”

“Hey guys,” he says, waving shyly.

It’s odd to feel this way around these people that he’s known for years. Robin and Steve who’ve rented him way too many movies for free, Nancy and Johnathan who are probably why he graduated high school, and Argyle who was always his most loyal customer.

All of these memories and he feels a little too much like a stranger. At least he’s got you, who feels like one of the only sure things in his life. No matter how long goes by, you’re there, and he hopes you always will be.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, leaning to reach into the cooler beside him.

“I’ll take one, thanks,” you say, catching the can Steve throws to you.

“I’m driving,” Eddie says, jingling his keys.

“Eddie Munson being responsible,” Robin teases, “they grow up so fast.”

And just like that, he feels a little better. These are his friends, and even though he’s not around all of the time, and even though he may not be as close to everyone anymore, they’ll still be his friends.

You sit down on the empty lounge chair and pat the space beside you for Eddie, sending him a smile that says both ‘told you so,’ in your snark he can practically hear, and ‘everything’s okay,’ in your kind way.

He plops down beside you.

“How’s everything going?” Johnathan asks him.

Not wanting all of the attention on him, Eddie keeps his answer short, “busy, but it’s a ton of fun.”

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” Robin adds.

“You could definitely say that.”

Though, Eddie has this strange feeling that he’s missing something whenever he’s gone. It’ll go away, but somehow, it always finds him again, when he’s debating on calling or not, when he’s hit with a memory of you in the front row at the Hideout when he’s on stage.

He looks over at you and finds you smiling softly at him, eyes fond. He can’t believe he’s the one you’re looking at like that.

Eddie blinks and turns back to the group, “how about you guys? How’re the jobs?”

The chatter picks up and surrounds him, but Eddie can’t stop thinking about the way you were looking at him just then. He’s never had someone look at him like that, like there’s nothing but affection there.

It’s platonic, he tells himself. She’s my best friend.

You feel happier now than you have in a while. Things feel more complete when Eddie’s around. Things feel right. It’s all of your favorite people with no empty chair, it’s falling back into a friendship that’s existed for years.

When conversations split off into smaller ones, you lean your head on his shoulder, and the words sort of slip out of you, “it’s really nice to have you here.”

His heart beats louder, he leans his head on top of yours, “it’s nice to be home.”

And it is. Eddie loves touring, he loves playing his music, and he loves his job, but at the end of the day, he’ll always be this boy from Hawkins, and he’ll always be happy to be home, to be with you.

Catching the moment, Argyle—always sharing his thoughts—says, “sick, you guys are finally together.”

You and Eddie both sit up, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t, even when you’ve sat like that countless times before.

Everyone’s eyes seem to be on the both of you now, and you have a tiny panic inside. Have you really been that obvious with how you feel? Does Eddie know and he hasn’t said anything because he doesn’t want to hurt you?

You laugh awkwardly, “what?”

“Like, dating,” Argyle explains.

“Me and Eddie?”

He’d been frozen for a second there, surprised that Argyle thought that. Was he seeing something Eddie couldn’t? No, no way.

“Just friends, guys,” Eddie says. “Come on.”

You swallow, forcing out a word, “exactly.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Nancy says, which explains enough but also sort of nothing at all.

Just friends. It’s something you know, you remind yourself constantly. It’s all it’ll ever be, and still, hearing Eddie say it out loud has your stomach feeling heavy. Just friends, get over it.

Even as conversation picks up again, as you laugh with everyone, the two words play in your head over and over. Then, after saying your goodbyes, once you’re in the van with Eddie again, it fades, because if you can’t be in love with him, you can be his best friend, and you’d much rather have that than nothing at all.

Once he drops you off, Eddie thinks and thinks about what Argyle had said. He goes over memories, over how he feels around you, and it hits him like a huge punch to the gut.

He thinks he has feelings for you. Big, huge feelings.

It’s the same day, a different sky, the sun sunk behind the horizon to give way to a sky full of stars and a bright moon.

Eddie’s van is parked by Lover’s Lake, the back full of blankets where you both sit, the doors open to look at the sky and the way the moonlight reflects on the water.

There’s practically an indent in the ground in the spot he’s parked, the one that’s been your go-to for ages. From day picnics to nighttime smoke sessions, it’s another place on the list of the ones that are filled with memories of Eddie.

Beside you, he’s got a joint in hand, the flick of his lighter catching your ears over the crickets and the breeze. You watch him inhale, his chest expanding, the smoke slipping from his lips. You turn back to the water.

“Your turn,” he says, handing you the joint.

You grab it between your fingertips and bring it to your mouth, feeling the smoke trail down your throat, further, then you’re breathing it out, clearing your throat at the tickle.

“Out of practice?” Eddie teases at your small cough.

“My favorite weed dealer went out of business,” you say, nudging his shoulder with yours, “so, yeah.”

He takes the joint back from you, “you don’t smoke when I’m not around? You know Argyle’s gotta have some stock.”

“Oh, he definitely does. A little too exotic for my taste. Besides, he won’t give it to me for free.”

“Getting cheap, trouble?”

You shrug, shoulder to your cheek, and give him an innocent smile.

It feels easy, the joint being passed back and forth between sentences until it’s done and stubbed out, the flow of conversation, the comfort that’s there. It’s always been easy with him, even when it hurts a little.

Eddie’s got on his worn denim vest, still full of pins, and you tug at it, “think this thing has a permanent weed smell by now.”

“I think that’s just part of my natural scent,” he replies, playfully flipping his hair over his shoulder.

His curls graze your cheek—that’s how close you’re sitting, thighs touching—and you giggle. You’ve had so many nights just like this one with Eddie, and it feels like some kind of reward that you get to have them still, even when they’re far less regular now.

“Doesn’t this make you think of high school?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie’s hand is on his knee, his pinky twitches, reaching for your leg, “hell, I’m even wearing the same clothes as in high school.”

“How does it feel like yesterday and also a lifetime ago?”

Eddie looks over at you, the warm glow of moonlight and stars on your skin, the way your sweater hangs off your shoulder, the shine in your eyes that’s part weed and part nostalgia.

“A lot’s changed since then,” he says. “I’m not a loser anymore.”

“You’re still my loser.”

How is it that even when you’re calling him a loser, the idea of being yours in any sense of the word is enough to have Eddie’s heart swell in his chest, a balloon floating up and up and he has to swallow to push it back down.

“Stop being cheesy,” he plays it off, ruffling your hair.

You shove his arm away, “I just miss you!”

Eddie looks at his arm, your hand still holding onto it, he follows your arm with his gaze until it lands on your face. He thinks you’re beautiful, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and no groupie could change that.

“I miss you, too, trouble.”

Something shifts, the air growing thicker, a sort of understanding between the two of you. There’s something here, something that could be a disaster but could also be so, so good. Could be everything.

“No way you think about me when you’ve got crowds and fans and-“

“I think about you a lot, honey.”

Honey. He’s probably called you that before, but never like this. Never dripping sweet and sincere, never looking at you like he wants to do something you can’t even let yourself imagine in fear of being let down, of hoping too much.

Eddie’s hand shifts from his own leg to yours, thumb running back and forth, burning you even through the fabric of your pants.

“You do?”

“All the time. You’re my best friend.”

Right. Friend.

“You’re mine, too, Eddie.”

And suddenly you can feel his breath fan across your cheek, your lips. His face is close to yours and the hair that falls over his forehead tickles yours. Just a second ago he’d been saying the word ‘friend,’ and now it feels like he’s going to do something to contradict that.

Against all odds, he does.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. Maybe he’ll blame the weed, or maybe he won’t, but before he knows it he’s reaching up with the hand that isn’t on his leg to cup your cheek and tilt your head. And he’s kissing you.

He’s kissing you.

It’s so delicate, so much you’re afraid to even breathe, like it’ll break in an instant. Eddie’s fingers squeeze your leg, urge you to kiss him back and there’s no way that you wouldn’t. Not when his lips are actually on yours, not when he tastes like weed and mint gum and something perfect.

It could be seconds or minutes that you’re kissing, tilting your head even more to feel him, clutching his sleeve tightly. It never deepens, but it doesn’t have to, it says enough.

When you pull away, it’s not one or the other who does it, it’s natural, like it’s been rehearsed time and time again. Eddie leans his forehead against yours, his hand still on your cheek.

“Was that a bad idea?” He asks you, voice low and quiet.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” And you don’t, because there’s no way of knowing what’s gonna happen next, if things will be ruined, if this will fade away like it never happened, or, maybe, just maybe, if it’ll start something.

“Was it okay?”

“More than okay.”

You don’t talk about it that night, and you don’t want to just yet. You’re fine with enjoying the pink-tinted haze at least until tomorrow.

Eddie’s barely been gone for two days and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. After that night, neither of you brought it up, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t. You were scared. And anyway, it was probably just the weed for him.

You’d never kissed before. Sure, you’ve come close, faces inches apart when you’d share a bed, whispers away, but nothing ever happened. Until now.

Now, sitting on your bed, chin resting on your knees, you’re reeling from knowing what Eddie’s lips feel like and missing him all over again. Rebuilding that piece in your chest.

Somewhere else in the country, in the world, Eddie’s position isn’t so different from yours. He’s sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, forearms on his knees, head bent. He wants to call you, and he’s figuring out what he’ll say when he does.

He misses you every time he isn’t home, but it’s never felt like this. There’s never been this ache in his stomach that won’t go away because of it. Fuck, he misses you more than ever.

The last trip back to Hawkins was different than anything else, because he brought back these feelings with him and he keeps reaching up to press his fingertips to his lips, like the memory of your own lingers there.

Sure, he’s had silly, sticky thoughts like waking up with his arms around you after a nap and thinking he could wake up that way forever, but he’s always pushed them down. Now, it seems, he can’t, the images too buoyant to ignore, floating back up every time.

Sucking in a deep breath, he sits up and reaches for the phone, dialing your number that’s stored in his memory. His leg bounces as the phone rings.

You’re startled by the screech of your phone on your bedside table, head lifting to look at it shake on the receiver. You reach over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, trouble. It’s not a bad time, is it?”

Eddie. His voice crackling through the phone sends a spike down your spine. You clutch the phone a little tighter.

You’d expected Robin, or Nancy, even Steve. Because there’d been a time, earlier in Corroded Coffin’s career, when Eddie would call you at least three times a week, and then the calls grew less frequent until they sort of died out to holidays and birthdays.

So, maybe a couple of years ago, you’d have expected Eddie’s voice, but not today.

“Eddie, hi. Not at all.”

“I- um, I just wanted to call,” a small pause, he clears his throat, “how are you?”

“It’s only been two days, you know how I am.”

“I mean right now.”

You twist to lay on your side, legs curling in towards your chest. You smile to yourself like an idiot. “Right now, I’m good. It’s lame, I already miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

The reply comes easily to him. There’s no thought to it, because in the past 48 hours, he hasn’t been able to stop missing you for a second. The warmth of your hand in his, the sunshine sound of your laughter.

He’s not sure why everything’s so big now, his feelings amplified, only quieted now, by the sound of your voice.

“Did you have a show today?”

You have a way of asking that makes it sound like you really care, Eddie thinks. He loves his music and he knows you know that. It means the world to him to do what he does, confusing feelings or not.

“Not today. We spent the day on the bus. Show’s tomorrow.”

“Nervous or excited?”

It’s something that you used to ask him before every small show in Hawkins, and the memory has a grin spreading on Eddie’s face. “It’s always both. More excited, though.”

“You should be,” you say. “You guys are really great.”

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite band member?”

He’s fishing, and you tease him rather than bite, “hmmm. Gareth.”

“Fuckin’ trouble. You liar.”

“You asked!”

“You answered the question wrong, honey.”

There it is again. Honey. You’re sort of glad he can’t see you right now because you probably look way too happy, burying your face in your pillow for a second before replying.

“You know you’re my favorite, Munson.”

“Yeah I am,” he sounds far too proud. And then, he’s softer, “I’m not keeping you up, am I? Time zones fuck me up.”

“No, no.” Even if he was, you wouldn’t tell him. This is better than trying and failing to sleep the way you so often do. “It’s not that late. What time is it for you?”

“Not that late,” he says, even though the clock on the nightstand reads 1:14AM. “So, what’s happening in Hawkins right now?”

“Mmm, it’s getting warmer. My window’s open and the crickets are loud as fuck.” You twist the phone cord around your fingers, “it’s donation week at the library, so I’ve been shelving new books for a change.”

Eddie listens to every word you say, asks you questions like if you’d kept any books for yourself (you had, but swore you’d give them to the library when you were done) and hums between your sentences.

Somewhere along the way, he’d laid down while listening to you, eyes shut as he tried to picture what you might look like right at this second. If you’re in your pajamas or not, whether your hair would be a little messy, baby hairs a halo around your face.

Then his eyes grew heavier, your voice putting him at ease even with the sounds of his bandmates laughing from somewhere in the hotel.

“Eddie?” You ask after he’d been silent for a bit.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily.

“I lost you for a second there.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he’d feel worse. “Sorry, getting sleepy.”

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, uh- keep talking to me? You have a nice voice.”

You smile, cheeks pinching with the size of it.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll keep talking.”

And you do, you keep talking and talking until you can hear the sound of Eddie’s tiny snores on the other side of the line. You’re smiling again at that.

Even after you’re sure he’s asleep, you don’t hang up right away, not until your own eyes are growing heavy. You put the phone back quietly, like you’ll wake him if you’re not careful. You whisper a soft ‘goodnight, Eddie,’ as you do.

There’s a small stiffness in your fingers from how tightly you’d been holding the phone, and still, you’d let your hand cramp for hours to talk to him.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up with the pattern of the phone pressed to his cheek where he’d left it last night.

The TV sends flashes of color flickering across your living room and over your face. Usually, you’d be in bed by now, but it’s the night of the MTV awards and Corroded Coffin is nominated. You couldn’t miss it.

You’re not really paying attention to most of it, the sounds of performances and hosts and thank-you speeches filling your ears as you read your latest book. At least, you’re not paying attention until Eddie’s category is announced.

That has you shutting your book and sitting up, grabbing the remote to turn the volume higher.

They show the nominees, give far too long of an introduction before tearing open the envelope holding the winner’s names. You don’t know it, but you’re practically white knuckling the blanket on your lap.

“And the MTV award goes to… Corroded Coffin!”

You stand and place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating—racing—for the band, for Eddie. This is huge, it’s a dream, and it’s his. If you could, you’d give him a suffocating hug right now.

Eddie’s voice taking over, thanking his fans and Wayne, the boys and their team, then, thanking Hawkins and the people there, even when they gave him hell.

If you knew the right number to call to talk to him, you’d dial it in an instant.

Lucky for you, your phone rings the next night, late enough that you can only assume it’s Eddie given you don’t know anyone else who’s probably in a different time zone right now. You pick up quickly, fumbling with the phone a little before bringing it up to your ear.

“Eddie?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Ummm, my amazing intuition? Telepathy?”

“Telepathy, she says.” There’s a soft chuckle on his end, you close your eyes and lean your head back to thump against the wall behind you. “How’re things, trouble?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that, mister MTV winner.”

Eddie’s been calling more often again, whenever he gets the chance, really. Even so, he never thought you’d be keeping up with him that way, that you’d care enough to watch an award show and remember what he’d achieved.

“You were watching?” He asks, heart thudding.

“Of course I was. I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You’re sitting with your back against your headboard, knees bent, hand absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread in your pajama pants. “I’ve got cheerleader pom-poms and everything.”

“You do not.”

“Do too. They’re super metal, all black.”

“Yeah, cause pom-poms are super metal, babe.”

Another pet name in the rotation, uttered like it’s easy, natural. You bite back a smile.

“Whatever. Mine would be,” you say. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too.”

“I wanted to call you yesterday,” you admit, twisting that loose thread in your fingers, “after I saw you won. I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

They’re words he hadn’t been expecting, but ones he’ll be thinking about over and over. He wants to keep making you proud, he thinks, and he’ll pour that into everything he does whether he means to or not.

“Thank you,” his voice is quieter, almost shy. “I wouldn’t be here without you, you know?”

“You would. You’re talented, and there’s no way that could stay hidden in this town, you’re bigger than it.”

Somehow, it’s easier to be so open with him on the phone. You don’t have to look at him, get distracted by his tongue running over his lips or the way his bangs get caught in his eyelashes sometimes. This way, all you have to do is speak, nothing more.

“Trouble-” he can’t even find the words to say, because there’s affection laced in your tone, seeping through the phone and into his head and, fuck, he wants to kiss you for it and he can’t. “I really miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s some silence, and the overthinker in you worries that you’ve said too much even though you meant it with every part of you, that you’ve given yourself away. “Anyways, I should go, let you celebrate your win.”

It’s what he would be doing if Eddie’s thoughts hadn’t been so full of you and your mouth and your voice. It’s what his bandmates and friends are surely doing in some club around here.

“You don’t need to. I’m not doing anything.”

“No?” You try to lighten your tone, to joke the way you usually do, “don’t have groupies knocking on your hotel room door right now?”

Instead of playing along, Eddie’s voice is serious, still soft in the way he speaks to you, but serious nonetheless, “I don’t entertain them, honey.”

“You don’t?”

He’s tried. But ever since you kissed him, probably since before that, too, Eddie can’t seem to look at anyone else, let alone have someone else kiss him and tarnish the memory of your lips on his. He’s only ever thinking of you, it seems. So no, he hasn’t fooled around lately.

“Not in a while. I’m trying to write for the next album. No distractions.”

No distractions. He says it like that’s true, even though he can’t seem to fully focus, like there’s a piece he’s missing. Like every lyric he’s written since he’s been back isn’t somehow about you.

He’s so, so fucked.

“Look at you, Munson. Squeaky clean.”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re sort of a mess, a stupid blossom of hope planting itself where it shouldn’t. He’s your friend, he’s always been just your friend. But you kissed and it felt like something changed, and you can’t seem to let go of that.

“You sound surprised,” he teases, gathering his wits the best he can.

“Can you blame me? You used to have multiple lunchboxes reserved for your weed.”

“You loved those lunchboxes and you know it.”

“Yeah, I did.”

And then, like that moment was simply a blip, easily brushed over, your conversation turns back to your normal. Jokes with underlying affections, teasing while picturing what kind of smile the other wears when you laugh lightly into the phone.

Time runs away from you, and by the time you hang up it’s well into the early hours of the morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

After hanging up, Eddie’s got this sinking, aching pull in his stomach. He knows what it is, has had bouts of it before where he misses Wayne’s hand patting his back or the way his mattress is worn-in just the right amount back at the trailer, when he thinks about what his friends might be doing or what science project Dustin’s got going on.

But it’s never felt this heavy. Eddie’s the most homesick he’s ever been.

He’d listen to your voice forever, but in that moment, he’d give anything to see your face, to see the shake of your shoulders when you laugh, the curve of your smile.

What the hell is wrong with him?

Eddie wipes his palms on his thighs before standing and walking out into the living room of his band’s suite hotel room. The guys are still up, and they’re all staring at him like weirdos.

“What?” He pauses in the doorway.

“Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet, or what?” Jeff, the electric guitarist, asks him.

“What?” Eddie says again because there’s no way he heard that right. He’d only just come to terms that he had feelings. This is much bigger.

“You’re joking,” Gareth pipes in, “you don’t even know it? Dude, you’re all ‘I miss you, trouble, you’re my favorite person ever.’” He does a knowingly terrible impression of Eddie.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You kinda do,” Jeff says.

“Why else would you be spending hours in that room on the phone, man? Come on,” Gareth sing songs the next bit: “you’re in loooove.”

Then Eddie thinks and thinks and thinks. The warmth that blooms when he hugs you, the jealousy he felt when he thought that server at Benny’s was flirting with you, the difficulty to say goodbye, the way your kiss haunts him in his sleep.

These idiots aren’t usually right about things, but just this once, maybe they are. Eddie Munson is probably, very likely, definitely in love with you.

Yeah, he’s so fucked.

♫♩♪♬

thank you so so much for reading!!! if you enjoyed please please please consider reblogging and letting me know what you think! it helps and means so much <333 i have plans for a part two, and if you’d like to see it, some support would help a bunch! ily!

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whorekneecentral · 6 months

Text

Your Pick

Fernando Alonso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pr!reader, a bit of an age gap (reader is mid twenties) randomness from nando's end, unspoken feelings until now, thigh riding, penetrative sex (p in v), a bit of teasing, praise kink go burrrr, creampie.

Word Count: 2,358

Author's Note: I literally only picked the middle pic for @oconso, it was for her. you’re welcome.

merry smutmas series

Fernando enlists the help of a certain someone to get his Christmas shopping done but the list is oddly familiar.

A charity event that Fernando attended every year, some sort of mission for children and their dream of being a driver. Fernando gave them an afternoon of his time, indulging them in all of their questions and stories, sharing some of his own as well.

You were, of course, right there with him. You weren't needed for this event exactly but as his press officer, you followed him. Sebastian often joked when he saw you that you were to Fernando what Britta is to him; except for the fact that you are much younger and hadn't been with Fernando for as long.

The idea was the same, you did everything for him. From making sure he gets there on time to meeting fans and signing everything he can.

At some point during the long event, Fernando asks you if you can do him a favour, handing you a piece of paper.

"I need to pick up some stuff, you can take my car. Oh and my card." He tells you, fishing the keys and his card out of his pocket to hand it over to you.

The keys to his Aston in your hand, along with the card and a list with some words scribbled along the lines, both in English and Spanish. You'd just have to figure it out along the way.

"You don't need me to stay?" You asked, looking between the list and the man. Fernando shook his head, "I'm good here. You should be done by the time I'm done here, no?"

"Probably."

"Come back when you're done, I'll wait for you."

You nodded, telling him you'd text him when you're done before you head out. The car beeps when you press the unlock button, a slick, shiny grey DBX 707 sat in the parking lot. You smiled to yourself, getting into the car and shutting the door.

The list sat on your lap, you looked over the things on the list and the places you'd get to go.

First stop on the list was Chanel; a Chanel classic with the double flap in Tiffany blue. It was stunning, Fernando had dotted down that he wanted it in the medium size. You were surprised he even knew what that meant.

His card beeped on the machine, the woman smiles as she hands the bag over to you. You carry it as you walk down the street to Christian Louboutin.

Purses, clothes and shows lined the walls, you felt like you were underdressed but the massive Chanel bag you were carrying fit you right in with the other rich people in the store.

You asked the woman for the shoes that he had written down; so Kate 120 in black, size 8.

You waited for her to bring them back. "Would you like to try them on, miss?" The woman asks, the slick box in her hands. You shook your head, "that's alright, thank you."

"Is this all?" She smiles, and you nod. The woman leads you to the front, doubling checking the sizes of the shoes and packaging it up into the brown bag.

There's one more place on the list that you've got to stop; Dior.

It's a few minutes drive from where you were, you leave the other bags in the car and head into the store. Fernando has listed that he was looking for the Miss Dior perfume. You look around a bit, stopping at the back to look at the wall of fragrances they had set up. You look closely and carefully and still you don't see the one that Fernando had wanted.

You reach for your phone, texting the man.

To Fernando: Hey, they don't have the perfume you wanted.

From Fernando: Which one was that again?

To Fernando: Miss Dior.

From Fernando: Just pick another one.

To Fernando: Any one?

From Fernando: Yeah, you have good taste. I trust your judgement.

You reply with a thumbs up and decide to look for something that you liked. It was a bit odd that Fernando sent you out like this, he did it often but never like this. He was never one to have you shop for someone who was clearly a woman. She must be important to him if he's spending so much on her.

You ended up picking out Dior Addict in place of Miss Dior. This one had the same jasmine scent with more of a vanilla undertone. You pay and take the bag from the man at the counter with a smile.

Getting back into the car, you reach over and set the bag with the others. You texted Fernando to let him know that you were on your way back, to which he replied with a thumbs up emoji.

It was a 20 minutes drive back to where he was, and once you arrived, you waited in the car for him. You were scrolling through your phone when a tap on the window startled you.

Looking over, you see Fernando. You wind down the window, "uber for Fernando ?" He asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

You roll your eyes. "Haha," you say flatly. "Do you want to drive?" You look over at him and he shakes his head, walking around to get into the passenger seat. Fernando lifts your purse, setting it on his lap carefully.

"Where to then?" You look over at him, yet again. "Home?

"Yours," he says, looking through your purse.

"Stop that," you smack his arms, turning the key to start the engine. The car purrs in response, a sound only luxury cars have.

"Do you have gum?" He asks, still looking.

"Front pocket," you inform him, heading towards your place. It didn't strike you as odd to be heading to yours. Fernando often picked you up so you just assumed you'd get home and then he'd head out to his place.

What did strike you as odd was Fernando taking the bags out of the car and following you up the stairs to your front door. "What are you doing?" You turned, clearly confused.

"Go on, I need to come in."

"What if I don't want you to come in?" Your question made him laugh, the man shaking his head. "Just go," he tells you, knowing you're just being difficult.

You unlock the door and walk in, Fernando sets the bags in the living room and makes himself comfortable on the couch. He had been to your place before it wasn't like it was awkward or anything. You just weren't sure why he wanted to come in.

"Want some coffee?" You called from the kitchen, filling the kettle. "Tea would be nice," he calls back.

You shake your head, setting two mugs on the counter. "I didn't offer any tea."

"I'm suggesting it then." He leans over the back of the couch, smiling at you. You roll your eyes, dropping the teabag in the cup while you wait for the kettle to boil.

Finding your way over to the living room, you sit on the floor by the couch. Fernando sets the bags on the floor next to you and you assumed that he was making space for you on the couch but instead spoke; "show me what you got."

The statement left you a bit confused, he had given you a list, of course he knew what was on it but you indulged, taking the stuff out of the bags.

You have them set on the floor in front of you, Fernando watches as you show him each thing carefully, not wanting to scuff or damage them.

