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katiexpunk · 5 months

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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

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S P R I N G Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.

Oh god.

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.

God, he wishes you would have kept it.

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

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sh1-n0bu · 7 months

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𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 12: somnophilia with jing yuan from hsr

warnings: somnophilia, they consented beforehand, wait would it also count as cnc??? nipple stimulation, handjob

notes: i think my favoritism towards hsr is showing

‘dozing general’

what a truly fitting nickname for your lover as he continues to sleep peacefully in the comfort of your shared bed. well, not entirely peacefully as he lets out whines and soft moans of your name in his sleep, rubbing his thighs together as his tip leaks precum, smearing it all over his sleeping gown.

he seems to be having a wet dream. from the sounds he was producing as he desperately tries to hump the air. whining when nothing touches his cock to help him relieve himself from the lustful dreams of his.

you two have talked beforehand. due to his workload, whenever he falls asleep, jing yuan tends to sleep like the dead. whether it be a simple nap or a full on deep sleep. and of course, he can’t always be energetic to get himself fucked stupid.

so he brought up the concept of somnophilia. perverted as always as he eagerly consented to being touched in his sleep. allowing you to use his cock or hole or even his large chest however you please to relieve the both of yours’ stress. perhaps this time, you should put the consented perverted action to the test and see how he fairs.

hugging him just a little bit tighter from behind — he always insists on being the small spoon when cuddling — you slowly push a leg between his own. easing his tightly shut thighs open, your leg hooked inside his to keep his own two legs open.

a hand coming around to wrap him in a hug. but that was just a guise before your fingers tease his pretty pink nipples, rolling and pinching the soft buds gently between your thumb and middle as your forefinger messes with his hardening bud. jing yuan let out a louder moan in his sleep at that. hips bucking back in whatever wet dream he may be having.

placing soft kisses to the back of his neck, you continue to torment his nipple, feeling the usually soft bud turn hard and perky under your expert fingers. jing yuan could only whine and whimper in his sleep. sometimes letting out moans whenever you would pinch just a little bit too hard or pull at his nipple.

slowly your other makes it’s way down. pulling apart at the slit of his usual sleeping gown to reveal his muscular thighs. thighs that are already covered in old bite marks and bruises from your lovemaking a few days back. you may or may not have become a bit too harsh on him.

as an apology to that, your hand gently gropes and squeezes at his thigh without shame. easing your hand up and up, on his upper thigh until your hand slips deeper into his v-line, fingers touching his happy trail.

or maybe it was to make him whine louder, almost mewling, as he tries to make your hand finally touch his aching dick. he was already so hard and leaking pre all over his sleeping gown, making him almost sob from frustration in his sleep. whatever wet dream he may be having, he seems to have forgotten. proven by how his still slumbering body was craving and chasing your touch.

finally, finally, your hand comes to wrap around his shaft, making his hips buckle. a soft moan of relief is heard as he tries to fuck himself into the tight enclosure of your fist. he sounded so pathetic. needy whines, soft mewls and moans of your name falling from his lips as he pants heavily, slight drool already slipping past his open mouth.

rubbing your thumb over his weeping slit, you smear his pre all over his tip. of course, that wasn’t enough to be a lube to properly fuck his painfully erect cock. if you were to let go of him to get a lube from the nightstand, jing yuan would probably wake up. and you didn’t wanted to wake him up. you wanted him to continue to have his much needed rest while providing him pleasure.

with a reluctant sigh, you let go of his cock, making your sleepy lover whine loudly, brokenly like a sad cat being denied of their favorite treat. in a sense, he was.

gently shushing his sleepy whining, you spit all over your hand, making sure that there was a hefty amount. enough to at least work as a makeshift lube for now and to not hurt him.

taking his neglected dick in your hand again, you slowly move your fist. jing yuan lets out happy sounding moans in his slumber, weakly bucking his hips to little to no avail due to his sleepy nature and exhausted body.

peppering kisses and leaving lovebites on his exposed neck, pulling and twisting his poor abused nipple between your fingers as you continue to fuck his sensitive angry red cock into your tight fist — you absolutely reveled in the sheer power you hold over your lover. jing yuan may be the general of the xianzhou luofu but when in the safe space of your shared home, he would gladly turn himself into your toy.

unable to control yourself, you leave a bite to the sensitive crook of his neck. one that made his cock twitch in your hand before cumming over your fingers, soiling your skin with his thick, creamy seeds.

“b-beloved… do that again…” jing yuan calls out, words slurry and eyes heavy with sleep as he slyly smiles at you.

this cheeky bastard. he had been awake all along!

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strangersmunsons · 3 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 3 Prompt: Lingerie 🎀 ~ 2,200 words you buy a pretty set of underwear to wear for Eddie. smut, 18+ only: p-in-v sex, spanking (brief), oral/fingering (fem!receiving), nipple play/tit sucking, praise, body worship.

Soft tissue paper crinkles beneath your fingertips as you gently remove each thin layer from the clean, white, department store gift box.

You’re almost afraid to touch it; you’ve never owned anything so pretty and fragile-looking. Up until this point the fanciest underwear you’ve ever worn was a plain bra and panty set from K-Mart.

But this? Whole ‘nother ball game. You imagine Eddie will be very pleased.

The bra is little more than delicately-constructed strips of fabric; creamy satin to line the underside of your breasts, dainty lace to adorn the top, in a display of completely false modesty, as there’s space enough between the two materials for the buds of your nipples to peek through. The waistband of the matching thong is frilled with gentle sprays of lace that will float over the curves of your hips, and there’s a tiny silk bow sewn into the fabric that will cover your mound.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Eddie loves you in anything. That boy could look at you in snow pants and a parka and still succeed in getting a boner. But you felt the time was ripe for you to treat both yourself and him to something special.

You’re aiming for soft, romantic — cherubic, even. Something Valentine’s Day appropriate. When you slip the set on for the first time, and eye yourself in the bedroom’s full-length mirror, you think you’ve definitely achieved that. It fits like a glove; you’ve never felt sexier.

As if he somehow knew exactly what you were up to, Eddie taps on the closed door. “Sweetheart? Are you alright in there?” You don’t usually lock him out of the bedroom.

“Yes,” you call back to him, heart jumping in anticipation. “Just give me one second.”

Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath, cast one last approving glance in the mirror, and open the door for your boyfriend.

Eddie’s mouth, opened to greet you, suddenly snaps shut when he takes in the sight before him. His eyes are huge as he looks you up and down, greedily roaming over every square inch of your body.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie.”

He doesn’t even say anything — just lunges forward and crushes you to him, arms winding around you as tightly as they can go. His full lips press against yours in a searing, bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth and spit. He nips at your bottom lip and licks into your mouth, leaving you breathless, whiny, needy; he walks you backwards, until the backs of your legs hit the side of the bed, and you let yourself fall onto the plush covers.

Eddie covers your body with his own, warm weight adding a delightful pressure against your torso. Automatically your legs wrap around his trim waist, his denim-clad crotch creating delicious friction as it rubs against your own satin-covered core.

He moves away from your mouth, peppering sloppy kisses over your chin and up your jaw, then all over your neck until he finds that little sweet spot that makes you keen. One fist tangles in his hair, and you give a gentle tug to the curly locks. Eddie moans into the hollow of your throat.

With your lips now free, you manage, “Do you like it, then?”

Eddie’s head whips up, like he’s shocked you have to ask. “Hell yes. You look fucking gorgeous.”

Willing himself to gain some self-control, Eddie slows his pace. He peels himself away from you with reluctance, standing back up, and motions with his index finger for you to spin around. “Hands and knees, baby. Wanna see that pretty ass in the air.”

You scramble to the center of the bed on all fours. Once in position, Eddie runs his fingertips down your back, brushing lightly down your spine and back up again, making you shiver. Then he flattens his warm, calloused palms against your skin, rubbing in one smooth motion from your shoulders to your bottom, grasping each bare cheek in his hands and giving them a tight squeeze. “So pretty,” he croons, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to each one. “You’re my angel, you know that?”

You already feel flushed, dizzy, intoxicated by his praise and the feel of his hands, and the sensation of a single, curly tendril falling from over his shoulder and brushing against the back of your thigh. Eddie lets go of one cheek and runs a finger over the back piece of the frilly thong, toying lightly with the fabric nestled between your cheeks. You suck in a sharp breath as his finger dances along the crevice.

“I like this,” he muses, then wallops a firm slap! against your ass. Nothing brutal — hard enough to bring the blood to the surface of the skin, warm and stinging, but not so hard that you’re writhing in pain.

It’s like giving you a kiss, really.

He spanks the other cheek and you let out a little yelp. Eddie rubs the skin soothingly, easing the pain away. Then he pulls the crotch of your panties aside, already warm and sticky with arousal. Mouth positively watering, the heady, pungent scent of your sex filling his nostrils, he leans in, and starts teasing you with little kitten-licks, cleaning away the soft wetness leaking out of your cunt.

You moan wantonly, burying your face into the downy bed cover.

Eddie’s hands grasp at your hips, your ass, your thighs, anything that’ll keep him steady while he eats you out from behind like a man starved. His tongue picks up speed, alternating between broad stripes and precise, intricate patterns with the tip of his tongue, which dips inside of you, and after a few shallow thrusts, is replaced with a finger, then two. His mouth latches onto your clit, lips sealing around the sweet little bud, sucking gently while his thick fingers pump in and out of you, curling just so.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he groans against the slick flesh, “my sweet girl.” He lavishes a series of rapid, sucking kisses against your clit, and you fall to pieces.

“Eddie!”

Skin alight and tingly, panting heavily, you push recklessly back against Eddie’s face and he lets you do as you will, helping you ride out your orgasm. “That’s it, baby,” he encourages, words muffled by your cunt, “cum for me.”

As you come back down, your bones feel soft and spongy; you’re drowning in oxytocin and dopamine, floating in that sweet, dreamy space that only Eddie can take you to. He moves the underwear back into place, and rearranges your pliant limbs so you’re no longer on your hands and knees, but lying comfortably on your back. He shimmies out of his clothes quickly, shucking off the black jeans and t-shirt in record time. When he pulls his boxers down, his cock springs free, red and weeping; he jerks himself with a few quick tugs. You moisten your lips involuntarily at the sight, and move to sit up, eyes locked onto his heavy balls and girthy shaft.

But Eddie has other plans. “You can suck me off later, if you want to, princess.” He grins salaciously. “But right now I need to be inside you.”

He climbs on the bed, crawling between your legs, and turns his focus to your breasts. He lavishes the same attention on your tits as he did your ass, fondling them in the soft, barely-there cups, swiping his thumbs into the space where your nipples are exposed, pinching lightly, rolling them between his fingers.

The bra comes off, and he doesn’t hesitate to take a pebbled nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. When he’s finished with one, he kisses his way across your chest to the other. “Love these tits so much,” he mumbles into the swell of your breast before sucking the next one into his mouth, making sure he shows it the amount of same love. He looks up at you with big puppy eyes, and your fingers weave securely into his hair while he sucks.

Releasing your breast with a wet, almost-comical pop, he straightens back up and pinches the waistband of your panties between two fingers. Slowly, agonizingly, he pulls them down, baring you completely. Cool air hits your sticky, aching middle, and your legs tremble in anticipation.

The curls on your pubic mound have gone soft, dampened with sweat and arousal; he strokes them with loving fingers before continuing to pull the underwear down your thighs, past your knees and calves, until they’re completely off. He bites his full bottom lip, eyeing your cunt. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he promises you. Then he brings the panties up to his nose and sniffs delicately.

You squeal and kick at him playfully with one foot. He catches your ankle and snickers, pressing a quick kiss to your heel. “What? I like how you smell. I like how you taste, how you sound, how you look…” he trails off, staring at your body beneath him with lovestruck eyes. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He runs his hands down your sides in admiration, feeling every curve and crevice and dimple and bump, and loving all of them.

“So are you.”

He reaches out to cup your face with one hand. You lay your own hand on top of his and sigh, hoping you can feel this way with him forever.

Eddie twines his fingers through yours, and presses your interlocked hands into the mattress beside your head. He lays over top of you, settling in slowly, all franticness from earlier gone. He rubs his body against yours, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, savoring the feeling, both of you letting out soft moans at the sensation of his hard cock slipping against your wet folds.

He tucks his face into the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Y’ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please…”

“Good girl. So polite.” Eddie lines himself up and slips inside of you, pushing in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his length. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, breathing heavily into the skin. When you moan, and clutch at his shoulders, he understands that you’re giving him permission to speed up. His hips start to rock into yours a little bit faster, a little bit harder.

