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strangersmunsons · 4 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 2 Prompt: Chocolates 🍫 ~ 2,000 words Eddie's grumpy until he sees a familiar face in the candy aisle.

“This is a fake holiday,” mumbles Eddie as he pushes the cart past the pink and red aisle of Bradley’s Big Buy.

His uncle chuckles. “When you have someone to spend it with, you’ll feel differently.”

“Wayne,” Eddie deadpans, “this is just some bullshit that Hallmark made up so they could take more of our money.”

“I’m not sayin’ you need to go all commercial,” Wayne clarifies. “I just mean that when there’s someone special in your life, boy, you might be in a better mood during this month.”

Eddie’s mouth sets bitterly. He’d rather not get the ‘you’ll find someone someday’ talk right now — the last thing he needs is another reminder of how lonely he is.

Wayne senses his nephew’s reluctance to discuss the matter, and so bites his tongue. Instead, he points at a row of cans on the shelf beside them. “Do you need more tomato soup, or are you set for a while?”

Back at home, Eddie lays on the floor of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Yeah, okay, maybe Wayne had a point. Maybe he’d hate all this stupid cutesy shit less if he didn’t have to watch everyone around him enjoy it while he spent yet another Valentine’s Day alone in his uncle’s trailer, with no one to keep him company, save for a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

The worst part of it is — and Eddie would rather die than admit this — that deep down, he thinks he really could be…romantic.

Sure, he’s rough around the edges. He tends to be prickly, wary of others’ intentions, but it’s necessary in order for him to survive in Hawkins. The Munson name was already notorious, and his reputation preceded him; the incident with poor Chrissy Cunningham three years prior, despite his innocence, had sealed his fate as the town pariah.

But if someone could just give him a chance, a real chance, he thinks that he could make that person really happy.

He’d help around the house. Cleaning, laundry, anything you — whoever you are — needed a hand with. He’d learn to cook better so he could keep you eatin’ good. He’d plan fun dates. He’d play your favorite songs on guitar, maybe write you new ones, if he was feeling inspired…anytime you needed him, he’d be there. He’d be the most reliable, affectionate, loving —

“Ed?” There’s a light knock on his door.

“Come in,” he calls back.

Wayne pokes his head into the room. “I’ve got to head to the plant in a few,” he says. “While I’m gone, can you do me a favor?”

Eddie sits halfway up, propped on his elbows. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Wayne fidgets, looking apologetic. “I know we were just there, but d’you mind going back to the Big Buy to pick up some candy? It’s Mrs. Johnson’s first Valentine’s Day since her husband passed, and I meant to get her something sweet, but I forgot.”

Eddie hauls himself up off the floor. “No problem. Want anything specific?”

Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t need nothin’ fancy, just get whatever’s cheapest that still looks nice.”

“That’s the Munson way,” Eddie muses, smiling in spite of himself.

Eddie reluctantly makes a turn down the seasonal aisle he had so pointedly avoided earlier, feeling depressed. Cherubs and teddy bears seem to mock him from where they sit, and he heaves a dramatic sigh.

His eyes roam the line of cards, plush toys, endless boxes of chocolates and candies, when they finally land on you, also perusing the rows of heart-shaped packages.

Recognition flickers instantly. Eddie suddenly finds that his heart is beating very quickly in his chest.

You.

You had still been a year behind him when he finally graduated, and though he didn’t really know you-know you, he was friends with people who did. You weren’t bullied like he and the guys were, but you weren’t exactly popular, either — and so more often than not, you ran in similar circles. Gareth and Harry used to swear up and down that you were the nicest girl in Hawkins.

Because of them, he had spent brief moments with you from time to time. He thought you had been very pretty, in your own unique way, but you were also rather shy. Your exchanges were always polite and charming, even if they never broke deeper than surface-level; overall, he’d found you incredibly endearing.

He never kept in touch, but as the years went by, he had often wondered about you.

Back then, it was hard to see past his own preoccupations: he was so focused on not failing his classes, Corroded Coffin, Hellfire, his dealing gig with Rick. But in retrospect, it always seemed to him like he had missed out on something special in not taking the time to properly befriend you.

Now, against all odds, you’re right here in front of him. And he had found you attractive back then, but now? Holy shit. You’re striking to look at.

As he studies your side profile, he thinks, it’s not that your appearance has really changed much, but rather the way you seem to be holding yourself.

You used to walk quickly through the hallways with your shoulders hunched and your head down, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible. But now your posture is relaxed, your stance casual; your head is held high and a slight smile turns up the corners of your lips. And your clothes seem different too, like maybe you’d finally found your personal style, and were dressing in the way that you truly liked.

Is this what they call kismet? Fate, destiny, whatever, maybe Eddie’s fantasy-oriented brain was jumping to conclusions, but he thinks of the floor-misery he’d been wallowing in not even an hour ago — had his internal bitching been an unintentional prayer, which was now being answered?

He takes a few cautious steps forward, trying to act natural.

You glance at him when he comes nearer and offer him a quick smile before turning back to the sweet assortment before you.

Eddie stands next to you awkwardly, pretending to browse, hoping to see you make some gesture of familiarity, any confirmation that you might remember him as well as he remembers you.

But nothing. The seconds tick by.

You reach for a box of chocolates and Eddie’s overwhelmed with a sense of impending doom. He starts sweating. Any second now, you would pluck a shiny, ribbon-adorned package and twirl away from him, vanishing into thin air, and the moment would be gone. His opportunity would be over, and he’d never, ever see you again.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. His face turns crimson, but he blunders on anyway. “I don’t wanna bother you, but did you graduate from Hawkins High in ‘87?”

You turn to him, eyebrows raised in surprise, one arm still outstretched. A breathy laugh escapes you. “Yeah, I did.” You give him the tiniest wave. “Hi, Eddie.”

He could almost cry in relief. You do remember him.

“Hi.” He returns your wave, dopey grin unfurling on his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you just now. I didn’t think you would remember me,” you explain apologetically.

Forget you? Absurd. “Of course I remember you. How’ve you been?”

Your voice is bright, cheerful. “I’ve been good! Busy with school.”

College, of course. You had definitely been an honor roll kid. “If you’re in school, then you don’t still live in town, do you?”

“Nah, my university’s too far. I got a place near campus, but I come home every now and then.” You smile, and motion towards yourself. “Obviously.”

“Oh. Nice.” Eddie twiddles his thumbs nervously. “Are your classes going good?”

“For the most part. They’re stressful sometimes, but that’s to be expected, I guess.”

“Yeah, but you’re super smart. I’m sure you’re killin’ it up there.”

“I’m trying my best,” you reply with a modest shrug. “What about you? What have you been up to lately?” You look at him with genuine interest, like you’re truly eager to hear about how he’s doing.

Oh, what to say. He opts for simplicity. “Bartending. At the moment I’m between The Hideout and The Attic. Although, I’m thinkin’ about trying to get a job at the garage instead.”

“You should!” Your voice is sincere, full of warmth. “I bet you’d be great there — I know you did a lot of work on your van.”

A bolt of pleasure runs through him. You didn’t just remember his name and face, but you recalled some minor details about him as well. He stands a little taller. “Thank you. We’ll see if it works out, I suppose.”

There’s a brief pause. Eddie moistens his chapped lips with his tongue. “Listen…”

Do it, you coward. If she says no, she says no, and you’ll get over it. Eventually.

“Um, if you’re ever home for the weekend, would you maybe wanna hang out? Grab a coffee or something?”

You look taken aback, but not displeased. Eddie counts that as a win.

“Sure. That would be really fun.”

He flashes you a grin. “Sick.” Then it occurs to him: you came home for Valentine’s Day weekend. Surely you’re in Hawkins because you have a date lined up with some former classmate who swooped in and asked you out after he had gone, and that’s who you were buying candy for and —

“I’m assuming you’re busy this weekend, though?” You point at the treats in front of you. “‘Cause I see you’re here to pick up the goods,” you tease him cheerfully.

“Oh, n-not really,” he stammers. “Wayne asked me to pick up something for our neighbor. I’m just an errand boy.” He swallows. “Do you have any big plans?”

“Nope,” you reply casually, lips popping the p-sound. You pull the candy you’d be aiming for before he interrupted, a pack of Hershey’s cream-filled chocolate hearts. You nod at him sagely. “I am my own Valentine this year.”

You don’t need to be. I’ll volunteer.

Eddie musters up all his courage, rocking slightly on his feet. “Actually, if you don’t have plans…like, if you’re not seeing anybody…would you wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” Nerves get the better of him and he starts pouring out word-vomit, totally oblivious to the way your expression is getting softer and softer the longer he rambles. “I get that it’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t know if you think that’s really…weird for a first date, or…if you even wanna go on a date with me at all, which if you don’t, that’s totally fine and I understand —”

“I don’t think that would be weird at all,” you cut in, giving him a smile that could melt an iceberg. “Eddie, I would love to go on a date with you.”

He feels like he’s having a fever dream. This can’t be real. Is this what manifesting is?

From now on, when he wants something, he’s gonna go cry on his bedroom floor about it.

Painfully aware of how clumsy his proposition came out, Eddie tries to put at least one suave move on you. “Well, if we really have a date tomorrow,” he says, swiping the Hershey’s from you, “then there’s no reason for you to be buyin’ your own chocolates. Allow me.”

Ten minutes later, both of you armed with candies and a phone number apiece, Eddie escorts you across the icy parking lot to your car. You grip his arm tightly crossing over a slippery patch of asphalt, and his stomach flutters in a way it hasn’t in years.

Okay, okay.

Maybe there is something to be said for this stupid, fake holiday.

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 fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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sytoran · 1 month

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PLEASE LIKE I BEGGGGG, make a fic based on sabrina carpenter’s lingerie commercial with skims IT CAN BE ANYTHING JUST DO IT I BEGG

espresso — w.m

you come to pick your girlfriend up from her photoshoot. things get a little out of hand in the changing rooms.

pairing — sub!model!wanda x dom!gf!reader

warnings — just pure filth, minors dni or block, usage of 'bunny' pet name

note — anon your wish is granted... this is me taking a break from writing hiwthi to come up with this short fic inspired by sab… i am not immune to the pretty blondes

word count — 1008

MAIN MASTERLIST

“Baby, - ah! - the makeup artists are gonna be b-back, uhn, anytime,” Wanda gasps breathlessly, as she’s bent over the counter, as you’re three fingers deep into her sweet pussy from behind.

It was a common occurrence to see you at Wanda’s rehearsals and photoshoots, and today was no different. You had come to the studio to shower your girlfriend in love, affection, and a croissant, but then you had seen her in that lacy, lacy lingerie, and then, and then—

“Fuck,” you growl, gripping fistfuls of Wanda’s pretty hair as she squeals and backs her ass into your crotch. She’s porcelain, fine china, and you have your tendencies.

Wanda would swear she tried to keep you off her, especially in this sponsored lingerie, because it was a brand deal, and she was supposed to be good.

But you were not good. And she liked you that way.

It was a Sisyphean task, considering just how handsy you were, completely disregarding the cameras and flashing lights when you had your eyes set on your girlfriend.

There was a moment’s silence when she locked eyes with you across the room, one behind the camera and one in front, and Wanda had to fight battles to not let start drenching the carpeted floor.

Your gaze was hot, molten, searing across her bare skin wrapped up in lace, and Wanda was a pool of gasoline that fed your will. She whimpered quietly, so quietly, when you licked your lips imperceptibly. She wanted it.

No longer had the photoshoot been paused for lunch break did she follow your retreating figure into the emptied changing room, heart pounding and already damp between her legs. It was no secret, then, what had ensued behind closed doors and cameras.

Wanda watched herself in the mirror through lowered lashes. She was being fucked within an inch of her life, bent over and manhandled.

Her mascara was messed up, stained, and the rest of her face was no farther from saving. There were tears pooling in her eyes, from how deliciously rough you were being, and her hair was already a tousled mess, all credits to your insistent tugging.

“I know, bunny, they’re gonna be back soon, hm?” you tease, voice dripping in caramel and honey. Feels like it, too, with three thick fingers drenched in your girlfriend’s slick, pummeling into that tight little cunt like it was meant to be.

Her hair bows are all undone, strewn across the floor. Wanda looks like the fashion of a tainted angel, crafted by your doing. Her panties are undone by the laces and hanging off the side of the counter.