"Do you like them?" He asks and you nod, "I do. Just a bit confused though," you look up at the man.

"Why's that?"

"Well.. you've always been the type of guy who shops for their women themselves so it just struck me as odd that you asked me to shop and pick up.. this."

Fernando smiles, "well I was busy and she's an important person to me, perhaps the most important."

You raise an eyebrow, looking at the driver. "Ohhhh okay.. so you have a girlfriend? C'mon, tell me, tell meeeee!" You nudged his knee, propping your elbow up on the couch as you turned your attention to him.

He doesn't say anything, he just smiles at you. This time was different; it wasn't playfully or teasing, there was something sincere about the way he looked at you.

It takes you a moment but you finally speak, "what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"The stuff is for you." He says and you look at him, clearly confused.

"You made me shop for my own Christmas gift? Fernando, that's.." It hits you at once, all the things he had listed were things you had mentioned to him that you liked over the last year or so.

Your hands covered your mouth, looking at him in shock. "Fernando, oh my god.. no." You shook your head, "this is too much."

"It's not," he rests his hand on yours, "you've been by my side for as long as I can remember, you do everything for me. You're the only person I trust and well.. love. You deserve this and so much more."

"It's a lot," you whisper and the man hushes you, letting you pull him into a hug. "Thank you." You whisper yet again, unsure how to repay him for his kindness; you knew you didn't have too, seeing that it was a Christmas gift but still.

Fernando's hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing over your skin softly. He smiles at you, wondering how he got so lucky. Not everyone gets to have someone they love in their life and he was lucky enough to find that in you.

You can't help it, it was like instinct. Shifting onto your knees when you reach up, your hand wrapping around his wrist to pull him closer, your lips on his.

A part of you thinks he's not gonna react and pretend it never happened and the other part of you expected him to push you away but he did neither.

Instead, he kissed you back.

He helps you up off the floor and onto his lap, having you settle on his lap. "Let me take care of you," he says, his hand cupping your face, finally pulling away from the kiss.

"Yeah," you lean into him once again. You stay in his lap, Fernando pushes the skirt you had on up a bit, shifting you onto his thigh.

His hands rest on your hips, rocking you on his thigh; back and forth very slowly. His head leaned back and he lifted his leg slightly. The sudden change caused you to slide forward, clit rubbing against the denim fabric under you.

The sound that left your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

“So beautiful,” he coos, pushing your hair back off your shoulders. “So good for me.”

You nod, pushing down on his thigh a little harder. “Let me hear all those pretty sounds, you don’t have to be quiet, mi vida.”

Little by little, your top and bra ended up on the floor along with Fernando's shirt. Your hands ran over his shoulders, down his biceps to his forearms.

His fingers creeped up under the hem of your skirt, "I've been waiting to have you to myself."

"Why's that?" You shift a bit to look at him, an arm over his shoulders as you look at him.

“Because I’m gonna ruin all that pretty makeup," he whispers to you, pulling you for a kiss.

It only spiralled from there; hands all over each other, clothes being tugged and pulled on. You’re both impatient, wanting more than you can get too at the moment.

Fernando scoots you back on his lap, undoing his pants as your skirt gets pushed up on your hips, panties pulled to the side before you sink down onto his cock.

He bucks his hips and your nails drop down from his shoulders to the scratches along his back. He lets out a groan, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Oh god," you mumble, thighs on either side of the man as you roll your hips, arms over his shoulders. One of your hands tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck, giving it a solid tug.

Fernando tilts his head back, a soft groan slipping from his lips when he feels your own lips meet his skin.

“Fuck, do that again.” He mumbles, feeling you clench around him. Soon enough he can feel your hands on his shoulders, letting you set your own pace, bouncing on his cock as your nails dug into the back of his shoulders; surely leaving behind red marks.

His own hands digging into your hips hard enough to leave behind their own marks but that was the least of your concern right now.

“Fernando,” you whimper, forehead pressed to his.

He feels you clench around him, your hips stuttering and he knows you’re close. His hand moving from your mouth to between the two of you, fingers rubbing circles over your clit and your head falls onto his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds slipping past your lips.

He rests a hand behind your neck, pulling you back slightly. “Look at me,” he tells you, kissing you softly. You both knew the other was equally as close, orgasm on the verge of happening. His hand shifted to grab your chin, pulling your focus back to him. “Look at me when you cum.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, Fernando following quickly after you.

You fall flat against him and Fernando lets you sit on top of him for a bit, his hand rubbing around your back softly, fingers tracing random patterns into your skin.

"You okay?" He whispers and you nod, sitting up a bit to look at him. "What?" He asks, seeing the look on your face.

"How did you know my sizes? You know.. for the gifts."

He smiles, kissing your shoulder. "I pay attention, you know."

---

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#merry smutmas xoxo #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 smut

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

Text

Stardust || JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x F. Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Friends to Lovers au

Summary: If Jungkook would have known an unintentional orgasm would have led to this, then he would have begged you to work out with him sooner.

Word Count: 5.5k

Tags/ warnings: himbo-ish jk, so much fluff idk where it came from, smut in the forms of: unintentional masturbation turned coregasm, oral (f. receiving), fingering, protected sex (because that’s really cool), mirror sex, doggy style, technically multiple orgasms, they’re both giggly and in love it’s kinda gross, jk is a tits man, he’s obsessed with boobs, it’s all very tame and kinda soft ig

Notes: yay first fic of 2023. this was way harder to write than i’d anticipated, hopefully i pulled through. and if there’s mistakes, no there aren’t!

<3 thank you to my prettiest baby @4amj3zz for reading this atrocity before i posted it

my full masterlist

✯ ✯ ✯

If every living being’s foundation is made of stardust, scattered when born, then Jungkook thinks the two of you were made from the same star.

A friendship that’s near impossible to come by, crafted by the hands of a higher being— delicate fingertips moulding fickle personalities and emotions that seem incomplete when not together. Two angels sent to earth to be each others’ number one in another life they’ll spend together.

Precious, like naturally formed diamonds.

And maybe that’s what your friendship was, one of the world’s little treasures. One everyone yearns for, though only a select few have.

Sure, diamonds can be replicated, graphite turned jewelry, simply there for show. A statement piece if you must.

Fake diamonds and fake friendships that seem to be more common than the real deal. Hard to crack, though not impossible— splitting the two of you up into pitiful shards and lost pieces; where even the most skilled hands have trouble putting it back together.

Jungkook doesn’t remember life before you. Though he thinks it must have been dull, flimsy smiles, and friends that hadn’t bothered to call once they moved away.

His existence so easily forgotten, that the gnawing sadness didn’t seem to last as long as he’d anticipated. Simply walking the path of life alone, though he often thought solitude wasn’t all that bad.

Until your worlds had collided. The big bang of your friendship, a new world, a new start, everything so fresh and untampered with.

He’d thought about what life would be like if one day the two of you were to ever part ways, the very thought of you not being by his side like a harsh punch the gut.

And maybe he had gotten a little teary eyed on those evenings he felt a little softer, a little sadder at the thought of you ever leaving. His hands fumbling around his sheets for his phone, your voice his only remedy for his growing anxiety, where promises were whispered and sleepy smiles remained on your faces as you rested.

Jungkook doubts that day will ever come. And maybe that’s all just wishful thinking, a juvenile dream that the promise you’d made to one another would hold strong for the rest of time, until the two of you lay six feet under. Resting side by side until your bodies rot, flesh becoming one with the earth, what is left of your existence blossoming into something beautiful; perhaps a tree, a flower, truly anything, as long as you were together.

“Together?” you blink up at Jungkook through your lashes, eyebrows creasing in distaste.

Jungkook thinks you look pretty in that moment, even if you are pulling a face at him. The two of you sat at a bench in the park, your head haloed by the setting sun, last of the days warmth kissing both your skin in a gentle goodbye before the moon watches over the two of you.

Littles galaxies reflected in both your eyes, where Jungkook thinks each star in his represents one thing he loves about you; hidden behind the moonlight because he doubt yours represent the same.

“Yes” he nods, hair flopping a little over his forehead, and you push the stray strands out of his eyes. Fingers delicate as they brush over his skin, always so gentle with him that his heart flutters like the delicate wings of a butterfly.

“Kook, I love you— you know I do” and he nods, lips quirking up a little, “But working out just, isn’t for me” you conclude, tone firm and his shoulders deflate. Because he knows it’ll take more than glossy puppy eyes and a pout for you to give in.

“First off, I love you too—“

“Thank you” you nod. But Jungkook doesn’t think you understand the weight behind those words.

“And look, how do you know it’s not for you, if you’ve never tried?”

“You put me off” and Jungkook would have thought you were joking if you didn’t have that deadpan look on your face. One he was all too familiar with.

“Huh” he gawks, “How?”

“You always complain about sore muscles, and the thought of being sweaty grosses me out” your head tips forward dramatically, cushioned by your arms from the table.

“It’s a good ache” he watches you turn your head, lips moulded into an unconvinced pout as you stare up at him through your lashes.

“There is no such thing as a good ache, Jungkook”

“Is too”

“When?” you flail, unbothered as Jungkook’s hands wrap around your wrists.

“Sex ache”

You pause, “Excuse me?”

“You know?” he cocks his head to the side.

“No” you shake your head in utter disbelief.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open, “You’re a little pillow princess aren’t you, I bet you don’t do any of the work”

“Do too, besides—“ you swallow, “It’s none of your business” you pull your hands free of his grasp.

“Come on, I feel like we’re at a point in this relationship we can share these things” his cheek rests atop of your head, each syllable pulled out into a whine.

“I don’t wanna hear about your sex life, Jungkook” you huff.

You watch him sit up ramrod straight, brain whirring behind his eyes. You think that if he thought any harder you’d be able to hear the echo of his voice.

“Actually, I don’t really wanna hear about yours either” his nose scrunches up, melting your resolve.

A secret charm of his that he didn’t know he had; and you’d never tell him either, no way in hell would you let him weaponize your weakness against you when your heart could barely stand being sat so close to him.

“Best friends don’t always share everything” you quip, only it leaves a tangy taste on your tongue.

“I suppose” Jungkook nods, evidently less enthusiasm radiating off him.

Best friends. It always wet your mood. Like sour candy that’s too sour, or a cute dog that’s breath smells like a rotting carcass.

But that’s what you were, introductions to new classmates or new lovers; it was always best friends. Two simple words that felt like utter shit to say, tumbling past your lips like vomit and then you had to rawdog the aftertaste because you don’t have any toothpaste or mints nearby.

Never anything less, even though there was definitely a lot more going on between the two of you. (Not that either of you had any idea about that.)

It’s a wonder as to how neither of you had grasped the fact that every previous relationship the two of you had, had ended because of the other. Nothing ever seeming to fit in place, the click never being there when it came to someone else.

Communication is key in upholding a relationship of any kind, issues easily resolved with hours of conversation turned mutual understanding, and progression made with a mix of both actions and words. As two people whose love languages were physical touch, the former is just as important as the latter.

One of the only reasons your friendship has lasted this long, is that you both value each other enough to communicate when necessary.

Apart from when you could probably really use it, unidentifiable emotions weaving into your hearts, mixed with a dose of denial can really set you back when you’re near infatuated with your closest friend.

It’s not that either of you had never considered a relationship with one another, others outside your little bubble had brought it up enough times that the meager possibility of it actually happening had been cemented into your thick skulls.

Something nice tickling both your brains at the fact so many people thought you were together together; like, in love together.

Long gone were the days where you’d blurt out your denial to dating accusations with rose dusted cheeks, simply believing the world had a thing against opposite sex friendships. Now, the two of you just laughed off whoever liked to comment on how good you looked as a couple. (Which had brought more than a few of Jungkook’s relationships to turmoil)

It’s just that neither of you believed the other wanted anything more than friendship. A rookie mistake on both your parts, especially when you’d both establish that every and all emotions were to be discussed with one another, no matter what you felt.

“One time” you break the silence, any way to ease the growing tension between the two of you “I’ll work out with you one time. And never again”

You watch the smile as it pulls at the corner of his lips, the prettiest smile, your favorite smile, enough of a reward for whatever pain you’re about to put yourself through. Because as long as Jungkook was happy, then you’d crawl to the ends of the earth if it meant you got to see this smile one more time.

“I love you” he bends down, sloppy kiss pressed to your cheek and you can’t help your own smile, heated cheeks covered as you swat him away from your face. Wiping his saliva from your skin with the back of your hand.

“Whatever” you tut, though Jungkook sees through your faux annoyance.

“We can use my at-home gym as well, so we won’t even be in public”

“Wonderful. Let’s go back now, I’m gonna freeze my tits off if we stay any later”

You don’t catch Jungkook’s gaze flickering down to your chest, lingering a little longer than proper before he’s slinging his zip-up hoodie around your shoulders. Eyes flickering down to his hands briefly before he’s knocking shoulders with you.

“Chivalry isn’t dead” you utter, falling into Jungkook’s side when his arm falls over your shoulder.

✯ ✯ ✯

Jeon Jungkook was sex on legs when he worked out.

You were no stranger to him training, countless vacations together, where the morning was spent with him doing press-up on the balcony or the occasional few times he’d bench-press you for a laugh.

You’d never found it funny though, pussy throbbing between your thighs as he’d grab onto you, arms flexing deliciously. And he never seemed to question why you’d lock yourself up in your room after, purely a coincidence that you’d disappear for an hour after his little stunt.

You were no stranger to a half naked Jungkook either.

Nor were you a juvenile teenager whose panties got in a twist when she saw a toned stomach.

However, this wasn’t just any toned stomach.

Jeon Jungkook was built like Adonis. Carved where every crevice had meaning and every flaw only enhanced his beauty. And it’s hard to think the bushy haired, acne prone teen boy you’d first befriended had turned into this.

If puberty had benefited anyone, it was Jungkook.

“We’ll do something easy today, okay?” he claps and you nod, watching as he saunters over to a basket.

“Pink or blue” he holds up two yoga mats.

“I didn’t think you were into rhinestones” you snort, sun catching on the bedazzled rim of the pink mat— streaks of pink painting the wall.

Jungkook drops said mat, chucking you the blue one before he’s dropping to his knees on the floor.

“It’s one of my exes” he tells you, motioning for you to sit.

If people were flowers, then this is the moment you would have wilted. Deflating in on yourself; it’s not that you were jealous per-say. It’s not like him and his ex were dating at all but still. The very mention of her was enough for you to roll your eyes.

“And you didn’t throw it out?” the words hurdle out your mouth before you can even think about what you’re saying.

“No?” his eyes meet your own, “I’m not throwing away good gym equipment”

You sigh, somehow expecting no less from him. Jungkook was a man of many skills, and he’d hounded you to try hobby after hobby with him— but nothing got him going like a good work out. If all other passion in life disappeared then he would still have working out as his escape.

You sigh, “I have somewhere to be later, so let’s hurry this up” a little white lie, but that never hurt anyone.

“You’re not going on another one of those shitty blind dates, are you?” he groans and you whine.

“I told you, I’m never going on any of those ever again”

“You better not” he unrolls his mat, and you follow.

“Or what?” you turn your nose up at him and Jungkook’s foot collides with your thigh.

“On your back, you brat.”

✯ ✯ ✯

“How much more” you flop against the mat, eyes closing.

“That was only the warm up” Jungkook hums, pushing himself up off the floor.

You hear him walk to the other side of the room, cupboard door creaking open as he rummages around for something.

You peek up at him through your lashes when he throws a towel over your back.

“Roll that up” he motions towards it, coming to sit beside you, “And up onto your back again”

Your eyes widen by a fraction when he gently takes the towel out of your hands, pushing your knees apart before he’s closing them; towel stuffed between your thighs.

Your gaze travels down the length of your body, thighs twitching as Jungkook’s fingers wrap around your ankles.

“All you have to do is raise your legs like this okay?” and he demonstrates, making sure to keep your legs straight as he lifts them to a ninety degree angle from your torso. “Leg raises should be easy, even for you” he hums.

“What’s that supposed to mean” you snap, ready to push yourself up, except Jungkook’s hands press down over your chest.

“Hey! No complaining”

You swallow thickly, aware of Jungkook’s eyes on you as you raise your legs on your own this time.

“Pretty good, remember to tense your core when you do it, okay?”

You nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you do as you’re told.

Your eyes squeeze shut, body hyper aware of each small movement the towel has right over your clit. Pussy throbbing inside your panties and you worry your slick had started to soak through your shorts.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to take notice of your growing predicament, hands hovering over your calf to make sure you’re raising your legs all the way. Though that’s the least of your worries as you feel each new wave of unadulterated pleasure pulse through your core.

“Not so bad huh?” he grins.

It’s a strange sensation, pure arousal ebbing up your body, every brush of your panties over your clit, weight of the towel over your slit slowly bringing you to the precipice of an orgasm.

“I don’t think—“ you start, cutting yourself off with an arm covering your face at a particularly intense wave of arousal. Your stomach tightening at the feeling.

“Just a few more, you’re doing great”

“Kook, I really don’t think—“ your hand clamps over your mouth as Jungkook’s fingers take hold of your legs, helping you raise them; and that’s all it takes to tip you over the edge. And you can’t help the surprised moan that drips off your lips.

Your knees bend, nudging against your tits as your hand falls over your sodden pussy, dull wave of your orgasm throbbing throughout your body.

Jungkook looks down at you, eyes wide as you simply lay there with your hands between your legs.

“Did you just piss yourself?” he asks, mouth falling open in awe.

“What the fuck?” you cry, “I just came you idiot”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush red, “Oh” he nods, “Oh. You had a— holy shit”

“Don’t look at me like that” your eyes glaze over with tears, heat prickling up your body in embarrassment, “I didn’t mean to, it just happened”

Your feet fall to the floor, towel falling from between your thighs as you let out a stuttered breath, body still buzzing with the after affects or your surprise orgasm.

“Jungkook?” you peek up at him through hooded eyes, heart pattering so hard in your chest you could feel it in your throat.

Jungkook’s eyes meet your own, “That was so fucking hot” he groans, “Looked so pretty”

You watch as his hand rubs over his shorts, his own arousal hard to hide as his head tips back in a way that extenuates his neck.

“Huh?” your eyes widen, willing yourself to not look at what his hands were doing.

“Should have known something like this would have turned you on”

“I wasn’t even turned on” you exasperate, “I clenched my core like you said and it just happened”

“Mhmm” and you can tell he’s unconvinced.

“Stop rubbing your dick, you horny piece of shit” you clamp a hand over your eyes, thighs clenching when he lets out a deep groan.

“Can’t help it” he lets out a sigh, “I’ve been dreaming of what you’d look like when you came, shame it wasn’t on my cock”

Your hand falls from your eyes, “Dreaming?”

“God, haven’t I made it obvious?” he asks, his own hands falling to his sides, though now you have a full view of his straining erection.

“Made what obvious?” you whisper.

“That I like you” he asks and you gawk at him.

“You, like me? I’ve been trying to hint that I like you” you point at him, mouth falling open in disbelief.

“Huh?” it’s Jungkook’s turn for furrowed brows, “I swear you didn’t like me”

“I could have sworn you didn’t like me”

Jungkook snorts, “When did I ever say that?”

“You’re unbelievable”

“Me? What about you?”

Your body lays flaccid, muscles loose; heart hammering in your ears as Jungkook leans back on his hands.

“How long?” you ask, not daring to look up at him.

“High school”

You push a palm into the socket of your eye, low groan rumbling up your throat, “I’ve liked you since, I don’t know, probably high school as well”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, voice soft and you can feel yourself tearing up— so many emotions plaguing your mind at once you don’t know how to feel.

Jungkook scoots closer to you, “I could say the same thing about you” you huff.

“Why’re you crying” he frowns, thumb gentle as it brushes against your damp cheek.

“We wasted so many years. I seriously thought— you’ve had so many girlfriends”

“Because I thought you didn’t feel the same, I guess I thought my feelings would go away if I gave my heart to someone else. And then you started dating around too and I really thought I’d never have a chance”

“Me too” you sigh, nose scrunching up in distaste for all your failed relationships.

“Guess it didn’t work out for either of us huh?” he hums and you nod.

“I think we’re both stupid” you murmur.

And Jungkook nods, “I agree”

“What do we do now?” you push yourself up onto your elbows, frown on your face.

“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook’s head hovers over your own, the sun meeting the moon at the same point in the sky— your eclipse. The rest of your world suddenly shrouded in darkness, all you can see, think, smell, everything just Jungkook.

You nod, eyes flitting across his face as his arms cage your head. You can see his biceps flexing in your peripherals, thick muscle straining under the weight of his torso.

Jungkook’s lips hover over your own, a breaths width away from touching. You tilt your head up, pillowy lips cushioning your own and that’s when everything falls into place.

There’s nothing desperate about the kiss, ever so gentle and slow, the two of you aware that lost time can be made up in the future as you simply bask in this moment; your worlds aligning, tilting on the same axis, everything just perfect and right, and your hearts beating in sync, and breathing stuttered as you both pull away with hesitance.

Your hands cup Jungkook’s cheeks, eyes searching his own for anything, just something to tell you this wasn’t all a dream— that he really did like you back.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” he whispers, his lips pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of your lips.

“No” you smile, giggle bubbling up your throat and Jungkook can’t help but grin down at you.

“I’ll tell you every day, all the time. You’ll get sick of me”

“I could never get sick of you, Jungkook” you push yourself up onto your elbows, noses bumping.

He tilts his head, kiss firm, and you moan as his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, a silent plea for access.

You oblige, arms slung over his shoulders as you bring his body closer to your own, heat radiating off the two of you in thick waves.

“You taste so good” he groans, hands wandering down your body, teasing as they pull up the hem of your hoodie, “Want this off”

Your fingers tug at the offending material, dragging it up your body, “Hang on” you pull away from the kiss, and Jungkook feels his cock twitch at the sight of you. Red swollen lips, a sheen of his saliva coating them.

You pull your hoodie over your head, throwing it somewhere, a problem for later. Thighs clenching as Jungkook stares down at you— eyes wandering.

“And this” his fingers skim over the edge of your sports bra, dancing over your skin, mapping you out of every little spot he wants to kiss.

You hesitate.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable” Jungkook’s smile is gentle, retracting his hands and you want to whine at the loss of contact.

“I want to” you tell him, hoping the shake in your voice didn’t sound too unconvincing. The incessant throbbing between your legs wouldn’t go away unless Jungkook helped you out and your patience was slowly wearing thin.

“But?” he urges.

“I’m nervous” you admit and he smiles; reassuring.

“How can I help?”

You squirm under his gaze, fizzling embarrassment painting your cheeks red, “Can we both—“ you cut yourself off with a whine.

“Come on, gotta use your words, my love”

“Can we both get naked” you splutter, “At the same time?”

Jungkook’s head falls back, fully belly laugh wracking through his body, “Of course”

You tug your shorts off, Jungkook following you; a pile of both your clothes laying forgotten by your head. You’re too distracted tugging your sports bra off to see Jungkook’s length slap against his stomach. Tip of his cock an angry red, his fingers barely touching his shaft as he closes them around the length.

“Oh” he croons, “How pretty. Can I touch you?”

You nod, falling onto your back.

Jungkook’s careful as he touches you, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, testing the waters as he tugs at them, eliciting a breathy moan from you.

“Feels good?” his voice low, and you nod; hips involuntarily bucking upwards when you finally cast a glance at his length. Eyes widening a little in awe.

His fingers dig into your flesh, and he bends down, lips closing around one of your nipples. Your back arches, mouth falling open in a silent moan as his teeth nip at the sensitive skin; tugging in a way that sends warm pleasure straight to your core.

He kisses over your chest, lips worshipping your skin, fingers skimming over the underside of your boob.

Each gentle press of his lips are searing as he works down your body. And your breath hitches as his hovers over your pussy, folds glistening with your arousal.

“Oh baby” he groans, and your thighs twitch as his warm breath fans over your core.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, impatient as they tug him closer to where you need him; an embarrassed whine falling past your lips when he kisses over you clit, once, then twice.

“Jungkook” you squeak, legs tensing when he finally wraps his lips around it, tongue flicking at your clit meanly.

He simply hums, vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure straight through your body, another gush of wetness dribbling from your hole. Jungkook wastes no time, fingers scooping up your leaking arousal before he’s pushing them into you.

“Oh” your chest stutters a breath as he pulls his fingers out of you, tongue licking a broad stripe over your cunt before his thumb brushes over your clit.

“You like that?” he asks, though the question was rhetorical as he repeats the motion. Tongue teasing over your hole before he’s lapping up your slick; sucking at your folds, squelching lewd accompanied by each hearty moan.

Your thighs start to shake, clamping around Jungkook’s head though that barely deters him, as he pushes your legs open by your knees.

“Stop. Kook— please” you whimper, “wanna cum around your cock”

That catches his attention, and with one final kiss to your clit he’s pushing himself onto his elbows.

Jungkook looks like the epitome of sin, slick stained chin and swollen red lips, unashamed as he licks your arousal off his face, humming in satisfaction as your chest stutters out a breath.

“Lemme get a condom” he murmurs, lips pressing another kiss over your knee before he’s pushing himself to stand. Your eyes follow his body, heavy cock bobbing against his stomach with every step he takes.

“Hopefully they’re not expired” he calls from the other room, and you giggle at that, “We’re good” he flashes you a grin as he drops back between your legs; foil wrapper held between two fingers.

You watch his fingers run down his length, thumb brushing over his slit and you feel slick dribble out of your hole as a bead of pre-cum coats the head of his cock shiny.

“Please” your head tips back, hands impatient as they tug at your nipples; Jungkook completely entranced by the sight. “Hurry, hurry” you nudge his thigh with your foot, and albeit reluctant, he tears his eyes away from your tits.

He rips the condom open with his teeth, a cheesy attempt at seducing you, and you weren’t about to tell him all he had to do was breathe and you panties would dampen.

He rolls the rubber down his length, fingers wrapping around his cock as he tugs a few times. You choose that moment to flip yourself over, hips raised as your chest lays flat against the floor and Jungkook moans.