You move in tandem. The bed creaks. The two of you are a mere tangle of limbs; holding each other this close, it’s impossible to tell where your body ends and Eddie’s begins.

You whimper at the feeling of his thick cock pumping in and out of you, stretching you out in an exhilarating mix of pleasure-almost-pain. “Tha’s it, baby, let me hear you. Wanna hear all your pretty noises,” Eddie says, voice ragged. “Let me know how good it feels.”

“Feels so good, Eddie,” you tell him brokenly, thoroughly fucked-out. “Feels so big.”

At that, his thrusts become sloppier. “Yeah? My cock makin’ you all nice and full?” He snakes a hand down to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb. He knew the second he saw you in that getup he wasn’t gonna last long — honestly, he’s surprised he made it this far with blowing his load.

With the added stimulation over your sensitive bud, you’re nearly there. The scent of sex, spiced body wash, and tobacco invade your senses, so all you can think of is Eddie. The muscles of your abdomen tighten, the walls of your cunt clenching around Eddie’s cock — you’re teetering on the precipice of climax. Eddie wants it like nothing he’s ever wanted before.

His lips at your ear. “Give me one more sweetheart you’re so close I can feel it —”

A second orgasm overtakes you, pleasure bolting from your core in every direction. You cry out, biting into his shoulder, nails digging crescent-moons into his back. He holds you tightly and works you through it, concentrating on your release, though his own is right on its heels.

It’s too much. “Kiss me,” he begs, and then, not waiting for an answer, desperately seals his mouth to yours, so urgently that it’s merely a collision of lips and noses. Equally drunk on you as you are on him, amidst the aftershocks of your own pleasure, Eddie finally lets himself go. The taut rubber band inside of him finally snaps — he cums as deep inside of you as he can with a guttural groan, curling his body around yours, hips stuttering an uneven rhythm.

The rush fades slowly, and Eddie slumps against you, pulling his cock out when it eventually softens, which wrenches another sigh from you. You both lie there together and pant, waiting for your heart rates to slow. Eddie’s warm seed starts to trickle out, adding to the wet mess between your legs.

Eddie dots a few hazy kisses to your neck, and you push the sweaty hair back from his perfect face.

With some effort, he lifts his head up, and his eyes find yours. He shoots you an exhausted grin. “You’re too good, baby. How’d I get so lucky?”

You laugh, knowing he did most of the work. “I could ask you the same thing.”

His smile softens, becoming a besotted, giddy thing. He takes your face in between his two hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“I love you,” he pecks at your lips, “so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Eddie.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #in retrospect. this feels like a missed opportunity to put eddie in lingerie again :(

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anantaru · 1 year

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EX HUSBAND ALHAITHAM

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — ex! husband alhaitham headcanons

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — fluff, crack??, [ex]plicit, fem! reader, just a sprinkle of possessiveness but not detailed, kaveh is a paid actor in this

ex! husband alhaitham who will transparently accept your decision to the divorce, in defiance of his own individualistic judgment about your commitment. Truthfully, and as far as one can tell, he was anything else but delighted by it, yet he was aware that he couldn't force such decision out of you, quite bothersome— he thinks.

ex! husband alhaitham who will come off as decidedly snotty in the first couple instances of your next meet ups, but when you propose the rational idea of keeping a distance between each other he will blatantly refuse it and assure you that he still considers you as his best friend regardless of the vexing circumstances of your failed relationship.

ex! husband alhaitham who you undisputedly trust when he guarantees you that he's over the entire situation just as much as you were, no, he in fact did not think you both would get back together but it was a logical process to look after a 'friend', so he doesn't understand your sense of reluctance at first. Yes, again, you're free to do whatever you want as long as you both continue to harvest a flourishing friendship.

ex! husband alhaitham who will keep a sprinkling of his own belongings in your home even after he moved back into his old house— he will always assure you that he's going to get them, really, once he's free from working but he never does. It's a secret (and beneficial) way of forcing you to see random possessions that will remind you of him.

ex! husband alhaitham who still pays things regarding your entire house, even though he isn't living there anymore— though he wants to do it regardless. When you proceed to tell him that it's okay, you got it covered and you can't be dependable on him forever he's warily accepting it but will then silently outlay several bills behind your person without ever telling you— because it's really not a big deal and he doesn't understand why you're making it one.

ex! husband alhaitham who will quiz kaveh more often now after your divorce to stealthily find out about your latest happenings or if you've bumped into another relationship thus far. In the early stages, your friend kaveh wasn't pleased about aiding your ex in this taxing scheme, but in the fullness of time he will be exceptionally beguiled into thinking it's to assure you're doing okay after the divorce.

ex! husband alhaitham who had the splendid idea to meet up for dinner (or lunch) at your once shared house periodically, giving no additional elaboration to it— as he put it, it's to fortify your innocent cordial bond, without having any ulterior motives behind the sudden urge.

ex! husband alhaitham who will ridicule every budding relationship (or friendship) that would embark into your space but he'd do it dubiously respectful as well as passive aggressive so you initially won't catch onto it. Whenever someone would claim to know a particular fact about you, ex! husband alhaitham would beg to differ and instead, correct them.

once you're asking ex! husband alhaitham to tone it down a little— otherwise some might think you're still a couple or rekindling, he's retracting the question to you and ask if you're really okay with someone spreading misinformation about you.

ex! husband alhaitham who will downrightly tell you that no matter the coeval occurrences, you are still his person and that he frankly isn't interested in dating or pursuing someone else, he'd rather just focus on work and live a comfortable life with you by his side, he didn't care if you're his friend or spouse.

ex! husband alhaitham who will be— for once, at loss of words when you're telling him to stop making it so challenging, that there was a reason you have decided to call it quits and that he's only making it more difficult for you to fully move on. And the moment he'd perceive that he'd ask you what you meant by 'fully move on'. have you not entirely moved on yet?

ex! husband alhaitham who will take a step closer to you now, yet leaving enough space in between your bodies to not unanticipatedly overwhelm you when his eyes slowly blink over yours, demanding the truth. On how his breathing was quickening, you knew there was something he did not show you or was meant for you to be seen.

ex! husband alhaitham whose skin will be covered in goosebumps the moment you place your hand on top of his chest, right above his pounding heart. He's watching you closely and not once, averting his gaze from you. You do not talk, neither does he— it's as if you both had left it to your bodies to speak.

ex! husband alhaitham who couldn't hold himself back anymore and drew your face towards his with your chin tugged in between his thumb and pointer finger, placing a fine kiss on your sweet lips— he immediately registered just how much he missed the trifling touch of you, or the comfort your glow would convey on his, as if you were touching his hidden soul through nothing but a amiable trace.

ex! husband alhaitham who will deepen the kiss, heaving as to try to catch his own breath when you push your tongue past his lips, toying with his wetness with your arms tightly enclosed around his neck. Somehow, everything you knew had become muddled and dimmed, it's all the more difficult to let go when it came to someone like him.

ex! husband alhaitham who will kindly shush you with a chime of sweet, quick kisses while pulling you towards your once shared room, assuring you that whatever will happen after this moment, you'd get through it together— as a team.

ex! husband alhaitham who will be more animated than any other days you both had been intimate with each other, from someone who was commonly laid back in the process of it all, he now wanted to see and witness it on his skin, soul and touch. It was excruciating to catch onto his fondles and meet ups, how needful the both of you had gotten from the warm kisses.

ex! husband alhaitham who'd gently push you on top of the mattress and skillfully kick your legs apart with his knees to dwell amidst your thighs. The moment he's entirely on top of you, you had already intuited his stiffened cock beating within the confinements of his pants. He's grinding himself into you— appearing almost feral by how nasty and unyielding he was, but you loved it, because you have missed him so very much.

ex! husband alhaitham who will spoil you the whole night as to show what you willingly gave up— he wants to make sure it's engraved in your body, the trace of his soft lips, the loud darts of his tongue, the warm slurps of his mouth drilling past your folds to collect the slick that was only meant for him to taste and treasure.

ex! husband alhaitham who will decorate the inside of your thighs with gentle nibs and bite marks because at this point the control over his own emotions and needs have been kindly dwindling away. He can't recognize himself whenever he's intimate with you, whenever he's on the brink of release, it feels like he arrived where he should be, in a comfortable space with the love of his life.

ex! husband alhaitham who will kiss from your clit up to your lower stomach— smooching your belly twice, then prod his tongue out and lap all to your collarbone until finding solace on your neck, guzzling on the skin simultaneously to hovering his tip over your entrance. When he perceives your legs automatically spread farther and wrap around him— as you always did prior to the divorce, it will make him lose his mind.

ex! husband alhaitham who will set a unmanageable maddening tempo, in order for him to gape into your face and see all the sweet reactions coming from his thick cock fitting so perfectly inside of you. He notices the twitch in your brows, the gentle cradle of your lips— in a sweet pout, or how your eyes are huddling together but feebly trying to open up and see him, to thank him through nothing but your expressions.

ex! husband alhaitham whose head will suddenly feel heavy and if it wasn't for it resting against your forehead, he'd be sure it'll flop into your neck on how passionate the surroundings have gotten. He's readjusting himself and pulling your legs up so he could easily push them into your chest, his muscles were tensed and you noticed how controlled his breathing was, he's glowing and appeared majestic in front of you.

ex! husband alhaitham who would, in any other circumstances, have troubles talking about his feelings, mouth a fragile 'I love you' and making sure you see it. When he notices your eyes widen at it he's certain you know that, fuck, the entire divorce has been eating him up from the very within, if you discard of him, he wouldn't know how to react, what to do or if he's supposed to just walk away from you.

ex! husband alhaitham who will pick up the tempo on his hips the moment you return the sentence to him, when you tell him that you still love him, that you shouldn't have gone so far as to break off this marriage, but instead work more on the reappearing problems which were encountered in your marriage.

ex! husband alhaitham who senses the warm tears bubble out from the outer corners of your glassy eyes and who's swiftly sweeping them away with his thumb, leaning close until every warm exhale of his breathing coats your plump lips.

ex! husband alhaitham who before releasing his white seed in you, pauses the tumbling mess on your soiled cunt and buries himself deep to the hilt, leaving you to whine at the fullness of his heavy cock in you, begging him to mess you up with his cum.

ex! husband alhaitham who watches you in a concentrated manner— within a logical approach, because you belonged to him, he never saw it in any other form, even after all he still saw you as such, his spouse, the person he called upon whenever he was in need of company.

ex husband series.

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p4p1l0nn · 1 month

Text

triple lee; naughtier the better.

── part one. two. three. mlist. wc: 9.1k

pairing: plug!haechan x plug!mark x stoner!reader x stoner!jeno

content warning: 18+ unprotected sex, humping, thigh riding, masturbation, explicit smut, etc, mdni.

a/n: introducing the first part of the triple lee series! starting off slow, but trust me, it gets better. happy reading ♡

like any other friday night, the air in the dimly lit room was thick with anticipation and the pungent smell of marijuana. you stood amidst a throng of people, their laughter mingling with the pulsating beat of the music.

neon lights danced across the walls, casting ever changing shadows that seemed to mirror the shifting moods of the partygoers.

your senses were alive with the sensory overload of the party — the taste of the cheap beer on their lips, the rhythmic vibrations coursing through their body, the kaleidoscope of colors swirling before their eyes — a flashback revealed how it all began.

earlier that day, you had been lounging on your couch, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when your phone buzzed with a text message from haechan.

“party at my place tonight. you better be there or else,” the message read, accompanied by a string of emoji depicting various threats, including a clown face and a pile of poo.

rolling your eyes, you fired back a response. “thanks, but i think i'll pass tonight.”

haechan's reply came swiftly, filled with exaggerated indignation. “absolutely not. you're coming, and that's final. besides, we haven't seen you in ages. it'll be fun, i promise!”

just as you were about to protest further, another message from haechan popped up on your phone. “oh, and by the way, mark’s gonna be there too, with his new stash, sure you don't want to come?” he added with a winking emoji, knowing full well that you had a soft spot for quality cannabis.

grumbling to yourself, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity at the prospect of trying out some new strains. with a resigned sigh, you typed out a reluctant response. "fine, fine. i'll be there. but you owe me big time for this."

knowing full well that haechan's version of "fun" often involved copious amounts of alcohol and questionable decision-making.

and here you are, finding yourself swept up in the chaos of the party, surrounded by friends and strangers alike. you can't help but shake your head at the absurdity of it all. if only haechan hadn't resorted to such drastic measures to ensure your attendance. but then again, where's the fun in a quiet night at home?

cursing under your breath, "that shithead," you're suddenly interrupted when someone taps on the right side of your shoulder, earning your attention. turning to see who it is, you're met with the mischievous grin of your friend, mark, who's known as one of the infamous plugs in town. “well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he teases, a playful twinkle in his eye.

you roll your eyes at his comment, but can't help but smile at his familiar antics. "yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you retort, playfully nudging him with your elbow. "what's up, mark? selling your goods at the party now?" you ask with a smirk, knowing full well his reputation as the go-to guy for quality cannabis.

mark chuckles, reaching into his pocket to produce a small pouch filled with an assortment of colorful buds. "you know it," he replies with a wink, "got something special for you tonight. it's a new hybrid strain called 'purple haze dream.' trust me, you're gonna love it." intrigued, you lean in closer to get a whiff of the aroma, already feeling a sense of anticipation building within you.