There was just such power you derived, from having the infamous Wanda Maximoff completely bent over in submission, subservient to your command. You just had control over her, had her wrapped around your finger, and in turn you were obsessed to her pretty self.

“Gonna be so good for me, yes bunny?” you pant into her ear, groping at her hefty tits through the lingerie. She’s so effortlessly babygirl, all wide eyes and pink lips, shy giggles in your ear when you tease her.

When Wanda fails to answer you in due time, you snap the thigh highs against her thick thighs, and the high-pitched squeal she lets out is worth it enough.

“Y-yes!” she cries out, jumping from where you snap the material. “Be good for you, promise.”

You rumble your acquiescence, looking at her reflection through the mirror. It’s immaculate all the same, glossy eyes and glossier lips. “Good girl,” you murmur into her ear, pressed hot and tight against her ass.

Wanda moans lowly at that, arching her back when your palm meets her ass once more. It’s already a handprint-red, and you didn’t want to think what her managers would say during the photoshoot that would continue later.

They should know who she belonged to.

“Fuckin’ princess,” you breathe, trailing open-mouthed kisses across her pretty back. Her lingerie is simply the prettiest thing you’d ever set your eyes on, hugging her figure like it was meant to be.

At that, you curl your fingers roughly, and the near-scream Wanda lets out is sure to be heard by someone from outside. She comes suddenly, jet streams and white bursts, squirting all over your hand and dripping down your wrist.

She whimpers at the sheer impact of her high, bright doe eyes catching yours. “Bunny,” you grunt, ramming your fingers into her pussy, not letting up for a second.

“Give me another. Your cute cunt’s good for that, right? Coming for me?”

Upon listening to you, Wanda whines again, blonde locks getting tugged on by your impatient hand. Her eyes are watery, so pretty and angelic, and you a carnal urge washes over you to just take what you want—

WIth rough movements, you drag her by the hips and spin her around, setting her onto the counter with her thighs wrapping around your torso. This way, your mouths meet in an inferno of heat and lust, your prodding tongue intruding into her mouth greedily.

Wanda’s dragged out moan of your name gets lost in the squelching sounds of your fingers spreading her pussy open. You’re even rougher than before, if that’s possible, and it almost seems like she’s going to be torn within life and death if you go on further.

The second high comes in short bursts: Wanda writhes in your arms, all hiccups and tears, clutching the lapels of your suit jacket with your overstimulated she is, all your fault, all your fault.

“Y/N, please, please, please—” Wanda gasps, pleading your name in a mindless chant, flooding your hand. At this point, you’re pretty sure she’s dripping onto the fucking floor.

She comes and she comes and she keeps on coming, your hands all over her lingerie-hugged body, your mouth whispering sweet nothings into her ear, elevating her to a redeemed paradise.

That night, in the confines of your shared penthouse, sprawled over a King-sized bed with silk sheets, Wanda pays her due. She keeps you up all night — just like espresso.

reblog to support me n my lil writings

hope yall liked this little blurb, i was cooking a long fic but then i was tired so here you go

MAIN MASTERLIST

#sabrina carpenter #sabrina carpenter x skims #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x you #marvel smut #wlw smut #gxg smut #x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #sub wanda maximoff #bottom wanda maximoff #top reader #dom reader #espresso #espresso sabrina carpenter

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ashshmee · 2 months

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au where famous singer song writer james potter goes with his band mate sirius to see his brother dance in the new york city ballet. immediately entranced by his dancing, james begs his friend’s brother, one regulus black, to dance in their music video. although regulus haughtily informs him he is “classically trained in ballet technique, potter, not just any common commercial dancer” james is determined to get the boy to dance for him again. all while he’s trying to get regulus to be in the video, he works on writing the perfect song for him to dance to. spending time wearing regulus down, they start to really get to know one another, and the songs start to turn into more of a soundtrack for their budding friendship. they start to get deeper and more heartfelt as james tries to make music that encapsulates regulus as a person rather than just something he can dance to. they start to sound like love songs. when regulus finally gives in to james’s relentless requesting and agrees to dance in the video, james plays him the final song. regulus begins to improv just to see how the song feels to move to. as he absorbs the words and translates them into movement, he realizes every sound and feeling and gesture is saying the same thing. i love you. maybe james was the one who wrote it, but regulus is the one saying it with his whole body. and he realizes he means it. before the song has even ended, regulus stops dancing and walks over to james. sitting wide eyed watching. just as entranced as the first time. and when regulus takes his face in his hands and pulls him up to kiss him, he swears his whole world shakes. like the beat of music or move of a dancer. like the two of them were meant to be just like this.

#inspired by #tiny moves #by the bleachers!!#and the music video!!#go watch it!!#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #regulus black #james potter #marauders #marauders era #harry potter

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altbite · 1 year

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Incorrect Quotes *mw2 x reader*

Alejandro: Rudy and I are having a baby.

Y/n: That's gre-

Alejandro, slamming adoption papers on the table: It's you, sign here.

Price, driving y/n and Soap: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Price: What?

Soap: We almost got kidnapped.

Price: Oh, okay.

Price: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

Ghost: Y/n... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Y/n: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

Ghost:

Ghost: I wrote sanitize, Y/n.

Y/n: *Stubs their toe* FUCK!

Rudy: Mind your language!

Y/n: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”???

Rudy:

Y/n: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

Y/n: Am I going too far?

Gaz: No, no, no. You went too far about seven hours ago. Now you're going to prison.

Soap: Truth or dare?

Y/n: Dare

Soap: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room

Y/n: Hey Graves

Graves, blushing: Yeah?

Y/n: Could you move? I’m trying to get to Alejandro

Y/n: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Gaz: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Ghost?

Ghost: Probably “road work ahead”.

Price: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

Price: Listen, I can explain...

Ghost: You’re making $500,000 and you’re only gonna pay me $30,000?

Soap: You’re getting 30 grand? I’m getting $1,000!

Y/N: You guys are getting paid?

Price: Just be yourself.

Y/n: 'Be myself'? Price, I have one day to win Alejandro over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Gaz: Couple weeks

Soap: Six months.

Ghost: Jury’s still out.

Y/n: See, Price?

Y/n: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

Soap: Alejandro... How do I begin to explain Alejandro?

Rudy: Alejandro is flawless.

Ghost: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000.

Gaz: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan.

Y/n: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

#incorrect quotes #cod #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #alejandro vargas #mw2 rudy #mw2 alejandro #mw2 price #mw2 konig #mw2 ghost #mw2 soap #mw2 graves #mw2 gaz #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #incorrect call of duty quotes

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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i’ve recently become aware of this starcourt mall commercial & i’m dying at the thought of Eddie seeing it, bored out of his mind, until Steve appears on screen with that stupid sailor’s hat and the world’s most awkward, “Ahoy!”, and, oh, Eddie’s grin is evil.

“Why did you tape over Dallas?” Wayne asks that night.

“Wayne,” Eddie says solemnly, “I needed to record the best moment of my life.”

Of course, Steve finds the tape later, because the universe likes to laugh at Eddie, apparently.

Spring Break of ‘86 is a few weeks away—thanks to one distracted moment, Eddie unknowingly puts the wrong tape in the case before returning a rental to Family Video, then speeding off to band practice.

Steve doesn’t notice the mixup until a few hours later, when he routinely opens the VHS cases to check that the tapes have been rewound. When he sees the tape devoid of any movie sticker, he can’t resist watching it; his shift is dragging by.

He gets 20 minutes into Dallas before it cuts off, and the commercial plays.

His jaw drops, and he groans in embarrassment, but he’s laughing when he calls for Robin in the back room, and then they’re watching it together, cracking up. They both remember filming it, remember looking at each other and swearing to never speak of it again, but they’d never actually seen it, and well… it is pretty funny.

Steve gets an evil grin of his own when he sees that the rental account is in Eddie’s name.

When he calls, he gets Mr. Munson on the phone, and because Steve can also be a meddling little shit when the conditions are right, he makes up some story about the store having new forms, that he just needs Eddie to sign one quickly.

The next day, Eddie strolls in, and Steve looks him right in the eye.

“Ahoy, Munson,” he says, deadpan.

Eddie freezes in place. He briefly considers turning around and walking into traffic.

“Harrington,” he says stiffly.

“Hey, man,” Steve says, relentlessly chipper, “so we’re kinda down on one copy of—” He glances over to the computer. “—Life of Brian, and up one copy of, uh…” He lifts Eddie’s tape off the counter, smirks. “I guess, half of Dallas.”

Eddie stalks over. “It was… for school,” he blurts out unconvincingly. “Recording Hawkins history. Nothing personal, King Steve.”

Steve lets the venom in the nickname bounce off him. “Starcourt was pretty, uh, historic,” he says mildly, fighting another smirk.

“Whatever,” Eddie snaps, losing what little patience he has left—despite all of his performances to the contrary, the thought of people laughing at him still makes his skin crawl. “Let me get out of your massive hair, Harrington, and I’ll bring your fucking video back.”

Steve raises one hand, palm out. “Woah, chill,” he says, and as Eddie’s nostrils flare, he feels a little twinge of guilt; he didn’t actually mean for all of this to come across as mean-spirited or anything. “Sorry, man. I’m not trying to be a dick, I swear.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Could’ve fooled me.” But he looks a little calmer, raises an eyebrow. Well?

“Here,” Steve says, handing over the tape, and he doesn’t react when Eddie snatches it back. “Oh, and I extended the rental on your movie.” He shrugs. “Saves you a double trip, y’know?”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, after a pause.

“No biggie.” And when Eddie makes to leave, Steve calls, “Hey, Munson?”

Eddie turns at the door, no longer quite as cagey. “What?”

Steve shrugs again. “Thanks for the mixup, I guess?”

“You’re kidding,” Eddie says flatly.

“No, I mean it, dude. Like, once I got over the, well, embarrassment of, um, everything, it was actually kinda… nice to see it.” He nods to Robin in one of the aisles, guiding a customer over to a movie. “Me and Robin, we—it was nice to have something about Starcourt that we could laugh at.”

Eddie considers him. “Were you in the fire?”

Steve smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d say there’s more than straightforward sadness on his face. “Yeah, got caught up in it.”

Eddie slowly, thoughtfully, opens the door but doesn’t leave, leans against it. He looks Steve up and down. “Damn shame you don’t have a hat in your get-up here, Harrington.”

Steve mock scowls, ruffles his hair. “I’m not suffering through that again.”

Eddie finds himself smiling without meaning to. “You poor thing. I guess once is enough.”

And Steve rolls his eyes this time. “Yeah, yeah, once. You’ve goddamn immortalised it, Munson.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, but I had to,” he says, tucking the tape under his arm, “for posterity. In a hundred years, there’ll be sonnets written about your sailor outfit, Steve Harrington.”

And, whoops, that wasn’t planned, Eddie thinks. Laying it on a bit thick there.

Steve laughs, but not at him; Eddie can tell now. “Go enjoy your Saturday, Munson.”

Eddie gives a lazy salute. “Ahoy.”

And as Eddie leaves, he spots a note on the counter, next to the usual Be kind, rewind reminders. It’s handwritten, with a cartoony winking face: And check what’s inside!

#this was meant to be a shitpost and become a fic woops #pre steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie

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seventeenytiny · 5 months

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Dry humping with SKZ plz. Im new to this channel so yeah. Take ur time

Dry Humping with Skz

Smut: MDNI

Word count: 1392 Authors Note: Well anon, you sent this ask in at either the end of May or June, it is now December. You said I could take my time and I sure did, inspiration has finally struck. I hope you enjoy! Also, the way I wrote each little blurb kinda shifted with each member so I apologize for the inconsistency

Bang Chan - Dry humping frustrates Chan, I firmly believe this man craves skin-to-skin contact badly. Why would he want to waste time dry humping when he could just rip off your clothes and feel the warmth of your skin against his? I feel like the only way you're going to get away with this would be when you take control and tie his hands behind his back. He'd be helpless, wanting to touch your body so badly as you hover over him, his hips bucking into the air. You slowly lower your body against his, grinding on his hard-on in the most teasingly possible way. He'd throw his head back while the most desperate whiney moan leaves his lips. I swear he could start tearing up because he's so desperate to actually touch you.

Lee Know - He'd love to do this as a punishment for when you start getting sassy with him. When you went to undo his belt he immediately swatted your hands away, "You don't deserve my cock angel. You were so naughty sending me those pics while you knew I was in an important meeting."

You whimper, "Minho, please. I need your cock so bad..."