“My pretty baby” he croons, hands roaming your ass before he’s pulling your cheeks apart; eyes fixed on your clenching cunt. Ever so enticing, silently begging to be filled and fucked until you can’t think or walk; a perfect excuse for Jungkook to pamper you a little.

You wiggle your hips, giggle muffled in the crook of your elbow has he parts your lips with his thumb, gently dipping into you hole before he’s pulling out.

“Please, Jungkook”

And that’s all it takes for him to line the head of his cock up with you entrance, tip nudging against your clit before he’s pushing into you; every inch stretching you apart deliciously.

“So good” you sigh, walls clenching around him and Jungkook can’t help the stutter of his hips, punching the air out of your lungs at the sudden intrusion.

“Sorry—“ his fingers dig into your hips, “Just feels so good, sucking me in”

You rock back onto his cock, breathy moan tumbling past your lips as your ass meets his pelvis; cock fully tucked into your pussy.

“Give me a moment” you shudder, body thrumming in anticipation.

Jungkook hums, hands wandering your body, fingers dancing over your skin. A surprised moan echoes throughout the room as his hands grab both your tits, squeezing them, fingers rubbing over both your nipples sending hot pleasure straight to your cunt.

He can feel you rhythmically clenching around him, walls sucking him in as you rock forward an inch before you’re sinking back down on his length.

“Okay” you nod, fingers holding onto the edge of the yoga mat.

“You sure?” he asks, pulling out to the tip, hips slow as he plunges back into you.

“Mhmm”

You feel Jungkook’s fingers dig into the meat of your hips, picking up the pace of his thrusts.

You can’t help each near pornographic moan that’s pushed out of you with each harsh slap of Jungkook’s hips meeting your ass, skin smacking wet as your slick coats your thighs.

“So good for me” his head tips back, arms hooking around your bent elbows.

You let out a squeak as he sits you up, and your walls constrict around his length as he pushes deeper inside of you, gush of wetness clinging to his thighs.

“So good” your head tips back onto his shoulder, knees helping you bounce up his length.

Your back arches when the head of cock hits your g-spot, ring of creamy slick gathering at the base of his cock each time you pull up to the tip.

“Look at that” Jungkook murmurs into your ear, one hand tangling into your hair as the other settles over your throat.

He tugs your head up, and you catch your reflection in the full length mirror; insides of your thighs coated in a sheen of your slick, Jungkook’s hips thrusting his cock up into you, both your bodies glistening with sweat.

The red hue of your cheeks flushes down your neck and chest, shade darkening with each wet squelch of your cunt as Jungkook helps you bounce in his lap.

He watches your tits bounce, both his hands wandering to grab them, pulling your back closer to chest as he pounds into you.

“I’m gonna cum” you hiccup, hands scrambling to hold onto his bicep as your other hand travels down your body, fingers gathering up your slick before you’re circling your clit.

You thighs start to shake, crescent moons indented into your skin as Jungkook’s grip on your chest tightens, your walls throbbing around his cock, drawing him closer to his orgasm.

“Yeah?” his hips stutter, “Come for me then, pretty. Let’s come together”

You moan, fingers unrelenting as you thrum at your clit in tight circles. Your orgasm wracks throughout your entire body when it hits, stomach tensing as your cum coats Jungkook cock, which twitches as he thrusts up into you.

He holds you down on his length, deep groan rumbling through his chest as he shoots his seed into the condom, your walls continuing to milk him of everything he’s got.

“Good girl” he soothes, hands falling to your hips as you fall forwards, cheek pressed against the mat as Jungkook pulls out, thrusting back into you gently.

“Thank you” you whimper, thighs tensing as he pulls himself out of your sodden pussy, folds glistening creamy white.

✯ ✯ ✯

Everything feels right. The two of you tucked into Jungkook’s bed after a shower, both your hands roaming one another’s bodies.

You’d clung to Jungkook’s back as he’d cooked you both dinner, work-out long forgotten as you’d both worked up an appetite. Muscles too sore, too achey, to even think of carrying on anything that isn’t wrapping up warm in each others’ arms.

It’s strange how so much, but nothing had changed. You still danced around each other with practiced ease, hands still feathery light, skimming over hips and backs, where legs are tangled under blankets, cold feet on warm skin.

There was something mellow in the air, a film of freedom, hearts on your sleeves for one another to see, where kisses felt softer, deeper in promise and love.

All the ‘I love yous’ holding the right weight, both understanding that the love you feel is the right kind of love.

He’d thought about it a lot, from the day you’d both confessed; messy, but a confession nonetheless. (And he had made sure to ask you to be his girlfriend in a more romantic setting than his spare room turned gym). That maybe the time growing up as just friends wasn’t wasted.

Failed relationships and sticky breakups simply teaching the two of you the right way to love.

Learning the give and take of relationships, what it truly meant to be in love with another person. Where you want nothing more than their happiness, a pure sort of adoration that consumes your entire being until they’re always on your mind. Small, seemingly insignificant parts of life reminding you of them. Trinkets in corner shops or the changes in season, certain smells, textures of clothing.

Learning about what you want for yourselves and how to take care of one another.

So he doesn’t regret all those years spent as just friends. Because maybe the two of you were too young, too eager, too scared about something as precious as true love. Growing up together, as just friends, might have brought the two of you closer than rushed first loves and petty arguments that you’d look back on and regret.

Red string. Stars. Fate. Destiny. Any of it. Jungkook doesn’t know what brought the two of you together, two souls intertwined until you both part ways when your lights flicker out. Though he thinks you’d reignite them wherever the two of you end up later on, new lives, new worlds. New everything, where he gets to learn about you all over again, explore your being, as you explore his, and you’re moulding into one another once more.

He wonders how long you’ve both been laying there, lips pulled up into lazy smiles, kiss swollen; little galaxies reflected in both your eyes.

Where every glistening star is a reason as to why you love each other. Your galaxies shining with a million different reasons, moonlight no longer veiling what lay beneath.

Because Jungkook thinks, if people were made of stardust before they were born. There’s no doubt in his mind, the two of you were made from the same star.

💫 like, reblog, and feedback is encouraged!! thank you so much for reading <3

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hyunsvngs · 10 months

Text

𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 - lee minho x gn!afab reader

wc: 6.1k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: alcohol, normalisation of getting very wasted, smut (specific smut warnings under the cut, again minors please do not interact!)

synopsis: the best surprises come from the most unexpected sources - like having your crush corner you in a frat party after hearing you confess your deepest desires of him in the background of a video.

a/n: part one of the fratboy series. fratboy lee minho has now taken over my entire brain, my heart, and also my life, so i hope you all enjoy. PLEASE feel free to stop by our askbox to chat to me abt him because truly, i am obsessed.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: swearing, dirty talk, sexy mean minho, no seriously he’s mean, thigh riding, nipple play, begging, dumbification, degradation, penetration with a finger & dick simultaneously, talks about sex slaves (maybe only slightly serious), lovely aftercare

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When the opening notes of Half Moon by Dean met your ears, you couldn’t help but groan. You loved the song, but it signalled an incoming call that you’d been expecting all day. You flipped your phone over, confirming your suspicions; Jisung’s squishy cheeks flashed on your screen as his contact icon showed up.

“What do you want?” you asked as you answered the call, despite knowing very well what he wanted.

At the beginning of the semester, your best friends had joined a fraternity, Sigma Kappa Zeta. It was an absolute dream - on paper at least. You didn’t have to commit to the endless fraternity obligations, which are often ridiculous and sometimes downright dangerous; although you still had regular invites to the blowout parties, owing to your connections to Felix and Jisung. You’d attended a few of these parties and enjoyed them thoroughly. Being pretty meant you got free booze, and what could be better than getting wasted for free, with two of your favourite people? While ogling their endless hoard of stupidly attractive friends, of course.

Your taste in men could be summarised as… unfortunate. You had an affinity for frat boys, the bigger and stupider the better. Muscular guys, with stupid goofy grins and sleeveless tees, bulging biceps and empty heads. Something about them really got you going, and it frustrated you to no end. But you loved to indulge yourself, and Felix and Jisung knew this all too well. And so, they were left baffled when you very quickly stopped attending these parties. Baffled, disappointed, and worst of all, persistent.

“Hey, angel,” Felix’s voice rang out from your speaker.

“You aren’t Jisung,” you stated.

“Very observant,” he responded, leading you to roll your eyes. You didn't even bother to question why he was calling you from Jisung’s phone. “Anyways, I assume you’ll be in attendance tonight?”

You snorted. “Obviously not.”

“Y/N!” Felix’s deep voice gave way to a drawn-out whine. “Why not?”

“Cause I don’t want to spend time in your disgusting frat house,” you huffed.

“Not even for me?” he pleaded with you.

“This isn’t working. You can’t guilt-trip me when I can’t actually see your stupid adorable face,” you pointed out.

“Fine, I’ll turn my camera on-”

“No. Look, why don’t you and Ji come drink with me in my dorm? Like the good ol’ days?” you suggested. Good ol’ days referring to a few months ago, before they’d joined the fraternity.

Felix paused for a few moments. “Fine. Maybe. Only because we miss you!”

“Come over then. See you soon!” You hung up before he could argue any more - you all knew you’d won.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Just moments after Jisung and Felix showed up at your door, you began to consider the possibility that maybe you didn’t win after all.

“Y/N!” Jisung cried, before proceeding to push past you and collapse onto your bed. “Why do you never hang out with us any more?!”

You turned to Felix. “What have you brought to my doorstep?”

Felix shrugged. “He chugged like, three beers before we even left.”

"I guess we'd better catch up then."

It wasn't long before you were all feeling merry, though it would be amiss to say you'd caught up with Jisung, given that he often seemed intoxicated even when he was sober.

"I miss you guys, too!" you insisted, hushing the boys' griping. And you really did miss them. Since classes had ended, and people had limited obligations, the frat seemed like a 24/7 party house at the moment, which meant you hardly ever saw them. "I just… these frat parties, it's not really my scene."

The look Felix sent you told you that he didn't buy it, not one bit. The look Jisung sent you, on the other hand, told you that he was currently so drunk that he had a very tenuous grasp on reality, and was just happy to be involved.

"I've seen you eye up at least three guys at the frat. Not your scene? Nothing has ever been more your scene," Felix said, his tone accusatory. "I know it's nothing to do with us. So spill. Why are you avoiding the frat?"

Jisung had wandered off to the other side of your room, where he seemed to be making a concoction of different beverages. He didn't seem to be making a mess, so you thought it best to leave him while he was quiet.

You huffed. "Fine. One of your stupid little frat bro's is driving me insane. But I won't say who!" you added hastily.

Felix's eyes glinted. "Driving you insane? In what way? Like, someone's pissed you off? Or they're making you insanely horny and you don't know how to handle it."

You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "You know me too well, Lix."

Felix laughed gleefully. "Changbin?"

"Don't start guessing! I'm not gonna tell you!"

"Chan?"

"No!"

Felix paused, thinking hard. "It's Minho."

"It’s not Minho!"

He cackled. "You're an open book, it's Minho! You're horny for Minho!"

You let out a weak whimper in protest. "I just… God, nobody's ever affected me like this before, Lix! I don't even wanna be around him 'cause I know I'll say something stupid. Or maybe just start drooling on him."

Felix shrugged. "I guess I can't blame you. He is a gorgeous guy."

"Understatement of the century," you scoffed. "If I had to choose between solving world hunger and sucking his dick, I'd choose his dick. A thousand times."

Felix, in that beautiful drunken phase where everything was utterly hilarious, was clutching his stomach, in complete stitches on your floor.

"I'm not even joking, Lix! I'd devote the rest of my life to being his sex slave. He wouldn't even need to feed me, I'll survive off his cum if I have to!"

Felix wiped a tear from his eye. "Stop, stop. You're killing me." He turned to Jisung, who was still apparently playing potions with various different drinks.

"And that," Jisung said to no one in particular, "Is how you make a Hanji Supreme."

"What the fuck are you doing, Ji? Are you vlogging over there? Get your ass over here and listen to what Y/N has to say about Lee Minho."

"Okay, bye!" Jisung said, still seemingly speaking to thin air. He turned to you, eyebrows raised. "Minho? Y/N has the hots for Minho?"

"Unfortunately," you confirmed.

"We could probably set you up with him," Jisung proposed, a dastardly grin on his face.

"No," you quickly denied. "Never. Under no circumstances do you ever mention my name in Minho's presence. Got it?"

Jisung pouted. "But then your dreams are never gonna come true!"

You chewed on your lip. "I feel like a stuttering mess whenever I even think about him. I can't imagine what'd happen if I actually spoke to him."

"Wait, you've never spoken to him?" Felix clarified, and you shook your head. He smirked. "You were saying some pretty vulgar stuff, considering he's practically a stranger."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a creep and a perv. That's why he can never find out about this. Seriously," you said sternly, directing this last part at Jisung. He wasn't exactly known for keeping secrets.

Felix looked him up and down. "I don't think he's even going to remember this tomorrow, if I'm being honest."

"Yeah," you agreed. "He seems like he's done for the night." The boy was lying flat on his back, the brim of his beanie pulled over his eyes. His phone was buzzing away on his chest, notification tone pinging every few seconds.

Felix sighed. "I just hope he doesn't get one of those second winds."

“Jisung, honey, is someone trying to get hold of you?” you asked, the chiming of his phone growing irritating. You figured he’d texted one of his many booty calls and then instantly forgotten about it.

“Huh?” he asked, clearly not really listening.

Felix’s phone began to buzz on the floor. “Someone’s trying to get hold of me.” He brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, what’s up? He's - he's what?" Felix covered his other ear. "It's really loud over there, did you say he's on the table? Christ - okay, okay, we'll be right over."

"What was that?" you asked. "Is everything okay?"

Felix sighed. "Hyunjin's partying a little too hard. Seungmin can't deal with him alone. C'mon, we gotta go wrangle him."

"We just went over this - I'm not stepping foot in Minho's territory, not even for a second," you said adamantly.

"Relax, he's partying with Theta Chi Theta tonight," Jisung slurred happily, sitting upright and fixing his beanie. "C'mon, Y/N, come party with us!"

Felix looked to you pleadingly. "I can't deal with drunk Jisung and drunk Hyunjin without you. Please."

Fuck. Felix knew you could never say no to his puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine."

Even with the knowledge that Minho was preoccupied somewhere else, you still felt a little wary as you stepped into the house. It did occur to you that you could be a little too terrified of this man, but you knew all too well that both your horniness and your stupidity were utterly limitless, which was always a recipe for disaster.

You heard Hyunjin before you saw him - "Why can't I get naked, though? It's so hot in here!"

You snickered. He was still on the table, although he looked a little wobbly so you doubted it'd be too long until he came tumbling down. Jisung wandered off, probably up to no good, whilst you and Felix hurried over.

Seungmin breathed a visible sigh of relief when he saw you. "So glad you're here. Okay, I'm off duty. Good luck." He had vanished within seconds.

Hyunjin waved excitedly when he caught sight of you both. "Hi Lix! Hi Lix's pretty friend!"

You laughed at his drunken boldness. "It's Y/N," you corrected him.

"I know." He grinned down at you from the table, eyes disappearing into crescents. "You're brave, too," he crooned.

"Brave?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"If I was you, I probably wouldn't show my face around here until the end of the semester, at least," he went on.

Felix narrowed his eyes at the boy. "What are you talking about?"

Hyunjin stared at Felix for a moment. Then switched his gaze to you. Then back to Felix. Before erupting into a fit of giggles.

"Oh my god, please sit down before you fall and crack your damn skull," Felix pleaded with the boy.

"Yeah, and more importantly, explain yourself," you added.

Hyunjin sat obediently, pulling out his phone and handing it to Felix.

"Oh fuck," Felix breathed. "I have the group chat muted right now."

"The group chat?" you enquired anxiously. "Please tell me what's going on." Your paranoia was getting the best of you, and while you stood waiting for someone to fucking explain, you were slowly convincing yourself that you'd stolen Felix's phone and confessed your attraction to Minho in the most crass and unrefined terms.

This wasn't too far from the truth.

Felix opened up a video, skipping towards the end. You noticed Jisung, sitting cross-legged on the floor of your dorm room, chattering away about various beverages. More prominently, however, you heard your own voice, from the other side of the room.

“I’ll survive off his cum if I have to!”

Your heart plummets to the ground as the memory comes rushing back. Fuck.

You grab Felix’s arm, holding on for dear life. “Tell me this isn’t happening. Tell me Jisung only sent that to Hyunjin and no one else.”

Felix handed the phone back to Hyunjin and placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. “Look, it’s going to be okay. People say stupid shit like this all the time-”

“Oh look, Minho’s read the messages!” Hyunjin calls out.

You put a hand over your mouth. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“He’s typing!”

“No!” you wailed.

Hyunjin turned his phone around once more. You peered at the screen in turmoil as three dastardly little letters popped up.

lol

"Oh, Y/N, you're so lucky he's not here tonight," Felix said, sounding relieved. Distantly, you felt a shred of relief too, although that was nothing compared to the complete and utter dread you were experiencing. Oh, the consequences of your own drunken, horny actions. Was there anything worse?

"Oh," Felix murmured, pulling his buzzing phone out of his pocket. "Oh."

"What?" you asked.

"He's calling me."

You called out "Don't answer it!" just as Hyunjin yelled "Answer it!"

Felix accepted the call, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Oh my god, I'm scared. Hold my hand." You scrambled for Hyunjin, who grasped your hand in his before giggling.

"Your hands are soft," he commented, apparently having forgotten the Minho debacle already. You swiftly hushed him.

Felix also raised a finger to his lips in a shh motion, before putting the call on speakerphone.

"Are you at the house? Is Y/N with you?" Minho’s voice came through the speaker.

Felix paused, looking at you with wide eyes. You shook your head furiously.

"Uh, yeah," he answered, the traitor. You fought hard not to scream.

"Can you pass a message across?" you heard Minho ask.

"Sure."

"I'm on my way." The line clicked dead.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. “LEE FELIX WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL HIM I'M HERE?"

"I DON'T KNOW, I PANICKED!" he shrieked back, sounding equally as alarmed as you.

“This is crazy,” Hyunjin commented with a dazed grin.

“You are far too drunk to understand the absolute catastrophe I’m in right now!” you accused him. “Oh my god, what am I gonna do? I need to go - immediately.”

“Not so fast.”

You spun around in complete and utter horror, terrified that Minho had somehow materialised from his other party right back to the frat. Only to find Seungmin standing before you - just slightly less threatening.

“Jisung is far too drunk, and he’s begging for you,” he explained.

“God, what is in the air tonight?” you observed. “Do you guys need to do a fraternity-wide detox?”

Seungmin snorted. “Like that’s ever gonna happen. Go on, Jisung’s in his room.”

God fucking damn it, why were you such a good friend? You tore up the stairs, bee-lining for Jisung’s room, fully intending on hiding in his bedroom for the rest of the night. Minho wouldn’t find you in there if you locked the door, right? You were even willing to put up with your best friend’s snoring.

"Hey, Sungie," you said gently as you walked into his room. You found him curled on his bed, still dressed in his hoodie, cargos and beanie.

"Y/N… You're finally here…" he mumbled.

"You sound sleepy. Is it bedtime?" you asked, sitting down on the bed beside him. You tugged the beanie off his head, and ran your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp gently.

"Bedtime? Hmm… No… It's still party time for now." His words were slurred, and you knew he was just minutes from dozing off - seconds, maybe.

"Sure," you said, as it was typically better to just agree with him. "You wanna get your pyjamas on? We can have a pyjama party."

"No. I'm comfy like this." You seriously doubted it, but didn't have it in you to battle him right now.

Sure enough, he was snoring less than thirty seconds later. You wondered if it was worth shoving him a bit, to climb in bed beside him, or whether it'd be best to just run home. But you didn't know how far away Minho was, and the thought of bumping into him was too much to bear.

You deliberated for a few moments, but Jisung's snoring was driving you insane, and you quickly realised that you weren't equipped to deal with it tonight.

You pulled out your phone, opening Felix's contact.

[10:44pm] You: lixie do u have minho's location?

[10:44pm] You: lix please please please

[10:44pm] You: felix pls i need to know how far he is

You sat on the edge of Jisung's bed, leg bouncing with nerves. Why was Felix always muting his damn notifications?

[10:48pm] Lix: idk sorry :( i think his party was nearby though

[10:48pm] Lix: look, just run to my room

[10:49pm] Lix: you'll be safe there

You weighed up your options.

Option one: stay here with Jisung, awake all night owing to his snoring and his complete domineering of 90% of the bed space, stressing about Lee fucking Minho.

Option two: run out of the frat house, and all the way home to safety, but risk bumping into Minho on your way out.

Option three: run down the hall to Felix's room, where you can vent to him all night and then eventually fall asleep with his sunshine cuddles.

It could only be option three.

His room was just down the hall, you reasoned. You would yank open the door, tear down the hallway, and land safely in Felix's bedroom. It would be easy.

You took a deep breath, before pulling open the door and preparing to run.

“Ah. Look who it is.”

Shit.

Minho stood in the hall with an unreadable expression. His eyes scanned your whole frame, and he took his time with his scalding gaze. His eyes crawled all the way up your legs, lingering up your thighs. Slowly moving from your hips, to your waist, to your chest. Before landing on your eyes - that’s where his inspection burned the most. You couldn’t even breathe.

“All bark and no bite, hm?”

“I… I just…” you stammered weakly.

He continued to stare at you, waiting for you to finish. “You just?”

“I’m sorry!” you managed, your voice barely above a squeak.

He folded his arms across his chest, looking amused. “What, pray tell, are you sorry for? For blabbing about my dick to anyone who’ll listen? Manners mean everything, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked me nicely. There was no reason to bring everyone into our business, now, was there?”

You simply blinked at him. You weren’t capable of anything more. He was clearly waiting for a response, though, smirking over at you expectantly. “W-What?” you managed eventually.

“Or are you apologising for your dirty mouth? Honestly, I didn’t expect that from you. You look so sweet, who knew you could be so… improper.”

You felt dizzy. “Improper?”

He pouted at you, and it was dripping with condescension. “Can you speak, darling? Or are you so cock-hungry you can’t manage more than a one-word answer?”

“I-I just don’t know what to say, is all,” you whispered.

“Just give me a yes or a no,” he invited you, holding his hand out for you to take.

You gave him a slow nod, placing your hand in his shakily. He smiled as if to say ‘right answer,’ before opening the door right next to Jisung's, and leading you into his bedroom. The room was remarkably neat and tidy, and you would’ve been impressed if you could even begin to process it. All of your mental energy was focused on not combusting - or coming on the spot.

He allowed you to step into the room before closing the door behind you. You were then quickly pushed up against it, Minho pinning you against the wood with his hips. Had that squeal really just come from your mouth?

His eyes were transfixed on your lips. You waited, heart hammering in your chest, while he had you trapped there. Until this point, you really hadn't been sure whether he was angry at you for saying such explicit things about him. The look in his eyes revealed everything - he wanted you just as badly.

He leaned in slowly. Torturously slowly - evidently, he was going to take his time with you. His lips met yours in a gentle peck, which he repeated, again and again. You sighed against his lips, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt and pulling him closer, but he merely smirked against your pout.

"Please," you breathed.

"You're so desperate," he said with a low laugh. "I could give you what you want, Y/N, but I know you wouldn't be able to handle it."

"I can take it," you protested, your voice sounding much whinier than you wanted it to.

"You can?" he asked, cocking his head and looking down at you condescendingly. You nodded insistently. "Okay."

Minho picked up the pace. His lips were soft but they bit at yours harshly. His tongue entered your mouth and you savoured his taste, sucking on his tongue gently.

Your hands went to the button of his jeans, swiftly unbuttoning it. Minho pulled away, stepping back and leaving you pouting once more. He laughed, that awful patronising sound yet again, that made your palms sweat and your thighs sticky.

"What, you think you're gonna get my dick that easily?" he asked, cocking his head at you. "No, honey."

"Please?" you asked. It sounded pitiful, even to you.

You watched as he went to his neatly made bed, tugging off jeans and laying back. "Come here," he instructed, lounging back against the wall. "Take your clothes off for me."

"T-Take my clothes off?" you asked meekly. It sounded pitiful even to your ears.

The look he gave you was scathing, although he did seem rather amused by the pathetic show of stupid desperation you were unfortunately displaying. "Well you can't expect to stay fully clothed if I'm gonna fuck you, right?"

You nodded, standing in front of him and looking down at your feet. "I… I feel shy all of a sudden."

"You feel shy? I don't know if you'd make such a good sex slave after all." He laughed before growing serious. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'll look after you, if we do, but the choice is yours."

His kinder tone set you at ease, and made you realise that you really wanted this, you were ready for this. It also brought about the realisation that you much preferred it when he was mean. You didn't want to dwell on what that meant, though.

You gathered your courage and slowly pulled your clothes off, standing before him in nothing but your underwear. Minho said nothing, but you felt as though you were on fire under his gaze.

He wasn't the only one who was enjoying the view. Your eyes traversed his toned thighs, mouth watering as you thought about how it'd feel if he were to press one between your legs. He wore plain white briefs, and you couldn't help but stare at the prominent bulge inside them. Even semi-hard it looked huge. You noticed it twitch ever so slightly, as he looked over your exposed body.

Minho spread his legs slightly, before tapping his left thigh. "Come on, darling. I know what you want."

Was he a mind reader? You wasted no time, climbing onto the bed, straddling his thigh and beginning to slowly grind. He tensed it, so firm and strong beneath you. The perfect platform for you to drag your clit across.

Minho's hands went to your waist, holding you gently, guiding you as you rolled your hips.

"That's it, baby, there you go," he encouraged you. The friction was enough to make you sweat, the pleasure overwhelming you. He was right - maybe you couldn't handle this. You couldn't even imagine how overwhelming it would be to actually feel his hands on you, feel his dick inside you.