"purple haze dream," mark begins, his voice taking on a more serious tone as he delves into the details. "it's a hybrid strain, a cross between purple haze and dream queen. the aroma is something else - hints of sweet berries and citrus with a subtle earthy undertone. when you take that first hit, you'll notice how smooth it is, no harshness at all."

you nod, listening intently as mark continues. "as for the effects, it's a balanced hybrid, so you'll get the best of both worlds. the purple haze brings a euphoric, uplifting high that'll have you feeling creative and energized, while the dream queen adds a calming, relaxing touch that'll melt away any stress or tension."

you can practically taste the flavors and feel the effects just from mark's description alone. "sounds amazing," you reply, a hint of excitement creeping into your voice. "can't wait to try it out."

mark grins, clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. "you're gonna love it, dude, trust me. just let me know if you need anything else."

"thanks, mark. really appreciate it," you say, genuinely grateful for his assistance. "i've been meaning to catch up with you anyway. it's been a while since i've restocked."

mark nods, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "yeah, it has been months, hasn't it?" he replies, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "you used to be one of my most loyal customers. what happened?"

you pause, taken aback by the question. "oh, you know, life gets busy," you respond with a shrug, trying to play it off casually. "i've just been trying to cut back a bit, you know?"

but the truth is, it's not just about cutting back on cannabis consumption. it's about the struggle to make ends meet after your three roommates moved out to live with their partners.

living alone for the first time in years, you're faced with the daunting task of shouldering the rent and bills all on your own. gone are the days when splitting expenses with your roommates made everything easy. now, every dollar counts, and you find yourself scrimping and saving wherever you can. you even took up odd jobs like dog-walking and freelance writing to make ends meet, but it's still not enough.

you shake off the weight of your worries as mark's next words draw you back to the present. "cutting back, huh? or maybe you've found a new plug?" he teases, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

you can't help but laugh at his suggestion. "oh, please," you retort, shaking your head in amusement. "as if anyone could ever replace you, mark."

mark chuckles, seemingly satisfied with your response. "that's what i like to hear," he replies, his tone lightening once more. "but hey, no hard feelings. just know that i've always got the good stuff whenever you need it."

you nod, a faint grin playing on your lips. "sounds good. i'll keep that in mind. might have to restock sooner than i thought." you pauses, considering your next words carefully. "by the way, if you ever come across any new strains or anything interesting, let me know. always up for trying something different."

mark lets out a hearty laugh, his grin widening. "always on the lookout for something special for my girl," he says with a playful wink.

"smoke break?" mark suggests with a nod towards the balcony, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

you chuckle to yourself, muttering, "man will always be man," before nodding in agreement. "sounds good," you reply, feeling a sudden urge to break away from the crowd and enjoy a moment of solitude.

as you make your way to the balcony, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. the chaos of the party fades into the background as you step outside into the cool night air, the sounds of laughter and music muffled by the distance. leaning against the railing, you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

reaching into your pocket, you retrieve the pouch of "purple haze dream" that mark gave you earlier. with trembling fingers, you carefully roll a joint, savoring the ritualistic process as you grind the buds and wrap them in paper.

it's been too long since you've indulged in such a simple pleasure, and you find yourself growing increasingly excited at the prospect of experiencing the effects of the strain firsthand.

chugging down the last of your drink, you flick your cigarette butt off the balcony and light up the joint, taking a long, slow drag. the smoke fills your lungs, sending a wave of relaxation coursing through your body. closing your eyes, you let out a contented sigh, feeling the tension melt away with each exhale.

the flavors dance across your palate, exactly as mark had described earlier - each puff of the joint a symphony of sensations. the sweet berries and citrus notes burst forth, tantalizing your taste buds with their vibrant intensity, while the subtle earthy undertone adds a depth and richness that lingers on your tongue. it's a truly exquisite blend, unlike anything you've ever tasted before, and you find yourself marveling at the complexity of flavors with each inhale.

as the smoke swirls around you, you feel yourself being transported to another world, a realm of pure bliss and euphoria. your senses are heightened, every sound, every color, every sensation amplified to almost overwhelming levels. it's as if you're floating on a cloud, weightless and free, with nothing but the warm embrace of the night air to anchor you to reality.

but even as you revel in the intoxicating effects of the cannabis, a part of you wonders if it's just the smoke itself that's making you feel so high, or if it's the combination of the drinks you've been consuming for hours now. either way, you couldn't care less. in this moment, lost in the haze of smoke, you feel alive in a way you haven't in ages.

with a contented sigh, you take another drag from the joint, letting the smoke fill your lungs and wash over you in waves of pure euphoria.

"well, that was hot," mark remarks from beside you, his voice cutting through the silence of the night.

you open your eyes to see mark smirking at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. chuckling, you pass the joint to him. "you wish," you retort playfully, enjoying the easy banter between you.

mark takes a drag from the joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the night air. "hey, a guy can dream, can't he?" he replies with a grin.

you laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "dream on, mark," you tease.

before mark can reply, his phone suddenly rings, and he pauses mid-sentence, locking eyes with you as he reaches into his pocket to answer the call.

"yo, what's good?" mark says into the phone, his tone shifting to a more business-like demeanor. as he listens to the voice on the other end, his expression grows more serious, his brows furrowing in concentration.

studying him intently, you realize just now how good looking mark is. his chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, and confident demeanor make him stand out in any crowd. you understand why he's the infamous plug in town - with a face like that, a body like that, it's no wonder he's so well known and respected.

or maybe it's the effect of the smoke or the drink or whatever it was. trying to rationalize the sudden intensity of your attraction towards mark. but damn, he's breathtakingly beautiful and hot. sexy, if you may add.

as your thoughts wander, you can't help but imagine what it would be like to be with him intimately. you picture his strong arms wrapped around you, his lips trailing kisses along your neck as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. the mere thought sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within you.

you wonder how it would feel to be pressed against him, skin against skin, feeling the heat of his body mingling with yours. you imagine his hands exploring every inch of your body, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you with each touch.

and then, your mind drifts to more dangerous thoughts - how skilled he must be in bed, how he knows just the right buttons to push to drive you wild with desire. you can almost hear his voice, husky with passion, as he whispers promises of pleasure and ecstasy.

shaking your head to clear away the daring images, you take another drag from the joint, hoping to banish the fantasies that threaten to consume you. but deep down, you know that the allure of mark's undeniable charm and charisma will linger long after the smoke dissipates, leaving you craving more of his intoxicating presence.

"yeah, i’m a bit strapped for your regular at the moment,” mark admitted, his tone casual. “but hey, i can hook you up with someone else– you really need it, huh?” he added, chuckling lightly. “alright, meet me at the usual in fifteen.”

turning his attention back to you, mark offers an apologetic smile. "sorry about that," he says, his tone sincere. “got a customer who’s eager to meet up. can’t leave them hanging, you know how it is,” he glanced at his phone, typing out a quick message to confirm the meet up. “would you like to come along? figured it might be a nice change of scenery.”

you nod in agreement, feeling grateful for the opportunity to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the party. "yeah, that sounds like a plan," you reply, mustering up a smile of your own. "i could use some fresh air."

the drive wasn't long, taking about fifteen to twenty minutes to reach the destination. you find yourselves in a quiet neighborhood, the streets dimly lit by the occasional streetlamp. the houses are close together, with narrow alleys snaking between them. it's the kind of place where you can imagine secrets lurking in every shadow.

as he pull up to the curb, you notice a figure standing on the sidewalk, dressed in a hoodie and a cap pulled low over their face. despite the dim light, you can see mark's face light up with recognition as he eagerly greets the man, extending his arms for a bro hug.

it's fascinating to see another side of mark, one that exists outside of the party scene and the role of the infamous plug in town.

just as mark points in your direction, signaling for his friend to see you, your phone buzzes with a notification. pulling it out of your pocket, you see a drunken text from haechan, filled with typos and nonsensical ramblings.

"heyy y/n! m missing u at the partyy :( wen r u coming back? we need more of ur dance moves lololol," the message reads, accompanied by a string of laughing emojis.

rolling your eyes at haechan's antics, you quickly type out a reply before slipping your phone back into your pocket.

just as you're about to look back to where mark was, both he and the mysterious figure have vanished into the shadows. you're about to shrug it off when suddenly, the door to the driver's seat bursts open, startling you.

you let out a yelp of surprise, instinctively jerking away from the sudden intrusion. heart racing, you turn to see mark slipping into the seat beside you, a mischievous grin on his face.

"mark, what the hell?" you exclaim.

mark chuckles, his laughter filling the car. "should've seen the look on your face," he says, wiping away a tear of laughter from his eye. "priceless."

you can't help but join in his laughter, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

as you catch your breath, mark reaches over and pats you on the shoulder reassuringly. "sorry about that, dude," he says, his tone genuine. "just couldn't resist messing with you a little."

you shake your head, unable to suppress a smile. "yeah, yeah, very funny," you reply, playfully rolling your eyes at him. "just don't make a habit of it, okay?"

mark chuckles at your response, the mischievous glint still dancing in his eyes. "no promises," he teases, winking at you before pulling away from the curb.

the feeling of fuzziness settling over you, a lingering effect of the smoke and drinks from earlier. despite the cool night air streaming through the open window, you can't seem to shake the foggy sensation clouding your thoughts.

"actually, mark, do you mind if we skip the rest of the night?" you ask, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "i'm feeling a bit fuzzy, and i think i just want to head back home."

mark nods understandingly, his expression softening with concern. "of course, i got you, dude," he replies, his tone gentle.

as you finally pull up to your apartment building, you thank mark for his kindness before stepping out into the cool night air. however, just as you're about to close the door, a sudden thought strikes you.

"hey, mark," you call out, leaning back into the car. "before i forget, how much did you say the goods were?"

mark grins, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small notebook. "ah, right," he replies, flipping through the pages. "for you, i can do a special deal. how about fifty for an eighth?"

you nod, impressed by the offer. "that sounds pretty reasonable," you reply, "and how soon could you have it ready for me?"

"i can have it ready for you by tomorrow afternoon," he assures you, "freshly harvested and ready to go."

you smile, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of stocking up on such a high-quality strain. "sounds perfect," you say, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your wallet. "consider it a done deal."

the next day starts off hectic as you wake up to find a letter slipped under your door. your heart sinks as you read the words written on the paper. it's a notice from the landlord, reminding you of your pending rent and warning of potential consequences if it's not paid soon.

feeling a wave of stress wash over you, you sit down on the edge of your bed, clutching the letter in your hands. how could you have let things get this bad? with your mind racing with worries about eviction and financial struggles, you realize that you need to find a solution - and fast.

just as you're about to spiral further into despair, your phone rings, interrupting your thoughts. it's haechan, calling you just in time, as if he were a heaven-sent messenger.

"babe," haechan exclaims cheerfully. "listen, i was just thinking, do you happen to have enough room for three grown men?"

you can't help but laugh at the coincidence of his question. "actually, haechan, funny you should ask," you reply, your voice tinged with relief. "i could use some roommates right about now. things have been a bit tight lately."

haechan's excitement is palpable through the phone. "bingo! i've got the perfect roommates in mind," he says eagerly. "i'll send them over to check out the place later today if that's alright with you."

you nod, feeling grateful for haechan's timely intervention. "sounds good to me," you say, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "thanks, bud. i owe you one."

"yeah, you do, because i'm part of that three grown men," haechan replies, his voice full of mischief. "see you later!"

time ticks by quickly as you go about your day, running errands and tidying up your apartment in anticipation of your new roommates' arrival. you're lost in a whirlwind of activity, barely noticing the hours slipping away until you're jolted out of your thoughts by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

with a quick glance at the clock, you realize that it's already later than you expected. hastily wiping your hands on a dish towel, you rush to answer the door.

as you swing the door open, you're taken aback by the sight of the first person standing on your doorstep. he gives off a slightly cold aura, his sharp features accentuated by the dim light filtering through the doorway. his veiny arms are visible under the sleeves of his shirt, adding to the intimidating presence he exudes.