"You wanna know what naughty girls get?" He asks while taking a seat and loosening his tie. He sticks his leg out and points to his thigh, "Come here angel, have a seat. If you want to get off you have to do it yourself." You begin to unbutton your jeans but you're suddenly cut off, "What are you doing?" He interrupts, "This is a punishment, keep your pants on and work for it."

You swallow hard as you straddle his thigh, the denim of your pants making it harder for you to feel what you so desperately want to feel.

Changbin - It starts with you two lounging around on a lazy day in comfy clothes and sweatpants. Then it becomes a heavy makeout session every time there is a commercial break during your show. Now, it's you on top of him desperately grinding against his hard cock. Those damn grey sweatpants he has on always get you, always perfectly outlining his member. You push yourself against his crotch, your want to feel pleasure is the only thing on your mind. He's so thick you can feel his tip pushing against your clit with each movement of your hips. You lean forward, pulling him in for a hot and heavy kiss, his hands grabbing all over your body. When you pull away you can see the dark patch forming in his pants from precum, he needs you so badly.

Hyunjin - You weren't lying when you told him you wanted him to teach you some dance moves. Your intentions were honest from the get-go. It started with a couple accidental bumps of your ass against his crotch while he was trying to guide your body. Then, you started to get an idea, and those accidental bumps no longer became accidents. He grabs you suddenly, pushing his now hard cock onto your ass, "I know what you're doing Y/N. Are you sure you want to play this game?" You smile innocently while batting your eyelashes at him, "I don't know what you're talking about," you say as you push back against his crotch. That's when he grabs you, pinning you against the floor. He hovers his body over yours, his crotch slowly making contact with your clothed pussy. He leans forward and nibbles on your neck, leaving marks. Every move he made with his body was so slow and sensual. His body is hot and heavy over yours, his skin covered in a layer of sweat that makes him look heavenly. "Hyunjin, please, I want more," you moan out. He smirks at you, "More of what? I'm not sure what you're talking about?"

Han - The two of you were spooning in bed, ready for sleep to take over your bodies. The only problem was that you couldn't quite get comfortable, unintentionally wiggling your ass against Jisung's crotch as you tried to find the right position. You felt his hold on you tighten as he took a deep breath, "I need you to hold still unless you want to stay up late doing something else." He pushes his groin into your body to help prove his point, his obvious boner pressing against you. You decide you don't even want to respond with words, all you do is push back into him. "Such a naughty girl," he says, his hips now slowly yet rhythmically grinding against you. " You can't help yourself, can you? Always horny for my cock." You whimper in response, letting your boyfriend take control of your body.

Felix - You were trying to cook a nice meal for the two of you, it was a rare night where both of your schedules lined up for you two to be home for dinner. You were standing at the counter, chopping up veggies that you would add to your dish. Felix enters the kitchen and embraces you from behind as you continue to prep. You let out a relaxed sigh as you put your knife down and sink into the embrace.

Felix pecks at your cheek, "I'm sure what you're going to make is delicious love, but I'm a bit hungry for something else." He moves his mouth to lick at your neck, a move that always makes you weak in the knees. "You're so cheesy Felix,"

"But I know you love it," he says while pushing his hard-on against you.

"Ah... please don't stop..."

That's all he had to hear, now he has you pinned against the counter, his crotch rubbing against yours most deliciously. The denim of his jeans feels heavenly against the thin material of your leggings. He has your legs shaking already, his lips all over your neck as he pleasures you.

Seungmin - Seungmin had been really busy lately, he was constantly filming for different shows and interviews. As a result, you missed him, so he let you tag along to one of his shoots. You stayed out of the way, hiding in his dressing room while he worked. Every little break he has he's in there giving you attention, hugging you, and covering you with kisses before having to go back out to film. Finally, a 30-minute break came, and he practically ran to his dressing room to see you. You were lying comfortably on the couch, scrolling away on your phone. He grabs your phone and puts it aside before crawling on top of you. You were a bit shocked at how bold he was being, "I have a 30-minute break and I'm going to not waste any time with you," he says while sucking at your neck. You put your arms around him, your hands being careful to not mess up his styled hair. "Do whatever you want to do to me then, baby." He wastes no time, his lips attacking yours, his hips pushing into yours. You spread your legs slightly, allowing him to grind his hard cock against your pussy. He's fast with his movements, eager and desperate to please you and him.

I.N - Waking up with Jeongin by your side was always a treat. He looks so gorgeous, his messy hair and deep morning voice adding to his charm. "Good morning my love," he says while pulling you close to his body. "Did you sleep well?"

"Still tired... don't want to get out of bed yet..."

"We can stay here as long as you want," he says while leaning over to place a kiss on your temple. That's when you feel it, his morning wood poking your backside. You smile to yourself, you're going to take full advantage of this situation. You arch your back to push your ass into him firmly, slowly grinding against his underwear-covered cock. He lets out a soft moan, one so quiet that you could hardly hear it. "Does that feel good baby? Do you like the way ass feels against your cock?"

He wraps his arms around you, pulling your body as tight as he can against yours while pushing back against you. "Don't you dare stop."

The two of you find your rhythm rather quickly, sweat starting to coat both of your bodies as you race to finish.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #lee felix #bang chan #lee know #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #han jisung #jisung #kim seungmin #seungmin #jeongin #I.N

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Text

Love Comes Walking In - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie didn’t want to go to prom, until he wanted to go with Chrissy. You wanted to go to prom, but not if Eddie is going to go with Chrissy. But above everything, you want Eddie to be happy.

Note: this whole thing mostly came about because I wanted to write the one scene with Dustin. You’ll know the one.

Words: 6k

Eddie teasing you was nothing new. His lighthearted jabs about your skirt making you look preppy or having sleepy eye boogers first thing in the morning roll off your back, occasionally even making you laugh along. But when he teases you about wanting to go to prom, that gets under your skin.

Wanting one special night to wear a pretty gown with glowing makeup and neatly styled hair didn’t sound stupid to you. To your best friend, it seemed like torture. The whole school year Eddie would rag on you about buying into the whole conformist commercialism that you thought of as a rite of passage. That makes it even worse when he suddenly changes his tune just a week before the dance.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jeff complains.

Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just because I changed my mind doesn’t mean I’m ridiculous,” he argues.

“You changed your mind because of a girl!” Gareth shouts.

Jabbing your green beans with your plastic fork, you stay silent as the boys bicker back and forth. Part of you was also afraid to open your mouth, unsure of what would come out.

“You say that like I’d go to prom with any girl,” Eddie snaps. “I’m not saying I’m going, I’m saying I would go with Chrissy.”

The fork is clutched so hard in your hand that you think it’s going to snap in half.

“What’s wrong with wanting to go with anyone?” Jeff asks.

Eddie waves a dismissive hand at him and wrinkles his face up in distaste, not bothering to give a verbal response.

“Hypocrite,” you mumble under your breath.

“I am not.” Eddie stares at you and your head jerks up in surprise that he heard you.

“Yes, you are,” you say. “You’ve made fun of me all year for wanting to go and now because you have a crush, it’s different? Bullshit.”

“I changed my mind,” Eddie reiterates.

“Fine,” you say with a huff. It’s not worth arguing with him over.

“Maybe you should apologize,” Dustin suggests softly.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Come on, you have been on her ass about it all year,” Dustin says.

“Thanks, Dustin,” you say. “But it’s fine.”

Eddie opens his mouth, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. Chair legs scraping against the floor, you push your seat back and stand up from the table. The guys all watch as you leave, dumping your tray in the trash before stalking out of the cafeteria.

Arguments with Eddie rarely happened. They’re so rare that neither of you know how to react when you next see each other. Are you still fighting? Has it been long enough where you both can pretend like nothing ever happened? There’s no chance to talk to one another in your shared algebra class the next day, so it wasn’t until lunch that you really came face to face. Eddie’s at the table before you, and you plop down in your usual seat next to him.

“We cool?” Eddie asks as you’re in the middle of lifting a forkful of mac and cheese to your open mouth.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, eyeing him over your full fork. “I guess.”

“Good.” He slouches down in his seat, as if he can relax now that he knows you’re on good terms. “Oh shit, here I got you something.” Eddie reaches into his metal lunchbox and pulls out a Three Musketeers bar. “Band kids are selling candy, so I bought your favorite for you. Hide it before Henderson gets here or he’ll steal it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a grin. This was exactly the reason why your feelings for Eddie would never go away. Just when he pisses you off to the point where you swear you’re never going to sit with him at lunch again, he turns around and does something sweet and thoughtful without expecting anything in return.

“Breaking news, losers,” Gareth says as he drops his tray on the table. “I have a prom date.”

“Well shit, I guess hell has frozen over,” Mike says as he and Dustin join the rest of you.

“You’re not a senior,” Jeff points out.

“No, but my date is.” Gareth’s smirk is enough to earn an eye roll from both you and Eddie.

“Who’s that desperate?”

Gareth throws a French fry at you - which you dodge - before he answers.

“Calling Kel desperate?”

“What?” you almost screech. “How are you going with one of the sweetest girls at school?”

“I’m super cool,” he says, making the rest of you bust out in laughter.

“But seriously,” Jeff says.

“You’re all assholes,” Gareth says before digging into his food. “At least I have a date.”

Eddie goes to reply, but you’re afraid of what he’s going to say, so you scoop up your backpack and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once you step out of the cafeteria, you roll out your neck and shoulders, trying not to think of Eddie back in there talking about prom with the guys. You push the girl’s bathroom door open and breathe a sigh of relief when you’re the only one in there. Dropping your bag on the floor between your feet, you lean forward on one of the sinks and look at yourself in the mirror. A few deep breaths later, you feel your body relax. It’s short lived, however, when the door squeaks open on old hinges and two cheerleaders step in.

You feel bad for the guttural reaction you have to seeing Chrissy’s blonde ponytail swinging behind you in the mirror. She is a complete sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but the jealous green-eyed monster rears its ugly head and your fingers dig into the cool porcelain.

“It really sucks,” the other cheerleader says to Chrissy. You know you’ve seen her around, but you don’t know her name. Both cheerleaders park at the sinks next to you to touch up their makeup. Chrissy throws you a bright smile and a friendly wave before taking her lip gloss out and turning back towards her friend.

“I know,” Chrissy says. “I knew we were going to break up, but I was hoping for it to be after prom. How am I supposed to find a new date in a week?”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that,” her friend assures her.

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says with a sigh. “Everyone probably has their dates by now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your pulse is raging in your ears and sweat is starting to make your hands slip against the sink. The internal debate rages inside of you. Do you let your jealousy get in the way of something that will make Eddie happy? It would throw away any shot you had of going to prom with Eddie yourself - but you know that was a long shot anyway.

Still undecided, you take a step back from the sink, and your backpack falls over. You bend down to pick it up and the Three Musketeer bar falls out. It feels like your gaze should melt the chocolate that’s laying before you. Damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness at buying you the stupid candy. You toss it back in your bag, wincing as you prepare self-destruction.

“Hey, Chrissy,” you say.

She turns to you with a smile, putting the top back on her lip gloss.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“I, uh, didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” you say as you slide your backpack on. You can’t manage to look her in the eyes as you speak. “But I know someone who doesn’t have a date yet.”

“You do?” She perks up in interest and the souring of your stomach almost keeps you from going further.

“Yeah.” It sounds painful coming out of your mouth and you hope neither cheerleader notices. “Um, Eddie? Eddie Munson.”

“Really?” her friend asks. She crosses her arms over her chest and juts a hip out. You’re two seconds away from smacking the snotty look off her face when Chrissy speaks up.

“Eddie is great,” Chrissy says, looking over her shoulder at her friend before looking back at you. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Think he’ll say yes if I ask him?”

“I do.” Those two words were almost the hardest to get out. It was killing you how much of an understatement it was.

“Okay!” The eagerness in her voice makes you want to cry. There’s no way you’ll be able to face Eddie back in there.

“You can, um, ask him now if you want,” you say with a shrug. With a deep breath, you head towards the bathroom door. You stop halfway out the door and turn back around. “Oh, if Eddie asks,” you say, doubting he would because he’d be too consumed by the fact that his dreams were coming true, “can you just tell him I wasn’t feeling well and left?”

“No problem.” Her brow furrows in concern and she takes a step towards you. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” It’s the biggest lie you’ve told in a while. “Cramps.” You put your hand to your lower abdomen and Chrissy gives you a sympathetic nod.