His dick.

You could see it growing harder in his briefs, a small damp circle near the head where precum had leaked. You couldn't resist the temptation any longer; your hand reached out almost involuntarily, cupping his bulge gently. It was firm, and warm, and growing bigger seemingly by the second.

Minho took your hand, instantly re-directing it. "No, no, don't touch. Not until I say you can."

"But I can see how hard you're getting," you said. "You want it, Minho!"

"Unlike you, I know how to restrain myself." He patted your waist gently. "Keep riding."

You gave a frustrated huff, but did as he said.

Minho brought a slender finger down to your crotch, hooking it around the fabric of your underwear and moving it out of the way. "Let me see that pretty pussy," he murmured.

The new exposure made you moan aloud, hands gripping Minho's shoulders firmly as you rode him.

"Please," you whispered. "Please, Minho."

"Please, what? Use your words."

"Please fuck me," you asked.

He pretended to consider it for a moment. "Hmm… No. Not yet."

You groaned. "I need it, though!"

Minho snickered. "Don't be such a brat. I want to take my time with you, okay?"

"You can take your time next time! Just - please - fuck, please, I need it."

He raised an eyebrow with you. "Oh, so there's gonna be a next time, is there?"

You ignored his quip. If you couldn't get in his pants just yet, you'd focus your attention elsewhere. You lifted his shirt slowly, revealing his stomach, where you found lightly toned abs that only made you more desperate to feel him. Miraculously, he humoured you, pulling his shirt over his head.

You gasped, running your hands down his chest. He was beautiful, tight pecs and perfect little nipples that stood to attention in the open air of his bedroom. You ghosted a finger over one of them, entranced.

"I thought that'd shut you up," Minho commented under his breath.

"Beautiful tits," you muttered unintentionally as you admired his pecs.

Minho smiled. "I could say the same thing about you, angel." He placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer and bringing one of your nipples into his mouth. He wasn't gentle about it, sucking and biting without holding back. You cried out, your hips pausing their grinding motions, your system completely overloaded by his harsh actions on your sensitive nipple.

"Keep riding," he mumbled, not even taking your nipple out of his mouth as he spoke.

You dragged your clit across his muscular thigh, whimpering loudly as you went. "Oh god, please, Minho! I need you inside me."

"Then beg for it."

You wasted no time. "Please, Minho, please, please! I need your cock, I've never needed anything this bad. I know I'm just a filthy little slut but please give me what I need, fuck, I'll die if you don't!"

"You really are a filthy slut," he agreed, lifting you from his thigh and laying you on his bed.

"Yes, yes, please Minho!" you babbled.

He pulled your underwear down, leaving you completely naked before him, before tugging his own briefs off.

Holy fucking shit, you thought.

His dick was beautiful. That was the only way to describe it - fucking beautiful. It was long, with a vein running along the underside, and the girth was decent too. The head was thick, and red, and if you weren't so desperate to be fucked you would've sucked on it for hours.

"I know you want it," Minho said. "But do you deserve it?" He stroked his dick slowly, and you watched as the head disappeared into his fist, emerging again as his hand ran along his shaft.

"I don't know, but I need it," you insisted. "I'll do anything."

Minho shook his head, but he looked smug. "Alright, baby. If you need it that badly."

"Yes, yes, yes," you chattered, intoxicated by a dick that you hadn't even felt yet.

He pushed your knees up to your chest, and you hooked your arms around them, holding them in position and peering down to watch his motions. "Such a perfect pussy." He rubbed the head of his dick across your clit, and you whined loudly. Distantly, you wondered if the sounds of the frat party below would even be enough to drown out your incessant noises of pleasure. It was irrelevant, though; you didn't care enough to stop.

He dragged his dick through your folds, over your hole, back up to your clit. Minutes ago, you would've killed a man to have Minho touch your pussy, but already you wanted more. He made you so greedy. It felt good but your thirst for more was unbearable, intolerable.

"Alright, baby, are you ready?"

"Yes!" you cried out.

Slowly, he sunk the tip of his dick inside you - just the tip. Thick as it was, it slid in with hardly any protest. He sighed as it went in, clearly needing the sensation more than he let on.

"More," you pleaded.

"You'll take what I give you, when I'm ready to give you it." Minho saw you roll your eyes at this, but said nothing.

He pushed the head in and out of your hole, never putting more than two inches inside.

"Please give me the whole thing, Minho!"

He simply shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to handle it. Dumb baby."

"I can handle it!" you insisted. "I swear I can!"

He looked at you, raising an eyebrow that told you he was unconvinced. "You can?" You nodded. "You're gonna cry like a little baby."

"Just give me your stupid dick right now!"

Minho laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, baby. Here comes my stupid dick."

He held your legs down against your chest, and slammed his whole length inside you. You saw stars. He thrusted, hard and fast, and you were somewhat aware that you were moaning probably louder than you ever had before, but all you could truly focus on was his cock filling you up. He was hitting your g-spot on every single thrust, grunting as he fucked you.

"God, you're tight," he groaned. He re-positioned his hips, and somehow managed to hit deeper. You felt him against your cervix, and cried out in pain.

"Too much," you weakly protested as your eyes filled with tears.

"I thought you could handle it?" he said, his voice lacking any sympathy. "Fucking pathetic, begging for a cock you couldn't even take."

"I-I can, just not so deep."

Minho smirked down at you. "It's not my fault my dick's so big," he said, but adjusted his thrusts slightly anyway.

"I can take it," you promised. "I-I can take anything you give me, Minho."

"That's right, baby. My filthy little whore." His voice was calm, but his eyebrows were furrowed and sweat was dripping down his forehead - the pleasure was overwhelming him just as much as it was destroying you.

Minho leaned down, connecting his mouth to yours as he fucked you. You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking his tongue into your mouth. You couldn't help but moan. His dick fucking your pussy, his tongue fucking your mouth. This was heaven, you were sure of it.

He pulled away. "You think you could take some more?"

"More?" you asked, eyes wide.

"Just a little more. For me?"

You nodded hesitantly.

Minho paused his thrusts, but before you could whine in protest, you felt his finger rubbing at your opening. Slowly, he pushed his index finger inside, along with his dick. The painful stretch was incredible, and you whimpered at the feeling.

"There you go, babe," he said, beginning to thrust once more. He closed his eyes, losing himself to the sensation. "Fuck, this is nice and tight."

You were barely even lucid at this point. You babbled incoherently, unaware of what you were even trying to say. You were completely and utterly spellbound by his dick, by the sweet burning stretch.

"Touch yourself for me, baby," Minho directed you.

"F-Fuck- I don't know if I can-"

"I thought you wanted to be my sex slave, hm? Pretty little slaves do as they're told."

You whined, but obeyed his command. "M-Minho… I'm gonna cum if I keep going."

Minho barked out a laugh. "Cum then. I don't care. But don't take your fingers off that pussy, not even for a second."

You were beginning to think that maybe you weren't cut out for this. You hadn't even reached your climax yet, and already the overstimulation was too much. Your stretched out pussy was throbbing, and you jolted each time Minho's dick pounded your g-spot. You were drenched, covered in your own sweat as well as Minho's, which was dripping onto you from his hair, his forehead, his neck. The air in the room was thick, and smelled entirely of Minho - you were covered in him. He looked like a god above you, fucking into you like it was his life's mission.

It was too much for you to handle, without a doubt. And yet, you'd be happy to spend the rest of your life underneath him. Or on top of him. Or in any position which meant his dick could be inside you.

"Minho… Minho!" you whimpered.

"C'mon, baby," he encouraged you, his voice strained. From the sounds of it, he wasn't far from finishing either - although you got the sense he could keep going all night if he willed himself to. "Cum around my cock like the dirty little whore you are."

That was all the prompting you needed.

Your ears started ringing. You let the almost unbearable feeling of ecstasy wash over you, flooding Minho’s cock. You knew you were crying out maybe a bit too loudly - but you didn’t care, thrashing in Minho’s hold and grasping the bedsheets for dear life as he fucked you through it. He didn’t slow his pace, riding out your intense orgasm caused by the man of your dreams and making you feel as if you’d been set on fire.

"Does that feel good, baby?" Minho crooned, continuing to fuck you as he went after his own orgasm. You could only manage a high-pitched whine in response. "Just a little longer, baby, you can do it. Just lie there and let me use your tight little pussy, that's it." His voice was hoarse, and the veins on his neck were prominent. You knew he was going to cum soon, but you didn't know if you could hold on. You were over-sensitive to the point of pain, hands gripping Minho's bed sheets.

"Cum - give me your cum," you urged Minho. "Now, please."

His eyes widened. Your command had seemed to catch him off guard a bit. He pulled out of you, and you watched as thick ribbons of pearly white cum oozed onto your abdomen. You gasped gently as you watched. It was perhaps the most beautifully erotic thing you'd ever seen. His dick was definitely a contender for the prettiest one you'd ever fucked, and his cum was thick and heavy, dripping from the tip like a waterfall.

"Thank you," you whispered. He leaned in, kissing you deeply. He tasted like sweat, hot and sticky, and you moaned.

He pulled away, before planting one more kiss on your forehead. "You're welcome."

Minho stood, going to the other side of his room. You tried to follow him with your eyes, but you felt so weak and tired that they slipped shut immediately. He returned seconds later, and you lay still, sighing as he cleaned you up. His touch was so gentle, so soothing, so different than it had been just minutes before.

"That better?" he asked, discarding the towel.

You nodded. "You want me to go crash with Felix?" you asked, unsure of what exactly this arrangement was.

"Nah, you reek of sex. Felix wouldn't want you." He helped you climb under the covers. "Plus, I wouldn't mind some company tonight." He slid into bed beside you, and you rolled over, laying your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, and you felt incredibly safe secure, especially considering just how utterly terrified you'd been of this man a few hours ago.

You giggled softly, so tired and fucked out that you felt a little delirious. "Can't believe you fucked me, Minho."

Minho gave a short laugh. "Can't believe you convinced me to fuck you so easily. You're a little minx. I really wanted to play with you some more."

You nestled into his chest. "I guess there'll have to be a next time then, huh?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "If you're lucky."

"You wanna fuck me again, Minho, I know you do," you mumbled. "I saw the look in your eyes when you came. You need my pussy."

Minho was silent for a few seconds. "You're awfully bold for someone who was crying on my cock ten minutes ago."

"...Yeah."

"Get some sleep, sweetheart." No more than ten seconds later, you were sleeping in his arms.

You slipped into the land of dreams, where you went on to fantasise about Minho - his thighs, his neck, his tummy, his hands. His kisses, his touches, his dick in your throat, in your holes. Minho everywhere. Were you completely insatiable? Maybe. But it seemed very likely that he'd give it to you again. In your sleep, you smiled.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @moasworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @queenofthegardengnomes @boomfrogg @hoeinthehouse @msaddictions @sunnyhonie @hizliyuruyen @jyu037 @jouoy @drhsthl @seungincore @jellylver @veedoesntknaur @meloncremesoda @k-poplv @livieloo914 @fekixfmp @fawnpeaks @minnielvr @imastraykidsfan @hanjisung2023 @hoelynecujoh @kyrviu @sxgeofprohets @everydreams-penumbra @chaneomma @kkissreol @secretjj @phtogravi @princelingperfect @personawthai @dirah-h @straykids5star @luvhyux @chuuswifereal @stg110 @cookiesandmilfx @number1seungminstan

#lee know #stray kids #lee minho #lee know x reader #minho x reader #skz minho #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #minho smut #stray kids smut #stray kids frat au #stray kids fic #stray kids fanfiction #minho fic #lee know fic #billy's fics ☆#hot bitch summer: makes me dizzy

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bleedingoptimism · 2 months

Text

Eddie manages the band's TikTok when they are on tour. The content is mostly behind the scenes of them on the road, news about where they will be going next, band practice, jam sessions, etc. The boys have been friends since high school and get along amazingly, like family. But also like shit, just like family. So there are also videos of Eddie laughing while Frank yells at Jeff for farting on his pillow in the tour bus or Eddie filming himself while running as Gareth chases after him for eating the last cookie. HIS last cookie.

The channel is pretty popular even though it doesn't update often. And the links to their merch store and ticket store while on tour, help a lot with the band's expenses. Music being online makes people buy fewer albums and vinyls. And Spotify paying 0,03 cents per song makes being an up-and-coming band that needs money to rent a studio for recording, bus fares, hotel accommodations and to pay the roadies and technicians… kinda hard.

But the TikTok helps! So Chrissy, Eddie's best friend, Gareth's fiance, and their manager, suggests that Eddie keeps the TikTok going while on break from tour.

It doesn't take long to come up with the perfect idea. Restoring Eddie's old van to make it a small house on wheels for road-tripping. But they’ll need a handyman, someone who knows what they are doing.

Luckily, Chrissy has a solution to that. Her cousin Vicky, just came back from traveling the coast on a huge RV with her girlfriend and her girlfriend’s best friend and, according to Vicky, the man is an expert. He built the whole thing himself, from the ground up. So Chrissy tells Vicky, who asks Robin, who talks to Steve, and the meeting is set up.

On the day of the meeting, Eddie parks the van outside his place, sits on the back, and hits record on his phone, “Morning!” he says to the camera, squinting one eye as the sun hits his face because it’s actually noon, “I’m gonna do something fun during the tour break and I wanted to take yall with me. You see, ever since I was young, I've had this dream. Well, other than becoming a musician who can live off his music, thank you for that by the way,” he smiles and tips an invisible hat towards the camera. “The second thing I've always wanted is having one of those built-in movin' houses, a little RV, a camping van, you know the ones” he wiggles his brows and moves the phone a little around him, to show where he’s sitting so people know where he’s going with this.

“Sooo I asked a friend of a friend of a friend, who is an expert on making dreams come true, to help me and we are gonna mod my van. My lovely Haley, my faithful baby, who has been with me since the beginning… I'm scared. This dude better be good.” he laughs nervously.

part two -> 📱💞🚙

And then his focus shifts to something behind his phone, “Oh, here he comes now!” he waves enthusiastically and keeps looking, either forgetting he’s still filming his reaction or too distracted to save face, he squints a little and then frowns, blushes and, chuckles nervously again, “Oh no. he’s hot.”

☕🥐💕 coffee? by the lake's shore?

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #corroded coffin #im in a rockstar eddie doing mundane things kick #i wrote something

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wandasfifthwife · 1 month

Text

good girl ₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺

—wandanat x fem/afab!reader

༺ tw || SMUT MDNI, discussion on kinks/titles/roles (but not detailed), exhibition & choking kink mentioned, dom/sub dynamic, dom!wandanat & sub!reader, top!wandanat & bottom!reader, R gets needy from a wet dream, oral&fingering (r receiving | n giving), reader is described to be wearing a nightgown, reader is described to be shy, not proofread

༺ a/n || I’ve never personally been in a dom/sub relationship, so if I get things wrong that’s why! If you’re getting into one— don’t use this as a guide/reference

— 🌷masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ 3.0k words₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part🌻 —

A buzz raps against your bedside table, the sound officially pulling you out of your morning stir. With bleary eyes, you reach across the bed to pull your phone off the charger. The movement brings you out of the warmth and comfort your sheets provide, hence making you shiver once your arm hits the cold air surrounding your room.

After pulling the phone under the covers you shut the alarm off, unlocking it to view the notifications sent since you’ve fallen asleep.

The door creeks open, whoever opening it trying to be quiet but the door’s old age didn’t allow them to do so. Your roommate peeks her head in, eyes landing on your curled position in bed.

“My word it’s freezing in here,” she starts, moving out of the doorframe to check the thermostat, “if I woke you up, I am so sorry—I was going to call maintenance to check in on your room, wanted to come see if it was still freezing.”

As if on cue you shiver again, pulling the blanket higher until it brushes your chin, “it is.”

A grim expression comes into her face, she apologizes again, “I’ll call them now. They should be here tonight.”

You voice your appreciation, staying under the sheets until the numbers on your clock read noon. It was a lazy morning, all movements were slow and relaxed. The shower was turned until steam came off the top, the burning feeling decidedly better than the chill running throughout your entire body.

There were plans written on your phone’s calendar, the moment tonight a result from the events from the previous week. There had been more plans since three first meeting at the cafe, each moment spent together better than the last. Since the cafe, they’ve met you wherever it was that you’d like.

Whether it be at a bookstore, where the two whispered reassurances over your fretting on them paying for your books. Even at times when you three had colliding schedules they still made an effort, it showed in how they took a walk with you by the water. The ocean was rough, waves crashing and pushing against another, but the sound it made was entirely peaceful. You remember where your walk ended, where you three stopped so you could watch the water stretch and collide with the orange and pink sky.

“Beautiful.”

Wanda had whispered close to your ear, body leaned so close to yours, chest pushed up against your back. You had welcomed the advances from her, letting the motion also push you into Natasha until you three were cuddled up together. It brought a smile to your face to experience such a moment. It was when you decided it was best to share the news about signing off of the paper work on Tuesday. This all transpired a day ago on Sunday, meaning that discussion was happening tonight.

Remembering that this event is what you were getting ready for brought a multitude of emotions to run about. Any word within the synonym group to embarrassed and excitement would be hitting the mark on what you were feeling.

You’ve been keeping your friend in the loop, sending her text updates often and feeling thankful for her support. Shes aware of what’s transpiring tonight, her contact information appearing in your phone as you were finishing getting ready.

“You know, your mind doesn’t really know the difference between fear and excitement. So I suggest convincing yourself that you’re only excited.”

“I think I’d only be successful in telling it how scared I am,” you say as you shut your drawer, “because I really can only see how this will affect me negatively.”

“Expand on that.”

There’s a pause in the conversation as you throw on a shirt, “I mean, we’re going to be talking about what I’m interested in doing intimately. What if they find me weird, or they don’t want to do what I’d like to do and get rid of me?”

“First I’ll say that all you’re feeling is valid. Second, you’re being too harsh on yourself. This past week you’ve been getting to know each other, and going off of how you’ve been rambling to me after, I’d say they’re going well. Let tonight play out, be in the moment.”

You hum your response, sitting beside your phone to slip your shoes on, “okay.”

“I’ve known them like what—like two years now? They’re going to work with you, not against you. But if at any point you feel uncomfortable, you’re always free to leave whenever and call me, or security. Your wellbeing comes first.”

“Thank you, seriously.”

Three beeping sounds emit after, your lock screen appearing. There were four numbers glaring back at you, eliciting a response to start walking towards their apartment complex.

The map on your phone was confusing, stating that their location was to the left of you when it was across the street.

Natasha stood at the entrance, holding the door for you to step in. The inside was simple, light blue wallpaper lining the walls. You’ve become awkward, the feeling instigate by the nerves spiking being along with her. She lets you go through the second door first after unlocking it, letting the heavier door swing close behind her, “How was your walk?“

“Cold. It’s rather chilly today.”

Natasha walks in front to lead you up the staircase, “not a fan of the cold?”

“No, I much prefer the 70s, the mix between cold and hot.”

Three staircases later and the numbers 302 are staring back at you. Their door has a wreath outside, one decorated with red florals. Wanda comes to greet the door, letting the both of you in, even moving to hang your coat.

“Glad you got here safely,” she starts, “it gets dark so soon now that we’re rolling into winter.”

You’re entirely too thankful that they’ve begun to tell you where you can go and what you can do. They’ve opened up their home to you, but even then you weren’t sure if it was okay to sit down on the couch yet.

“Would you like a drink? I have water, tea?”

“Oh that’s alright, I’ll be fine.”

She pats your shoulder, “it’s alright if you’d like one, I’m offering.”

“Tea?”

She smiles, moving into the kitchen after. Natasha had sat across from you on another couch, laptop settled on her lap. It gave you a moment to look around, to take in their home for the first time. It was a combination of clean and messy. They had papers thrown over the cushioned footrest, shoes set carefully by the door. A pair of broken glasses were set on the tv mantle, and a tall vase beside it with tulips. Wanda comes in, setting the hot cup on the table in front of you.

“Do you like the flowers,” she asks, noticing where your gaze was transfixed, “natasha got them from a coworker.”

“Any specific reason?”

Natasha looks up from her laptop momentarily, meeting Wanda’s gaze. She speaks up, “I got asked out.”

“Oh,” you say, “at least you got nice flowers.”

Wanda laughs at the way Natasha squirms, “yeah, nice flowers. Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head, waving her off. She leaves again momentarily, the item appearing in her hand that makes you nervous again. The papers.

It was a conversation you wanted to have, you all wanted to have, but the discussion of such intimate acts felt more embarrassing than acting them out. They notice the way you’ve begun to look away, focus set outside the window.

You notice Natasha setting her MacBook away in your peripheral vision.

“Kitten,” Natasha starts, the new nickname rolling off of her lips instantly catching your attention, “are you okay with that?”

You appreciate her asking, the way her tone went soft after witnessing your reaction. It wasn’t unpleasant, it held the complete opposite reaction. The action of you nodding yet again has her speaking up, “words.”

“Yes, that’s okay.”

Natasha smiles at you, the sight easing your nerves. Wanda’s knee lands on the edge of the couch, leaning her body onto it until she’s sitting down.

“You sent these to us a day ago and we’ve reviewed it all, signed our parts as well. We’ll have those papers in my office if you ever want or need to view them while you’re over here,” she explains, setting a few pages down, “how’re you feeling about the next few?”

“Good, shy.”

“That’s alright. Tell if if you need to stop, okay?”

She’s begun to list them off, each one bringing a tinge of red to your cheeks. Your hand has come to fidget with your necklace, agreeing with the statements Wanda was reading off.

“It’s quite funny how most everything lines up with our responses.”

“Really?”

She hums, handing the papers over to Natasha, “you’re interested in all of the kinks we’re interested in, like your exhibition and choking one.”

“Wow,” you say, fingers tugging at your necklace, pulling it until the chain can’t be moved any further out.

“Did that make you nervous just now?”

Natasha asks, noticing the habit of fidgeting with a necklace arising any time a difficult situation arose. You let go of it, moving to hold the warm glass, the scent of the chamomile tea rushing to you.

“It did, but that’s only because I don’t like direct conversations. I’m better when things play out and you’re lost in the moment, but I understand this needs to be talked about.”

“We can call it a night then. If you’d like you can stay over, whatever you’d like. Please let us order an Uber though if you decide to go home, Natasha was having a fit about you walking home the other day.”

Wanda throws a look at Natasha, pressing a kiss to your head as she walks by. Natasha takes the jab, grabbing at her computer again, “and I won’t apologize for that.“

“If I were to stay tonight, where would I sleep?”

“With us,” Wanda says from the other room, “you’re not sleeping on these couches and certainly not the ground—unless you’d like to.”

“Could I stay over then?”

Wanda laughs, “you’re so sweet, of course you can. You can borrow either of our clothes, world knows how uncomfortable it is to sleep in jeans.”

Natasha shows you to the bathroom, clicking on the light so she can set the pajamas you had picked out on the counter. It was small, but larger than the one you had back with your roommates. It smelled like them, their scents overwhelming your senses when you walked in.

“The shower handles weird to use, so I’ll start that for you. I’ll leave the door unlocked just in case, okay?”

The knobs were weird. There were three of them, one for hot water, cold water, and the third to turn the pressure to come from the lower or higher nozzle. You’re thankful for her to figure it out, setting it where it was perfect. The first temperature was entirely too cold, apparently the temperature Natasha showers with in the morning.

She let you be, shutting the door and leaving you alone. All the options you had for soap were theirs. The bottles read “vanilla,” explaining why their scent was sweet. You shivered when the cold air hit, missing the warmth the water provided. The nightgown you chose was comfortable, the silk fabric to blame for that.

Wanda was still in the living room, a lamp on beside her. The room beside her had the light turned on, rustling coming from inside.

“Could you help me?”

“With what?”

“I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the shower, I’m sorry.”

Wanda sets the book down, moving past you, “you’re too kind, don’t worry about that. You can wait with Natasha, she’s already in the room.”

You assume the room with the light on is their bedroom. Natasha was leaning on the side, feet kicked off the side of the bed. She closed the drawer, sitting further back on the bed. You grow nervous again, standing in the doorway awkwardly.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“When will of it will start?”

“Whenever you’d like it to.”

A deep breath comes from you, your finger playing with the edge of your dress, “could we start tonight?”

“What’d you say? Speak a bit louder.”

“Could we start tonight? Start small?”

Her body relaxes, gesturing for you to come closer. There’s a slight tickling sensation as her hand brushes against the back of your thigh, lifting you to straddle her waist.

“You don’t have to do anything. Just relax and only speak if we ask you.”

It’s not difficult to listen to her when her hand brushes against your back in such a manner. Wanda wonders in later, taking to Natasha about something but it all became background noise. It almost lulls you to sleep, your mind on the cusp of falling into the dream world until Natasha had patted your leg.

“We’re turning the lights off, can you lay down for me?”

You rest between them, your back against Natasha’s. Wanda faces you, her hands brushing gently against your cheek. It only took a second for Natasha to begin snoring, her deep breaths hitting your back, making you scoot closer into Wanda.

“She bothering you? If we need to, I can make her sleep on the couch.”

“Oh no that’s alright, I like her here.”

Wanda smiles, leaning to press a kiss to your lips, “me too. Now sleep, it’s late.”

You adjust, finding the most comfortable spot to be resting your face under hers.

𓂃𓂃𓂃•𓂃𓂃𓂃

It’s driving you crazy, feeling her hands rub all over you but not where you need it the most. She’s been kissing you breathlessly, all on purpose so she can hear your shaky gasps of air.

“Please,” you beg, pushing your hips up, “touch me.”

“Where?”

You grab her hand, leaving it resting over your clothed cunt, “here please, I need it so bad.”

Her fingers push your underwear aside, not giving you any warning as she pushes one in, “you’re soaked.”

A whine tumbles from you, hands gripping tighter onto her wrist, “more, not enough.”