"uh, hi there," you greet cautiously, unsure of what to make of this unexpected visitor.

the man's lips curl into a faint smile, "hey," he replies in a low, husky voice. "i'm here about the room."

you nod, trying to ignore the unease creeping up your spine. "right, come on in," you say, stepping aside to let him enter.

as he steps into the apartment, you can't help but study him discreetly, taking note of his piercing gaze and the way he carries himself with a certain confidence. there's something mysterious about him, something that makes you curious yet wary at the same time.

"make yourself at home," you offer, gesturing towards the living room. "i'll go get you something to drink."

as you retreat to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, your mind is still occupied with thoughts of the man who now occupies your living room. what caught your attention the most was his stance - it looked oddly familiar, yet you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

you pause in the kitchen, leaning against the countertop as you try to recall where you might have seen someone with such a commanding presence before. was it at a party? a chance encounter on the street? you're not sure, but there's something about him that tugs at the edges of your memory, begging to be remembered.

returning to the living room with a glass of water in hand, you cast a curious glance at the man who now sits on the couch, his cap still covering half of his face. you can't help but feel a sense of frustration at not being able to see his features clearly - it's like trying to solve a puzzle with half of the pieces missing.

"here you go," you say, offering him the glass of water with a polite smile. "sorry, i don't have any coffee made yet."

he accepts the water with a nod of thanks, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. there's something intense about his stare, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"thanks," he replies, his voice low and gravelly. "no worries about the coffee."

as you watch him take a sip of water, you can't shake the feeling of unease that settles over you. internally, you curse haechan for not providing more details about the man who were supposed to rent the room. if only he had been more specific, you might have been better prepared for the strange encounter unfolding before you.

feeling the awkward tension thickening the air, you try to break the silence with some small talk, hoping to ease the discomfort of the situation. but before you can utter another word, he beats you to it with a blunt question.

"how much is the rent?" he asks, his tone plain and rude.

taken aback by his abruptness, you falter for a moment before composing yourself. "uh, well, it's $300 a month for each room," you reply, trying to keep your tone even despite the growing sense of irritation.

the man nods, as if considering the information, before setting the glass of water down on the coffee table with a thud. "alright then," he says curtly, his gaze flickering towards the door. "i'll take it."

you can't help but feel a surge of annoyance at his dismissive attitude, but you suppress it as best as you can. after all, you need the rent money, and beggars can't be choosers.

"great," you say, forcing a smile. "i'll get you the paperwork to sign."

as you retreat to your room to fetch the rental agreement, another doorbell rings, jolting you out of your thoughts. with a sigh, you swerve to the door, but before you can reach it, again, the man beats you to it, opening the door as if he owns the place. technically, he does now, but his sudden display of ownership still catches you off guard.

to your surprise, he seems positively excited as he greets the guest at the door, his demeanor a stark contrast to his earlier dismissive attitude. confused by his sudden change in behavior, you hurry over to the door to see who it is.

as you approach, you're greeted by the sight of mark standing in the doorway, a wide grin on his face. "yo, dude! you didn't tell me our roommate is gonna be jeno? this is sick!" he exclaims, his excitement palpable.

confused by his words, you furrow your brow and ask, "our?"

mark's grin widens as he steps further into the apartment. "yeah, our," he replies, clapping you on the shoulder. "i'm also renting the room. i'll explain later, but for now, let's just say it's gonna be lit."

you blink in surprise, processing the sudden revelation. so mark was also going to be your roommate. you can't help but wonder what other surprises the day has in store for you.

"have you two already introduced yourselves?" mark asks, glancing between you and the jeno guy who now stands in the living room.

still feeling a bit stunned by the revelation of mark's own rental arrangement, you shake your head slightly, silently admitting that you haven't exchanged names yet.

mark clears his throat, breaking the silence. "alright, enough with the awkwardness," he says with a grin. "y/n, meet jeno. jeno, meet y/n. you two are gonna be roommates from now on."

you exchange brief nods of acknowledgment, the tension in the air dissipating as mark's straightforward introduction breaks the ice. with the formalities out of the way, you can't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that you'll be sharing your living space with familiar faces.

mark then adds with a chuckle, "oh, and by the way, y/n, jeno here is the guy you and i met last night."

the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and everything suddenly falls into place. jeno, the mysterious man from last night, the one who needed a restock — now he stands before you, not as a stranger, but as your new roommate.

you can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, "well, isn't this a small world," you remark, a wry smile playing on your lips.

just as you and jeno share a glance at each other, the sound of raucous laughter and loud footsteps echoes through the hallway. before you can even process what's happening, the door bursts open, and in stumbles haechan, looking more disheveled than you've ever seen him.

"yooo, what's up, party people!" haechan shouts, his words slurring together as he teeters on the edge of drunkenness. "hope i'm not too late for the shindig!"

you can't help but raise an eyebrow at him. "haechan, it's barely noon. are you sure it's time for you to be drunk?" you quip.

haechan stumbles forward, his balance faltering, and you quickly reach out to steady him before he falls flat on his face. "whoa there," you say, managing to catch him just in time. "looks like you've had one too many already."

haechan grins sheepishly, his cheeks flushed with alcohol. "eh, you know me," he says with a careless shrug. "just trying to make the most of the day, you know?"

you shake your head, flicking haechan's forehead lightly before giving him a warning glance. "well, just try not to break anything," you reply, guiding him over to the couch where he flops down with a contented sigh.

"looks like we've got ourselves some deals to discuss," you say to the three men, your tone playful but firm. "i'll bring in the paper for you to sign and give the landlord a call to make it official."

you can't help but shake your head at the chaos that's sure to ensue with three men living under one roof. the thought of navigating their varying personalities, habits, and quirks fills you with excitement. but deep down, you know that life with mark, jeno, and haechan by your side will never be boring.

with jeno's mysterious aura, mark's laid-back charm, and haechan's unpredictable antics, you can already envision the countless adventures and misadventures that await you in your new living arrangement. from impromptu parties to late-night conversations and everything in between, it's bound to be a wild ride.

but amidst the chaos, there's a silver lining — having two seasoned plugs under one roof means that restocking your supply will be easier than ever. gone are the days of waiting anxiously for your dealer to respond or trekking across town to meet them in some shady alley. now, with mark, jeno, and haechan just a few steps away, you can refill your stash with ease, knowing that your cravings will always be satisfied.

months pass, and life in the apartment with the triple lee becomes a routine. but as familiarity settles in, so does an undeniable tension that simmers beneath the surface.

whenever you light up a joint, it seems like there's always at least one of them eager to join you. the air becomes thick with smoke, swirling around you in lazy tendrils as you pass the joint between your lips. and as you inhale deeply, you can't help but notice the way their eyes linger on you, their gazes burning with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

at first, you brush off the lingering stares as mere curiosity, but as time goes on, you begin to feel something more. it starts with fleeting glances and subtle touches — a hand brushing against yours as you pass the joint, a lingering gaze that lingers a little too long. the tension between you and your roommates — mark, jeno, and haechan — reaches a fever pitch.

and before you know it, you find yourself drawn to them in ways you never imagined possible. that leave you breathless.

mark, with his devilish grin, fuels your fantasies with thoughts of rough, passionate encounters. you imagine him pinning you against the wall, his hands roaming your body as he whispers dirty promises in your ear. with each passing day, the desire to feel his touch grows stronger, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

jeno, with his quiet intensity and smoldering gaze, awakens a primal hunger deep within you. you picture him taking control, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explores every inch of your body with a reverence that leaves you trembling with need. in your fantasies, he's the epitome of restraint, unleashing a torrent of pent-up desire that leaves you begging for more.

and then there's haechan, with his playful charm and infectious laughter, who ignites a wild, untamed passion within you. you envision him pushing you to your limits, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake as he leads you on a journey of ecstasy and abandon. with him, it's all about letting go of inhibitions and surrendering to the raw, primal pleasure that courses through your veins.

how could you resist envisioning them naked when you're so used to seeing them walking around half naked, their toned bodies on display for all to see? it's a constant temptation, one that grows stronger with each passing day.

one evening, as you make your way to the bathroom, you're startled to find mark already inside, his shirt discarded on the floor as he stands before the mirror, shirtless and unapologetically confident. "oh, sorry," he says, flashing you a charming grin as he moves to step aside.

but instead of retreating, you find yourself frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from his chiseled physique. the sight of him, all lean muscle and taut skin, sends a jolt of desire coursing through you.

with a playful smirk, mark steps closer, his gaze smoldering. "you sure you're okay, love?" he asks, his voice low and husky as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "you seem a little . . . distracted."

his touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a primal hunger within you that demands to be satisfied. without thinking, you lean into his touch, your body craving the warmth of his skin against yours.

"i . . . i'm fine," you stammer out, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to maintain control. but deep down, you know that you're anything but fine. in fact, you're on the verge of losing yourself completely to the overwhelming desire that consumes you.

mark's teasing grin only widens, his eyes darkening with desire as he moves closer, closing the distance between you until you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

"are you sure about that?" he murmurs, as he trails his fingers lightly along the curve of your jaw, sending electric sparks dancing across your skin. "because you seem awfully tense, y/n. maybe i can help you relax."

his words send a shiver of anticipation coursing through you, your breath catching in your throat as you feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. with each movement, he inches closer, his proximity setting your senses ablaze with longing.

you can feel the heat of his body pressing against yours. and as his lips hover just inches from yours, you find yourself powerless to resist the magnetic pull of temptation.

"mark . . ." you whispered, your voice barely a breathless sigh as you lean in closer, your lips dangerously close to his.

just when you think he's about to close the distance between you, brings his free hand to your back while his lips still hover close to fetch the hairdryer.

"got it," mark says with a mischievous smile, his eyes dancing with amusement as he breaks the spell, stepping away from you. "you can have the bathroom, love. i'm done anyways."

he winks at you before disappearing into his room, leaving you cursing him under your breath as you're left standing there, your senses reeling from the dizzying whirlwind of desire that he's left in his wake, his teasing leaving you feeling flushed and unexpectedly horny.

"fuck you, mark lee,"

all you can do is help yourself, your mind consumed with thoughts of them as you seek relief through self-pleasure.

despite your best efforts, the ache of desire persists, lingering in the depths of your being like an insatiable hunger that cannot be satisfied. even as your fingers work tirelessly to bring you to the brink of release, you find yourself yearning for something more, something deeper — a connection that transcends the physical act of pleasure.

but still, you press on, knowing that even if your touch alone isn't enough to fulfill your needs entirely, it's a temporary reprieve from the relentless onslaught of desire. and in this moment of desperation, you'll take whatever relief you can get, no matter how fleeting or inadequate it may seem. for now, it's enough to quell the raging fire of horniness that burns within you, if only for a fleeting moment.

shaken from your reverie, you blink rapidly, the harsh fluorescent lights of the grocery store aisle glaring down at you. reality comes crashing back in waves, and you realize with a start that you've been standing in the same spot for who knows how long, lost in the depths of your own thoughts.

embarrassment floods through you as you glance around, hoping that no one noticed your momentary lapse in awareness. hastily, you grab the item you came for and make your way to the checkout counter, eager to escape the prying eyes of the other shoppers.

as you wait in line, you can't shake the lingering feeling of arousal that still pulses beneath your skin, a reminder of the fantasies that had consumed your mind just moments before. with a shake of your head, you push the thoughts aside, determined to focus on the task at hand.

finally, you pay for your items and make your way out of the store, the warm afternoon air washing over you like a welcome reprieve. with each step, you feel the weight of the day slowly lifting from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of calm and clarity.

as you head back home, you make a silent vow to keep your needs in check, knowing that indulging in them would only lead to more trouble than it's worth.

reaching into your bag, you fumble for your keys, the weight of the metal reassuring in your hand as you approach the door to your shared apartment. with a twist of the lock, you step inside, greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of home.

until, the faint sound of a groan catches your attention, a low, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as you strain to identify the source of the noise.

your mind races with possibilities, each one more harder than the last. could it be one of your roommates, lost in the throes of passion with a lover? or perhaps it's just the creaking of the old floorboards, a trick of the imagination brought on by the late afternoon and the dim lighting.

but even as you entertain the possibility of your roommates enjoying their intimate session behind your back, a nagging doubt gnaws at the edges of your mind. after all, as far as you know, none of them have ever brought girls back to the apartment without letting you know beforehand.

could they be sneaking around behind your back? the thought stirs a mix of anger and hurt or maybe even . . . jealous?

although it's none of your business, a sudden surge of protectiveness washes over you, urging you to intervene. you're not sure why this sudden urge to meddle has taken hold of you. could it be jealousy, bubbling up from deep within? or perhaps it's just a sense of duty to your roommates, wanting to ensure everything is okay.

whatever the reason, you can't ignore the pull to investigate further.

following the sound, you made your way towards the living room, curiosity driving you forward. and as you stepped into the room, your eyes were met with a scene that both shocked and aroused you.

seated on the couch was a guy with pale skin, his toned body visible as his t-shirt lay on the floor. his sweatpants were pulled down, and he was stroking himself. he had his head tilted back, letting out small moans of pleasure.

as you blinked in disbelief, you realized it was lee jeno, your roommate, caught in this intimate moment. his movements were slow as he continued to stroke himself, his breath coming in shallow pants. veins stood out on his neck, pulsing with desire, while his flushed cheeks betrayed the intensity of his arousal.

the same guy who had been rude and distant, you couldn't help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions. memories flooded back of the time you bumped into him after his shower, his damp hair tousled and his skin glistening with droplets of water. you had been unable to tear your eyes away from his toned body, and he had caught you staring, teasing you in his straightforward manner, a smirk playing on his lips.