“Feel better!”

Without answering her, you walk out of the bathroom and down the hall, to the school exit. As soon as you slide into your car, the tears start. They start pouring so heavily and your hands shake so badly that you can’t put your key in the ignition. Momentarily giving up, you drop the keys in your lap and drop your head down to the steering wheel.

Giving yourself enough time to get the worst of it out, you pull back and use your sleeves to wipe down your face. With a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to center yourself. After a few breaths in and out, in and out, you’re able to get the keys in the ignition on the first try. You pull your car out of the parking lot and head towards your house. The conversation you had with Chrissy keeps going through your head and you can’t keep from picturing the euphoric look that will be on Eddie’s face when she asks him. The saving grace you’re holding on to is the fact that Chrissy immediately defended Eddie to her friend. There aren’t many people in the school who would do that.

Luckily, no one is home when you get to your house and you’re able to go inside and sulk in peace in your bed. More tears leak out as you hug your pillow to your chest. You must end up falling asleep because the persistent ringing of your doorbell jolts you awake sometime later. Heart racing from the adrenaline, you pull yourself out of bed and drag yourself to the front door.

Eddie’s standing on the other side and it’s the first time his smile has ever broken your heart.

“You are the best!” He swoops into your house and wraps you up in his arms. “Oh shit, sorry. I forgot, Chrissy said you’re having some girl pains.”

Right.

“They’re better now that I’ve rested,” you say. “And you don’t have to thank me. Just doing what a good friend would do, right?”

“The best friend in the world!” He takes your head in his hands and presses a loud smacking kiss to your forehead. His happiness is infectious and despite your foul mood, a small smile curls on your mouth.

“Now,” he says, taking both of his hands in yours. “We have to find a date for you.”

“Oh.” Your face drops and you shake your head. “I’m not going to go.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that Eddie would still be thinking about how you wanted to attend prom. The idea of his own perfect date should’ve been occupying his whole brain, but damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness.

“What?” Eddie immediately frowns and it tugs at your heart. It tempts you to tell him you’ll go, but the mental image of Eddie dressed up and dancing with a flawless-as-usual Chrissy makes you bite your tongue.

“You were right before,” you tell him. “It’s dumb and there’s shitty music. Plus, the dresses are way too expensive.” The dress you planned on wearing was already in your closet, but Eddie didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure?” Eddie dips his head down to meet your eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly.

“Yeah,” you tell him.

“I’m going to miss you there,” he says, and you almost slip up and laugh out loud at his statement.

“Oh please, you’ll be having way too much fun to notice I’m not there.”

“Like that could happen,” Eddie says with a skeptical look.

You don’t bother arguing with him, even though you know he’s wrong.

On your way to the cafeteria the next day, you can’t bring yourself to walk in. You know if you do then you’re just going to be hearing about plans for prom and you don’t trust yourself not to break down in tears in front of everyone. There was no way you could avoid the guys entirely until prom, but you couldn’t face them today. Eddie doesn’t want to be with you. He wants to be with Chrissy. And you have to make yourself seem okay with that somehow. Just not today.

There’s a vending machine on the way to the gym, so you pick up a bag of crackers and a bottle of coke. The gymnasium is empty, so you take a seat on the bottom row of bleachers and start to eat your sad little lunch. It’s easy to let your mind wander, so you try to redirect it away from where it wants to go. Usual calming fantasies revolve around Eddie in some way, but that’s out of the question right now.

Your mind can’t stray far from Eddie though, so you let your mind divulge in a little dark fantasy as you eat. What would happen if you just ran away? What would happen if you just threw some clothes in a bag and bolted? You would never actually do it, but imagining Eddie being sad over you leaving brings you a sick sort of comfort. Because he would miss you. You know he loves you, it’s just not in the same way that you wish.

As you crumble up your wrapper in your hand, the gym door opens and a familiar hat over tousled curls walks in. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, as he walks your way with his hands in his pockets. Sneakers squeak across the shiny floor and come to a sudden halt as he stops in front of you.

Dustin dips his chin down and raises his eyes to look at you. He takes one hand out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

“Yes?” you ask, looking between his eyes and his hand.

“I know what you did for Eddie,” he says. “We all know. Except for him, he’s an idiot. But it really was a nice thing to do. I never could’ve done it.”

“Thanks,” you say skeptically, unsure of where he was going with this.

“He told us you said you don’t want to go to prom. I know that’s bullshit. So,” he says, bringing his hand back and extending it to you again, “I am asking you if I may take you to the prom.”

Your eyes immediately well with tears as you look up at the boy in front of you. Dustin was always one of the sweetest people you knew, but this was taking it to a whole other level.

“Oh, Dustin,” you say. You take his hand and tug his arm until he’s sitting on the bleacher next to you. “That is the sweetest offer I’ve gotten in my entire life. But I can’t go to prom.”

Dustin sighs and nods his head.

“Can’t see them together?” he asks.

“Correct.”

He wraps his arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“So, everyone knows, huh?” you ask.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you stare at Eddie a lot.”

The laughter that bubbles out of you is so unexpected that you bring your hand up to cover your mouth.

“I know,” you admit. “I do.”

“And you look at him differently than you look at anyone else,” he says.

“Like he’s an idiot?” you ask and Dustin chuckles.

“No, I think we all look at him that way.”

You sigh and pick your head up from Dustin’s shoulder. You pat his arm and give him a grateful smile.

“Dustin Henderson, you are the best. And if I were going to go to the prom with anybody at all, it would be you.”

“Well, when I go to my senior prom, I hope I go with someone half as awesome as you.”

That makes the tears spill over and you hastily wipe them off your cheeks.

“God, I love you.” You throw your arms around his neck and give him the tightest hug you’ve given anyone in a while. He chuckles as he hugs you back.

“Who doesn’t?”

The night of prom comes, and you stand in your kitchen, alone in the house and in your comfiest sweats, making cookie dough. Screw warnings of not eating raw eggs, you were making this dough to eat, not cook. The last few days at school you went back to eat lunch with the guys but used a fake sore throat as an excuse for staying quiet and distant. You really only needed to fool Eddie though, since the other guys knew what was really going on with you.

You take the bowl of cookie dough into the living room and set it down as you flip through the VHS tapes you’d rented earlier in the day. Steve had known about you not going to prom because, of course he did, Dustin tells him everything. You assured him it wasn’t a big deal, just wanting to get out with your movies.

Settling on The Outsiders because you could stare at Rob Lowe all day, you pop the tape in and settle on the couch with your favorite blankets and your bowl of cookie dough. You can only eat about a quarter of the dough before your stomach has had enough. It sits on the table in front of you as you watch the rest of the movie. It’s not even eleven by the time the movie’s over but you don’t feel up to sitting through another one. You take the bowl of cookie dough back into the kitchen and stick it in the refrigerator. Thoughts of what’s happening at the prom have been trying to jam their way into your brain all night, but without the movie to distract you, those thoughts finally break in. Is there a slow song playing right now? Are Eddie’s hands on her hips or is one wrapped around her back while the other holds her hand? Is he having a good time? Are they playing any music that he likes? What did he end up wearing? You know you’ll end up seeing pictures but you’re not looking forward to seeing how pristine Chrissy is all dolled up when she’s naturally so beautiful on her own. Right now, you can imagine she’s wearing a garbage bag and her hair is all rolled up in curlers and her makeup looks like a clown’s. But once you see pictures, that illusion you’ve clung to will burst like a bubble in your heart.

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to try and stop the impending tears from falling. A few deep breaths and you get it under control. This heartbreak shit sucks.

Before heading up to your room, you grab a water bottle from the fridge and your blanket off the couch. On your nightstand is a small radio and you click it on so you won’t be alone in silence with just your thoughts for company. The sheets feel cold and crisp as you slide into them. Putting your blanket back on top of you, you curl up on your side and nuzzle your face into your pillow. The light’s still on in your room, but you didn’t feel like getting up to turn it off.

The dial on your radio must’ve gotten knocked at some point - which happened often as you fumbled with things on your nightstand constantly - because smooth jazz starts playing and you huff a laugh into your pillow. You weren’t moving to fix that, either. When your parents come home, if you’ve already fallen asleep, your mom will turn both the radio and light off for you.

But the jazz is actually more soothing the longer it plays. It calms your frayed nerves and helps you start to doze off, body finally giving in to the exhaustion you’ve been feeling from all the stress lately.

In your half-asleep state, you hear your parents come home. They’re not exactly quiet walking around downstairs, but they also probably didn’t expect you to be sleeping this early. The thudding of your mom’s heels coming up the stairs echoes in the quiet hallway, drifting into you even over the radio. The footsteps keep coming towards your room and you’re looking forward to the sweet darkness you’ve craved when your mom gets to your room. But the lights don’t turn off. Instead, the bed dips next to you and you feel someone lay down beside you.

She means well, you know, because she knew that you were bummed to miss prom, even if she didn’t know why. But the last thing you wanted right now was to have her try and talk to you about how you’re feeling. You know you’ll lose it and end up crying yet again. She stays quiet beside you though and you’re thankful for it.

“I know you’re not asleep.”

The deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open. Eddie’s laying down on his side, facing you, head propped up on his arm. He’s smiling at you. It’s the first thing you notice before your eyes travel down, taking in the suit he’s wearing. Partially a suit, anyway. He’s wearing nice black slacks, which you didn’t even know he owned, with a maroon button up shirt. No jacket, but you’re not sure if he had one on earlier or not. He’s still your Eddie though, because he has his pick necklace on and his many rings adorning his fingers.

“Look at you.” Your voice sounds a bit froggy between almost being asleep and all the crying you’ve done. “Not a stitch of denim in sight.”

Eddie chuckles. It sounds so nice. He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

“Came by to see my best girl,” he says. Maybe he still says it out of habit, but you’re pretty sure you’ll be losing that title shortly.

“But prom,” you say, whinier than you intended to.

“It’s over,” he says.

You frown and crane your neck to see the clock on your dresser. The neon green tells you that it’s just after one in the morning. You must’ve dozed longer than you thought.

“How was it?” you ask, bracing yourself for the answer.

“Pretty much how I expected it to be.”

“Oh yeah?” The fake smile on your face is starting to feel second nature, and you hate it. “Everything you’d hoped?”

“No,” he says with a laugh. He shakes his head and twirls the ring on one of his middle fingers with his thumb. “I was right the first time. Shitty music. Horrible punch - which Principal Higgins was guarding like he was trying to keep the Huns from invading China. People at our school can’t dance for shit, myself included. And to top it all off, my favorite person wasn’t there.”

Your brow scrunches together and you sit up in bed.

“She stood you up?”

“What?” Eddie asks. When he realizes what you mean, he closes his eyes and smiles. “No, you dork. I meant you. You weren’t there.”

“Me?” you ask. The skepticism in your voice cuts right to Eddie’s heart. He frowns and scoots forward on the bed so he can rest his hand on your hip.

“Yes, you. You’re doubting that you’re my favorite person?”

“Well, kind of,” you say quietly.

“Why?” he asks, and his frown makes your heart plummet into your stomach.

��It’s just, you were so excited to go with Chrissy.”

“I was,” he admits. “But just because I had a crush on a girl doesn’t mean that you’re not still my number one.”

Had. The one word sticks in your mind and you know there are other things you should say, better things, but the question is burning your tongue so it has to come out.

“Had a crush?” you ask.

Eddie nods and rubs his thumb over your hip bone.

“Turns out a lot of crushes can go away quickly if you actually spend time with the person.”

“Did she say something? Do something?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply. “She’s great. There was just nothing to talk about after the first twenty minutes or so. She knows nothing about my interests, and I know nothing about hers.”

“Just didn’t click?” you ask.

“Yeah, exactly,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, mouth pursed in thought. “This is a horrible analogy, but it’s what came to mind. It’s like when a present is sitting there in front of you, and it’s wrapped beautifully. Ribbons and bows and all that jazz. You just stare at it and want it, imagining what kind of fun thing could be inside. Then, you finally get it, you can hold it in your hands. You open it and it’s a new shirt. It’s nice, but not what you were expecting. You don’t dislike the shirt, it’s just not the present you wanted.”

“Look at you with the metaphors,” you say with a smirk. “Senior English three times and you’re a full-on scholar now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and playfully squeezes the skin at your hip.

“I was being serious,” he says.

“I know. And I get it. You kissed a frog who didn’t turn into a princess.”