She listens, pressing another in, the stretch making you whine louder. You beg each time, grinding down onto her fingers. Each thrust pulling a, ‘more,’ from you, stating how you can take it.

“Does it feel good, kitten? You’re gripping my fingers.”

“Kitten?”

You gasp, eyes shooting open to find Natasha above you. She’s leaning over, using her hand by your head to balance herself. Her other hand was on your shoulder, presumably used to shake you awake.

“Are you alright? You were mumbling and moving around, I wanted to make sure you weren’t having a bad—“

“Touch me.”

“What.”

You clamber back, twisting your body away from hers, “nevermind.”

“No, tell me what you just said.”

“Touch me.”

It was quieter than the first time you said it but Natasha heard it.

“Remember the safe word colors we talked about, I want you to use those, okay?”

Her fingers hold your chin, moving you so you make eye contact with her, “use your words and look me in the eyes.”

“Okay,” you say, voice airy.

The moment she’s leaning down to kiss you, you’re reaching for more. She’s meeting you where you’re at, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. The sounds you make drive her crazy, they’re intoxicating. Her lips move down to your neck, biting at your collarbones to make you gasp.

“Hnn-!”

“Such a needy little thing,” she mouths, pulling your dress down to press a kiss to your nipple, “who knew you’d be so adorable.”

It’s the bare minimum and almost unreasonable for you to be so weak from it, but it’s her. The reason why you’re so reactive and wanting is because you want to feel her touch.

“Oh Natasha please,” you whine, grinding your hips down onto her clothed thigh. Natasha eyes the movement, groaning when she sees the wet patch you’ve left behind.

“Call me by my name and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Daddy, please.”

Your back is pushed into the pillows when she lifts your hips to slide your underwear completely off. You move to take off the dress but she stops you, “leave it on, you look beautiful.”

You really do, and she wishes you could see what she does. The strap handing off your shoulder, the bottom of it pooled around your waist. You moan so loud Natasha worries the neighbors might hear when her tongue licks up your folds.

“Shh,” she presses a kiss to your inner thigh, “be quiet.”

You try, the hand over your mouth your best attempt at keeping quiet. It becomes difficult to with how good she eats you out that you have to bite down on your fist. She praises you, telling you how good you listen to her.

You keen when she presses a finger in, the size of her fingers spreading you more than your dream had. Her hands on gripping your thighs open, amused at how shaky they get once she’s begun to thrust her finger in.

“Ah—! Not enough, please I need more.”

She’s compliant, already pushing another in and oh her view was heavenly. Your back arching, hips pushing onto her fingers. It’s a sight that almost makes her moan. Her own thighs grow wet seeing how you’re squirming from her ministrations. The moment she’s pushing another in, you’re already begging her to

“Oh yes please, please.”

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive.“

Her fingers are rough, pushing against your walls and angling them in a way that drives you closer to the edge. Her name is tumbling from your lips repeatedly like it’s all you know what to say.

“Don’t come without asking me,” she warns.

“Please let me come,” you gasp.

“Please who?”

“Please daddy,” you moan into your hand, “I’ll be good for you.”

“I know. I know you will. Go ahead.”

Her mouth latches onto your clit again, the stimulation being what you needed to reach your high. You pant, lungs heaving to get in air after. A smile making its way onto your face when Natasha slides up the bed to kiss your forehead.

“You did so well.”

“She did,” Wanda agrees from her position by the door, “I’m so proud.”

— 🌷masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ taglist below₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part🌻 —

@simpforlizzie @maggieromanov @angelbeingatitspurest @cerberus-spectre @olicity-boo @huggingkoalas @wandasbunnyy @babykingslayer @marigoldenblooms @godhatesgoodgirls @evmaximoff @tobiaslut @lzzysfreak @caporaI-nino @mommysfavouritegirl @gemz5 @dorabledewdroop @foxherder @madamevirgo @natashaswife4125 @peaceitsnaee @radcherryblossompainter @sagesayshi

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russellsppttemplates · 2 months

Text

I want this every day (Charles Leclerc)

Charles has been frustrated with the team's strategies and the results he's been getting lately so you find a way to cheer him up

Note: english is not my first language. I was going to write it earlier on the week, but then I felt like I a jinxing it so I stopped... but after today, I think it's a good place to start...

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions Jules Bianchi

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

Another race weekend where he was out qualified by his team-mate left Charles with the feeling that if it came to it, he was almost one hundred percent sure they would ask them to swap positions.

Points for the team would be important anyway and they came away with a good amount and the car showed to be competitive enough considering the RedBull dominance on the grid, but the frustration was still there.

With the team and with himself.

They told him they'd keep him - there wasn't a quesion put down about his contract -, Il Predestinato wasn't something he carried lightly but often times it was confusing. Without the support and appreciation from inside the team, it was proving difficult to achieve their goals.

His childhood dream was driving for Ferrari and Suzuka always carried a heavier weight for him. As he took off his helmet and was faced with the number 17 on the side, he apoligised. To Jules, who he wanted to make proud every day but even more on this particular track. To his fans, who deserved better than this. To you, who were there for him, arms open for a hug and a shoulder where he could cry and let his feelings out on, to hold him and remind him every single time that all of the nonsense commentators and the media still had the audacity to say about him despite his continous shows of intelligence, skill and talent, and to love him.

The way you loved him was something he had never felt before and had never thought he deserved.

The face you were giving everyone in the garage that dared look at you wasn't unfortunately a rare occurrence, hence the fact that so very few team members approached you, "Charles is just finishing his interviews, he should be here soon", Silvia said before excusing herself from the garage.

You walked to your boyfriend's driver room, knowing he would end up in there soon enough after greeting the mechanics and engineers.

He stepped inside the room less than fifteen minutes later, finding your embrace immediately as his arms wrapped around your waist, "it's not fair that this keeps happening", he mumbled.

"I know it isn't", you kissed his stubbly cheek while rubbing his back soothingly.

"I thought I could've done so much better, for the fans, for you, for Jules", he hiccuped, letting himself be vulnerable after bottling up everything he was feeling.

"You did us proud, Charles - he is always so proud of you", you cupped hisface in your hands as you hoped the words got through to him, "okay?".

The flight back home had Charles sleeping most of the time, the whole rush of the weekend catching up with his body as he slept with his head on your thighs, your fingers playing with his locks while you arranged your schedule for the week ahead.

"I was thinking we could spend some time together today", you said over the phone, hoping he hadn't booked anything since you made sure that Andrea and Joris had cleared his schedule so you could make this happen without a hitch.

"You don't have work?", Charles asked, "no, I arranged a few things and a meeting got cancelled", you explained.

"Good, I don't have anything to do either, I was just going to stay home, but being with you sounds much nicer, my place or your place?", he wondered.

"My place, please", you replied immediately, "I just want to change my clothes and I'm feeling like spending the afternoon in", you tried, hoping he would catch on and not mess up your surprise.

"Okay, amour! Do you need me to pick you up from work?", Charles asked and you heard a small smile on his face. You weren't sure why, but Charles really got a kick out of dropping you off and picking you up from work, so you felt bad for the answer you were giving him, "it's okay, you can meet me there, I'm already walking", you said as you drove out of the shop and headed home. It was an inoffensive lie but you kept telling yourself it was for a greater good.

"Okay, I'll meet you there in twenty minutes or so", he said, "Je t'aime, mon amour".

Riccardo seemed to have parked the car at the front of your building, making you get the bag out of your car trunk and join him and his family, "hey guys! Thank you for coming to this", you smiled, touching Chiara's foot softly and getting a giggle out of the little girl.

"No worries, this is such a nice idea and we're happy to help!", Marta said, letting you walk up to the door so you could get to your apartment.

"For the first time in my life, I'm the first one somewhere, and then they showed up too!", Joris said as the rest of the group you invited stood up from the hallway floor.

"I'm sorry for making you wait, but I had to pick these up and then the call with Charles had to be done at the precise time so he wouldn't get here before I did!", you explained, unlocking the door and letting them in.

"So we're fine to wait, but Charles can't wait for you?", Joris teased, making kissing noises as you shook your head, "privileges of being my boyfriend - it is what it is!", you chuckled.

Delegating the small tasks you left for the last minute, Charles' text saying he had just parked the car was enough to capture you attention, "quick quick, go hide in the living room - careful with the board game boxes! He's coming up!", you ushered your friends to the living room before your boyfriend knocked on your door.

"Hello, my love", you said, kissing his lips and pulling him inside the supposedly quiet apartment.

"Hey, gorgeous girl - I missed you", he squeezed you tight once you closed the door, "I was getting in my he - what's that?", Charles asked as a noise came from the living room.

Chiara squealed loudly enough for him to hear, so in part your surprise was not such a surprise, "you're not alone?", he mused.

Lacing your hand in his, you pulled him to the living room as everyone jumped out of their places to greet him!

"Surprise - ish!", you waved your hands as if you were announcing some great show, "I gathered all your favourite people - Lorenzo is coming with Charlotte in a bit, he just picked her up from work and your mother also had a cliente so she'll arrive a little later. Arthur is in the bathroom?", you wondered as you saw him walk out and pat his brother's back, not missing the truly surprised look on his face as he pulled you closer to him, kissing your temple, "you're the best, amour, thank you", he whispered.

You had food laid out in the coffee table and drinks in the kitchen where everybody could serve themselves so you could have your dining table available for the board and card games you were playing along with some building blocks for Chiara who was immediately stolen from her parents once your boyfriend saw her.

"Do we want to make a castle? Or maybe a rollercoaster?", Charles mused with the little girl sitting on his lap, still keeping an eye on his Monopoly game to make sure no one was missing any of the payments on his properties, "Good job, chérie!", he congratulated her, kissing her chubby cheek.

"Do you want me to get you guys anything? I'm already going to the kitchen", you wondered, "can you fill this up for us, please?", Marta asked as she handed you the orange juice jug, "yes, of course!", you grabbed it.

"This was a great idea, Y/N", Lorenzo said whole he poured himself a drink as you stepped into the kitchen, "he's been in his head a lot recently", he began.

"It's not much, really, it was quite easy to put everything together and you being here was very kind", you brushed it off.

"Y/N, gathering his favourite people to do something he loves apart from racing may seem simple but it's what he needs right now - don't underestimate yourself or the ability you have to bring him back to a good mental space", he rubbed your shoulder before going back to open the door, "it's our mother", he excused himself.

You set the jug on the table and took Chiara from your boyfriend's arms, volunteering to change her nappy in your bedroom.

Charles hugged his mother tight, "Hello, mon petit", she cupped his face and kissed his cheek, "I'm not little anymore", Charles blushed, "you and your brothers will always be my little boys, I don't care how old or how tall you get", she smiled, greeting everyone else in the room.

His favourite people were all in the same place, Charles thought. Some were playing cards, some were just chatting and you just picked his friends' daughter to change her nappy like she was your own.

"Do you have room for one more? I'm usually pretty good at this!", Lorenzo said as he sat at the dining table, "you take my game - it's not too bad, just make sure Marta pays up what she owes me - two hotels in my blue cards", Charles raised his eyebrows, "I know you were counting on your daughter's cuteness to distract me, but I have excellent vision", he smirked.

Charles walked to your bedroom, seeing you close the diaper bag as Chiara kicked the air, layed on top of your comforter and giggling at the story you were telling her, "and then I had to tell the lady 'that won't do, because I have my boyfriend's family and our friends over for dinner and I can't have too little food! Even if I have left overs for weeks!' because that's what's right, right? She also had this very fluffy bread that was still warm from the oven so I asked her if she could add that because I knew you'd like it - bread is the best, isn't it, cutie?", you spoke.

You were it, he had known that for a long time.

You were the one he wanted to grow old with and go through every challenge life wanted to throw at you, because he knew you both could face them if you were there.

"And who is that spying on us, hm? It's Charles! Let's go and give Charles a big hug and many kisses!", you smiled, picking her up and approaching your boyfriend, cuddling into his chest as you kept the little girl on your arms, kissing his chest while Chiara palmed his face and giggled when Charles pretended to eat her fingers, "yummy fingers, nom, nom, nom".

"I need to get started on dinner - I'm doing that roast you really like", you offered, "I already prepped most of it, just need to cut up the veggies and then put in the oven, simple as that".

"C'mon, Chiara - I bet my mother is wondering where you are because she'll want a cuddle", Charles took her from your arms, "I'll be back for you", Charles slapped your butt playfully.

You were seasoning the food on the trays, making sure you weren't forgetting anything when your boyfriend walked up to join you, wrapping his arms around your waist, "thank you for this, I really needed it", he kissed under your ear, turning you around to face him and kissing your lips properly, "it's fine", you scoffed.

"No, I really needed it - it's easy to lose sight of these things and these moments", he began, "I was home and getting way too much into my own head and I wouldn't got to anyone unless they asked about it", he admitted, squeezing your body closer to his.

"I'm glad you liked it, it's truly nothing but I'm glad you're happy", you smiled, "I can't control what goes on your mind all the time but I'm going to make sure that whenever you're near me and say silly things about doubting yourself, I will always help you see the truth and work it out with you - no down talking about yourself when you're with me, understood?", you stated firmly almost like you were lecturing him.

"I know, amour", he giggled, kissing your forehead and then littering some more kisses on your face and making you break out in laughter loudly.

The dinner was great and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves as they ate the meal and spoke about whatever came to mind, summer plans already in discussion.

Charles was helping you put away the plates when he decided he would voice the thoughts running through his head. Usually at this time of the day he was already knee deep into strategies and failed attempts, but this time was different.

"I want this every day", Charles said with a big smile on his face.

"Well, not all of us have your schedule, it would be lovely, but maybe making it a weekly thing? Monthly maybe with your schedule?", you tried, not wanting to kick his idea straight to the trash.

"I don't mean that - I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I was wondering if you'd like to move in with me", Charles clarified, "there's no point to keep two places when realistically, we spend most times at eachother's place - you're down to what? Sleeping two nights here per week?", he noted as you smiled.

"You want to move in together?", you checked and he nodded, "yes, I do - honestly, I've thinking we keep my place since you're renting here and that way you'd be closer to work, too", he suggested.

"Sounds good to me", you smiled, kissing his lips, sealing the deal.

"I don't want to be far away from you when we don't have to be, and this way you can save on rent, too!", he added and before you truly lectured him, he caught you ahead, "I know you won't let me pay for things on my own and we will find some arrangement for that, I was just saying you won't have to keep paying your landlord", he smiled.

"I mean it when I say I want to split expenses, okay?", you argued, "unless you start going with expensive caviar or any of that crazy expensive stuff - my salary can't take that", you joked.

"When have you ever seen that in my fridge?", he threw his head back as he laughed.

"I'm only joking, handsome - I can't wait to move in with you", you hugged him, "I love you, Charles, can't wait to be your new roomie".

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fluff

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nouvxllev · 4 months

Text

closed-door policy || p2

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were more than friends but less than lovers. Where does that put the both of you in the spectrum? You were friends-with-benefits, sure, you guys are anyway, but a part of you wanted something real.

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: light smut

a/n: so sorry for very late update! i got caught up in work and school. its kicking my ass. but anyway, here it is.

part 3 || masterlist.

Love.

Oh, how Wednesday loved to hate it.

A meaning that only rang true to those who were foolish enough to commit to another's heart. To those who were foolish enough to cling to the elusive hope of happy endings, to those who were foolish enough to believe in the existence of soulmates, and to those who depend their happiness on someone's mercurial heart.

It was odd. How she hated love. She grew from a family destined to fall in love with their other half or they'd simply perish from a broken heart and their own woe, the people who showed their love to another in such unique ways others can't even fathom. However, she does have the characteristics.

Loyal? She'd forever be clung to a typewriter than a phone in the 21st century. Committed? She'd stop her heart if she ever needed to elaborate on it for her novel. Devoted? She spares at least an hour or two every day for her literature. Loving? Maybe not so. She'd rather drink a gallon of caramel drizzled with honey and sweet chocolate out of someone's eyesockets before having a committed relationship with someone.

Wednesday closed off everyone from her life, built walls hard to tear down even if she met another version of herself, and kept everything locked in a safe where no one knew the code. Her heart will forever be closed, and her soul will forever be overgrown with thorns with curses and cries from those desperate enough to fall for her.

But then you came along.

Ever since then, she hated love even more.

But most importantly, she hated you.

The way you entered her life in more ways than one, the way you smiled everytime you looked at her knowing you'd just receive a glare back, the way you were considered as that one girl who always got into trouble because you just couldn't accept losing, the way you run your hands through your hair, the way it just falls back gracefully down to your shoulders, the way your nose scrunches up when you find something funny, the way your eyes shimmer in the sun, the way your face looks in the moonlight, the way you laugh, the way everytime Wednesday looks at you she's reminded that she has a beating fucking heart that she knew she closed off.

Wednesday hated all of it.

She often pitied those who willingly fell in love with her more than those who pleaded for mercy.

She often pitied those who fell in love in general.

So, why did she feel pity for herself when she met you?

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"We're friends."

No, you couldn't say that. You'd be lying to yourself.

Friends don't look into their friend's eyes as if they created a whole galaxy for them in their hands. Friends don't kiss each other behind closed doors, friends don't have this weird feeling to outright propose to them, and friends definitely don't dream of absolutely ravaging the fuck out of another.

But lovers don't wake up the morning after pretending that nothing happened either.

So, what were you to Wednesday?

You were more than friends but less than lovers. Where does that put the both of you in the spectrum? You were friends-with-benefits, sure, you guys are anyway, but a part of you wanted something real.

A tired sigh escaped your lips. The cold breeze and the familiar setting of being awake at 5:00 finally hits you. You didn't even notice you were sitting up, the creak of the bed echoing in the silent room alongside your breath. The headboard pressed against your back and that stupid pain in your chest that never seemed to go away no matter how much you yelled at your body to just stop. Or maybe that wasn't much of a treatment.

As you looked towards your left, you found yourself sighing yet again, but out of relief. Wednesday.

A calming sight, you'd think. You always found it endearing when you first saw Wednesday sleep with her arms crossed around her chest as if she's inside a coffin. Okay, maybe at first, you were creeped out and you were debating if you should wake her up. But now, it felt like even if you took a hundred photos of her, it still wouldn't be enough to capture her at peace.

After a few minutes, you found yourself in the bathroom. The sound of water running filled the closed room as you splashed your face, trying to wake yourself up.

Leaning against the sink, the cold material seeping against your skin, you stared at your reflection. Your hands going up to cup your face, your fingers tracing the marks and the scars you carried.

You were always known for being that one girl who got into trouble, it didn't matter whether it may be from your actions or the actions that were caused by others, who thought it'd be funny to put the blame on you and the explanation would be your reputation. But it didn't matter, you think, atleast you were known for something.

You loved Wednesday. But you truly couldn't.

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The room felt smaller. Smaller than it ever did.

"I just can't fucking deal with your bullshit anymore." They spat out, you yourself standing across from them with eyes that cried for nights. "It's like you expect me to bear it with you, why can't you just stop putting me in your own damn mistakes!?"

Your eyes mirrored hurt, but your body reflected with anger, replacing it as a shield for the shouts that were shooting to kill. "I'm—I'm not expecting you to bear anything," you stuttered, "I just need you to understand, to be there for me I—"

They let out a bitter laugh, "Understand what, y/n? Who would want to be burdened by your constant need to be loved?" They got closer to you, backing you into a wall, "You're unlovable, y/n. I can't keep fucking pretending that I can fix you or some shit. Why can't you get the simplest things through your head?"

"I thought we loved eachother."

"We didn't!" They shouted, "we never loved eachother, I never loved you, no one fucking did."

"But I loved you."

They stepped back to you, going over to their own place to pack up. "But I didn't alright? I never did, and I never will."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, just please don't leave me—" You reached out, desperation in your touch before they pushed you away.

"I can't give you what you deserve, y/n. You don't even deserve half of it."

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Each time your gaze hovered over a mirror, the memory played over and over again, to the point you couldn't even tell what was real in that scene or not. You warped it into something you fear, into something you'd use as an excuse if you ever found yourself getting attached to another.

It came back to haunt you, it always did, but now, it didn't fear you as much as it did.

Maybe you were numb to it at this point, you'd think, but a part of you wanted to think that it was because of Wednesday. That she was the one, the one that would never be a relapse of the memory. The one that would erase it.

You let out a sigh—probably the 100th one all week—with the immense tiredness you were having overthinking. But it was fine, you'd say to yourself, you loved her.

"Y/n."

"Y/n!"

You didn't realize you were daydreaming a daydream until someone shouted your name across the sea of people, your body slumped over a wall holding whatever your friends poured you into a plastic cup, the bass-boosted music meeting your ears.

"Y/n! You okay?" You looked up, almost wanting it to be Wednesday calling out for you, but why would Wednesday be at a party in the first place? You'd have better luck escaping this party unscathed.

Your mind snapped back, took a while, and you managed a weak smile. "Yeah—" you hic, "Yeah, I'm fine." You wiped your mouth with the side of your hand, squinting your eyes to figure out who was talking to you with a fucked up brain.

She offered you a smile—actually, you didn't know at this point. You were too zoned out. "So sorry, who are you again?" you slurred, your free hand roaming around your pockets to make sure your phone was still intact.

The girl laughed, a sound that your thoughts didn't pick up at something familiar. Or Wednesday. "I'm Kary. I'm in your class; biology." She offered you a handshake, which she voluntarily lowered when you offered to toast instead.

The two of you were never close, not even spending two years together couldn't be enough for a friendship to start. You always seemed to notice that Kary was quiet in class, never really speaking to anybody. Even the teachers don't pick her even if she sits in front of the board; you on the other hand was always called to recite, leading you to believe you were the opposite of a teacher's pet.

Ever since transferring to Nevermore, you were always the number one attendee at parties, even if you admitted they were not your style. You always told her how they're "filled with hormones", "a competition to see who gets knocked out passed out on the cold floor first," or just "simply for teenagers to drink their troubles away."

Despite your critiques on the matter, you were always there.

The night went on, and your mind was starting to feel hazy. More cloudy than it should be with the alcohol you're drinking. Kary's touched lingered longer on your arm, her body getting closer to yours, and she looks at you with half-lidded eyes.

She leaned in close to you, her lips almost going to yours if you hadn't slightly backed away. "Where's Wednesday? I thought she'd be here after that whole thing happened."

The mention of Wednesday definitely caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat while the empty drink in your hands kept fumbling in your grip as you stuttered over your words. "Wednesday—She's… She isn't really that fond of parties. You know the gist." You laughed, awkwardly, your hands trying to push her away from undoing your belt.

"Kary, I don't—" was all you could say before you were interrupted, "Don't what, Y/n? It's a party, enjoy it a little—"

"Kary, please, I said I don't—"

"I must say, y/n would rather be entertained by pigsty doing acrobatics to save their souls." A sharp voice cutting through the haze you were so desperately pleading your body to get rid of it.

Kary's hands withdrew from your belt almost immediately, her eyes widening in surprise. You turned to see Wednesday there, arms crossed as her gaze pierced through yours. But more on Karys. The party lights illuminating her presence.

"Wednesday! Why—Why are you here?"

"You've left me a string of incoherent messages that I would not like to decipher if not for Thing becoming a translator." She reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone that had a dozen of text messages—most if not all of it from your contact—flooding her homescreen begging for her to come to the party.

"I assume you needed my company."

"I didn't expect you'd, you know, come." You fumbled, your hand almost crushing the cup that was offered to you.

Before you could even respond, Kary interjected, "We were just having some fun, Addams." She spoke, for you. "Y/n was getting plenty of company."

"I assure you, having at least a dozen men falling under your belt should be much company for you. Not if you keep it hidden, I suppose," Wednesday stated, her tone cool and composed, but her fists were clenched under her arms and her jaw was locked.

You didn't know Wednesday was even calling your name out for the last 40 seconds, the alcohol finally taking a toll on your body as you just looked at the both of them.

Before anyone could say another word, Wednesday took your arm, her grip firm, tugging on you as if to call you back. "We're leaving. Now."

You stumbled alongside her, wondering where the hell did she even get all that strength to push you around. You shot a glance back at Kary, looking at you with crossed arms. You could almost feel sorry for the girl, you feel sorry for anyone who Wednesday decided to darken their footsteps. But you couldn't think of anything. Not when Wednesday had the most tight grip on your heart at the very moment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before Wednesday pushed your back firmly against the door, her cold hands lingering on your chest, the click echoing through the room. Her eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense.

You couldn't hear a thing, every sound that entered your ear was distorted and meshed. "Did you even see the way she looked at you?" Wednesday's voice was low, a hint of possessiveness in her tone, her hands going to your throat.

Your breath hitched, your mind wandering through places as your hands sought freedom in her hips, your fingers gently sliding into her waistband. "I never pegged you to be the jealous type, Wednesday." You teased. A smile appeared across your lips, your eyes taunting Wednesday's serious ones, blinking. A falter in her gaze, you noticed.

Wednesday's grip on your throat tightened just enough to send a shiver down your spine, your mouth opening to let air out as she let her hands roam up to your face, her thumb grazing your lips. "Because I never am," she whispered, you whimpered.

Your smile turned into a foolish smirk, slightly laughing, "Then is there another reason why you're tearing my shirt apart?" you asked, your gaze drifting down to where Wednesday's free hand was frantically unbuttoning the blouse you had.

Her eyes followed yours, a faint red tint painting her cheeks as she huffed a puff of air, stopping her actions. "...That would never change my desire to slit her throat in half."

"Oh, aren't you a romantic?"

"Some would call it demented, I'd say effective."

She grabbed you by your collar, feeling your lifeless body obediently following her every move, staggering as you do so.

Soon enough, Wednesday let go of your collar and pressed you against the bed, your body fell and she followed suit. You feel dizzy, zoned out even, your hands going up to cup her face as she looms over you.

"You know, romantic or demented, it doesn't matter," you breathed, your voice rasped as you brought her face closer to yours as you allowed her fingers to unbutton your blouse, "it still won't help the fact I want you to fuck me."