"like what you see, princess?" he had remarked, his tone laced with amusement as he arched an eyebrow at you. the teasing glint in his eyes had only fueled your embarrassment, leaving you flustered and at a loss for words.

another memory flooded your mind, sending a jolt of heat through your body. you remembered vividly how jeno had "accidentally" pressed his erection against your backside while you were cooking.

his excuse had been flimsy at best — something about trying to reach for a plate while you were in his way. but you knew better.

you felt it — his hardness pressing against you right where you craved to be filled the most. the only thing that stood between you and him was the thin barrier of fabric, but even that couldn't hide the unmistakable bulge.

instead of anger, you felt a surge of desire coursing through you, driving you to the brink of madness. it left you wondering just how big he actually was, considering the brief but intense contact you had felt.

and now, the opportunity is right in front of you, and you're not about to let it slip away again. but then again, you've never been particularly close with jeno, and the thought of making a move feels daunting.

yet, the neediness coursing through your veins outweighs any reservations you might have. your heart pounds erratically in your chest, and a sticky heat begins to pool between your legs.

jeno's gaze meets yours without a hint of shame, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he tilts his head back, letting out a low, guttural moan. "enjoying the show, princess?" he asks, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he continues to circle the flushed tip of his cock.

his voice drops to a husky whisper as he moans your name, sending a shiver down your spine and igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

realization hits you like a truck as you hear him moan your name. your name, uttered from his lips in a voice thick with desire, sends a surge of heat through your body, leaving you breathless and dizzy with need.

as you stand there, unable to feel your legs as they wobble beneath you, you realize just how fucking hot the scene is.

shakily, you call out jeno's name, your voice barely above a whisper as you're overcome with desire. in response, jeno moans your name again, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he praises you, his words fueling the fire burning inside you. your mind becomes hazy as you stand there, torn between making a move or waiting for his instructions, unsure of what to do next.

"c'mere princess," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "be a good girl and help me out."

with a shaky breath, you step closer to jeno. his words send a jolt of electricity through you, and you find yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

as you stand before him, you let him guide your hand to his hardened cock, feeling the heat and hardness of it under your touch. you can't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

you kneel in front of him, you take a moment to admire his cock, thick and veiny, pulsing with need. with a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you wrap your hand around him, feeling him throb with anticipation.

you're not sure why you suddenly feel so bold. maybe it's because you've spent the whole week teasing yourself, unable to find satisfaction with just your fingers or your toy. and it doesn't help hearing haechan on the other side of the thin wall, making you even more desperate for release.

"you like watching me jerk off," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

"i did," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you lean in closer. with a slow, teasing motion, you begin to stroke him, relishing in the way he responds to your touch.

despite the pleasure your touch brings him, jeno is not known for his patience. he craves more, yearning for the feel of your lips, your skin against his.

with a swift motion, he stands up, pulling you to your feet and pushing you back onto the couch. as he hovers over you, his eyes lock onto yours, a mischievous glint dancing in them.

"you know, princess," he says, his voice low and teasing, "i'm not one to wait around. and right now, all i want is you."

your response is equally teasing as you whisper back, "then what are you waiting for?" the words seem to ignite a fire within him, making him even harder as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"should i kiss you?" he murmured, his lips hovering near yours, a mischievous grin playing on them. you nodded eagerly, craving his kiss after his teasing.

with a smirk, he leaned in, and your lips met, fitting together seamlessly, eliciting a soft whimper from you. the kiss quickly intensified, leaving you gasping for air.

he trailed kisses along your neck, diverting your attention as he positioned his leg between yours. pressing his firm thigh against your warmth, he felt the dampness through his pants. a soft groan escaped his lips as you instinctively moved your hips against him.

you started grinding against him without needing any prompting, the rush of pleasure making you moan softly. his lips kept moving on your neck, leaving small marks that would turn into bruises later.

your wetness soaked through jeno's sweats, making them cling to him, but he didn't mind as he pressed harder against you. he pulled his lips away from your skin to watch you ride his thigh desperately. your movements, the way your chest rose and fell with every moan, the way you tugged on your nipples through your shirt, made him moan in response.

"my naughty little princess," jeno growled, his eyes locked onto you as you moved against him. you whimpered, the friction between your wetness and his sweats driving you wild. pleasure surged through you, sending shivers down your spine and leaving your skin slick with sweat.

jeno bit his lip, watching you grind against his thigh with desperation. he was consumed by the desire to make you cum so hard you couldn't even think straight.

your distant, lust-filled gaze drove him wild. all he wanted was to push you over the edge, to hear you scream his name in ecstasy.

"i want you to cum all over my thigh, baby. be a good girl for me," he whispered.

you gripped onto the man above you, your nails digging into his arms. he winced but didn't pull away. as you started to slow down, overwhelmed by the intensity, he took control, gripping your hips tightly and urging you to keep going.

you screamed his name, throwing your head back as your body tightened. then, you were falling over the edge. your body shook with the intensity of your orgasm, leaving you unable to make a sound as waves of pleasure washed over you.

"come on, princess, let it out," jeno whispered, his voice deep and close to your ear. "fuck- that's it, good girl . . ."

as you started to calm down, your vision clearing, jeno's hands traced along your body, murmuring sweet words to ease you. he kissed you deeply, pulling you back from your daze. you gripped his hair, eliciting a moan from him.

you lay beneath jeno, spent and limp, while he smirked down at you, enjoying your disheveled look. despite his arousal evident, as hard as a rock, he focused on you with a commanding gaze.

"what's on your mind, princess?" he demanded, his voice firm.

"now," you stuttered, pulling your shirt off and revealing your bare breasts. "put that dick in this cunt."

"shit, just hearing that could've made me cum," jeno muttered, pushing his sweats down to his knees and kicking them off the couch. “been waiting for this for so long.”

he gripped your thighs firmly, parting them to reveal your still throbbing core. taking hold of his erection, he trailed the tip along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. in that moment, you were struck by the sheer size of his cock; long, thick, and oozing with precum that made your mouth water.

but then, a sudden panic washed over you as you remembered the presence of your other two roommates. you whispered urgently to jeno, reminding him of the others.

jeno's reply came in a low voice. "fuck them, princess," he said, his eyes smoldering with intensity. "let them hear how good i make you feel."

he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance, feeling how wet and ready you were for him. unable to resist, he pushes his way inside you. the sensation is intense, unlike anything you've ever felt before — a mix of pleasure and slight pain that has your eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

"fuck fuck fuck," he groaned as he went all the way in. you've never felt anyone so deep inside you before, and your thighs start shaking. "you're so tight," he moans.

he pulled back until only the tip was inside you, feeling your walls tightening around him. with a groan, he thrust back in firmly, causing the couch to creak and both of you to moan loudly. your nails might have been leaving red marks on his back, but it only seemed to drive him to go harder.

"i'm gonna cum, shit," he said, his voice sounding strained.

"already?" you teased, earning a glare and a hard thrust from him. "thanks to you, i've been on edge for hours," he growled, biting your shoulder lightly and chuckling at your whimper.

"didn't you already—"

"no," he growled, thrusting deep and holding still, keeping you filled and squirming around him. "i waited for you to come back from shopping to catch me."

"well, shit," you mumbled, moving your hips against him, a hand trying to find your clit. but jeno grabbed your wrist, stopping you, a wicked grin on his face.

"uh-uh" he said firmly, holding your arm above your head. "you're going to cum from my cock alone or not at all, princess."

you whimpered, your eyes pleading as he ground deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot. "please, just let me cum."

"such a good girl, begging like that," he murmured, his lips moist as he licked them, but he kept your arm pinned. he slowed his pace slightly, still thrusting hard but not as fast, prolonging the torture for both of you.

you could feel an orgasm building up inside you, the tension in your stomach almost unbearable. unlike before, you weren't sure if you could cum from just his cock alone. it was a new feeling, one that left you both anxious and excited, wondering if you could reach that peak solely from his touch.

usually, you had to take care of yourself during or after. but seeing how determined jeno was, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you. you trusted him to take you to heights you hadn't reached before, to give you the stars and beyond.

"don't worry, princess," jeno reassured, releasing your arm and gently cupping your breast. "i'll make sure you reach it."

with his promise, he increased his speed, hitting just the right spot that made you cry out in pleasure and arch your back. unexpectedly, he pushed down on your stomach, triggering an immediate orgasm that was unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

"fuck, princess, you're doing great," jeno praised, maintaining the pressure and speed. "i can feel myself deep inside you," his words were dirty, fueling your orgasm even more.

your eyes rolled back, spots dancing before them, and your head spun. you felt like you might pass out from the intensity, your orgasm overwhelming you as his thrusts continued unabated.

his voice echoed in your ears, but you couldn't make out the words; all you knew was the pleasure was overwhelming, and everything felt soaked.

you felt a cool cloth wiping away the mess, and when you opened your eyes, you saw a small smile on his face as he cleaned your thighs.

he's smiling, you thought. you can't help but think how beautiful it is. it's a rare sight, a genuine expression that illuminates his features with warmth and kindness. his crescent eyes sparkle with a softness that tugs at your heartstrings, and for a moment, you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

you wish this moment could last forever, etching his smile into your memory as a reminder of the gentle side he rarely shows.

but reality soon sets in, reminding you of the undeniable barrier that exists between the two of you.

despite the fleeting intimacy you shared, you both know deep down that you're nothing more than that — a temporary escape, a means to fulfill each other's physical needs.

"let's take a quick nap," he said, lending you a hand as you struggled to sit up, feeling like your back had turned to jelly. "sucks to be them."

“who?” you ask, feeling a pang of unease creeping into your voice.

"nothing, just . . . " jeno replied with a casual shrug, avoiding your gaze as he busied himself with straightening the cushions.

you frowned, sensing there was more to his comment than he was letting on. "what do you mean by that?"

before you could dwell on it further, jeno's gaze softened, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "we should probably clean up," he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he glanced around the room, avoiding your eyes.

you chuckled weakly, feeling embarrassed. "yeah, wouldn't want to give them a show," you said, attempting to lighten the mood as you glanced at the closed door, wondering if anyone else was lurking around.

"hey, y/n . . ." jeno's voice was soft, almost a whisper, and you turned to him, waiting for him to speak. when he hesitated, you prompted him, "what is it, jeno?"

"i don't want you to think i’m taking advantage of you," jeno stated plainly. “trust me, that’s the last thing on my mind.”

true, it was quite unexpected for the two of you to fuck. you both hadn't really planned on it, but things just escalated quickly. maybe it was the adrenaline, the thrill of doing something risky, or maybe it was just the heat of the moment that led to it.

“it's okay, jeno,” you replied gently, sensing his hesitation. "we all have our needs, and sometimes, certain situations arise to fulfill them." pausing for a moment, you continued, "you were about to say something?"

"i mean," he started, his tone earnest, "i want us to . . . you know, do this again. and not just for sex, but . . . i want to get to know you better."

as you listened to jeno's unexpected confession, memories of your interactions with him flooded your mind. unlike mark and haechan, who were always easy to talk to and had been your friends for years, your relationship with jeno had always been distant.

you recalled the times when you crossed paths in the apartment, exchanging little more than nods or brief greetings. even when you smoked out on the balcony, jeno's presence was accompanied by an air of indifference.

he would join you, wordlessly asking for a lighter and rolling his own cigarette. sometimes he'd linger, but more often than not, he'd disappear without a word, leaving you alone.

around you, jeno remained aloof and reserved, rarely showing any warmth or interest in engaging with you beyond what was necessary. his demeanor was cool and distant, his words carefully measured, as if he was always keeping you at arm's length.

it was as if you were both skipping crucial steps in the process of getting to know each other, rushing into something that felt both exhilarating and unsettling.

now, amidst the aftermath, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of awkwardness creeping in.

with a soft sigh, you finally broke the tension. “i’ll see you around, jeno.”

stay tuned for more chapters coming soon!