“And you thought I had an odd way of putting it,” Eddie says with a laugh. “But I didn’t even kiss her before I knew there was nothing there. Once the excitement wore off it was pretty boring, actually.”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted,” you tell him honestly.

“I’ve always known the prom itself would suck. Just thought it might be fun with the right date. And it might’ve been, but I didn’t have that.” He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “I should’ve brought you.”

The tears are coming but you force them to hold their position. It’s hard not to yell at him that that’s what you’ve wanted all along. But there’s no point. Any begging or pleading before the prom wouldn’t have gotten him to agree to take you. So, instead of living in the ‘if you realized this sooner I could have gotten to go to my prom’, you let it go by and just appreciate the fact that he wishes he had gone with you instead of Chrissy.

“But I’ve had an idea,” Eddie says as he pushes himself off your bed.

“And what’s that?”

“Well,” he says as he walks over to your closet. “First things first, I’ve got to see what we’re working with here.”

“Why?” You scoot down to the foot of the bed to see what he’s doing more clearly. He’s going through your clothes, inspecting every piece, and deeming them unfit for whatever scheme he’s cooked up in his brain.

“You’ll see. Wait. Are you kidding me?” He reaches into the back of your closet and pulls out the gold dress that you had bought for prom. “You told me you didn’t get a dress!”

“How do you know I haven’t had that dress for a while?” But your blush won’t let you get away with the lie.

“Well for starters, the tag is still on it.” He brandishes it to you and you huff.

“Okay, yeah, yeah, I had a dress. But I didn’t want to go, and I didn’t think you’d end up riling through my closet anyway.”

“Put it on,” he says, tossing its hanger into your lap.

“I’m sorry, what?” The dress tries to slide from your lap to the floor, so you pull it up and lay it down on the bed next to you.”

“Put it on,” he says slower this time, as if that should clear up everything.

“Why?”

“Because I want to dance with you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I’d dance with you in your sweats, but I thought you might want to get all dolled up like me.” He smirks and runs his hands down the buttons of his maroon shirt.

“You want to dance with me?” Maybe you’re still asleep and this is all a dream.

“Yeah.” Again, he says it as if it’s something you do every day. His casual tone is making you think you’re the one who’s not making sense.

“Okay,” you say as you stand. “I guess I’ll go change.”

“This is your room,” Eddie says, heading to the door. “Change here, I’ll wait out here.” He walks into the hallway, closing your bedroom door behind him.

You slip the sweatpants down your legs and tug the sweatshirt off over your head. The single strapless bra you own is at the bottom of the drawer and you have to dig your way down to find it. The gold dress has a halter neckline so there’s no way you could wear a regular bra underneath. You squeeze the bra on, and even change your panties from blue ones with butterflies on it, to one of the few lace ones you own.

The dress unzips easily and glides down your body as you get situated. You can’t zip it yourself, but Eddie can do that for you. Most of the makeup you own is in the bathroom, but you can make do with the little bit sitting over on your dresser. Looking in the mirror, you do a soft layer of makeup and then inspect your hair. It strikes you as funny when you see yourself in a golden dress with makeup on, but total bedhead up on top. You yank the scrunchie out of your hair and shake your head to toss your hair around. It looks better but not great. Your eyes land on a silver hair clip dotted with pearls and you reach up to tuck some of your hair back and secure it with the pin. There. The look is done.

When you open your bedroom door you expect Eddie to be waiting there but you don’t see him. You stick your head into the hall and look both ways but see no metal head.

“Eddie?” you call.

“Coming!”

He jogs out of your dad’s office a few doors down, carrying a few sheets of paper. Eddie comes to a halt as he takes in your appearance. Heat blooms in your face as you watch Eddie scan every last detail of this ensemble.

“You look gorgeous,” he says. It’s enough to make you pass out, but you somehow stay standing firm.

“Thank you,” you say. “You look very handsome. Did I tell you that when you first got here?”

“No,” he says with a chuckle. “Just a remark about me not wearing any denim.”

“Which is truly a miracle. But you do look handsome. Very handsome.”

He smiles and takes steps towards you, paper still in his hands.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“I’m not very good at origami, but I did my best to turn this sheet of paper into a corsage.”

Your heart leaps at his words and it’s another battle of wills with your tears when Eddie slips his improvised flower on your wrist. Some tears win the battle, and they trail down your face. Luckily, you were smart enough to apply waterproof makeup.

“Eddie, this is…” you trail off, not having the words to express how you’re feeling.

“You wanted prom, so I’m giving you prom.” He takes both of your hands in his and guides you back into your bedroom. He closes the door behind him with his foot, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Can you zip me up?” you ask. He nods and you turn around. His hands against your back sends a shiver up your spine and goosebumps break out over your arms. You hear him chuckle and he trails the tips of his fingers over your shoulders as you turn back around.

“What’s with the smooth jazz?” Eddie can’t help but laugh at the saxophone solo coming in over the speakers.

“I hit the dial again.”

“Well, let’s fix that.” He bends down and turns the dial to find a good station. The static goes in and out, some songs coming through in pieces, or sounding like they’re underwater. It finally lands on a clear station and Eddie grins in triumph. “Perfect. Love Comes Walking In.”

“You know I love Van Halen.”

Eddie stands up straight and takes the few steps over to you. He bows in classic dramatic Eddie fashion, and he comes back up with a frown on his face.

“You’re not wearing heels. Or shoes at all.”

“Eddie, I would’ve kicked them off the moment I got there anyway,” you tell him with a laugh. “Barefoot is fine.”

“Just checking. Want this to be an authentic impromptu prom for you.”

You giggle and Eddie reaches his hand out to you. You take it and he instantly pulls you in and holds you against his body. It would be a miracle if he couldn’t feel or hear your heart beating so fast it’s like someone is dribbling a basketball beneath your ribs. His right hand takes your left and he twines your fingers together. His other hand snakes around your waist until it settles warmly on your back. You place your other hand on his shoulder and smile up at him.

“This is already better than actual prom,” he says. “Good music. Perfect date.”

Red rises to your cheeks and you duck your head shyly.

The pair of you sway to the beat of the song, bodies moving along with the rhythm. Eddie spins you and it makes you let out a giddy peal of laughter. He pulls you back into him and you wrap both arms around his neck. He places his hands firmly on your waist as you start to sway again.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“You brought all the best parts of prom to me. I didn’t have to suffer through the shitty parts. I’ve got my dress, my music, my favorite person. It’s perfect, Eddie.”

“I’ll dance like this with you anytime,” he says. “All you have to do is ask.”

The way he’s looking at you stirs some butterflies up that have been dormant until this point. He’s never looked at you this way and you’re not sure what it is. You know every Eddie facial expression and what they mean, but this one is new. His face is soft, and his eyes are wide, as usual. The brown irises are twinkling and there’s the barest smile on the left side of his mouth.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.

“You,” he says. No further explanation, which leads your mind to grasping for answers as usual.

“What about me?”

“Just…you.”

“Okay, I take back what I said about being a scholar now. You’ve lost the ability to words,” you say and wrinkle up your nose playfully at him. He catches you by surprise, though, when he leans forward and presses a kiss to the very tip of your nose.

The blush you had before was nothing to the one now gracing your features. Eddie chuckles when he sees it and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours.

“Do you want to have another prom tomorrow?” he asks.

“What’s that entail? Dancing with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good music?”

“Of course.”

“Can I wear comfy clothes?”

“I’ll be wearing mine.”

“Hmm,” you hum, pretending to consider it. “Can we get food too?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I like the sound of that,” you say with a smirk.

“Is that a yes?” Eddie asks.

“Eddie, I’d have this kind of prom with you every single day.”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction

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puck-bunnies · 3 months

Text

behind closed doors

umich!luke hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, fingering, praising, choking, not proof read

word count: 2.3k

me and luke were never much of friends, never even talked much. at least, that’s what everyone thought. no one ever knows what happens behind closed doors.

i have not used this app in forever, meaning i haven’t written a fic in quite a long time so this is me trying to get back into writing. sorry if this is not great and a little rushed, i just haven’t written anything in like five months. anyways, try to enjoy this fic and ill try to write more as soon as i can.

i sit in the living room of my best friends boyfriends house, she sits beside me as all of ethan’s roommates take up every other seat. the lightning vs islanders game plays on the tv, having all of our eyes glued to it.

the boys are in a constant state of yelling, wether is celebrating, yelling at how stupid the refs are, or booing the other team. i’m not as invested as usual, my teams aren’t playing, but ill never miss an opportunity to a hockey game.

my mind also focuses on the close proximity as luke sits beside me, our thighs lightly rubbing against each other ever so softly. the warm summer weather left me wearing shorts and a tank top, causing luke’s hand to glide across my bare skin as he secretly places his hand on my thigh.

i never intended on sneaking around with luke, it all just happened one day, the house was empty and quiet. we got to talking, venturing from subjects like our classes, plans for our future, and somehow turning into our sex life.

he learned that i’ve never really gotten quite what i need, never feeling that spark with any guy that i’ve been with. them never wanting to try anything i’ve wanted to, i’ve never been fully satisfied.

he continued to tell me how he has slept around quite a bit. nearly almost always leaving the rink with some new blonde puck bunny stuck to his arm. he didn’t wear it as a trophy, or say that he regretted any of it, all just saying it’s apart of his past. his history he can’t and won’t change.

one thing led to another, his hands roaming my body as my lips bit down on his. my hands squeezing the mattress tightly with every moan escaping my lips.

we didn’t even stop there, whenever we could find a time to be alone, we were tangled in each others arms.

here we are now, not even able to keep our hands to ourselves in sight of one another. i try to shake his hand off, not wanting any of the surrounding eyes to see his intimate gesture. he doesn’t move, squeezing my skin harder. i softly pierce my bottom lip with my teeth, try to calm my nerves. i can feel heat bubbling up to my face, painting my cheeks with a faint blush.

my eyes peer over to him, giving him a pleading look to start behaving. he doesn’t budge, giving me a side smirk before returning his eyes on the game.

rutger groans loudly as the 2nd period finishes, “fuck the lightning.” he swears as they’re pulling a 4-1 lead. he chugs back the rest of his beer, throwing the can on the ground in some grown man temper tantrum.

the ads run during the commercial break, leaving the rest of us to disregard the television for the time being. my heart starts to quicken, without their distraction of the game they’re eyes could fall upon luke’s hand on me.

my mind tries to work fast, but the only thing i can think of doing is grabbing the blanket next to me and covering myself with it, concealing us from the wandering eyes. luke’s lips curl into a smirk, proud of me not forcing him off, knowing that i want it. that i want him.

his hand becomes bolder, rubbing up and down my inner thigh. i bite my bottom lip again, trying to stabilize myself from this new feeling. his fingers become more adventurous, going to the hem of my shorts.

“fuck.” i softly mumble to myself, luke’s soft chuckle tells me that he hears my light groans. his fingers don’t stop there, rubbing up to the bottom of my shirt, toying with the cotton material.

the pads of his fingers brush against my sensitive skin, right across the bottom of my stomach. fire engulfs my stomach, my breath hitches as he rubs softly back and forth, tickling my skin.

the game comes back for the final period, my eyes keep trained on the hockey game, but my mind can only focus on his touch as it drives me insane.

he feels my stomach hitch with my breath, he knows i want him so badly, he knows what he does to me. i squeeze my thighs together, trying to cause some type of sensation in my growing wetness.

i can’t take his teasing fingers anymore, “meet me in my room.” i whisper to him. rising from the couch and walking away from the crowded living room. i head for the direction of the bathroom, making them hear my footsteps as i lead their ears to the door closing. i stay outside the bathroom, tiptoeing to my room in an unsteady waiting of luke.

the door finally opens, luke quickly closing the door silently behind him. a deep breath is all i can hear from him, turning around to look at me patiently sitting on the foot of my bed. he takes a seat beside me, quickly gripping my hips and pulling me onto his lap.

“it’s been awhile since we’ve been alone,” my fingers rake up the back of his head, through his soft brown hair, my finger swirling around a curly lock. “too long.” a soft sigh parts from his lips as my fingers lightly scratch at his scalp.

he keeps his hands on my hips, roughly gripping at my denim shorts. “i missed your hands all over me. you can’t tease me out there and not expect me to want more.”

our bodies come closer, our lips so close together, our hearts syncing their beats. i can barely hold myself back from making up that final inch. “tell me how badly you want me.”