Wednesday pulled back, a raise in her eyebrows, you couldn't see it if not for her messy fringe and hot breath on yours.

Her fingers, now paused onto the last button of your clothing, she traced a tantalizing trail on the edges without continuing, waiting for something.

You almost rolled your eyes, if not for the pleasure building inside you.

"God—fuck, please, Wednesday." You whimpered, pleaded out of desperation, running out of patience.

"Wasn't hard, was it?" She pulled you into a kiss, her tongue slipping into your mouth. Fuck, how she was so addictive. Her fingers roam freely around your chest of your body, letting your blouse fall open, while your hands wander down her back, caressing her curves as she perfectly arches her body against yours.

Every touch brought you to ecstasy, every silent whimper Wednesday gave brought you to heaven, everything about Wednesday made you feel as if you weren't alive.

You break the kiss, letting your lips fall to her neck. You let out a moan as you feel her body shudder against you, your chest rising and falling against hers while your hand slid through her hair, your fingers wrapping against her messy strands.

"I never thought you were into this." You look up to her, smirking.

"And I never thought you'd be attracted to someone like her." She fumed as if her name was taboo.

You sit up, an eyebrow arched in amusement. "You're still onto that?"

"I'll take it to my grave."

"Jealousy fits you, baby." You teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you pulled up your thigh, tracing lines against her clothed clit.

"It's—It's horrid." she stammered, her breath hitching as she shut her eyes and shuddered at the endearment, her jaw clenched to prevent anything from coming out of her.

You couldn't retort back, a sly comment was about to escape your lips until Wednesday took both of your wrists and pinned them together, her body adjusting and going up to your chest.

"Behave."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: damn i realized i do not know how to write atleast a tiny bit of smut to save my life. also probably going in more about how Wednesday feels about their rs next chap!

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams x female reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega

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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

Note

so sorry for this (very) specific request hope it's not ocish

anyways alastor x wife reader who's a virologist / kinda a mad scientist??(girl just wants to start a apocalypse without anyone to bother her)

Like they got married for mutual benefits (whatever benefits he would gain and her having access to money for her wildest dreams) when they were humans (whether he actually loves her or not is up to you lmao)

They both die (I assume that she would die around when he died from her own negligence caused by her 'freedom' to do her work more often without actually worrying about him finding out) and she avoids him like the plague (not that hard to realize this so called radio demon is your 'husband' when you find his secret stash of 'local cuisine' in the fridge)

Then he goes missing and she finally kinda goes out of makeshift hiding, just chilling doing her evil deeds before finding about the Hazbin Hotel from some gossip

Deciding that, while redemption is most likely not gonna happen mostly for the fact she does not care, she joins Charlie's little program. For her own little project (just wants to have a angel test subject, gotta see if they can be a good carrier for her little virus)

The reader doesn't know that Alastor's back (you think she's gonna use vox tech? Or listen to the radio? Girl uses a non vox tech phone and maybe a computer and does her work) so she goes and knocks on the door to the hotel

Thinking that this shit is gonna be easy, after all her husband is gone so she won't be bothered by him. She can focus on her beautiful creations and maybe destory hell and heaven with a apocalypse for some laughs. While also getting access to heaven through Charlie somehow (maybe even Lucifer, girl doesn't know nor care)

Anyways you can just IMAGINE her surprise that right after Charlie greets her (Vaggie ofc suspicious af cause she knows damn well no sinner wants to be redeemed for the most part) then here comes the strawberry pimp coming to say hello

Would he recognize his lovely wife? Maybe

Ofc reader had a plan, and by plan I mean she just says they were married and now acts like their divorced (death do us part and we fuckin dead)

(Just for example, do what you want <3)

Anyways I'm sorry again (can you tell that I've been watching a lot of mlp infection aus :') )

A/N bestie,, i love an overly detailed request. no apologies. i hope i did it justice <3 <3 I have literally been obsessing over the whole 'we're dead. we've been parted.' reader idea. It's so fun. Also I am very sorry it took me so long to get to this. Also, I am not a woman nor am I in STEM (I'm an enby in history) so apologies if science stuff in this is bad. I'm basing the character off of Entrapta (my love) from Nate Stevenson's She-Ra remake.

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Gore. Murder. Bodies. Animal cruelty (not detailed at all just like test subjects and burning ants as a kid). Viruses/plague talk. Just capital d Death all around in this one folks. Suicide and starvation briefly mentioned.

Word Count: 2,584

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n hadn't been sad when Alastor died. It didn't really even register on her radar that he was gone until the police showed up at her door. Their marriage was more of an agreement than anything else, a division of labor. Y/n was a talented virologist who came from a rather wealthy family. He got access to her money, using it to start his own radio studio, and Y/n? Well Y/n got a clean up crew.

She had always been fascinated by death. It was a morbid curiosity that had followed her since childhood. The typical 'burning ants with a magnifying glass to mass murderer' pipeline only, murder was not exactly her objective. Since learning of the Black Death in school, she had been fascinated by biological warfare and weaponry. The stories of soldiers throwing infected bodies over the walls of city's to break down their defenses? It was magnificent, masterful, absolutely awe inspiring. Living through the Spanish Flu epidemic in 1918, watching how it tore through her city of New Orleans, only furthered her determination.

As soon as she had had the knowledge base to do so, she began working on bio-weapons on her own. She wanted to create a disease, to devastate the world. She wanted to watch the things around her crumble into ruin and know it was by her hand.

She'd found out about Alastor's hobby by accident. They were friends, of a sort, in that Y/n would show up randomly where ever he was and quiz him about radio waves. He worked at a radio station and she knew that. She had followed him, tracked him down. There was no reasoning behind it save he was the first person she'd really found out about that was involved in the business in New Orleans. She would pick his mind about getting the word out about things, marketing, advertising. She was prepping for the main event, for the day she finally created her magnum opus.

One day, when she had shown up unannounced at his door and broken in when he didn't respond to her knocking, Y/n had discovered him dismembering one of his victims. Alastor had stared at her, wide eyed in shock, fear and adrenaline mixing into an intoxicating combination in his veins. Y/n had just smiled.

She had been wondering about human experimentation for a while now. Animals were easy to cover up, easy to bury in the back yard but people? It had always been too risky, up until now anyways.

So it went like this: Y/n funded Alastor's dreams and he hid the side effects of hers. When he died, Y/n didn't really feel anything too strongly about it at all. Yes, it made life harder in that if she wanted to keep using human guinea pigs she'd have to figure out a way to dispose of them on her own but it also made it easier. Alastor had always been so obsessed with image, dragging her to office parties and forcing her to sit down to meals with him. Now that he was gone, she could work on her projects in peace once again. The body thing was something she would figure out along the way. She was smart and she wasn't going to let something like that stop her, not when she was this close to cracking it.

As it turns out, Alastor had been more of a help than Y/n believed. So used to his nattering and persistence, she had stopped eating. It wasn't long before she joined her husband in death. The papers of course had a field day with it. Heiress and Virologist Y/n L/n Withers Away Due to Heartbreak. Y/n L/n Starved Herself to Death and Joins her Murderer of a Husband. Virologist Commits Suicide After Revelation of Dead Husband's Criminal Deeds.

When Y/n had woken up in Hell, her whole world had been turned upside down. If there was life after death, what was the point of killing everyone on earth? She was back at square one.

Rumors were already buzzing through the streets of Hell about some new overlord, some Radio Demon, who had a strikingly similar MO to her husband. Not wanting any distractions this time around, Y/n secluded herself in the outskirts of the pride ring to reformulate her plans.

For decades she worked, trying to create a poison to wipe out the dual planes of the underworld. Work was easier here. No one questioned why she bought the things she bought, no one got upset when people went missing. Hell, no one even blinked twice if they saw her burying a body. It was a veritable paradise for Y/n.

Eventually, news reached her of the Radio Demon's disappearance. Y/n had never been the biggest fan of technology that wasn't involved in her work. In the world of the living, she had barley read the papers. All the machines in her laboratory were ones she had built herself through trial and error. But still, somehow, the news reached her and she felt elated. The last thing weighing her down, the last road block had officially been lifted.

Within seven years, she had perfected the disease. Having run tests on lower rings of Hell, she prided herself on her ability to make it so infections, so deadly. The survival was on par with that of unvaccinated human's infected by rabies. But her plan wasn't complete, no. Taking out everyone in Hell wasn't good enough, she had to figure out how to get it into Heaven as well.

That was when the perfect opportunity fell in her lap. Y/n nearly cried when she caught sight of the interview through the window of a shop selling Vox branded TVs. Charlie Morningstar, Lucifer's little brat, was creating a hotel for sinners, where they could be rehabilitated and sent to Heaven. It was perfect, almost too perfect. Y/n didn't question it, her own excitement blinding her. She barley even took the time to come up with a plan that consisted of more than get into the hotel and get her hands on an angel. She figured that was something that could be dealt with later on.

After a few days of research and snooping, she finally made her move. Having packed her bags and woven her way through the streets of Pentagram City, she found herself before the brightly lit marquee of the Hazbin Hotel. Placing her bag on the ground beside her, the test tubes and various paraphernalia inside clinked gently against one another. Raising her hand, she knocked on the door.

It was Charlie herself who answered, with wide eyes and an earnest smile. A smaller moth demon beside her crossed her arms, eyeing Y/n with doubt. It barley registered with the excitable demon, she was used to the strange looks. The new form Hell had granted her with when she died was odd, after all. She was still the same height, still held a roughly human shape, but her hair had become its own beast. It moved like secondary limbs, falling nearly to the floor from the pigtails she had tied it up into. It shot up into the air around her in joy at the sight of yet another open door in her path, this one literal rather than figurative.

"Hello!" Charlie exclaimed, "Are you here to check in?"

"Yes, check in." Y/n nodded, using her hair to pick her bag back up.

She took a step forward, trying to enter the hotel, but found her path blocked by the smaller grey demon. Her arms were uncrossed now, one of them pointing a spear right at Y/n's neck. Y/n didn't flinch, she simply looked down at it in curiosity, reaching a finger up to touch the end.

"Ow." she said flatly as the spear's tip pressed into the pad of her finger.

Raising it to her eyes, she rubbed the droplet of blood that had pooled on her pointer finger with her thumb before turning back to the spear.

"Is this..." Y/n leaned forward, grabbing the spear's shaft.

"Hey!" Vaggie yelled threateningly as Y/n crouched down, examining the weapon carefully.

"Oh my stars, this is an angelic blade, isn't it?" she exclaimed, her eyes still fixed on the spear.

"Uh..."

Vaggie was more confused now than anything and she took the slightest step away from the excited demon. Y/n followed her and soon, they were in the entry way to the hotel. Charlie watched the scene play out with mild amusement, finding her girlfriends bewildered state rather charming. She let the door fall shut.

"It is, isn't it?" Y/n asked again, "But how did you get it? Did you make it? What do you do with it? Is it more effective than normal weapons? Why a spear? I-"

"What's this, we have a new guest?" a crackling voice cut Y/n off.

"Uh, yes!" Charlie stepped in, turning to face the newcomer.

Y/n, still preoccupied with the spear, was now engaged in trying to get Vaggie to let her hold it.

"I think..." Charlie doubtfully added, her brow furrowing at the site.

"Well well well, a little devil." Alastor hummed, turning to watch the show as well, "Honestly, reminds me of someone I knew back when I was alive and kicking. Ah well, what's her name?"

"I don't... actually know that yet." Charlie admitted, fiddling with her hands a bit as she spoke, "But she seems really enthusiastic about being here!"

"It seems she more interested in that spear of Vaggie's than the idea of redemption." Alastor noted in response.

"Are either of you going to help me or are you just gonna sit and watch?" Vaggie exclaimed, trying her best to pry the spear out of Y/n's grip.

Alastor sighed and with a twirl of his microphone, a shadow arose, pulling Y/n off Vaggie. There was a split second where the smile on the girl's face fell. It quickly returned as she caught sight of what exactly had interrupted her escapades. Placing her bag on the floor with her hair, she wormed around in the shadow's arms, turning to face it. Tentatively, she poked it.

"Would you stop that?" Alastor asked, his voice thick with irritation.

Y/n poked the shadow again.

"What is this? How are you doing this?"

When no response came from the demon in question, she at last turned to face him.

"Oh."

She stilled in her movements and Alastor allowed the shadow to disappear.

"No reason to be scared." Charlie quickly stepped in, "I know Alastor here has a bit of a... reputation, but he is actually helping us at the hotel. He's really a great once you get to know him."

Alastor's smile widened as he bowed his head slightly in recognition of the praise.

"If you're going to be staying her-"

"You can't seriously be thinking of letting her stay here, Charlie." Vaggie cut in, "She's been here what, five minutes? And all thats come of it is chaos."

"Vaggie, come on, don't be like that." Charlie turned to her girlfriend, "Everyone deserves a second chance, that's the whole reason we built this place."

"But does she even want to be redeemed? I mean, what if she's... I don't know, trying to take us down from the inside out? What if she's a journalist or some shit trying to write us bad reviews?"

"You flatter me." Y/n smiled and Vaggie scoffed.

"See?"

"Isn't that all the more reason to let her in? Vaggie, if she is undercover as a journalist or something, we just have to prove to her how amazing what we're doing here is."

"I don't know... I've never seen her before, what if she's another one Vox sent?"

Y/n shook her head, sticking her tongue out slightly in disgust at this notion and Alastor chuckled. There really was something so familiar about this demon and her antics. Even if she was a tad irritating, it was a comfortable familiarity.

"Then we will figure it out, same way we did with Sir. Pentious. Okay?"

"Fine." Vaggie relented at last with a sigh.

Smiling brightly, Charlie turned back to Y/n.

"So, hi. I'm Charlie, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! What's your name?"

Y/n's eyes flicked back and forth between Alastor and Charlie for a moment before settling on Charlie.

"Y/n L/n."

Alastor let out a little laugh of disbelief, a sound he had meant to keep in. He couldn't help it. Of course this little mess of a demon was his favorite crazy wife. Alastor had looked for Y/n on occasion, always keeping an eye on news involving anything scientific but, he had never found a trace. Not that he'd admit it but, in their time together, he had grown rather fond of the girl. Not love, never love, but a sort of familial feel. Everyone turned to face him.

"Are you alright, Alastor?" Charlie asked, walking over to him and placing a hand on his arm which he quickly brushed off.

"Yeah, do you know her or something?" Vaggie added, "Is she dangerous?"

"No..." he paused, his brow slightly furrowed, "She's my wife."

The room fell silent.

"You... you didn't recognize your own wife?" Vaggie asked in disbeleif.

"Ex-wife." Y/n corrected with a little sigh.

This was all becoming so tedious. She hadn't come here to sit and talk with people. While the spear and the shadow had been fun, they had both run their courses and she just wanted to get to work.

"I..." Alastor turned back to Y/n, "Ex-wife?"

Y/n shrugged.

"So you didn't recognize your wife and you didn't know you were divorced?" Vaggie asked, rubbing her temples, "Jesus fuck, man."

"I..." Alastor cleared his throat, "We were married when we were alive. I didn't even know she was dead yet."

"Yeah." Y/n shrugged, "Turns out all your nattering was what was keeping me alive. I forgot to eat, starved to death."

Alastor's eyes softened slightly for a moment at the notion. She had needed his care so badly that she had died with out it. It felt good, in a strange way. Satisfying. They darkened again as he recalled her earlier statement.

"Ex-wife?" he asked again, taking a step towards Y/n.

She looked up at him, her expression blank.

"Yeah?"

"When did we get a divorce!" Alastor exclaimed once he realized she would say nothing else on the matter without his prompting.

"Oh! We didn't." Y/n nodded, smiling slightly, "Now, can I go to my room?"

"No, Y/n. Why are you calling yourself my ex-wife? We are still married."

Y/n looked around at Charlie and Vaggie, seeing if they were going to back up her claim. Sighing, she turned back to Alastor.

"Do I really have to lay it out for you?" she paused and Alastor just stared at her, eyebrows raised, "Jesus. Uh, Al, we died."

"Yes...?"

"Till death do us part? That was the agreement."

"I... Well..." he was at a complete and total loss for how to respond.

She wasn't wrong, he just didn't like her answer very much.

"So... the agreement is done... yeah?"

"I mean," Alastor shook his head slightly, "I guess?"

"Great! Can someone please show me to my room now."

---

Next Part -> Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

720 notes · View notes

yok00k · 2 months

Text

truth or dare

pairing: hellokittylover/coquette!oc x boxer!jk

genre: angst, fluff

‧₊˚🎧⊹♡— are you playing? truth or dare

synopsis: rumor has it that jungkook is entertaining other girl(s)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: angsty, oc got: attachment issues, daddy issues [like the author], etc. oc is also kinda dumb (and broken) but she’s figuring shit out, lowkey she’s that bitch, jealous!oc, side characters were kinda introduced, mention of jk making out w/ another girl, jk’s character is complex: one sec he’s a playboy and another sec he’s down bad for oc?, open ending, unedited

a/n: this took place when jk and oc were in 2 month situationship and still getting to know one another! so their boundary wasn’t clear..

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Everything seems to be a dream as soon as you wake up on another glorious day.

you’ve never felt so energized like this before. it’s a little strange to say but, you even feel like you’ve been reborn for some unknown reason. maybe today is going to be a good day for you.

well let’s see.. you’re off from work plus you basically got nothing to do other than clean your room a little for a little bit and to just chill around!

one of the first things you do as soon as you wake up is stare at your phone, particularly to see if jungkook has sent you a message yet as he always never fails to not. a simple yet sweet “good morning pretty :)” and “did my baby girl sleep well?” can add a bright color to your day. it shows that he cares and that he’s thinking about you too.

the anticipated message from your comfort person unexpectedly did not pop out in your notification. it kind of threw you off. jungkook never misses sending you at least one message, precisely at 8:30 every morning. even in the mornings where he had a boxing match the night before. today is indeed such a strange day.

you’re in no position to be sad just because he didn’t message you. in fact, you’re not, you’re just surprised, or so you think. at the same time, you shouldn’t be in shock owing to the fact that there’s no label between you and jungkook. indeed there’s something going on with you and him, whatever that would be except for being girlfriend and boyfriend.

you often ask yourself where you two stand. for you, it’s indistinct to identify what you are to him. all you know is that he is someone special to you. jungkook makes you feel like you’re the prettiest girl in the whole universe every time he’s around you. it’s the way he articulates his words when speaking to you. you can’t explain it.

you’re more than aware that you’re growing emotional attachment to him. getting used to his affection and now that you didn’t receive a message from him to start off your day, it dismays you. although you’re not sure if there's a hidden motive beyond those gut feeling, you choose to ignore it and start typing on your keyboard.

good morning my ggukie!!

r u free today?? kinda wanna hang out with you >o<

delivered | 9:01 am

since you didn’t establish any kind of plan that you’ll be doing today, you’re thinking of inviting him over. you have lots of things to show him, things you purchased when you went shopping with your best friend who also happens to lives next door, Yun-jin

speaking of her before you even forget, you have to call and ask her how her night went from clubbing last night. she initially invited and forced you to go. but your thousands of homeworks and seventy other things on your checklist didn’t permit you to go. partying is always fun, especially with her, but you have to stay focused on your priorities.

you find her inbox off your message app, the first thing you saw was her latest message from this morning

im aliveeeeeeebwwkwwjhskw

sent at 3:33 am

it made you chuckle lightly. she’s completely wasted. there’s no point of calling her as she’s probably still down. so, you decided to pull up to her apartment, bring a few painkillers with you. you’ll bet seven grand that her hangover is going to be so bad.

opening the door using the key she gave you, you spot her laying on the cream and fluffy rug in her cozy white themed living room. you quickly make your way towards her.

“yunny wake up” you said, gently rubbing her back. “i brought you some painkillers, take them quickly” handling her a couple of pain relievers.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

you’re currently searching for breakfast in her mini fridge, something yun-jin can eat so she’ll feel better. your poor friend is a complete mess as she lazily walks toward the counter in front of you.

“last night was so fun, you should’ve come,” she murmurs, hopping on the bar stool as she watches you cook her breakfast. “Jaeyun won’t stop asking me about you.”

oh you almost forget about him. Jaeyun is Yun-jin’s childhood friend who has a huge interest in you. well that’s what Yun-jin has told you, but you swore to her that you won’t tell him that you know. back in your senior year of high school, you mostly have the same classes as him. oftentimes you two hang out and study together in a local cafe. you enjoy his company a lot, but only as friends. just when you and Jungkook started talking, your friendship with Jaeyun unintentionally grew apart. you lowkey miss hanging out with him. anyways, you take a mental note to check up on him later.

yun-jin tells you more about what you’ve missed. most of them are about the hot guys that she encountered in the night club. that’s not new to you because she’s always out there looking out for hotties.

“oh i forgot to tell you, you remember Blythe? she’s wildin’ last night too” of course, how could you forget about the girl who spreads malicious rumors about you? you genuinely don’t know what’s up with her as she constantly talks shit about you though you never know her personally. to you, she’s just a friend of a friend and some type of hater. indeed, it’s a one- sided beef. she is also known for making out with multiple guys and god knows what at every party she’s in.

“my god, who was her target last night??” you interestedly asked. you and yun-jin have a silly habit of keeping track of her targets. you two soon discover that she goes for the basketball players and athletic guys in general.

“I don't think we’ve seen the guy in a club before but I’ve heard he does underground boxing.” she said as her eyes glanced to her left, trying to recollect her memory. Jungkook might be familiar with the mysterious man. he could be either in his circle or one of his opponents.

you just hum, you expected she’ll go for another basketball player. you guess she’s trying something new.

“but girl, let me tell you. the boxer guy looked so drunk and she was dry humping on him like a damn get a fucking room bro” she adds more details on the tea, while pretending to cry as she covers her eyes.

“wait was the guy totally intoxicated ?” you ask as cracking the eggs on the hot pan.

“No, he was still responding back to her, running his hands around her body and stuff.” you’re glad you didn’t see that yourself, or else you’ll cringe. your friend giving you a summary of how the night went is enough. still, it’s entertaining. for a while.

“let me see if she posted something on her IG” yun-jin utters, pulling out her phone from her pocket.

she taps on her screen multiple times, and finally she finds a story that the girl posted. “look, she posted this”

and with that, yun-jin faces the phone your way. you take a glance on her screen, showing you a low exposure photo of the girl sitting on the uknown guy’s lap. her face is showing while his face wasn't captured. the blurry image seems normal. until your eyes examine the familiar tatted arm that’s wrapped around the girl’s torso. you swear you’ve seen those tattoos before. it takes you a while to recognize the ink into the deep layer of their skin.

then it hits you— those not-so-foreign tattoos belong to jungkook, your jungkook.

oh. your heart suddenly drops.

your eyes lock with the phone screen surface longer than the usual, by which makes your friend frown.

“hey, what’s wrong?” Yun-jin concernedly ask

maybe that’s why he hasn’t texted you yet. maybe he slept wit—

“y/n? you ok?” your friend calls for you again, interrupting your thoughts, though they didn’t fully vanish.

shifting your eyes to her, you blink rapidly “yeah, i’m completely ok,” swallowing your lies away. you can feel your eyes watering, and you don't want your friend to see you break down.

after cooking her breakfast, you decided to head back. “I forgot that I have something to do, I’ll go now” you rapidly put your shoes on

‘she’s not eating this breakfast with me?’ Yun-jin thinks as she watches you leave her apartment.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

As soon as you get back to your apartment, you walk towards your bedroom. immediately, you throw yourself on the bed.

“I’m so stupid” you groan as you kick the baby pink multi layer bedsheets on your bed.

and once again, you can’t explain this bothersome feeling. anger? feeling betrayed? jealousy? sadness? all of the above?

you can’t understand. no, you’re trying to understand in the midst of confusion.

you really like him, you really do. and he says he likes you too. he even confessed his feelings to you first! since then, it was safe to assume that you two will establish a label soon. you were so sure of it, until now.

how.. how come he’s with another woman?

the more you think about, the more you feel the sting in your heart. the unpleasant emotion is spreading inside your system, it’s urging you to throw up. you find yourself removing dead skin out of your cuticle using your thumbnail, a habit which you only do to relieve anxiety.

you have so many questions that need to be answered. were the feelings he felt about you real? or was he just playing you? or did he just forget that you exist in his life last night? or did he just lose interest in you? these questions bring out your inner conflicts. so many questions you’re afraid to know the real answers of.

just before the skin next to your cuticle bleeds, your focus shifts to the triple loud ping coming from your phone. Of course, those messages belong to the one person who you least likely want to face right now.

morning pretty

sorry just woke up, having a severe hangover rn

still down to hang out? I can pull up a little later

sent at 11:59 am

his text confirms your suspicion, proving that he was drinking heavily last night. you can’t stand seeing him today. you will just cancel your initial plan and make up some lame excuse.

nvm, we can just hang out another time.

no, erase that. you’ll avoid him from now on, there won’t be another time!

nvm, I feel sick. please don’t come over.

seen at 12:00 pm

my poor baby, i’ll take care of u

sent | 12:01 pm

no need, thanks tho

delivered | 12:01 pm

not being in the mood to keep talking to him, you send the last message before putting your phone on ‘do not disturb’ mode. leaving jungkook’s messages unseen

considering that your day has been ruined, you choose to shut down the world and take a long nap.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

on the other hand, jungkook definitely notices how cold you turned out to be. maybe it's the time of the month for you. thus, today his mission is to grab things you typically crave for: brown sugar milk tea, some sweet pastries from your favorite bakery shop, and finally, the icing to add on top, a bouquet of white roses.

jungkook usually pampers you with a bunch of food and affection. that’s why he pays attention and takes mental notes (or even notes on his phone) of tiny details about you. it satisfies him to see you all spoiled.

that’s the reason why he jumps out of his messy bed and initiates to get ready. starting off his usual morning routine by taking a cold shower. not much time after, he applies his skincare.