— a.

#nct smut #nct imagines #nct fluff #stoner!nct #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #nct dream #nct 127 #nct hard hours #lee jeno smut #jeno smut #haechan smut #nct 127 smut #mark smut #mark lee smut

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junowritings · 1 month

Note

What about romanced Astarion reacting to the normally goody-goody Tav revealing that they stole the special potion from Araj before they left. He discovers this because Tav gives it to him as soon as they are out of sight from the blood merchant.

Oh I absolutely love this idea. Though writing this made me realize I need to put Astarion in my party more often. Went off on a bit of a tangent but I do hope you enjoy~!

=======

♡ Oh, the things we do for love, ey?

♡ Astarion plays nice with others in the interest of survival, and he’s made no attempts to hide that fact from you since you had really begun to bond. You on the other hand are akin to a bleeding heart, all too often going out of your way to do what you thought was right even if it meant putting yourself in harm's way as a result. At the beginning that attitude seemed pitiful - he figured it would simply end up getting you killed later down the line. And yet you’d rise, time and time again making an example of the morals that you set and surviving every encounter stronger than before. Even if your morals didn’t always align, he respected that tenacity.

♡ Even after you’d managed to worm your way into his very heart, the pair of you have butted heads more than once on the matter; at the high and mighty goody two shoes act that you face the world with. All of the reminders about doing good deeds for the sake of being good, not stealing from just anyone nor going behind others backs rummaging through personal effects for answers or loot. Not to mention all of that time spent helping others and listening to their plights as though they were your own. Honestly, darling, you really do make things harder on yourself by playing into other people’s sob stories.

♡ Astarion never suspected that the encounter at Moonrise tower could have changed anything.

♡ He’s uncharacteristically quiet as you leave the room together after dealing with Araj, but that’s because inside Astarion is absolutely seething. A familiar feeling of disgust he’d longed hoped to quash down burns a hole deep within his chest, opening old mental wounds as though freshly torn asunder upon his flesh. He’s mad at that damned drow; the way she looked down upon him, using honeyed words that he knew were a damn farce because for fucks sake he’d been using the same tactics for well over a century. That look, that calculated appraisal as Araj gauged what the vampire spawn could offer her in exchange for her potion made his skin crawl, all too familiar with the look that spoke volumes of his value - as a means to serve her own whims and not an actual person.

♡ And then, when he’d shown reluctance, she’d turned to you, as though you’d reign him in and get him to bend to your will like some fanged pet you kept on a tight leash. Far from the truth, of course, but the lack of autonomy that Astarion felt watching the pair of you converse about him as if he wasn’t even there had him clenching his teeth hard enough that the ache in his jaw persists long afterwards.

♡ There had been a swell of satisfaction when you put your foot down on the matter, nipping her demand in the bud with a firm reminder that he had already refused her request - there was no more to discuss. The drow had gotten bored after that, uninterested in further discussion with her own desires now off the table, and Astarion was all too happy to be out of there as you trailed a few paces behind.

♡ Astarion stands by his choice, but another part of him kicks himself for turning down the reward. A moment of discomfort, to give up a piece of himself for a potion that could prove invaluable was all it could have taken. He had done it before - done it for centuries to placate that vile beast he once served - why would this be any different? A transactional relationship, one that could have given you a leg up in the battles ahead, and he’d refused.

♡ He’s still stewing in these thoughts when a nudge breaks him from his reverie, a gentle brush of your fingers against his hand as you move into step beside your partner. Your touch is warm yet he prickles as though he’s been burned, pupils akin to pinpricks as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. He’s measuring you, for a moment. Takes in the brow furrowed and questioning eyes - not pity, concern - trying to gauge how he’s feeling. It’s a discussion for later, so Astarion dons that usual placating smile and turns to you, fully prepared to pull a spiel about that whole conversation being a waste of your perfectly good time. And then he notices.

♡ His ears perk up at a noise, the gentle slosh of something moving. Crimson eyes dart down to the source, to the hand you’d touch him with. It’s not empty - no, fingers curl tight around the corded neck of a familiar glass green bottle, and your nudge this time is more insistent as you press the bottle into the palm of his hand, urging him to take it. You relinquish the bottle to his hold, pale hands taking the glass and stirring up the liquid inside as he brings it up to get a better look. Surely this isn’t…

♡ But then sure enough you smile, a mischievous twinkle in your eye that makes his own widen as you shrug.

♡ “For you. Figured she didn’t need it anymore; since she just left it lying out in the open and all.”.

♡ The laugh comes before Astarion can stop himself - loud and unabashed from the sheer absurdity of it all. You? Actually stealing something? And for him no less! And they say that romance is dead, yet here you are wooing him one stolen novelty at a time.

♡Hells he hadn’t even noticed that you’d swiped the damned thing - had it been when you’d turned the blood merchant down? Or back when she’d had her sights set on him? He doesn’t care for the answer, not really. He’s more impressed that you pulled it off, but Astarion certainly doesn’t miss the irony of it all. His lovely partner, casting aside your usual goody nature in favor of stealing something and getting one up on the woman who’d disrespected your lover. As if he wasn’t fond enough of you already - this was just another lovely little reminder of the lengths you’d go for him.

♡ His smile for a moment is all teeth, shoulders still shaking with the last dregs of laughter - which damn if he didn’t need - as he brings his free arm to curl around your side. The kiss pressed to your cheek is quick, vibrating with the appreciative hum that passes the spawn’s lips when you lean a little into him. Once he pulls away Astarion keeps his free hand looped around your side, the other holding the bottle up and giving the contents a dramatic little shake to show off.

♡ Perhaps he’ll keep this as a little secret; or maybe he’ll spend the rest of that night flaunting this potion teasing you for your first act of casual thievery. Whatever the outcome it’s worth the grin he flashes you as he gives a conspiratory wink and declares.

♡ “Oh my dear. We’ll make a fine miscreant of you yet!”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #tav x astarion #astarion x reader #request #anon

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eddiemunsonw · 1 month

Text

Snow Storm

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: You're on a 'date'. Sort of. You're really not feeling it, especially when you realize that the guy has been lying. Steve, witnessing it all during his shift at Family Video, is more than happy to meddle a little.

CW/Disclaimer: Hmmmm things start to get a little heated and sexy but nothing too dramatic. So... idk. Mention of porn?

Author's note: I have a tendency to post fics out of their season, it seems

Words: 3435

Steve’s POV

He watched as your eyes followed the section of horror movies slowly, scanning each title to try and remember if you had seen them before. Next to you, a guy stood impatiently as he eyed the curtain that separated the adult section. Steve watched with interest, as it was all that was currently happening in the store apart from a regular who looked into the slapstick classics on the other side.

“Come on, I just wanna see.”

The guy sighed, nudged you with his arm. You were having none of it and Steve couldn’t help but wear an amused smile. Eventually, when you had picked out two movies, you followed him towards the curtain. Steve, feeling particularly menacing today, quickly left the counter and approached the curtain just in time.

“Hello there! ID’s please.”

He held his hand open and you took it out immediately, showing that you were 23, a year younger than he was. When the guy handed it over with some reluctance, his curiosity piqued.

“Oof, sorry dude, can’t let you in. It’s 21+”

“What? Since when?” the guy responded, but Steve clocked something much more interesting.

“Clark… You said you were 24. Jesus this is why I never wanna say my age first,” you groaned and rolled your eyes. Steve bit down on his lip to stop himself from smiling, but it was too hard not to.

“Damn, why’d you have to lie to the lady? That’s not cool,” Steve added on.

Your POV

“You weren’t supposed to know. Now come on,” Clark mumbled and attempted to pass the curtain but Steve quickly moved in between, the smooth glide of his body grabbing your attention.

“Still a no, Bud.”

You were already tired of his pushy behavior earlier, so while Steve had him occupied, you entered the adult section. You didn’t even want to go in there, but it was better than staying.

“Grab some deepthroating! And some lesbian porn?”

Steve’s POV

Steve shook his head at him as he leaned against the wall right next to the curtain.

“Jesus, dude. Are you trying to make her run away from you even harder?”

“Shut up,” Clark grumbled, side eyeing him with annoyance.

“Hm, no,” Steve said, a small smile on his face. “Not for a pipsqueak like you.”

“Oh fuck off, says the failed jock whose daddy no longer funds him so he has to do a shitty job like this one, the highlight of his day being to be a total asshole to a guy trying to have sex with a girl.”

Steve stared ahead of him, taking a deep inhale before replying.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s a neat description of you and me both. Emphasis on the trying.”

“The day’s not over yet.”

“Oh but it is, pipsqueak. Cause you’re gonna turn around and leave now.”

They looked at each other, eyes dark and challenging. Steve wasn’t sure what came over him. He just knew that he needed to do you the favor of getting rid of him.

“The hell I am,” Clark bristled.

Steve chuckled darkly. Woah, when did he become this super villain huh? Hmm. Interesting.

“Oh you are. She wants you gone and so do I.”

“You don’t know shit about what she wants.”

“Let me go ask,” Steve said as his hand lazily slid the curtain aside. “What’s her name again?” he asked, pretending like he hadn’t checked your name on your ID. He didn’t wait for his answer and walked behind the curtain despite his protests. This, however, made him miss out on the emergency alert on the radio.

“We interrupt your favorite tunes for an important message. The blizzard is getting worse. If you haven’t yet, go home. Chances are you won’t be able to if you wait much longer.”

Clark, however, did. Besides, he wasn’t that much of an idiot. He knew he had lost his chances with you the moment he tried to get you to grab his favorite porn videos. Whatever.

Your POV

“So… see anything you like?”

His voice startled you, but at the same time it was met with relief from your end that it wasn’t Clark. Steve slowly walked closer and quickly noticed you didn’t seem interested in any of it in the slightest and chuckled.

“Or are you just planning to stay here forever until he leaves?”

You shrugged.

“Something like that. Also, you don’t just ask a lady about her favorite porn, Harrington.”

Delighted by your response, he cocked his hip against the wall as he crossed his arms with a grin.

“I mean… we both already know Clark’s…” Steve said jokingly, earning a smile from you.

“All men are the same,” you sighed. Steve pouted and scanned the titles for something interesting.

“You say that now but… wait until you find out that my favorite is actually… Granny getting a— nope, nope, forget I started that sentence,” Steve said quickly as he put back the tape he just had in his hands.

“All the grannies over the world are crying right now,” you said sadly, a smile on your lips.

“Too bad, I’ve set my eye on girls who actually are the age they say they are.”

“I’ll admit that’s the most interesting belated opening line I’ve ever heard,” you said dryly.

“As long as it catches your intrigue, I’m satisfied,” Steve said with a playful, cocky grin.

You grabbed a tape and smirked, holding it out for him.

“So I’m guessing you don’t need yourself a… Satisfyer 2.0, then?” You asked, holding up the tape which had sensual “instructions” for a vibrator.

Steve laughed and shook his head.

“These satisfy just fine,” Steve said, holding up his hands. Your mind drifted off to what he could do with those big hands. Not just to himself but to—

“… left?”

Steve had apparently just asked you a question.

“Huh?”

He smirked and nodded towards the curtain.

“I think he left. Just heard the bell above the door.”

“Maybe someone came in though…” you wondered out loud.

“Maybe. I’ll go check.” He spun on his heel and approached the curtain when—

“Wait—” It was out before you knew it. Steve halted, turned back around and looked at you patiently.

“Yeah?”

“If he is in fact not gone, can you… get rid of him somehow? I normally wouldn’t ask but he’s just such a—”

“Dick.”

“Yeah…” You smiled a small smile and watched as he approached you again. His eyes were on you, taking in even the smallest changes in your expression.

“So is he like… your boyfriend?” Steve asked softly. “Or uh, was?”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“Nah, this was the second date which I had reluctantly agreed to.”

“Why’d you say yes?” Steve asked curiously. He followed your movement as you skimmed some more tapes and smiled at the playfully quipped corner of your mouth. “I mean, it didn’t look like you wanted to be here.”

“I didn’t. I just… I kind of never said yes but he just showed up on my doorstep and then I felt too bad to not go with him, so… yeah. Didn’t know he had plans to rent some porn and spend the second date in his bedroom or whatever.”

Steve crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully.