“i want you..” he shyly gives into my need. it’s not enough for me, i feed off of hearing how badly he wants me, his hands rubbing up and down my body, the feeling of his cock being buried deep inside me.

“oh yeah…” my lips attach to his neck, softly kissing down from his jaw.

finally he gives in, “i want to feel you against me, your lips on mine, every inch of your beautiful body baby.”

a devilish smirk spreads on my face, “mmm, is that right?” i mumble against his neck, softly sinking my teeth into his sensitive skin, sucking the spot to soothe it after.

“oh god yes.” luke practically moans out. his hands become adventurous, slowly going down to hold my ass in his hands, gripping at my clothed skin. they make their way down farther, gripping at my exposed thighs while my kisses go back up his jaw.

i crave for his taste, forcefully pressing my lips against his in a hungry state. my tongue quickly sliding into his mouth, hands combing through his messy curls, pushing him closer into me. he guides my hips back and forth on him, i can feel him hardening underneath me.

breaking the kiss to catch my breath, i drop my head onto his shoulders as i feel his hands press against my pussy. my hips still grind on him, but instead of just on his hard cock, it’s on his fingers. “mmm, you want me that bad?” he chuckles, i nod against his shoulder.

he undoes my shorts, exposing the top of my pink lacy panties, his fingers drag down them, going farther into my pants. they settle on my wetness, my hips stop rocking, focusing on the closer touch. “god you’re soaked.”

my lip sticks to my teeth in a harsh lip bite, my walls clench around nothing, begging to be filled by him. his fingers work slow and teasingly, rubbing circles around my clothed clit, watching me squirm on top of him. my back slightly arches, legs slowly opening wider for him to have better access to my aching pussy. “needy, are we?”

i softly whimper, my hips start to grind again, craving more attention from his teasingly slow hands. his fingers move the crotch of my panties aside, touching my wetness with his bare fingers, feeling my folds and them dripping for him. my head lifts off his shoulder, taking a glance down at his hand stuffed down my pants, looking back deep into his eyes.

i take a deep breath out, without a single warning he thrusts a finger in my pussy. making me loudly squeal with surprise. he quickly covers my mouth, stopping his finger in me. “you have to be quiet princess, you don’t want us getting caught, now do you?” he asks. i shake my head no, he hums at my obedience. “good girl.” his voice is in a whisper, softly praising me.

he begins to move his finger once again, letting me adjust to the new sensation before adding another, stretching me out for him. curling his fingers up to my g-spot. finally trusting me enough not to scream, he moves his hand off of my face, settling it down on my hip to keep me steady.

my hands grasp at his curly locks, trying to compose myself. as he adds another finger i bite down on my bottom lip, trying to keep the wanting moans from escaping my lips. a smirk spreads across luke’s face, watching what he can do to me with just his hands. i curse under my breath, dropping my head down to keep my brain straight, the pleasure slowly becoming less bearable.

his fingers quicken, hand comes off my hip and to my chin, lifting my head to force me to stare back into his eyes. “look at me while i’m finger fucking you baby.” my teeth puncture my bottom lip harder, my chest heaving with all the moans i keep to myself. i slip up and let on me out, hard hands hit my throat, softly squeezing. “i thought i told you to keep quiet?”

his grip loosens to allow me to take a breath, closing back up as soon as my chest rises. another finger slips in my cunt, my legs start to squirm, toes curling and hands squeezing his hair. his fingers losen from my throat, falling down to the straps of my tank top. he pulls one strap off each shoulder, one at a time. hooking two fingers at the neckline and pulling down, my tits falling out from my lack of wearing a bra.

he wastes no time before gripping my breast, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive bud. i clench around his fingers, my senses overloading with pleasure. he lowers his head, kitty licking my other nipple. i softly moan, not loud enough for luke to get me in trouble again, but enough for him to know the things he’s doing to me.

my stomach clenches, the feeling i know very well as my head starts to feel light. “i’m so close.” i whimper out. luke doesn’t let up, switching to my other breast, sucking on the nipple before softly biting the skin.

my whole body clenches as i feel my climax, luke’s quick fingers curling inside me quickly. it all comes raining down, my pussy clenching around him as i coat his fingers with myself. he backs up, letting me heave and fall down on his chest to catch my breath.

i quietly curse under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut to recover from my high. i life my head back up to look luke in the eyes. he removes his fingers from my folds, fingers coated with my cum. he slides his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. my breath catches in my throat again, god damn he makes me want more.

“you’re such a good girl Y/N.” he pops his fingers out of his mouth, “i wish i could fuck you silly right now. but i want to keep all those precious moans to myself, when we can be completely alone.”

before i can even react to his words he puts his lips back onto mine, slipping his tongue in my mouth to let me taste myself. his fingers plant back onto my hips, helping me up to my feet so he can get out from underneath me.

“you go get yourself cleaned up and meet me back in the living room. i pray we weren’t gone too long for anyone to notice.” he whispers, fixing my hair from the sweat that beads on my forehead.

i nod to his words, giving him one last little kiss before he silently slips out of my bedroom. my try to regain my normal breathing patterns, my brain still fuzzy from my previous orgasm.

i obey luke’s wishes, tiptoeing to the bathroom to clean myself off. splashing water into my face to try to remove my blushing red cheeks. i walk back out to the bathroom, seeing everyone engrossed in the final minutes of the third period. i thankfully sigh, slipping back between the guys to sit back down beside luke. he offers me a light smirk, we both then back to the television, watching the game unfold.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #luke hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes one shot #puck-bunnies

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juicywritinghoard · 2 years

Text

prompts to shake things up

I didn't know you wore glasses and I'm thinking normal and platonic thoughts about you right now I swear

I'm going to take over the world and no one can stop me not even y- okay well if you ask nicely I guess

you say childish like it's a bad thing but I see you eyeing that life size Pokémon plush don't kid yourself

be honest are you crying about the commercial with the kitten in it

this marriage was supposed to be a scam but, but listen,

soooo *twirling hair and fluttering eyelashes* why does everyone think you're a freak

I know I'm your doctor and the horns growing in overnight was kind of a surprise but why do you want them removed those are sick as hell

babe. my love. song in my heart. are you purring

okay so if you want me to rescue you from up there you have to try to come with me--okay I guess I'm picking you up

I have never been this sick before I'm sorry did I, haha this is so weird, but did I confess my love for you? f- four times? yeah? haha oh

every time you taste my cooking you just say it's amazing does it need more salt or not I swan to John

oh it's nothing it's just. you sing when you're happy and the place has been so quiet for so long, and I heard you- nevermind,

you frost cookies like you're neither left or right handed but a third other hand that you don't actually possess and I can't stand it (affectionate)

I don't think you understand how much your good morning texts legitimately keep me from rotting in bed all day

you must be pretty down if me juggling your oranges doesn't even get a laugh out of you :( should I light them on fire?

no I see the super powers yeah I just, I'm not sure you got them from your medication, yeah, and would you say that's a negative side effect or

you bought me a SWORD? OH MAN IM GONNA BE SO DANGEROUS

ooh what's this potion do? coffee? that's a funny name. what happens if I press this button? humans are so fascinating this is the best I hope I never go home

you've been blinking SOS in Morse code at me for ten minutes honey this award ceremony is supposed to be honoring you

when we kiss I feel like I'm floating, like literally gravity stopped working on me please don't let go?? also another kiss wouldn't hurt just saying

so it was YOU who took a full bite out of that stick of butter!! please. please. why??

let's go on vacation somewhere cheesy and act like we're a couple wouldn't that be sooooo funny haha

okay so sleeping it off didn't work. let me consult my list. hypnotism, no. meditation, certainly not. well something has to work because I simply cannot be in love with them

I'm a spy. i can do unspeakable crimes under the morally bankrupt cover of night but I'm not sure I can pretend to look at real estate as a couple with you

my love is your arm stuck in the claw machine. you were going to steal that prize for me?? oh my gosh. let me rescue you and also show you how to actually do this

9K notes · View notes

callme-holly · 2 months

Note

Can you do a three times the gang almost caught and the one time they did with two dal or steve

But the reader is also a Curtis? Like their sister?

𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 [𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - i'm so sorry this took so long omg. I'm really trying to be faster but my attention span is so short and I just can't sit down for longer than 10 mins. I will probably also end up writing this sort of fic for Two-bit and Steve too, only bc I have literally nothing for them yet lmaoo. Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing, mentions of fighting

0.1 - more charm than sense

The Curtis home is unusually quiet; everyone either out or at work.

The radio plays on low, some commercial station that only seems to play the same ten songs before switching back to the first and replaying them all without end.

You’re standing in front of the sink, towel in hand, and as you clean up the remnants of breakfast, your brother’s dirty plates are dumped haphazardly atop the counter in a less than neat pile. The water runs clear under your steady hands, and for a moment you forget that you aren’t entirely alone in the house, too focused on cleaning up to notice anything further than the sound of your own breathing and the light static of the radio.

You're so lost in thought that you barely register the lingering presence behind you, only startling once a familiar pair of arms wind themselves around your waist from behind, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cheap, most likely stolen, cologne filling your senses. Lips are pressed against the base of your neck, and a chin rests on your shoulder. The sudden weight is warm and familiar.

“I thought ya invited me over to spend some time with me, doll, not clean.” Dallas drawls, his voice rough and his accent heavy. You can feel him smile into your skin as you sigh, letting go of the cloth in favour of turning towards him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall to your hips, and his thumbs trace lazy patterns into your skin.

“I didn’t invite you, Dal,” You raise your brows, “You climbed in through my window.”

Dallas laughs lowly in response, shrugging nonchalantly as he drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Didn't expect ya to be so preoccupied.” He trails off, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and nipping lightly along your jawline. “Thought I’d be gettin’ more attention than this.”

You roll your eyes fondly in response, but don’t move away as he continues peppering kisses down your jaw and collar, your hands wandering idly to the hem of your shirt. You’re quick to slap him away, fixing him with a warning look. He just grins lazily, leaning in close enough to press his lips just below your ear.

“Dallas.” Your tone is stern, and it has absolutely no effect whatsoever on the greaser, who merely hums in reply, hands moving back to your waist to pull you closer. “Not here.”

Dallas’ grip tightens for a moment, and he pulls back, tilting his head to the side. “C’mon, doll… You’re brothers are gone; what’s there to worry about?” There’s a wicked grin on his lips as he steps away from you and leans against the kitchen counter, watching you carefully.

It had been a mutual agreement to hide your relationship from the gang, a decision made to spare you from the headache Darry would no doubt give you and the black eye Dallas would receive for even thinking about touching you. You knew it was stupid to try hiding things from the gang, especially when they could see right through you like nobody else did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell them.

Darry would probably skin you if he found out you were dating a hood like Dally, and you didn’t want to risk it.

“There’s plenty to worry about,” you conclude, turning back to the sink. “What if Two-Bit or Johnny decide they wanna pay little old me a visit, huh, and they catch us here in the kitchen?”

Dallas chuckles before placing his hands on your shoulders, leaning in close to whisper directly into your ear, “They won’t catch us, darlin’. They haven’t yet.” His hands begin to wander once more, and you drain the sink with a sigh, trying to find what little composure you have left to resist him and his words. He's relentless, damn him, and you know better than to hope for any sort of peace and quiet when you're home and alone.

His lips continue to trail a line down your neck, mouthing teasingly along the sensitive skin before moving back to your lips. This time, however, you give in, your fingers threading into his hair as you meet his eager advance.

It's almost too easy to lose yourself in the haze of the moment, so much so that you hardly notice the thumping of footsteps on the porch until the screen door opens suddenly and Sodapop’s voice rings out.

“Y/N! You here?” His voice is loud with excitement as always, and you’re quick to jump away from Dallas, your eyes wide with surprise.

“What the hell?” You hiss, glancing around the room frantically before spotting before your gaze lands on the bathroom door. You shove Dallas towards it, mumbling under your breath as you do so. “Get your ass outta here.” He snorts quietly, following your gaze and pressing a kiss to your cheek before closing the door behind him just as Soda rounds the corner in search of you. He beams brightly, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re home early…” You start, and he shrugs, heading to the dining table to grab his lunch which is still sitting where you’d left it out this morning.

“Forgot this,” He holds up the bag and you roll your eyes internally. Typical.

“You know,” You head back to the sink, taking out the now-clean dishes and stacking them back in the cupboard. “Sometimes I wonder how you’ve lived this long.”