Jungkook hears loud chatters of two men talking from his living room as he walks out of his bedroom. he opens the door and perceives his hyungs chilling by his couch.

“yah jungkook, that chick you brought from last night was way out of control” Jimin complains as soon as jungkook enters the living room.

“yeah kook, kicking her out at 3 in the morning wasn’t a good idea. she’s loud as hell and I had to deal with one of your neighbors' complaints again” Taehyung, who was their designated driver, added annoyingly.

“whose chick?” jungkook confusedly asks.

“yours” both of his hyungs exclaim in unison, which the youngest responds with a shrug.

to be honest, Jungkook doesn’t remember shit from last night. he can recollect some memories, but not a whole bunch. drinks. yes, he drank a lot. there was this girl he randomly made out with, however he can’t remember her name or what she looks like. not that she’s relevant to him anyways.

jungkook chooses to not care about the insignificance, he could spend his time better than that. and by the word better, he spends time thinking about you.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

the constant sound from your doorbell that’s been ringing for who-knows-how-long wakes you up from your wonderful nap.

you gently rubbing your eyes, then you tap the screen of your cellular to see the time; 3:59 pm.

shit, how long were you out for? no idea. you look at your window and see the raindrops rolling down the glass. it was just sunny before you drifted to sleep a few hours ago.

down below to your screen, you notice jungkook messages and a few missed calls from earlier and just now.

7 missed calls from 🐰

55 mins ago

I’ll stay for the night so I can take care of you

delivered | 12:03 pm

just grabbing few things for my baby and I’ll be there soon.

delivered | 12:30 pm

it’s raining heavily and now I’m stuck in traffic

delivered | 1:01 pm

I’m here!

delivered | 1:44 pm

baby? are you home? I'm here

delivered | 1:51 pm

don’t know where u at but I’ll be here waiting at your front door :(

delivered | 1:56 pm

after reading his texts, you rush to the door. there’s no way that man will wait for those hours outside your front doo-

indeed, he’s in front of your door, waiting for you to open up to him as he’s sitting on the ground. besides him, a couple of light brown paper bags, his backpack, and a bouquet of flowers are also laying on the cold cement.

“hi my pretty!” he cheerfully greeted you, rushing to get up from the ground. jungkook walks up to you with a smile full of relief and happiness as if he wasn’t wasting his time for two hours waiting for you right there.

you attempt to avoid his gaze, your eyes examine his black long sleeve that really fits him nice and is damp.

“come in, you should change your clothes.” you mutter coldy

it’s inevitable to not be concerned that he got wet from the rain. Even if you don’t wanna let him in, it will guilt you if he gets ill.

jungkook does what he was told, gathering all the stuff he brings with him and steps into your flat. he feels the strange coldness as soon as he lands his eyes on yours. something isn’t right. something is wrong with you.

He settles his things by your couch and changes into a new oversized t-shirt in front of you. after changing, he reaches for the paper bags to show you the things he got.

“look baby, I got you your favorite drink, some pastries, i know how much you lov-”

“thank you, but you shouldn’t have. I told you to not come” your stern voice cuts him off before he finishes his sentence. you’re trying to keep your cool. your tone is full of nothing but seriousness. not a hint of sweetness in them, which makes jungkook tilt his head on the side, confused by your odd attitude.

“but baby, I just wanted to be here to take care of you.” he insists. by all means, he won’t listen to what you say.

“I hate when you do this” you sigh

“did i do something wrong? are you mad at me?” he attempts to reach you, but you’re too quick to avoid his touch. “tell me what’s wrong baby, please” Jungkook added once more. he doesn’t understand why you avoid him.

“do you treat your other girls like this too?” you ask, eyes shooting lasers at his. an anger rushes through you as the thoughts of him spoiling girls other than you.

“my pretty, what are you talking about?” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, looking down closely to you. where are you getting these notions from?

“my friend saw you last night”

it took him a couple seconds to remember

“listen to me baby, whoever I was with, she meant nothing” Jungkook defends himself quickly, reaching for your hand, trying to reassure you that she’s insignificant.

it’s not working.

“I just wish you could’ve told me we weren’t exclusive.” you said wipe a tear from your upper cheek before it could roll down further.

“or maybe I was just dumb to assume we were since you initially told me you liked me, I'm sorry, I don’t really know how this whole thing works” you dryly chuckle, honestly admitting to him that you’ve never been in this type of complicated situation before. now you feel like a fool, getting mad at him for something you can’t hold against him.

jungkook shakes his head, reaching for you one more time, placing his gentle on the side of your face, caressing it. you did nothing as you stood still.

“no, i’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I do like you. I still do and that won’t change. I was just so drunk last night and could barely remember what happened. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

but somewhere deep down is telling you that he’s only sorry because he got caught.

“you’re free to do whatever you want, Jungkook. I don’t think we’re on the same page so it will be best if we don’t see each other anymore” you articulate as best as you could.

you don’t want to let him go, due to the fact that you’re growing so much feelings towards him. it’s almost as if you’re enamored. but that’s also the same reason why you must let him go. you must, or you’ll get hurt deeper.

“y/n, please don’t say that”

“No, you know how much I like you. you know how much I value you. yet in return, I feel like I’m just a plaything to you that you can play with whenever you want.”

“that’s not true baby, you know that” Jungkook protests, shaking his head. the main problem is you don't. you absolutely have no idea of his motives for pursuing you. is he doing it because he's falling for you too? or he's just playing one of those games. those dangerous games you won't involve yourself with.

he’s looking for words to proves you that his feelings were genuine, but fails to. maybe because he never knows how to show his real feelings. or maybe he was never genuine to start with.

"I'm not one of your playthings. so just— ” you pause, shifting your eyes on the ground. “go away"

Jungkook locks his gaze to you, hoping you will look back at him and take back what you said. but he can read you face and make it seem like he’s not welcome there anymore.

without any words, he leaves, leaving you accompanied with melancholy.

series m.list

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkookxreader #bts jk #jungkook ff #jeon jk #jjk x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jeongguk #bts ff #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk x reader

745 notes · View notes

koifsssh · 10 months

Text

The Greaser Au!

(oh goodie! it's here!)

bwah, where to start?

long, long, long rambles below! (Beware!)

Wally! I'll start with Wally!

As you can imagine, Wally is the little leader of the group! Promptly dubbed after his last name, "The Darlings"! (how darling they are indeed!)

Wally had grown a fascination with the trend, though he didn't quite understand the need to act so tough and mean, so he decided to make his own group! (with the help of Barnaby!)

Motorcycles, catchy tunes, being free on the road is something everyone should enjoy! So who cares if you're big or small, or if you like the color pink? Anyone can be a greaser as long as they got a jacket and a bike to go along with it!

At least, that what he believes anyway!

Speaking of a certain beagle...

Barnaby!

Barnaby of course wanted to join in on the fun, and he very publicly advertised Wally's gang at his little comedy nights! (It did catch a certain blonde's attention!)

it did garner attention, with the way the beagle so affectionately told of Wally's endearingly comedic actions from their day to day life. Barnaby also helped Wally organize the entire set up, helping him get paint and base jackets for the painter to personalize! (He also suggested Poppy's diner as a hangout spot! He had it all thought out!)

Plus, it made his best friend happy! Who could ask for more? Well... maybe Barnaby would ask for a hotdog or two.

Julie!

Julie is a seasoned hair stylist! She owns her own hair salon! She's excellent at her job, however more often than not she gets a unpleasant customer.

Stress can pile up unfortunately, and when she attended a comedy show one evening she couldn't help but be ecstatic at such an idea of being free on the road. It felt like the perfect destresser!

Talking on the phone with Frank was great and all, but nothing compares to feeling the rush of wind in her hair... So she jumped at such an opportunity! And of course, Julie doesn't go anywhere without a certain frowny bookworm!

Frank!

Frank is an entomologist! (and a part-time librarian during the summertime!) A dream job really, but every dream comes with its hurdles! Similar to Julie, Frank found themself stressed. Usually books were able to decompress them, but lately they've been growing frustrated, the one thing they hate the most is incompetent writing!

It took a lot of convincing to get Frank to even consider the idea of being a greaser, let alone get on a motorcycle... but Julie can be very insistent when she wishes to be! Not even a week passed before they begged Julie to stop her nagging, but in exchange they had to at least go with her once on a motorcycle...

how mortifying.

However! the thrill of being on the open road at a high speed was something they never knew they needed! Needless to say, after that, they were hooked!

Sally!

Sally was the last member to join! and she took her spot quite quickly!

Sally had been in Poppy's diner when she saw The Darling's walk in, she was in awe! Colorful motorcycles? Matching jackets? They all looked marvelous! The star couldn't help herself when she walked up to them, simply starstruck at such a group!

They all looked to be having such fun... she wanted to take part!

When Sally asked if there was a spot left for her, Wally softly smiled at her and stated, "Anyone and everyone can join!"

She was content that day, and from then on, it really was the best group of friends she could ever ask for!

---

whew! im done!

(this is my second time typing this... i had lost it all the first time. bwah. but it's here!!!)

im quite happy how everything turned out! I think i'll use this as a master post of sorts, just so you don't have to dig through my stuff just to find anything specific!

I'll leave Poppy's & Howdy's explanations here! (Just know those designs are old! All the designs in this post are the ones i will be using!)

Poppy's Diner!

additionally! I will give you everyone's closeups!

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fangirl-dot-com · 4 months

Text

Chapter 20 - Backstreet's Back - All Right!

Why this sat in the drafts for so long, I do not know so I apologize to everyone! I've been super busy with college and haven't had time to write much...but here we are

Today was an ABSOLUTE fever dream and we all need a little somethin somethin. So I present to you - the backstreet boys (formula 1 edition)

RACES SKIPPED ARE CANADA AND SPAIN (side note - Arthur hasn't been able to be at a race since Monaco)

Haven't been able to say this in a while but I hope you enjoy! Remember that comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!! Love you all :D

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

You had gotten to the paddock super early once again. But that was only because Lando and Oscar has asked you to hang out, and you’d never skip out on some good times with your papaya friends. Andrea loved you and often let you sit in his office if you were bored. Actually, all of the team principals seemed to do that.

Even Toto, which was weird considering you stole on of his driver’s car with his other driver.

Like always, you found yourself killing some time by playing Subway Surfers. You were about to get a new high score when two shadows covered your screen, making your character get arrested.

“Hey, you made me lose my score!”

You were about to tear them a new one, but your face had a shocked look once you finally pointed your head up.

“What the f-!”

“Has anyone seen the kid?” was a question that Max did not imagine that he’d hear first thing in the morning when he arrived on Sunday.

His eyes glanced to the corner that you were almost always in, listening to music. But, the corner was void of any rookie teammate. He looked toward Christian, who asked the initial question.

“Have you checked her driver’s room?”

The Brit sighed, “We checked her room, your room, hospitality, and even the Ferrari garage, Williams garage, and McLaren garage. No one has seen her, yet the log says that she’s already here because she tapped in at the entrance.”

Well, Max was stumped. And he knew why Christian was wanting to see you. They were finally in the Red Bull Ring, the home race for the entire team. It was a big deal, and Christian didn’t want you to get overwhelmed. There was a lot on their shoulders. Charles had pole, but Max was right behind him. Charles was always strong in the Red Bull Ring, almost winning in 2019 and then winning in 2022. The Ferraris had done well the last two races, and you two needed to hold them off. Thankfully, you were right behind Max in P3, but Carlos was behind you in P4. A Ferrari sandwich if you will.

Everyone was kind of counting on the both of you for a Red Bull 1-2.

“Have you seen Vito or Mitch?”

“We’re right here.”

The Dutchman turned around to see your race engineer and manager, but you were nowhere to be found. He opened his mouth to say something but Vito held out a hand.

“Yes, we’ve already tried to call her and Arthur. Both phones went to voicemail.”

“Oh god.” Max shivered. If you weren’t picking up, and your boyfriend wasn’t picking up. Well, he didn’t want to imagine what you were up to. Just as he was about to suggest looking in the garages again, Lando popped his head in.

“Have any of you seen Bug? She was supposed to meet up with me and Oscar earlier and she never showed up!” the curly-haired Brit whined.

Now, that had Max even more worried. You never skipped hanging out with your favorite Brit (after Christian) or Aussie. Before he was about to start getting a search party together, Mitch suddenly made a weird face.

“Do any of you hear that?”

The five went silent to try to hear whatever Mitch had heard.

Lando’s face scrunched. “Sounds like the Backstreet Boys?”

The group quickly walked over to the opening and didn’t know whether to be relived or just upright confused.

Because there you were, holding a giant boombox (God only knows where you got that) with sunglasses on, with Arthur to your right and one Ollie Bearman to your left. The soundtrack was indeed Backstreet Boys, namely the 1997 hit song “Everybody.”

As Max learned at Vegas, you definitely knew how to make an entrance. By now, most of the drivers had walked out of their garages to see the commotion.

And much to Max’s surprise, Nico Rosberg, Mark Webber, and Jensen Button walked up to the three of you, giant smiles on their faces. The song had ended a bit ago, and you handed the now silent boombox back to the German. The Australian of the group gave both Ollie and Arthur pretty big hugs.

“Well, Oscar lost his grid dad,” Lando said, earning a hit from said Aussie.

“Hey! He was never my grid dad in the first place.”

The now group of six made their way to the giant group of drivers, including but not limited to: Max, Lando, Charles, Carlos, Logan, Lewis, George, and Oscar (in no particular order). Arthur’s hand was behind your back as you enthusiastically talked to the very tall British brunet dressed in Ferrari red.

“I cannot believe that you come here, apparently to see me, and say that you need to be in the Ferrari garage! Arthur’s even going to be in the Red Bull one!” they heard you whine as the group got closer.

Ollie rolled his eyes. “That’s only because he’s your boy-oof. You did NOT have to hit me.” He glared down at you as he rubbed his side.

“Yes I did.” Your arms crossed as you finally stopped in front of the giant group, who were all staring at you. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

Lando mirrored your stance, even popping his hip out. “What’s up?” he jokingly mocking. “We were supposed to go to breakfast?” He pointed between him and Oscar.

A look of realization glossed over your face as you looked at the papaya drivers.

“Oooohhhh, yeah. Sorry. Uh, their fault?” You pointed at Ollie and Arthur, who both looked betrayed.

“Our fault?” Ollie squawked. “You were the one who dragged us to breakfast!”

“You had breakfast?”

“Yes Lando, I had breakfast.”

The younger Monegasque silenced you. “The big boys are talking. And then you dragged us to find Nico because you thought he had a boombox.”

“The big boys? Seriously Thur? I can take you any day.” You glared up at him.

“Oh yeah?” He cocked an eyebrow and smirked down at you, getting in your face to really show the height difference.

That’s it.

You suddenly jumped on him, bring him to the floor. The Max and Charles jumped into action, trying to get you separated. Ollie just watched with a giant grin on his face, laughing at the two of you.

“Ollie, kindly shut up?”

“Yes mom.”

The two of you were separated quickly, because you really didn’t have much malice toward your boyfriend.

“I totally won.”

“Kid, you lost horribly.”

“Max, has anyone ever told you that you don’t have to say everything that comes to your mind?”

Charles, Lewis, Lando, Oscar, Logan, and George all nodded in agreement while Max stared at them with wide eyes.

“You all agree?!”

“Can I have my drivers back please?!” Christian suddenly yelled, making everyone look at him.

“Please take her. She’s rabid.” Arthur pushed you forward, making you take a swing at him (that he was ready for and dodged rather easily).

You stuck your tongue out at him, before giving Ollie a hug and gently guiding him to Charles.

Your finger pointed at the red-clad driver. “Take care of my son please, even if you are the enemy. He likes his sandwiches without the crust and needs a nap with his blanket in 5 hours.”

“Gosse?”

“Aw you brought my blanket?”

Ollie’s face flushed red as he realized everyone’s eyes were on him. Charles just looked worried as though someone just handed him an actual child and told him “good luck.”

You turned to follow your team principal, who was muttering something about you giving him even more gray hairs every weekend. “By Ollie! Have fun!”

The parade went by smoothly. You laughed a lot when Nico brought the boombox to the interviews. He had a lot of questions for you and Max, since it was the team race today, which made your anxiety skyrocket just a bit.

You and Arthur were able to have just a few minutes of alone time back in your driver’s room.

Because this was a surprise race, Arthur didn’t have to work or be with his brother. So, he was all yours for the entirety of Sunday. However, your excitement didn’t last long as he told you that he had to go back to Switzerland for more testing right after.

You sighed as you pressed your head against his chest, his arms around you. “If I had known that you’d be gone so much, I wouldn’t have called Seb and just have kept you as my WAG.”

Arthur sadly smiled down at you. “I know chéri, but I like testing. It gives me a purpose.”

Another sigh escaped your lips as you finally met his gaze. He cooed as he saw tears forming in your eyes.

“What is wrong mon fille jolie?”

You let a few tears escape, but they didn’t get very far as Arthur wiped them off as quickly as they fell.

“I just miss you and I miss home,” you confessed, hiding your face in his neck as you stepped closer. Arthur gently brought you over to the couch and readjusted you so that you were just lying on his front.

His hands gently ran through your hair. He knew you needed to be in the car soon, but he wouldn’t let you go without trying to console you.

You continued, “And I know that we just had summer break not too long ago, but it wasn’t enough.”

Arthur just listened, know you needed to spill to feel better.

“Everyone is counting on me to bring in a 1-2 since it’s the home race. But the last two races weren’t the best. I barely got any points.” You muttered the last part, “I’m never going to win a race by now.”

“Hey, none of that.” Arthur lifted your face so that you could look in his eyes. His were filled with determination. “Do you know how amazing you are? You podiumed at your first race and are fourth in the championship. As a rookie! You are incredible. Parfois j’aimerais que tu te voies comme je te vois.” (translation: Sometimes I wish you saw yourself as I see you.)

You huffed. “I still can’t understand you, but I’m hoping that was a compliment.”

“It was.”

He moved his head down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. At the contact, a sigh expelled from your nose.

It felt so good to be so loved.

If someone was to write a poem, about how Arthur looked at you and how you looked at Arthur, their pens would be void of ink and the stars would be shadowed by their words.

The two of you were so lost in each other that a knock at the door scared you both and ended up with you on the floor.

Mitch poked her head in before shaking it slightly.

“I don’t even want to know what you were up to, but Y/n needs to get in the car.”

You quickly stood, with Arthur’s help, and grabbed your helmet, making your way back into the garage. Like clockwork, the Monegasque took your headpiece and gently made sure that it was safely secure. And, with a kiss on the “forehead,” he sent you off. He could tell that you didn’t really want to get in the car. Which was understandable. It wasn’t very often that Arthur saw you not want to drive. But he knew that you were going to be amazing today.

Starting Grid:

Charles Leclerc

Max Verstappen

Y/n L/n

Carlos Sainz

Oscar Piastri

Pierre Gasly

Daniel Ricciardo

Lewis Hamilton

Yuki Tsunoda

Alex Albon

Lando Norris

Logan Sargeant

Valtteri Bottas

Fernando Alonso

George Russell

Lance Stroll

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Nico Hulkenberg

You rolled your tires as you waited for the lights to go out. They were tense, but that helped you be ready to press the accelerator. If you weren’t tense, you knew there’d be something wrong. If you felt high-strung outside of the car, inside was 10 times worse.

All the pressure, all the doubts, all the hopes and dreams – were on your shoulders.

And you weren’t going to let them down.

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the 2024 Austrian Grand Prix! Charles Leclerc has a strong start in the initial few seconds, but Max Verstappen seems to be on a mission to turn this into a win. Verstappen gets down the inside and pushes Leclerc a bit wide to gain a position on the pole sitter. We both know that he will probably start to bolt in just a few corners.

“His rookie teammate Y/n L/n seems to also have the upper hand against the other Ferrari of Carlos Sainz as she seems to do what she does best – go around the outside on that initial turn 1 and somehow make it out in front.

“Now the track is a bit rainy, and we saw what happened the last time that happened, so we’ll keep an eye on our Red Bull number 2.”

You felt water droplets fall into your visor as you were picking up speed on the Ferrari in front of you. You knew that this “dirty air” would be much worse than regular, since it was contaminated with water as well.

You pressed your radio button when it seemed almost impossible to catch up to the red car. The rain had also stopped so your intermediates were getting dangerous to drive with.

“Mitch what is the plan because I cannot catch up to Leclerc in these conditions.”

“Do you think you can go the rest of the way in mediums?”

You thought for a moment. You couldn’t go the rest of the way on softs, as they would degrade too quickly. And hards took forever to warm up.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Then box ahead of Max. You’ll come out right behind him. So, he’ll give you a tow and then when he boxes, you’ll do the same. Max has priority.”

“Copy.”

You quickly pitted the next lap. The Red Bull team seemed to be on fire as you were in and out in a few seconds. You didn’t know, but they somehow set the record for a new pit stop – 1.789 seconds.

The crowd got excited as you suddenly appeared behind Max and in front of the number sixteen car.

With Max in front of you, the tow was very helpful as you started to build bigger gap. You guessed that Ferrari must have messed up Charles’s pit stop as Lando’s papaya car was now behind you, instead of Charles.

You felt bad, but that’s on his team.

However, Lando was on much fresher tyres that you were, and he was gaining in the last ten laps of the race. You really tried to not let him overtake, but he did…with five laps to go.

Mitch suddenly came over the radio. “Don’t push it like last time. We don’t need another Suzuka. Third place will be just fine.”

But you weren’t having any of that. You never responded and just kept at the pace you were going, trying to get the maximum out of the car.

You hadn’t noticed, but everyone else in the garages could see that you were surprisingly gaining on Lando. Ollie watched as you were making qualifying times per lap. The crew was holding on to each other, cheering you on. With each tenth gained, the noise grew louder.

You saw the last lap flag, and you knew you had to keep your elbows out.

“And we are coming up on the last lap and L/n has somehow made it back into Norris’s DRS. She tried to get around the outside on the first turn, but is not successful. Yet, she’s keeping herself well in the DRS and doesn’t make try to make a move on the straights.

“Here comes the last real corner of the circuit and only a small straight for an overtake.

“SHE’S GOING FOR IT!

“IT’S A PHOTO FINISH…DO WE HAVE RESULTS?”

You slowed down your car as you drove around for the cool down lap. Your finger was jamming the radio button.

“Do we have it!?”

Arthur was biting his fingernails as everyone in the garage was waiting for the results. The mechanics were happy with another P1 finish from Max, but they were on baited breath to see if you had almost done the impossible and finished in a 1-2 sequence. A steward walked over to the pit wall and gave Christian the paper with the results.

A giant smile crossed his face as he was the one to give you the news.

“Congrats kid. It’s a 1-2 finish.”

Race Results

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Y/n L/n – 18 points

Lando Norris – 15 points

Charles Leclerc – 12 points

Carlos Sainz – 11 points

Pierre Gasly + fastest lap – 9 points

Oscar Piastri – 6 points

Lewis Hamilton – 4 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 2 points

Alex Albon – 1 point

Logan Sargeant

George Russell

Lance Stroll

Fernando Alonso

Nico Hulkenberg

Valtteri Bottas

Esteban Ocon

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Daniel Ricciardo

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 244 points

Charles Leclerc – 201 points

Y/n L/n – 124 points

Lando Norris – 115 points

Carlos Sainz – 91 points

Lewis Hamilton – 70 points

Oscar Piastri – 68 points

Alex Albon – 39 points

George Russell – 36 points

Fernando Alonso – 35 points

Logan Sargeant – 29 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly – 12 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Valtteri Bottas

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 383 points

Ferrari – 292 points

McLaren – 194 points

Mercedes – 106 points

Aston Martin – 50 points

Williams – 41 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpine – 12 points

Alpha Romeo

Haas

“OH YEAH BABY. LET’S GO!” you yelled over your radio. The crew in the garage stood up from their seats and began to hug each other.

“Oh man, that was, wow! Can’t believe that. Great job everyone. Is this what winning feels like?” you asked as you took the cooldown lap, yet there was no answer. Everyone was too busy watching that final overtake and celebrating about it.

Arthur just watched your car take a lap on the screen. He softly whispered, “I knew you could do it.” The love in his eyes could have poured out if love was a physical thing.

Mitch came over the radio as you were beginning to pull in. “And congrats kid. You have surpassed Lewis Hamilton’s rookie point record.”

“LET’S GO! THAT'S THE SHIT!”

“You really need to stop hanging out with Max all the time. He’s teaching you bad words.”

You smirked under your helmet. “I’m a girl whose friends are dominantly male. Mitch you even curse over the radio.”

Max almost didn’t want to look at whatever car was in the second place spot. He knew you’d be devastated if you weren’t there. Last he knew, Lando was behind him with you on his tail. It was your helmet that caught his attention. His body turned to see you standing on your car in the P2 spot.

His heart dropped, but in a good way. He watched you jump off and jump into the arms of the crew. Head pats were definitely deserved as you tried to touch as much of the team as possible. He laughed when you purposefully hung off the banner, just to get closer to the crew who were a bit further back.

He watched you and Mitch hold out your arms (kind of like Lando and Carlos at the Singapore Grand Prix), mirror each other, and then hug it out. He swears he saw the older lady wipe away a few tears.

Next was Christian, who gave you a big hug as Max finally made his way to the wall of crew. It was his turn for hugs, high-fives, and helmet pats.

You had just gotten to Arthur, who held onto you a bit longer than everyone else.

Just for the two of you, he whispered, “If you didn’t have you helmet on, I’d kiss you right here in front of all these people.”

Your cheeks were bright red under the helmet.

Ollie, who had been able to escape from the prancing horse, had also come to congratulate you. His hug was a tag shorter than Arthur’s, but you knew he did it to make your previous hug not look as suspicious.