“Hmmh… yeah that sucks. Well, I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time,” he said as he shortly winked at you and once again turned on his heel, this time actually continuing his walk through the curtain. He was out there for a few minutes when he turned back with a frown.

“Uh… Y/N? We’ve got a little… hiccup.”

You approached him with a frown of your own and followed him to the front, unsure what to expect. What you certainly didn’t expect, was to see a snow storm going on outside.

“Apparently there’s a code red. Just heard a repeat of it on the radio but it keeps breaking up. They urge everyone to stay inside until it’s over.”

Steve stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared ahead. It was the worst storm he had ever witnessed and the fact that nothing had seemed to be going on apart from some gentle snowfall surprised him.

“Stay… here?” you asked eventually.

“I mean, yeah? You can’t drive in this weather, it’s too dangerous. So is walking. So…”

“But I can’t just…”

“Hey, I don’t bite,” Steve said softly, nudging your arm with his own. “Besides, Clark seems to have left after all. Maybe he heard the warning and decided to bolt? If so, very nice to let us know as well but I will say that I wasn’t nice to him, so…”

You smirked.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing, nothing. I mean, genuinely, I didn’t say much. Just that he had to fuck off, using different wording. He didn’t seem all that ready to leave when I went to look for you though.”

“Oh well, good riddance.”

“Agreed.”

Steve walked forward and locked the door, putting the closed sign up front just in case.

“Let’s go to the back, it’s warmer there. And there’s a coffee machine.”

And so your “Stuck at Family Video with heartthrob Steve Harrington” began.

Once you were settled around the table in the break room, Steve gave you an odd glance. It was hard to figure out what he meant by it, although his frown disappeared the moment he got up from his chair.

“Coffee? Tea? I think we even got a few of those instant hot choc packages,” he offered, his back already turned to you as he searched the cabinets.

“Oh, hot chocolate sounds nice actually. Is it just me or is it… still kinda cold, even here?” you asked hesitantly. Steve nodded ruefully and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet he was currently facing.

“Ah, yeah… it looks like the heating is struggling again. I could kick it to see if it helps but… chances are it’ll get worse.”

“How could it get worse?”

Steve shrugged.

“Beats me, but I’m speaking from experience. Sometimes it does the trick and other times it really, really doesn’t.”

“Let’s not risk it then. At least we have a warm drink, right?”

Steve nodded and grabbed the kettle. You watched him busy himself with putting it on, emptying the hot chocolate powder and grabbing two spoons. He was humming along softly to whichever song he seemed to have stuck in his head and shot you a smile when he caught you looking.

“So what do you usually—”

Suddenly, the room turned pitch dark. You heard Steve swear softly when he shuffled back towards the table and bumped into a chair.

“Uh… okay. That’s… kind of a problem,” he mumbled as he managed to sit back down. “No hot choc I guess, sorry. No… heating either. Maybe we should check how the weather’s doing?” he opted.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a small strip of light seeping in from the doorway, slowly turning brighter as you adjusted to your surroundings again. Warm fingers teased your arm before your wrist was grabbed and Steve helped you up. As he opened the door, the brightness of the snow outside was almost blinding. The thin windows made it a lot colder at the front, making you shiver as you watched the outside. It wasn’t just snow anymore, as heavy hail rained down, large enough to leave dents into cars. Steve groaned and let go of your wrist.

“Let me check if I can get the power back on,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. He grabbed a flashlight from below the counter and went to the back again. After a few minutes, he returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, nothing. I guess it’s my fault you’re stuck here, huh?” he sighed. “If I hadn’t bothered Clark as much you’d be on your way already. Or if I just… I don’t know. Sorry, I guess.”

“It’s not your fault the weather decided to fuck us over, Steve,” you said with a soft smile which he returned with some hesitance. “What do you usually do for fun around here?”

Steve gave you a wry smile.

“Watch movies?”

“Ah, yeah.”

There was a short silence until Steve clapped in his hands and rubbed them together. “I’ve got this huge blanket in the back, brought it here once because Rob, Robin, my colleague, gets very cold easily so sometimes we’d just huddle under the blanket during breaks and stuff. I think we might as well sit out here, at least it’s light… for now.”

You nodded, smiling as you thought of Robin Buckley. You knew her of course. Not super well, but well enough to know she was nice.

“Yeah, it’s already getting dark, huh? A blanket sounds good though.”

Steve nodded and once again disappeared for a short moment, until he returned with a bright blue blanket, which he partially draped on the floor in front of the counter before he motioned for you to sit down and wrapped it around your shoulders. He joined you after grabbing you both some water and put the other end around his shoulders once he settled down.

“How’s this?”

You were really trying not to let it get to you that you were cozying up to Steve right now. Heat was radiating off of him and it made you wonder if he was actually cold, or if he was basically doing the whole “it’s better to stick together for body warmth” kind of thing. With the addition of clothes, of course.

“It’s nice. Better than without for sure,” you told him softly. Steve’s shoulder brushed yours and soon enough you felt the pressure build up until he was actually resting against you. Not in an uncomfortable way at all. It was really… nice, actually.

“Your parents? Do you think they’ll worry?”

“Ah, no. My mom’s visiting my grandma in another state actually and my dad’s no longer around, so. Doubt he can worry,” you joked lightly. “What about yours?”

Steve snorted, then realized it probably wasn’t all that funny and shrugged.

“Dunno, they’re somewhere in Europe now, I think? So no.”

Another silence. It was by that point that you remembered how little you actually knew about Steve Harrington. Sure, he had been popular in school for some time, and then he wasn’t, and then he graduated. But you had never really talked to him other than giving him a pen or two in English class. You were from different social ladders, really. Although, right now you felt quite equal to him, somehow. Which felt weird, considering he looked like a freshly cut out of a painting model and you were… you. Mr handsome decided to steal you away from your brain, which honestly, was a good thing.

“Hey, wanna play a game?” he asked, peering into your eyes as he leaned forward a little. You watched him with newfound curiosity.

“What kind of game?”

“I spy with my little eye.”

“Isn’t that just called “I spy”?” you wondered aloud.

“Dunno. So. Yes?”

“What else is there, right?”

Steve grinned and rested his head against the counter.

“That’s right. Okay. I spy with my little eye… something green.”

“That tape,” you said as you pointed. Steve leaned into your space, following your hand.

“Which one?”

“The green one.”

“There are maaaany green ones.”

“The green one with… Fuck I can’t read,” you sighed as you tried to squint. Steve laughed warmly, which you could feel the tremble of against your shoulder. “Okay so. The sci-fi shelf, yes? Fifth on the second row.”

“Aaaah, I see it now. Nope!”

“You knew that wasn’t it from the start.”

“I had to make sure.”

“Mhm, sure.”

Steve grinned and nudged you with his shoulder before tapping your thigh with his hand.

“Your turn, your turn!”

He left his hand on your thigh. Oh shit. Yeah, you were totally normal about that. You could still think. You could definitely still find some kind of object that you could use—

“Wait, I didn’t even guess it, how is it my turn?!” you questioned. Steve, who had been looking at… somewhere that wasn’t your eyes, quickly lifted his eyes to meet yours and grinned.

“Right. Guess!” “Your vest?”

“You are absolutely right. See? Your turn.”

“It wasn’t— okay. Hm… I spy with my little eye… something red.”

“Your cheeks.”

“Shut up, my cheeks aren’t red.”

“They are a little.”

“If you keep talking about it, yes, they will turn red.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

Once again Steve leaned forward to look you straight in the eye, this time lifting a hand to cup your cheek gently. “Hm, they’re a little pink at the very least.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and took his hand off your cheek as you looked away. Steve chuckled softly and turned his hand around so he could grab yours.

“Fine, then… the bike outside?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, I thought that was it for sure. That red blob of paint that Keith never managed to get off the ceiling?”

“That’s it!”

Steve grinned at you and gave your hand a squeeze. For a moment you had forgotten about his hand, too drunk on his animated face. Fuck.

“I spy with my little eye…” Steve turned his head to look at you and smiled. “Something pretty.”

“What?”

“Purple! Purple.”

“My shirt.”

“So clever.”

It was getting darker rapidly and soon enough, even your little game became harder to play. You did some other ones, word games, guessing games, whatever you could think of. The blanket was wrapped closer around you both now, as the store became colder without the heating. You sat hip to hip, your arms a little awkward sometimes although neither of you really minded.

“Would you have stayed here if I hadn’t been around?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, nah, I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t really care if— I mean, I’d only be risking myself in that case.”

“That’s a bad reason. You’re just as important.”

“Am I?” Steve asked, and for some reason you felt like he needed an honest answer.

“Yeah, you are, Steve.”

“Hm…” A beat of silence. “I spy with my little eye… someone pretty.”

“You can’t even see.”

“I’ve memorized her by now.”

“Is it the blonde babe cardboard cutout?”

Steve, not expecting that answer at all, burst out laughing.

“Fuck, no,” a giggle, “it wasn’t.”

“Oh… hm. What about that girl from the ring? Samara?”

“Shush.”

“Or the woman from that movie where—” “Ssshh.”

You felt his hand cup your cheek and it was as if your heart was gonna jump out of your chest at any moment now. His breath tickled your cheek, warm and comfortable against your cold nose. Your lips parted on their own, eyes closing even though there was only an outline of his face to see.

“You sure it’s not the blond babe?” you murmured teasingly.

Steve giggled softly and shook his head, causing the stray strands of his hair to tickle you a little.

“Positive.”

A faint sound of lips being licked, and then his lips brushed against yours. Soft and pliable, eager to taste yours. He hummed softly, pleased, as he pulled you closer. You were easily pulled into his lap as his tongue teased your bottom lip for access. Hands smoothed up and down your waist, the blanket forgotten as your kiss provided enough heat between the two of you. It was silent, save from the gasps and soft, pleasant hums leaving you both. He gently moved his hips while simultaneously guiding yours, a gentle moan leaving him as he found a rhythm. His lips found your neck and your hand made its way into his hair to have something to grasp onto. One hand found the hem of your shirt and he was about to lift it up when—

Brightness. Light. The electricity was back on. Meaning… everyone outside could see you. If there had been anyone, that is. Still, it broke the moment instantly as Steve dropped his hand to your thigh and looked up at you.

“Shit,” he murmured, a lopsided grin on his face. “They really know how to spoil the fun today, huh?”

You smiled down at him and turned around to look outside, one hand resting on his chest for balance.

“Hm… I don’t know. It seems safe to go back home.”

Steve dug his fingers into your hips with eagerness before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

“Your place or mine?”

end.

If you enjoyed reading this, please know that comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) Likes are lovely but sadly do nothing to spread the fics around! Help your favorite writers (not saying me - in general) out like that so you can continue to enjoy consuming the free work they put out, it's a win-win.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fanfics #joe keery #i'm so great at promoting my fics with a cool description #not

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doumadono · 3 months

Note

think if reader had muzan's child and they're breastfeeding their baby & he see the child getting milk, would he be like 'hey. gimme some of that.' i imagine reader would be flustered but down for it aha

SINFUL SUNDAY

Muzan found himself in an unexpected situation. Clad in his usual elegant attire, Muzan stood beside you, the mother of his child, as you cradled your newborn in your arms. The soft glow of the moonlight falling through a large window bathed the chamber.

Your infant, a delicate mix of human and demon heritage, nestled against your chest, eagerly latching onto your breast for sustenance.

Muzan observed with a calculating gaze, his crimson eyes narrowing as he fixated on the scene before him. "I want some of that too," Muzan's voice, smooth and tinged with arrogance, sliced through the silence. His eyes bore into yours, a twisted curiosity playing in their depths. There was a certain arrogance in his demeanor, as if he believed that even the act of breastfeeding held a power dynamic that he could exploit.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by his audacity. "You're a demon king, Muzan-sama. I hardly think breast milk is on the menu for someone of your stature."

Muzan's lips curled into a sly smile, revealing sharp fangs. "Stature has nothing to do with cravings, my dear mortal. A feeble concoction of life's essence, bestowed upon the weak and vulnerable is making me curious." The demon king circled around you, his gaze never leaving the child at your breast.

With a sense of reluctant compliance, you nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate dance required to navigate the temperamental whims of the father of your child. Gently cradling the infant in your arms, you approached a meticulously crafted wooden crib, adorned with the most opulent silk blanket money could buy. You carefully nestled the child within the confines of its plush sanctuary.

Upon your return to Muzan's presence, you once again nodded, a gesture that carried the weight of unspoken acquiescence. The Demon Lord, perched regally, regarded you with an air of entitlement as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him on an elegantly crafted couch. Complying, you lowered yourself gracefully onto the plush cushions, the atmosphere tinged with a subtle tension.