Soda smirks and raises an eyebrow, backing towards the door, lunch now in hand. “What can I say? What I lack in sense, I make up for in charm.” He winks, flashing a cocky grin as he leaves the house, the door banging shut behind him.

You watch to make sure he's completely gone before jogging to the bathroom and throwing open the door. “I told you this would happen.” You start, but stop short when you see that the room is empty.

The only sign that anybody had even been in here in the first place is the open window, the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, and that stupid cheap cologne that lingers in the air.

“Goddamnit, Winston…” You huff, shaking your head and walking over to pull the window shut.

0.2 - some unwanted visitors

There’s a slight chill in the air; the summer nights slowly beginning to turn cooler as fall begins its slow, sleepy crawl across the state.

Dallas has an arm thrown lazily over your shoulders, a cigarette dangling between his lips as he presses close, and a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. You lean into him slightly, savouring the warmth surrounding him and feeling content in his hold. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, neither wanting to break it nor quite being comfortable staying silent either.

“So... I suppose you're wanted back before curfew, huh?” Dallas eventually drawls, shifting slightly to lean his head against yours. You let out a small laugh, leaning further into him and allowing your cheek to rest against his chest.

“You know it,” You murmur, and he hums, his fingers tracing little circles on the small of your back absentmindedly. “Darry thinks I'm out with friends again, so you’ll have to drop me off at the end of the street.”

The greaser frowns at that, a faint crease forming between his brows. “I ain’t lettin’ you out of my sight, doll, 'specially not this late.” He looks almost offended that you'd even suggest such an idea, and you shake your head, looking up at him.

“Dal, I can handle myself. I don’t need you watching my ass 24/7.”

He rolls his eyes, giving you an indignant scoff. “You ain’t got to act all high and mighty, doll. You know I ain’t going to let you walk alone.” He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers the next part. “Besides, we both know you like it when I watch your ass.” He pulls back then, grinning wildly when you roll your eyes dramatically, pushing him away.

“Whatever, Winston,” You mutter, a coy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as he reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together loosely. “But seriously, though, I’ll be fine.”

Dallas simply grunts, choosing to drop the subject, giving you no further argument. You know he’ll still insist on walking you to your porch, regardless of whether your brothers spot you or not.

He thrives on adrenaline and the thrill of getting caught is just too much for him to resist.

You both turn back to the movie playing on screen—some old beach movie with a plot no different from every other. It's cliche and unrealistic, but you're willing to put up with it just so you and Dallas can spend time together without hiding.

It's not until halfway through the movie that you spot a familiar pair of faces making their way towards your row of seats, too caught up in their debate to spot you. Dallas currently has his head buried in the crook of your neck, the movie long since forgotten as he trails kisses along your jawline, and you're barely keeping your attention focused on the screen.

“Dal,” Your tone is hard, and you elbow him sharply in the ribs, eliciting an annoyed groan. “We’ve got company.”

Dallas turns to glance towards the end of your row, and, sure enough, there stands none other than your brother Ponyboy Curits and Two-Bit Mathews, both of whom are yet to notice you both.

“Shit,” He growls under his breath, arm slipping from around your shoulder as he turns his body away from them. “What’re they doin’ here?”

You give him a half-hearted shrug, scanning the area for a way out and coming up short. The closest exits are the ones closest to your brother and Two-Bit, and you have no doubt that they’ll spot you if you try to make a break for it.

You're about to suggest going the long way and cutting through the crowds when suddenly someone comes up behind you, hands slamming into your shoulders and your voice cutting through your internal panic.

“Y/N Curtis!”

You whip your head around, meeting the gaze of Two-Bit, who is grinning like a madman. Dallas lets out a grunt of irritation, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting the two boys a cold look.

“What’d you want?” He snaps, and Ponyboy frowns, looking over at you curiously.

“I thought you told Darry you were out with friends tonight?”

Your eyes widen, and your face heats instantly. “Well…” You trail off. “There was a change of plans.”

Pony raises an eyebrow, seemingly sceptical at your words, as Two sits himself down in the seat beside you, stretching out and taking a sip from his drink. Dallas says nothing, his expression darkening, and you feel him tense up beside you.

There's an awkward pause, broken only by the crackling audio of the movie, before Dal huffs impatiently and rises from his chair. He shoots you a look, and you instantly understand, standing in your own chair.

“We’re going to go grab some drinks.” You state this before turning on your heel and following Dallas away from the seats, weaving through the rows until you find a secluded spot, away from the larger crowds and the prying eyes of the two greasers.

Ponyboy and Two-Bit watch to both go, frowning in confusion before Two raises a brow. “They seem pretty close.”

Pony shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “My sister isn’t stupid enough to date a hood like Dally.” Oh, how wrong they are…

0.3 - who’s jacket is that?

You’re at the DX, leaning back against one of the gas pumps as you listen to whatever wild story Steve is telling you. His hands flail around dramatically, and you nod along slowly, only half paying attention as Dallas comes to stand beside you, a cigarette hanging lazily between his lips.

He doesn't speak, simply resting a subtle hand against your lower back, his fingers drawing lazy patterns into your skin. Your mind races, and you take note of the people around you. How could any of your friends notice the small display of affection happening between the two of you? But they all seem too caught up in their own conversations to notice.

Steve’s voice cuts through your thoughts just then, drawing you from your reverie and your attention away from Dallas.

“And then she tosses her milkshake right in this asshole’s face and leaves!” You have no idea what he's talking about, but let out a small laugh regardless, at least trying to look somewhat interested in what he’s saying.

Dallas shifts a little next to you; the pressure of his hand is now more noticeable against your lower back, and you know that he knows you're distracted. You can almost sense the smirk he’s holding back, and you resist the urge to turn and glare at him, instead focusing back on Steve and the other boys, their mindless chatter continuing for a few moments longer before Johnny speaks up, his tone laced with curiosity.

“Hey, Y/N, is that a new jacket?”

You turn to stare at the boy, brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?” You glance down, and you swear your heart stops for a moment. You're still wearing Dallas' jacket. Shit.

Quickly, you clear your throat, hoping that the colour flooding your cheeks isn’t too obvious. “Oh… Uh–” By now, all eyes are on you; the previous conversation has long been forgotten in favour of watching you intently. It’s uncomfortable, and just as you’re about to offer up a poor attempt at an answer, Steve pipes up again, his brow furrowed.

“Ain’t that your jacket, Dal?” He looks over at the greaser beside you, and Dallas hums, taking another drag of his cigarette. There’s a small smirk on his face, his eyes flickering down at you before he gives a shrug, blowing out a thin cloud of smoke.

“Dunno. Could be.” He states this nonchalantly, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and slouching against the gas pump. “It looks awfully similar.”

You swallow hard, averting your gaze as the gang glances back over at you, all sharing the same confused expressions. It seems Dallas isn't going to offer up any more on the subject, so with a few heavy sighs, everyone seems to drop it, returning to their previous conversations.

Letting out a small sigh of relief, you turn to look up at Dallas, who is still grinning smugly. His hand rests comfortably on your back once more, your fingers resuming their rhythmic pattern, and you allow your shoulders to relax a little, knowing he’ll tease you relentlessly later on.

“They look awfully comfortable.” Steve remarks quietly, nodding his head in yours and Dallas's general direction. It seems your fond expression for the hood hasn’t gone unnoticed, and Soda snorts, nudging his buddy in the ribs.

“What’re you talking about?” He raises a brow, taking a rag from his pocket and wiping off the oil staining his hands. His attention moves to you and Dallas, a knowing look spreading across his features as he watches the two of you interact and an impossibly soft look in Dally’s eyes as you talk to him.

He can’t help but notice the jacket once more, how it’s just a little too big on you, and how it looks a little too much like Dallas’'s to just be a coincidence. No, there’s no doubt in his mind about who exactly owns it, and if the smug smirk tugging at the corners of Dallas’ lips is anything to go by, then maybe, just maybe, Steve is right.

Things are slowly starting to add up.

0.4 - caught...

It’s early evening, and the sun is sinking low in the sky, casting dim rays of golden light throughout the room. It’s peaceful; the excitable chatter of the gang in the living room fills the air, muffled by your closed door.

Dallas has his head resting in your lap, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers as he blows smoke out through your open window. His eyes are closed tight, bruises and cuts litter his face, and his skin is stained with blood and dirt. He doesn’t speak, merely wincing as your fingertips trail over his wounds, stopping occasionally to press gentle kisses to his hair.

There’s a nasty gash above his eye, the blood trickling freely in little rivulets, and you wipe at it lightly with a wad of gauze, the sting of the alcohol drawing a pained grunt from the greaser.

“Do ya have to do that?”

You give him a sympathetic smile, brushing your lips over his forehead tenderly. “Sorry,” you mutter, running your fingers through his matted hair. “I’m almost done.”

Dallas doesn't move; he just stays silent, letting you dab gently at his injuries, his expression unreadable.

You never know how he's going to act after a rumble. Sometimes, he's fine, joking around and teasing with the others, but then there’s those small moments where the tension from the fight doesn’t dissipate, where he sits in complete silence, letting you work without complaint.

These are the times when you worry, when it becomes obvious that he is hurting. He won’t tell you, not directly at least, but you know something's wrong. You can tell in the way he holds onto you, his face hidden from view, as his hands grip desperately at the fabric of your shirt.

“Dal,” You murmur softly, and your tone is soft and soothing. “Talk to me.” Your fingers trail softly through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, and you notice his shoulders drop a little. He exhales heavily, pressing his cheek against your thigh, his eyes closed tightly.

“Not right now,” His voice is thick and rough, and words slurred slightly as he struggled to stay awake. Your eyebrows furrow as a soft sigh escapes your lips, reaching your free hand out to brush over his bruised jaw. It's rare to see him so vulnerable and obviously upset, and it hurts knowing that he will bottle things up and hide them away until he’s forced to let it all out.

You don’t push, though. Instead, you take his hand in yours, running your thumb over his bruised knuckles as you lay back against the pillows. The movement causes Dallas to shift slightly, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close, and he drifts off within seconds.

You let your slip shut, allowing yourself to drift easily along with him, content to lay here with him and wait patiently until he’s ready to talk.

“Hey, where’s Dally and Y/N?” Pony’s voice breaks through the cheerful laughter of the gang as they bounce around the living room, most still high on adrenaline and excitement, only slowing down slightly once the question reaches their ears.

They all glanced about the space, their eyes scanning over every possible corner, before coming to rest with each other, sharing the same look of confusion.

Darry pushes himself up from his chair with a sigh, tossing the first-aid kit in his lap to Soda, who catches it with ease. “Y/N is in her room. She might know where Dallas is.” The gang all watches as he heads down the hall, stopping just outside your door to knock softly.

When there's no response, he frowns, glancing back towards the gang before knocking again. Still nothing. With a quick shrug, he turns the doorknob gently, pushing open the door and peeking inside.

Your bedroom is dark except for the faint glow emanating from your desk lamp, which illuminates the walls with a soft pale glow. Darry is about to call out to you, about to question you on where Dallas is, when he spots the hood in question asleep with his head in your lap.

His breath hitches, and he pauses, his gaze wandering to you, your fingers threaded through his blonde locks.

“Soda. Pony.” Darry calls quietly, catching both brothers’ attention immediately as he speaks. “Get over here.”

The two boys scramble up from their places on the couch, racing across the room and peering into your darkened room curiously, their eyes widening at the sigh before them.

“Well, damn.” Sodapop lets out a low whistle as the rest of the gang come up behind them. Two-Bit lets out a short laugh, and Steve cuts him off with a sharp elbow to the ribs. “I told you,” the former whispers, grinning broadly. “I told you they had something going on!”

The group all share a look, the sound of Darry clearing his throat echoing in the quiet house. Slowly, he backs out of the room. closing the door once more and letting out a breath.

There are words that will need to be had, promises that need to be made, but he supposes that can wait for another time. Right now, he'll let you and Dallas have your moment because it seems it's been long awaited. And it certainly has.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders preferences #the outsiders imagine #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston imagine #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #johnny cade #two bit mathews #steve randle

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oftenderweapons · 1 year

Text

In Your Calvin's | JJK

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 9.6k

Genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established relationship

Rating: 18+ Minors, do not interact

Synopsis: Being Jeon Jeongguk's girlfriend is a great honour, but it comes with great responsibilities. When the commercial celebrating your boyfriend (very secret boyfriend) starts playing on everyone's and their mother's phones, it's time you face what it means to be loved by the most wanted idol of them all.