You had been on the podium time and time before, but this felt different. You don’t know if it was the adrenaline, the sun, or the happiness that ran through you veins that made the trophy a bit lighter or the bubbly a bit sweeter: maybe it was all three.

You were still hungry for a win, starving, but this was just the snack to tide you over.

Down below, Arthur and Ollie had somehow gotten a hand on the boombox once again. You could barely hear it on the podium, but you had a guess. Suddenly, the music screeched to a halt, making everyone confused. You watched as your two boys had a knowing smirk on their faces. The same smirk slowly crept on your face as well.

You turned to Max and Lando, who looked equally confused. You held your trophy to your lips, as though it were a microphone. You pointed at the two men, and lip-synced the words.

“BACKSTREET’S BACK - ALL RIGHT!”

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing 1-2 in the house! The Red Bull Ring was shining as our drivers carried home two new trophies! Congrats to y/n.89 for her first record as she surpasses Lewis Hamilton's rookie points with 124 points total!

liked by y/n.89, maxverstappen, lewishamilton, and 4,203,893 others

y/n.nation THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT

y/n_on_top that fight for the win will go in the history books mark my words

landonorris please tell your drivers to slow down so the rest of us can have a chance

charles_leclerc I second this y/n.89 idk, you all just sound like misogynists here... maxverstappen1 what she said

lewishamilton I knew someone would have to beat it. congrats kid

y/n.89 thank you Lew! (someone should take notes ahem landonorris) landonorris sure bug, sure

redbullfan 1-2! 1-2! 1-2!

y/n.lover she is legit currently in p3 for the constructor's championship...what do they feed her?

y/n.89 the tears of my enemies (Charles cries a lot) charles_leclerc HEY redbullracing lots of energy drinks and protein!

arthurxy/n Arthur back in the rb garage - too bad ollie couldn't join them

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 my boys are BACK

liked by y/n.nation, boxbox_express, change_ur_f-car, and 85,395 others

y/n&co God I've seen what you've done for others

rookiefan I kinda feel bad for her boyfriend...but at the same time Arthur is more than happy to show her off (her bf needs to take notes!!)

olliebearman MOM ON PODIUM

y/n.89 did you have a nice nap? olliebearman yes until charles_leclerc forgot my blanket y/n.89 when I find you charles_leclerc arthur_leclerc Charles you better run charles_leclerc HE'S 18?? WHY DOES HE STILL NEED A BLANKET AND NAP y/n.89 you're 26???? why do you still need to call my teammate goodnight? lestappenlove and I OOP

prema_y/n anywayyyyy the second pic is hilarious

Arthur.nation thur is glowing, wonder if he has a gf??

arthurgirly4life I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE

boxbox_express the trio no one knew we needed, but the trio that we deserve

arthur_leclerc has posted

arthur_leclerc a driver, a reserve driver, and an endurance driver walk into a bar...

liked by thurthur, ferrari_fanfest, porsche, and 102,284 others

arthur4porsche this makes no sense but it's hysterical??

y/n.89 ollie actually smacked his head on the bar

olliebearman YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T TELL - DAD, MOM IS MAKING FUN OF ME AGAIN arthur_leclerc it was funny? olliebearman grandpa? charles_leclerc yes? olliebearman not you, you forgot my blanket. the better one maxverstappen1 take that Charles

arthur&crew if max and Charles are grandpa...does that make Christian great-grandpa??

christianhorner sadly yes y/n.89 SADLY?? YOU MADE HIM CRYYYY charles_leclerc w o w , could never at Ferrari y/n.89 Charlie, you cried yesterday

redbullracing maybe the driver should become our photographer?

olliebearman has posted

olliebearman why is it that when we're together, we're always eating??

liked by ferrari, y/n.89, logansargeant, and 83,294 others

olliebear WHAT ARE THESE PICTURES I'M DYING

arthur_leclerc blocked and reported for that last picture

olliebearman why? trying to look good for someone?? arthur_leclerc say goodbye to the blanket olliebearman too late, your brother lost it :( arthur.nation HELLO??

y/n.89 I look sexy

olliebearman your boyfriend sure thinks so :D y/n.89 what Arthur said, blocked and reported

prematrio what are these comments??

y/n&co shhhhh just let them

oscarpiastri guess the invites got lost in the mail??

landonorris same here... y/n.89 you weren't in prema? kimi.antonelli thanks for the food mom! olliebearman brother? maxverstappen1 here we go again

change_ur_f-car what a time to be alive

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captainfern · 10 months

Note

I have a request/idea! What about Price being away, and coming home to the reader late at night unexpectedly? They've already gone to bed, and he sees the way they try to find comfort in his absence? (Cuddled up with his pillow, wearing a set of his old dogtags, and his shirt, seeing one of his nice cigars half-burned in an ashtray because they were using it like incense, etc) Could be pure fluff and sleepy cuddles or the reader could wake up and have an enthusiastic reunion with him?

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Where Did You Sleep Last Night

Captain John Price x gn!reader

[“Where Did You Sleep Last Night” by Nirvana]

[sfw]

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• summary - what the request says :) • rating - sfw • wordcount - 1.2k • warnings - gn!reader [referred to as 'my love', 'darling' etc], pure fluff and cosiness, strong language as usual because i clearly have a very limited expressive vocabulary lmao—

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Although he was beyond exhausted when he returned home from a rough deployment, Price never let it show. He was intent on striding into his home and being instantly greeted by you, no matter the time. The middle of the night, the early hours of the morning, you'd be there to greet him, and it was his favourite part of coming home.

Coming home to you.

More than often, he'd barely get in the door before you were wrapping your arms around him, or jumping into his arms. Some days, you were insatiable— pulling at his belt, shoving your hands beneath his shirt, sucking bruises on his neck. On more than a few occasions, you and Price didn't even make it to the couch, let alone your bed.

Other days, it was pure bliss— he'd hug you tight as you peppered soft kisses across his face. You'd cook for him, massage his tight muscles, tend to the cuts and bruises and the fresh scars along his body. You'd rub his hair as he rested his head in your lap while you told him about what you'd been up to the days, weeks, months he'd been away.

It's not that he didn't love the sex. Of course he fucking did. But the domesticity that came with you, your hugs and kisses and your beautiful voice was all that he needed most days.

And that's what he craved today as he walked up the front steps and unlocked the front door.

It was two in the morning. Hardly any cars on the road, no birdsong in the trees. It was pitch black outside, except for the crescent moon and the twinkle of stars in the sky. As Price approached the house, he noticed not many of the lights were on. Usually, you'd leave the front hall light on for him if he got home late, but even the kitchen light was off, meaning you weren't waiting for him there.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, listening to the silence of your shared home. He kicked off his boots, still waiting for you to sprint down the hall and launch yourself into his awaiting arms.

But you didn't, which Price found odd.

He dumped his bags in the hall too and checked the kitchen, living room and dining room. You weren't there, cooking, or watching TV, or scrolling through your phone. He huffed quietly to himself, double-checking all the doors were locked before he moved towards the main bedroom.

The door was open a crack, and Price could smell something familiar. Your perfume, of course, that he absolutely loved. But, was that cigar smoke?

His cigar smoke?

He pushed the door open, and his heart lurched when he saw you. You looked like a fucking dream.

You were on his side of the bed, closest to the door, lying on your stomach with your arms curled beneath his pillow. The blankets had dropped down your body, revealing that you were wearing one of his shirts— his favourite shirt, too, that he wore right before he left. And on the bedside table, a dead cigar that, at one point, was lit. It hadn't been smoked from, Price could tell, but it had been lit— lit enough that the smell lingered in the room like incense.

He could smell his cologne, too. Like it'd been spritzed around the room like fucking air freshener.

Price couldn't help the overwhelming pride that surged within him, seeing you like this. So desperate for anything him. You looked so peaceful like this, and it made Price's heart swell.

But, he couldn't prevent that small tickle of guilt in the base of his stomach. He swallowed thickly, emotion dense in his throat as he approached the bed. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, stroking your cheek with a large hand.

You stirred, groaning. Price cursed himself for waking you but, in all honesty, he wasn't sorry. Not now that he could talk to you, touch you, be near you.

"Mm? Price?" You muttered, turning onto your back and sitting up, rubbing your eyes.

"M'here, my love."

Your heart soared out of your chest as you wrapped your arms around Price, dragging him onto the bed. He offered little resistance, letting you roll him onto you. He all but crushed you in his arms, insistent on not letting you go. He buried his face into your hair while you buried your face into the crook of his neck, trying not to sob.

"Missed you," you mumbled, voice hoarse from sleep and tickling the sensitive skin on Price's throat. "Missed you so much."

"I know, my love, I missed you too," Price said, shifting to the side so you were both laying on the bed. "M'sorry for being away for so long."

"S'all right," you whispered. "Glad you're home."

Your hands were quick to move under his shirt, but not in a sexual way. You sought his warmth, his skin. You smoothed your palms down the soft ridges of his muscles, then up along his ribs, before they skirted around his back and pulled him closer.

"I haven't had a shower, my love." Price told you as your hands rubbed up and down his back, basking in his warmth.

You grunted at him, face now buried in his chest, directly between his pecs. He huffed a laugh, pulling you closer to that one leg was thrown around his hip. He held your lower back, rubbing gentle circles.

"Did you light one of my good cigars?" Price joked after his eyes flickered to the ashtray on the bedside table, a dead cigar inside.

You hummed. "Yeah. Missed the smell of you."

Price's heart clenched painfully. He loved you so much.

"And... this is my shirt," He pinched the fabric, rubbing it between his fingers. "I wore it before I left. Did you even wash it?"

You shook your head, breathing hard into his chest. "No, why would I? Then it wouldn't smell like you anymore."

He didn't reply, just pulled you closer. And that's how you two stayed for a while; just holding each other, absorbing each others presence, basking in each others warmth.

After a long while, Price cleared his throat. "I, uh, missed you not greeting me at the door."

You tucked your head up so you could look at him. "Oh, Price, I'm sorry. I was so tired, and I was supposed to set an alarm, but I forgot."

"S'all right, darling," Price said, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"Don't apologise," you whispered, kissing him. "If you didn't, I would've been pissed anyway."

He laughed against your lips, and you shared a long, lazy kiss. Eventually, you parted, and Price went to move so he could have a shower. You groaned, loud, holding him to you as he attempted to get off the bed.

"Nooooo—"

"I haven't had a shower, love."

"Ughhh, I don't care. We can wash the sheets tomorrow."

"Darling—"

"Price, just get into fucking bed, I swear to god."

Price laughed at that. You let him go just long enough for him to take off his pants and shirt, before he settled next to you half naked. You whined in glee, cuddling up to his chest, enjoying the warmth and weight of his arms around you, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"I love you," Price whispered. "So much."

"I love you too, sir."

He exhaled deeply and you giggled against his chest.

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#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #captain john price #captain price #fem reader #price x reader #captain john price x female reader

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joelscruff · 11 months

Text

wait (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

first and foremost! this is part of my boyfriend's dad!joel series and takes place after "words". this won't really make sense if you haven't read that one! it's so crazy to me how this started out as a silly little smutty drabble and somehow became this. this one's kind of heavy (read the warnings!!) but i promise that things won't stay this angsty forever. at its root this story is supposed to be smutty and fun and i promise there will be more of that in the future. i hope you enjoy it and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 summary: it's been a month since your boyfriend discovered your relationship with his father and a month since you've seen joel. it's starting to take its toll. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, sexting, comeplay, angst, allusions to past trauma, shitty family dynamics (addiction & verbal abuse), panic attacks word count: 3.2k

i miss you

it's the only thing you've thought about texting him for about a month, a text you always type out and then erase a few moments later. it's something you swore to yourself that you wouldn't do no matter how lonely you got. he'd said he needed time, and you want to give it to him. and yet here you are, leaning against the window of your bus home from community college with tears in your eyes, phone in hand, wanting nothing more than to see him. selfish.

it's been one of the loneliest periods of your life. you've known loneliness, felt it throughout most of your childhood, through your adolescence, it's nothing new. but with joel you'd finally begun to feel whole again, like you actually mattered to someone. he looked forward to seeing you, to holding you, being with you. you'd never felt so desired and loved and protected in your whole life.

now you're back to having nothing, no one. it's a harsh reality you're forcing yourself to accept. you still haven't heard anything from your boyfriend - now ex, of course, though there was never any official breakup - and even that's a punch to the gut, an added depth to a loss that you caused.

he's hurting, i hurt him, joel's words repeat in your head. it breaks your heart that he's feeling so guilty, that he feels that he caused this entire thing when it's really your fault. if you weren't such a mess of a person, such a broken human being, the whole thing wouldn't have even happened to begin with. what kind of person sleeps with their boyfriend's father? starts a relationship with him? calls him daddy?

you know you caused this and yet you can't help but miss him so much. it's like he's ingrained himself into your bones somehow, his touch tattooed into your skin. he's all you think about, dream about. you miss being in his embrace, being held by him, whispering daddy in his ear and feeling understood, not judged. you miss his gentle kisses to your nose, the safety of his lap, his arms around your trembling form while he fucked you, took you, made you his.

you stare at the unsent text message and inevitably find yourself scrolling back up to a previous conversation from a few months back, short and simple. texting was never a frequent medium for the two of you, more-so used for you to send him dirty pictures every so often to tease him a bit. you briefly look at the picture, a close-up shot of your bare pussy with some of his come leaking out; absolutely filthy.

still have u inside me daddy

oh baby, so messy. what am I gonna do with you?

you smile at the silliness of it all, the filthiness, but it quickly fades when you remember the reality of the situation again, the fact that your boyfriend had read joel's messages, had definitely seen these texts in particular. he'd called joel a sick man. you don't agree, but you can understand why; if you'd seen a text interaction like this between your own father and a girl half his age... you'd probably have a similar reaction - though the concept of your father showing a woman any affection in the first place is alien in itself.

your bus pulls up to the stop near your house and you get off, slipping your phone back into your pocket and hiking your backpack over your shoulder as you go. it's only a short walk to your house, no more than three minutes, though you usually try to make it a bit longer to delay the inevitable disaster of your home life.

you take it one step at a time, slowly walking down the darkening street with fresh tears in your eyes. god, you're so lonely. you don't want to go home, don't want to be accosted by your alcoholic father and avoidant mother, your asshole brother who never gives you a break. it's so damn depressing in that house; when you'd first gotten together with your boyfriend you'd been so relieved to finally have somewhere else to go that wasn't school or home, another reason you'd stayed with him for so long despite the relationship being doomed. you should have known it couldn't last.

you'd told joel everything. it's hard to believe sometimes that the connection you shared was strong enough for you to trust him with some of your darkest secrets, the worst things from your past. he knows all about your family, all about what you've been through, had listened to you quietly and earnestly as you cried into his shoulder about the hand life had dealt you. he'd rubbed your back, kissed your forehead, whispered it's okay, and i'm here now, and i'm gonna take care of you, sweetheart. and he did. he did take care of you. he'd done everything right and somehow you still managed to fuck it up.

the lights are on in the house when you arrive at the front gate, though the car is missing from the driveway; this only means that your mother is out late tonight, probably staying with a friend or a lover or whoever she turns to when shit gets bad. you can't blame her - you'd done the exact same thing when you'd actually had somewhere to go - but part of you still aches for that little girl inside you that needs her, wishes she was inside waiting for you, though it's not like she'd do much to help.

your father is definitely home, probably your brother as well. you stand at the gate, gripping the strap of your backpack and deliberating even bothering to go inside. you know you'll be accosted at the front door by either a drunken tirade or bitter argument. it's a no-win situation no matter how you look at it. your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out, grateful for one last brief distraction.

i miss you too, angel. so much.

your eyes go wide, heart stuttering in your chest as you stare at the words.

"fuck," you breathe, "fuck, fuck fuck," you quickly scroll up to confirm your fears - the i miss you text, the one you always erase, the one you make sure to never send - you'd somehow sent it this time, entirely by mistake.

tears are stinging your eyes as you turn on the spot and start walking back and forth in front of your house, running your hand through your hair in disbelief while you stare at joel's text. you fucking idiot. what the fuck have you done? what happened to giving him space? you stupid fucking bitch. you absolute loser. you're suddenly berating yourself the exact same way you know your father and brother will berate you if you go in the house now. you can already picture it - them seeing your tear stained cheeks, the puffiness of your eyes, the words they'll throw at you to hurt you even more, make you feel small.

fucking bitch. fucking loser. fucking idiot.

your breathing is becoming more and more erratic the longer you pace. you can't go in now, not after this, not after seeing that he misses you too and being so fucking close yet so far away. all you can suddenly think about is all those wasted moments at his house, spending so much time with your asshole boyfriend when you could have been with joel, been loved instead of tossed aside like garbage.

god, if you could only hear his voice. if you could just talk to him for one minute before you have to go into this godforsaken hellhole.

before you even fully understand what you're doing, you're hitting the call button and bringing the phone up to your ear.

he answers on the first ring.

"h-"

"i can't do this anymore," you gasp out through a sob, not even bothering to let him say anything, "joel, i can't do it, i miss you so fucking much it hurts."

"babygirl," he breathes, voice rough and deep and gorgeous and familiar, sweet like honey in your ear, "where are you? are you okay?"

and that's enough to break you.

you feel the tears begin to stream down your face, hot and unrelenting. you shake your head even though he can't see you, throat bobbing through repetitive gasps, "no, i'm not okay," you blubber, "da- fuck, joel, i- i can't do this, i can't be by myself anymore. i'm - " you don't even know where this is coming from, voice muddled, "i'm so lonely. i can't do it anymore, i can't. please, i can't."

he makes a devastating sound at your words, something between a sob and a gasp, "where are you?" he repeats, voice full of concern, "where are you, baby? i'm gonna come get you."

"the bus stop by my house," you manage to tell him through your tears, reaching the little bench and situating yourself on it without an ounce of hesitation, "i was- i was gonna go home but," another sob rips through your throat, "but they're home and i- i can't- i can't take it anymore, joel. i don't wanna be there anymore, i can't be there."

"you stay where you are, you hear me?" you can hear movement on the other line, the rattle of keys, footsteps, "don't go home, babygirl, i'm comin'. i'll be there in ten minutes."

"okay," you whisper, trying to catch your breath, "okay."

"deep breaths, baby, remember?" and you do remember; he'd taught you some exercises to help in situations like this, when you feel like the world is falling apart around you and you're just getting smaller and smaller, disappearing into nothingness. he'd held your hands while you'd sat in his lap, eyes closed as you both matched each other's breathing, melted into one another. "in and out, babygirl, that's it. real slow, count for me."

"i r-remember," you manage to hiccup, squeezing your chest with your other hand and trying to ground yourself.

the wait is excruciating, no matter how short, and no matter the fact that joel is on the other end trying to calm you. you sit on the bench with a hand on your heart and the other on your stomach, listening to joel count to five over and over, phone upturned on your thigh.

"big breath in. one...two...three...four...five," he says through the muffled sounds of traffic and wind, "big breath out. one...two...three...four...five." over and over and over again, "i'm turnin' the corner, baby, i'm almost there," he says after about ten minutes of this, "you see me, honey?"

you look up to find his headlights, getting brighter and brighter as they approach. you shakily sit up from the bench, breath coming out much less erratic now, "y-yes," you whisper.

seconds later the car is pulling up in front of you and he's jumping out, not even bothering to shut the door behind him as he dashes around it. it's been so long since you've seen him that it's jarring to suddenly have him in front of you, sprinting toward your small and shaking form with his jacket undone, shoes mismatched, glasses askew. you catch a glimpse of his expression, concerned and upset - are those tears? - before he scoops you up into his arms and pulls you in close to him.

"i'm here," he tells you, voice rumbling through his chest against your cheek, solid and warm, "i'm here now, babygirl, you're okay. you're okay."

and somehow you are.

"i'm sorry," is all you can say to him as he drives you to his house, hand holding yours tightly the whole way, "i'm such an idiot, i'm so sorry."

"stop saying that," he repeats for maybe the fourth time, shaking his head and squeezing your hand even more firmly, "you're not an idiot and you have nothing to be sorry about."

you really are okay now, breaths calm and tears not even flowing anymore. instead the guilt and shame and humiliation have taken over, sinking into your skin as you lean back in the passenger seat with your hood pulled up, hiding your face from him.

"i was giving you space," you mutter, "i didn't even mean to text you, it was an accident. i was being stupid, as usual."

"stop it," he says again, "stop being mean to yourself."

you close your eyes and face away from him, "easier said than done."

the two of you drive in silence for a few moments, that is until he asks, "have you eaten?" and you say, "no."

he buys you mcdonalds and doesn't let go of your hand.

the house hasn't changed. you hadn't really expected it to; it's not like it's been that long since you were last here. you don't bother even sneaking a peek at your ex boyfriend's bedroom as joel leads you upstairs, curiosity nonexistent.

you're not sure why you expect him to take you into his office, maybe sit on the couch with you and talk. to your surprise he leads you straight past the door, down the hallway to what you can only assume is his bedroom - a place you've never been in all your months of being with him.

"sit down," he tells you softly as he opens the door, pulling you slowly inside and nodding toward the queen sized bed, "i'll get you something to wear."

"okay," you breathe, barely looking at him as you examine the room in front of you, large but cozy, cool colors but a warm atmosphere, framed music posters and blueprints covering the walls - exactly what you'd expect from someone like joel. you shuffle forward and drop your bag at the end of his bed, sitting on the edge of it while he goes to his dresser.

you end up in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of his underwear, loving the feeling of being his again, even if neither of you have actually talked about what exactly this means for your relationship. he helps you change, tugging off your worn-out jeans and the same shirt you've worn for three days in a row, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he pulls off your panties and replaces them with his boxers. it's not sexual, but part of you still longs to pull him on top of you, just feel his weight, smell his cologne.

he pulls back the duvet and helps you climb inside onto your stomach, rubbing your arms and shoulders and releasing some of the tension you've been feeling for the past month. you feel him press another kiss to the back of your neck, pushing your hair out of the way and stroking it gently, giving you all the care and attention you've been aching for. his hands are so big, so comforting and safe, touching you everywhere without any expectations or underlying motive.

"i missed you, daddy," you whisper against his pillow, not sure if he can even hear you, even more unsure whether it's okay to use that word anymore.

he doesn't reply right away, still kneading his thumbs into the base of your back and massaging you gently. you hear him inhale and exhale deeply a few times, like he's biding time while he figures out what to say.

"sorry," you wince, "joel."

he releases you then, helps you turn over so you're on your back and peering up at him with uncertainty. he sits on the edge of the bed and reaches down to thumb your cheek, eyes sad and tired.

"i wanna be that for you, sweetheart," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "i do. i want it more than you even realize," he takes a breath, biting down on his lip briefly, "i just... i need you to tell me somethin'. be honest with me now."

your heart skips a beat, "what?"

"when you said you loved me..." his voice breaks a bit and you ache to reach for him, cup his cheek and hold him close, "was it because of what we've been doin'?" he seems to reassess his words, shaking his head slightly, "i mean, did it...did you actually mean it? or was it... was it just part of the game?"

you stare at him for a few seconds, lips parting and eyes going slightly wide. without a second thought you do exactly what you'd just been thinking about, reaching up to place your hand against his face, feeling his scruff beneath your palm. he leans in and takes a breath, peering into your eyes with a yearning you can't describe, can only feel.

you shake your head slowly, "joel," you whisper, "it's never been a game."

his eyes close, stuttering out another breath when your thumb strokes his cheek soothingly. unable to hold back anymore, you lean up to capture his mouth in a soft kiss, sweet and tender and familiar. his hand finds the back of your head, pulls you closer, claims you again.

he fucks you slow.

it's never been like this, never has he fucked you the way he fucks you now. you barely speak, just moan and whimper and sigh and melt into each other the way you've never truly been able to, not without prying ears and a time limit hanging over your heads. your hands tangle in his hair while he hits that deep spot inside you, holds you close, buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, pounds into you relentlessly like you'll both come apart at the seams if he lets go.

you're biting it back, trying not to say it as much as you desperately want to, still unsure if this is really want he wants. just tell me what to do and i'll do it. i don't care, i'm yours. he looks into your eyes and you can't help but start crying again, overwhelmed by the warmth of him, the safety. he thumbs your tears and kisses them away.

"say it," he murmurs to you as you both near your inevitable release, the tension building and building as he grabs your face with both hands and fucks you with purpose, with passion, "say it, babygirl, tell me."

you shake your head, suddenly self conscious, suddenly afraid. the feelings from earlier tonight rise back in your chest, making a home in the back of your throat as a sob threatens to rip through it.

"it's okay," he whispers, voice trembling with the speed of his thrusts, "it's okay, honey, i wanna hear you say it," he furrows his brow and releases a groan, so close to the edge, "please, baby, say it. need you to say it."

you pull him close, grip his back, press your lips to his ear, "daddy."

he groans, dark and rough, "that's it," he murmurs, "that's it baby, i'm your daddy. that's right." he pulls back to look at you, eyes meeting yours in a passionate gaze that lasts forever, "say it again."

"daddy," you whine, unable to unlock your eyes from his, lip trembling as you submit entirely to him, "feels so good, daddy."

there's something in his expression you can't place, something in his words that reverberates in your brain like a pinball. say it again... you realize it means more than you'd initially thought. he's not just asking you to say one word - he's asking for three.

"i love you," you cry out just as he presses his thumb to your clit, pushes you over the edge, "i love you."

he comes just as you do, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as your fingers scramble for purchase at his back, holding him impossibly close to the point where his entire body weight is on top of you, but you don't care. all you can feel is the way his heart beats against your chest, the way his gasps match yours, finding the same rhythm.

you lay there still for what feels like eternity, joel laying on top of you with his cock still deep inside and his forehead pressed against your shoulder. your tears have stopped but you feel the dampness of his own on your skin, hear the gasp he lets out as he sets his emotions free.

"i love you too," he whispers in your ear, breath hot and quick, voice wrecked, "god, i love you so much."

for the first time, you stay the night.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: bd!joel

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