Without delay, Muzan's hands moved with a possessive confidence, cupping yours breast in a gesture that bespoke both control and desire. Muzan deftly slid the strap of your nightgown from your shoulder, revealing a portion of your chest. His gaze fixated on the rounded swell of your breast, brimming with nourishing milk. The baby's suckling had left the aureola of your breast darkened.

The demon bent down, taking the bud into his mouth. He began to suckle gently, ensuring the sharp edges of his fangs didn't cause any discomfort to you. As the milk flowed into his mouth, he hummed with satisfaction, savoring the runny sweetness that gradually evolved with each sip.

You found yourself in a bewildering situation, unsure of how to react as he drank your milk. Eventually, you tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder, seeking a semblance of stability.

He continued to suckle, delicately pressing against the breast with his chilly hand. His long, pointed nails lightly brushed against the tender flesh, making you yelp a little.

"Shhh," he whispered, taking the bud out of his mouth to look directly at you. "We don't want the baby to wake up."

Muzan swiftly removed your remaining sleeve of the nightgown, revealing your chest completely to his hungry, crimson eyes. He then shifted his focus to the other breast, wrapping his lips around the hardened nipple. He took his time, gently sucking while flicking his tongue against the hardened bud. The milk spilled into his mouth again, prompting a satisfied hum. The entire experience, he realized, had an unintended consequence — his pants felt uncomfortably tight in the crotch.

The experience had a profound effect on you as well. You moaned quietly in relief as he eased the tension in your breasts by gently drinking the accumulated milk. "Oh, my lord," you whispered, gently caressing his shoulder.

Muzan took your hand and directed it toward his groin, where a noticeable bulge had formed.

Without a second thought, you sensed the texture of his hardened penis through the fabric of his pants and began to delicately massage it whilst his tongue massaged the erected nipple.

As things intensified, Muzan pulled away, fixing a stern gaze on your flushed face. "Take off your clothes," he commanded, his tone firm and demanding. "I want to take you, right here and now. And who knows, perhaps you'll birth me another heir soon."

#doumadonos sinful sunday 🔥#sinful sunday #anime smut #muzan kibutsuji #muzan smut #muzan x you #muzan x reader #kny muzan #muzan x y/n #kny smut #muzan x reader smut #muzan kny #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #lord muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #kibutsuji muzan #kibutsuji kny #divider by cafekitsune

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inevesgf · 2 months

Text

ROULETTE⠀,⠀ george clarke.

synopsis ✩ you film a drinking video with george and the arthurs, which results in you waking up in george’s bed the morning.

warnings: smut, drinking, drunk sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (receiving), hair pulling, afab!reader. basically just really hot and heavy, desperate sex..

authors note: first smut i have wrote in awhileee… hope this satisfies all of you thirsty george girls and anon who requested this. xx

usually when arthur asked you to film a stupid drinking video for his channel , you declined — the idea of going to a random city to get drunk just didn’t seem fun to you. every time arthur hill, arthur and george went out to film one of those videos, they’d always try to coax you into coming. ‘it’ll be fun’ or ‘i’ll pay for your drinks’ just never seemed to work on you — except for this time.

the past few weeks had been rough for you and you desperately prayed for a pick me up. unfortunately, the pick me up the universe handed to you was in the form of arthur hill. with less begging than usual, he had finally persuaded you into being in one of his platform roulette videos. your only motivation to do this was really just to get out of the house. you knew you would stay in the slump you were in if you didn’t do something about it. obviously drinking was not a way to get out of a low point, but being around friends was — at least you weren’t drinking alone.

the night had concluded after an escape room, loud pub karaoke and lots and lots of drinks. you weren’t completely wasted; a slight buzz from the alcohol lingered on you. the mascara smeared lightly on your cheeks from sweating and the smell of guinness on your lips hinted at your intoxication to those near you. when the train pulled up to the station yourself, george and the arthur’s stumbled in, picking an area to nicely pack the four of you into. as george sat in the window seat, you slid in next to him, the warmth of his body next to yours keeping you warm from the cold uk air. arthur was completely trashed as he laid his head against the train window on the seat opposite of you — this action enough to get a laugh out of everyone. “are you okay, bud?” george chuckled, looking over at you drunkenly to share the laugh. arthur did not say anything, he just groaned, closing his eyes. the poor guy was miserable — after loosing a lot of forfeits he had had more drinks than anyone. it made you think about the consequences to your actions. you had fun that night, but the hangover that was sure to come to you the next morning cancelled that out. “dont remind me that i’m going to be absolutely dead tomorrow morning,” you spoke, “this is all your fault, arthur — if the hangover kills me tell everyone arthur did it.” george laughed at your words, lifting his arm up and slinging it around your shoulder. a blush crept onto your face, the alcohol making your thoughts drift somewhere they shouldn’t be. “maybe you spend the night at mine?” george’s words were unsure, the alcohol barely giving him and confidence. “i can take care of you.” there was something so sensual about the way he said it, making a pit of anxiety grow in your stomach.

you had spent most of the night eyeing george. there was something about him that evening; the way his hair laid messy on his head, his smile when he laughed at something funny; that was so captivating to you. even in your sober moments, you couldn’t help but admire him sometimes. the words he spoke sent a shiver down your spine and you could see arthur(tv) smirking in your direction — the words george spoke seemingly catching his attention. “if i won’t be a bother,” you were reluctant, which made george nod. “not at all — your company would be nice.” you shot a drunken smile over at him, a haze of tiredness coming over you as the alcohol caught up.

after a long day of being out with george and the arthurs, you had finally reached a place to relax. after parting with the others, you and george took your time walking to his flat, which was only a few blocks away from the station. upon entering his flat, you sighed, exhausted. george laughed at you, causing you to raise a brow in confusion. “you have mascara all over your cheeks.” as he spoke you recalled examining your face in a pub bathroom, smeared mascara under your eyes from sweating it off. “oops.” was all you muttered out, a small laugh escaping your lips as you did. “cmon,” george spoke, taking your hand as he pulled you away from the door, “lets get you cleaned up.” you held on to his hand reluctantly as he pulled you over to the bathroom. “sit up on the cabinet.” george smiled over at you as you tiredly entered the bathroom. you slowly pulled yourself onto the cabinet, letting your legs dangle over the edge. you swung your legs back and forth, patiently waiting as george stumbled into the other room. he entered back quickly, a small towel in his hand as he got it wet in the sink. “close your eyes.” george spoke as you closed them in response. he dabbed the wet towel on your cheeks, erasing the smeared mascara from them with a satisfied hum. the warmth of the towel on your face woke you up from your once sleepy state. “thank you.” a drunken smile plastered itself on your face. george smiled, locking his gaze onto you. time seemed to go by so slow and after long seconds passed you had gathered the silence around you. “are you okay, george? you’re awfully quiet.” all he could do in response was let out a nervous chuckle. “you’re just gorgeous,” his words made your heart beat fast in your chest, a pink flush bringing itself to your cheeks, “i know im drunk right now, but god.” george let out a loud breath, making your spine tingle as a smile crept onto your face.

before your brain could catch up with your actions; before you could stop yourself; you found yourself leaning into george’s touch. lips pressed together softly as you snaked your arms around george’s neck, letting yourself melt into him. without liquid courage, you knew you wouldn’t have the confidence to do this; this reality would linger as a fantasy in your head. george, without being intoxicated, would never had had the courage to let his lips dance against yours in return — in that moment all his anxiety faded away. you wrapped your legs around george’s waist, tugging him closer, his body now pressed up against the bathroom cabinet and between your legs. george allowed himself to deepen the kiss, letting his tongue tangle in yours as his arms found themselves around your waist. your heart pounded in your chest; the rhythm matching the slick kisses george laid upon your lips. you let your hands travel from george’s neck to his chest, tracing what you could feel of his abs through his tee. his breath hitched, interrupting the rhythm of your kiss before he resumed his once harmonic pattern on yours lips. george’s hands traveled from your waist to your thighs, letting himself massage them slightly as his lips escaped from yours. he placed his lips upon your neck, leaving small kisses which caused you to gasp as he found your sweet spot. george allowed himself to suck slightly at the spot, eliciting a soft moan from you as he was sure to leave a mark on your neck.

your hands traveled back up george body and to his hair, your fingers tangling in his light curls as you tugged a little from the pleasure. the action made george groan softly against your neck, giving him more courage to advance the moment. he pulled away slowly, letting his eyes lock onto yours again. placing his hands at the hem on your black dress, he spoke, this time his tone more husky — sexy — “may i?” an eager nod was what he earned from you as he began to roll up your dress, revealing himself to you in your underwear. george wasted no time before he put himself on to his knees, peppering kisses on your thighs which made you shutter. you ached under the fabric of your underwear, a thin layer only separating george and the area of you that craved him most. with a slow, teasing manner, george began to rid you of your underwear, placing them onto the side. you spread your legs slowly, revealing yourself to george in an eager, yet shy manner. you could tell george was as impatient as you were; his eyes studied your body conscientiously as rough breaths escaped his lips. george placed his head in between your thighs, his tongue licking onto your clit like it had danced along your tongue. you shuttered, a little whine escaping your lips as he let his tongue travel around your sensitive spots, sucking down onto your bud. a ragged moan escaped your lips, causing your toes to curl as shivers traveled up and down your body. george took his time teasing at your clit, letting his tongue run circles along it. it didn’t take long of george’s actions before you began to feel a clutter in your stomach, the high close as you arched your hips into george’s tongue. before you could finish, george removed his lips from your sweet spot, the loss of the feeling making your eager for more.

a pant escaped your lips as george returned his head up to your level, your slick glistening on his lips. you scanned george’s body, your interests peaking as you spotted the tent that had formed under his slacks. george missed his body on yours as he was quick to return it. placing his lips back onto yours, you hummed as you could feel the heat on his lips from your body. george’s hands traveled down to his belt, struggling to unfasten it as he left his lips locked on yours. once he had gotten it off, he rid himself of his slacks, allowing them to fall to the floor around his ankles. now feeling more comfortable in your state, you roamed your hands down to his boxers, letting your hands palm onto his hard on which elicited a moan from george. this action alerted george of how bad you wanted him; how much your sweet spot craved his attention again. george’s hands returned to the hem of your dress, breaking the kiss for a small second to slip it off over your head and on to the floor. you spread your legs again, revealing your wet core to george as he finally freed himself from his boxers. the tension between you two was heavy; george could barely contain himself from thrusting into you hardly. letting the tip of his cock tease against your folds, george lined himself up with you before slowly sliding in. a moan escaped your lips as you pulled george closer with your legs, letting his cock slip deeper into you as you did. again, your hands found yourself tangled in george’s hair, pulling at his curls as you physically begged for more. george thrusted into you almost rhythmically as his eyes studied your face, his lips laying a gap from pleasure. your head rolled back as you laid it against the mirror, sounds of delectation escaping your lips as he fucked into you. with each sloppy thrust, george’s pace grew faster, shooting the feeling of delight through your body. as one hand wrapped itself around your thigh, the others fingers found themselves on your clit, rubbing soft circles around your core. “does that feel good?” he breathed out, a teasing tone you had never heard from george spoke. you bit your lip, holding in loud moans as you nodded. “yes — so good.” you panted out, your mouth staying open in awe. you were overwhelmed with pleasure, soft whines escaping your lips as he payed focus to your clit. his thrusts grew disorganized, signaling he was coming to an end as his fingers danced faster against you. the familiar clutter found itself forming in your stomach again as you reached your high, tensing yourself around george as you finished. seconds later george found himself reaching that same high as he pulled out, decorating his cum along yours thighs. you took time to recollect yourself, fast breaths still escaping your lips as your skin glistened from sweat. george was dumbfounded, his lips still laid open, collecting the pleasure he had just ensued. coming down upon yours, george laid another kiss on your lips, making you feel cozy against his once desperate touch.

the next morning you woke up tangled in his sheets, no clothes, as you remembered the previous nights events more than you expected too. a sleepy, yet awake george laid next to you, a soft smile forming on his lips once he noticed you had woke. you returned the smile, greeting george with a ‘good morning’ as the sun pooled from the window, illuminating your face. “can we do that again sometime?” george spoke, last nights confidence still prominent. you let out a laugh, a reluctant one at that, “please.” was all you chuckled out as you let your body lay onto george’s. george placed his hand on your jaw, turning your head slightly to expose the side of your neck. a chuckle escaped his lips, “well, hope you can cover that up — we’ve gottta film today.” george winked, memories of the loving bruises he had left on your neck coming back to you. you were sure to relive this night with george again; your skin already missing the feeling of his on yours.

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