Warnings: Jealousy and general possessiveness. Swearing. Powerplay, switch!reader, switch!jk. Masochist!jk (?). Marking (hickey, writing on body with a pen), hair pulling (male receiving), edging (male receiving), spanking (male and female receiving). Teasing. Mild degradation. Dry humping. A very mild boobjob. Breast worship. Unprotected foreplay, oral sex (female receiving; brief male receiving), unprotected sex (be smarter, kids), rough sex. Mentions of cockring.

One last thing: 1. this was edited at 3am, please bear with me. 2. Sidenote: I try to be as neutral as possible with the way I describe the girls' appearance, however I wanted to specify that in this fic, I mention Candy having long, straight hair (and huge badonkers, but that's kinda canon by now LOL). It's just a brief mention, absolutely nothing major and holds no relevance to the fic, you might not even notice it; but still, I wanted to make sure I thought about my curly haired goddesses, and short haired queens, (or a combo of both heart eyes) and that I apologise for making this fic just a pinch less immersive for you. (Is this the right moment to apologise to small boobs princesses too? ily sisters, itty bitty titty committee 5evah)

Here's my masterlist, lemme just disappear very quickly. Enjoy 💜✨

You knew Jeongguk had a gig with Calvin Klein. You've known it for months. You've seen him cut calories and hit the gym and dehydrate for a couple days before the shoot because he explained to you how muscle definition works, and crucial to showing a great slab of abs is being basically as dry as a breadstick, to the point of being cranky because you have drunk three glasses of water in the last forty-eight hours.

Which all means, you knew his stomach would be quite surely showing.

And yet your world still stops once you're merrily sitting on your train back home and his half undressed form appears on the screen on your phone.

At first you slam your phone shut, mostly because you're used to hiding your boyfriend away and that's the reaction you usually have when you open one of his flirty pics from your chat.

Next, you realise you weren't on your private chat, and you weren't even looking at pictures in your phone gallery.

You were absentmindedly scrolling. On Instagram.

You unlock your phone again, and right there you're confronted with the very naked truth.

Jeongguk. Is basically naked. On your phone. And it's for the entire world to see.

Your brain slows down, as if the earth axis is tipping over a little in the opposite way.

Something inside you snaps around the third time the video plays in front of your unseeing eyes. To anyone looking at you, you could be just an obsessed fan taking a close look at the fine piece of art, but your eyes are unfocused, your mind too deep in thought to register any stimulus from the external world.

The vibration from the phone awakens you from your state of trance.

“Candy, baby,” says the adorable lover boy calling you. “Have you seen it already?”

Your lips are sealed, and you can't quite bring yourself to speak, you don't know why.

“I'm on my way back home.” You say, and the words feel like cracking a glow stick in your chest.

“But did you see it?” His voice isn't as bright now.

“I'm coming home.” You repeat.

He's silent for a few seconds, and you can hear him sigh. “Okay.”

“He's so insanely hot,” you overhear a girl sitting across from you comment.

“I want to run my palms down the sides of his waist,” says her friend.

You stare at them and you know you must look like a woman possessed right now, but you still allow yourself to incinerate them with a glare, as if your eyes could turn into flamethrowers.

“Candy?”

“I'll be home in ten.” And you close the call.

On the way back home, you hear more people talk. More girls fawn. More women zoom in.

On the escalator, you notice a woman fanning herself while staring at the screen. Another one even crosses herself as the ad from your boyfriend reruns on her phone screen.

Every step on your way home is utter agony, and once you step over the threshold, you're not sure what you're going to do.

Jeongguk is in the kitchen in a sleeveless top, tattoos out, piercings glowing in the gentle light of the living room. And his hair is fluffy, which means he's probably just done blow drying it after taking a shower.

The fact that the scent of his body lotion is still sharp gives you further indication of how recent that shower must be.

“Hey,” he says, turning towards you with a bunny grin, which immediately dims once he sees your expression. “Oh. Bad day?”

You bite your lip and stare at him a fair bit. Then, a bit more.

“Candy, love.”

You don't know what to do with him. Is he yours? Is he really yours?

How come you come home to him making dinner, and being freshly showered, and being so domestic? How come you're living in his apartment, knowing his pass code, having an ID card for his apartment complex and his studio at HYBE? How come he gives you a copy of his schedule and talks about you over the phone on his weekly call to his grandmother and brings you to his parents' house? How come you go on trips together and you're the emergency contact to his fur babies and you make love two to four times a week? How come he's brought you to the town he grew up in and loved you down in the place where he lost his virginity because, "I wish it had been you since the very first time"?

Who is this man?

Is he Jungkook from Bangtan Sonyeondan? Or is he Jeon Jeongguk, your very own quiet, shy, reserved lover boy?

“You're scaring me,” he whispers, putting down his wooden spoon and taking a few steps to stand in front of you.

“Why me?” you ask, staring at his collarbones, too scared to look into his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks back, sheepish.

This time your eyes meet his. “Why me? Of all the women out there, why me?” You look down, taking in just how average you feel, every imperfection magnified in your eyes, now that you have so many people you're comparing yourself with, and competing with.

“Candy—” He starts.

“Everyone, everyone out there is literally foaming at the mouth at that commercial, and I'm here? I come home to you? I make love to you almost every night?” You pause and laugh bitterly at him. “I'm a fucking fraud.”

He shakes his head and moves closer, grabbing your wrists. “A fraud, you say?” He tuts in disappointment, places your hands on his waist. “You're not a fraud, ____, you're my soulmate.” He leaves your hands once he feels them clutch at his narrow waist.

Possessiveness hits you all of a sudden, and it is only mildly ebbed by his hands landing at the top of your ass.

“I love you, and I make love to you because it's a fucking dream. You're a fucking dream, and I'm so upset that you don't see it.”

You're jealous. You're simply jealous. It's human and it's healthy to be moderately jealous. After all the comments you heard and read, it's fair to be jealous.

“I reckon you saw the commercial.”

“I saw the commercial and everyone's reaction to it,” you comment, slightly acidic.

Jeongguk bends to place a kiss below your earlobe. “Are you angry?”

No. Not just anger.

Your hands mimic his and crawl to his lower back, toying with the hemline of his underwear. “I'm not mad.” I'm disgustingly jealous and I don't like them having more of what's mine. They already have too much, they've always wanted too much and you always give it to them and I'm furious that it's not mine alone.

Jeongguk wears a mischievous smile as he makes you take several small steps back, the back of your legs hitting the kitchen counter. “Do you like it?”

You click your tongue and shake your head. “No.”

The reply startles him, and he feels his mood dim. Did he—

“I'm not a jealous person, but this… God, this hits a new level,” you finally admit. “They already drool over you quite enough, and now they even have a video of you shirtless. How would I not be jealous!? Half the girls would have snapped your neck. If Yoongi ever did this, Kitten would have his balls dangling from her Mercedes keychain. I don't even know how Lace and Princess are handling their boyfriends naked on everyone's phone. If I were Tae I would seek political asylum in Greenland. Or maybe Tibet.” You take a large mouthful of oxygen before you launch yourself in another tirade.

“Everyone's talking about grabbing your waist, licking your abs, tugging at your hair and shit and hi! I'm here! I'm the girlfriend! Sorry I exist! WHAT THE FUCK!?”

Jeongguk laughs and lowers himself to your chest, kissing where your heartbeat echoes like a crazed war drum.

“It's not fun!” you complain, significantly agitated.

“Mh.” He hums as he moves aside the hem of your shirt, meeting the soft, smooth skin of your chest. “It was supposed to come out on your birthday, that's why's a bit more racy,” he explains more patiently. “But they decided to release it early.” He kisses a tender spot and your left knee tingles a little. “It was supposed to be a slightly too public boudoir shoot. But secretly it was just yours.” Jeongguk finds the cup of your bra and stares up at you as his fingers reach the hem and slide the fabric aside. “I was thinking of you when I made it.”

And once his mouth wraps around your nipple, your right knee starts tingling too.

“Must admit I had to push the limits a lot to finally make you jealous,” he purrs once he is done with the licking, sucking motion of his mouth around your tender flesh. “But I'm sorry I crossed the line.”

What line? You think, your brain already hazy. No sharp line exists in the world you’re currently in. Just the loving, plush hills of Jeongguk's lips, the slippery slopes of his waistline, the sinuous curves of his hip bones leading you to his pelvis, and the soft curls of his luscious dark locks. No crossed borders, only gentle waves licking the shore, water and land embracing one the other.

“Remind me who's the boss here, Candy,” he says, and you know he's playing you right now. “Remind me where I belong.” His mouth is at your ear as he whispers, “Show me who owns me.”

The tingles are spreading as his fingers grab at your ass, his lips connecting with your jaw. “Talk to me, Candy.”

You’re not sure you can articulate words at this moment. Talking isn’t as easy as everyone makes it seem.

His eyes connect with yours and he can tell you’re staring at his lips by the poetic detail of your lashes lowered over your cheekbone.

It makes him chuckle, very gently, that he has all these details of you he adores, and that you have the audacity of asking him why he picked you, and why he keeps choosing you over and over.

He loves you, his family loves you, his dogs love you. This is the way it’s supposed to be.

His finger reaches underneath your chin, forcing your eyes to actually meet his. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he purrs, and as your lashes dart up, he shakes his head a little, loving the way you arch up a fraction, as if pulled towards him. “There she is, beautiful.”

You feel completely neutralised. Disarmed. All the storms brewing over you a minute ago are forgotten as soon as his sweet smile shines like sunlight above you.

His hand combs your hair back, cupping your cheek and landing a kiss on your temple. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod.

“What mood are we in?” You’ve asked him this question thousands of times since the two of you became serious, ever since he opened up about feeling too closed off to make a relationship work; and now, the fact that it was such a solid, valid ritual in your dynamics made it natural for him to ask too. “You need to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I’m better. I…”

“Tell me what you want.”

You stare at him, at his shoulders, at his biceps, you trace his tattoo with your fingertip, and he looks closely at your finger, at it drawing swirls and circles on his skin.

“Pick me up,” you say softly.

And he does, immediately. His biceps flex and he grunts a little, not at the weight, but just because he knows the sound can make your toes curl, and he likes that a lot. His hands are wrapped around the back of your thighs, then they adjust to your bottom.

“Next? Counter? Bed? Shower?”

You kiss him. Impatient, and needy, you kiss him.

He opens up for you without hesitation, moaning at the sweet invasion of your tongue in his mouth. God, he loves it. It makes him melt, to feel your tongue slip against his, moving wet and sloppy, your lips plush and hot pressed up against him. He loves kissing you. Actually, he loves making out with you. He’s pretty sure he could come of that alone, and he tries to remind himself you have to give that a try. Another day.

He places you onto the counter because he fears his knees might give out on him. And once he has you there it means his hands can roam all over you and grab your chest and toy with—

“No touching,” you snap at him, gripping his wrists and pulling his hands behind his back.

His eyes go wide at the shift in pace, but he obeys. He also feels like he's awakening from a dream only to find out reality can be so much better.

You dig your hands in his hair and he hisses a little as you tug gently, but still roughly. You think of all the people who wish they could do just so as you stare into his eyes, seeing just how turned on he gets as you manhandle him.

You lean towards him and you notice him trying to kiss you, but you tug at his hair harder, holding him in place as the heat of your exhale fans over his parted lips and his chin.

“You want me to own you?” you ask him, watching his muscles twitch as he fights the urge to grab you and put you in place.

He nods. “Do me all the things no one else can.” He has a roguish smile as he adds, “Do me everything they won't ever, ever do to me.” And he is god of deception when he finally tips you over the edge. “Do me everything I want just from you, and you alone.”

You watch him intently, then tug at his hair so that his head is angled upwards, throat vulnerable and exposed.

He's staring at you with a mischievous glint in his expression, a walking temptation, and you can almost hear him say it, 'come on, do it'. And you do it.

You bend forward and sink your teeth in his flesh, the tender skin caving in as your bite marks him softly before your cheeks move into a suctioning motion that you know will turn into a bruise. It just pleases you so.

“Take a step back,” you order as soon as you're happy with the hickey. “Take off your shirt.”

And he winks before he does. You watch the plain of his chest, the valley in between his pectorals leading you down to his navel.

“I hope you're wearing your Calvin's,” you tease with a cocked eyebrow.

He smirks. “Always in my Calvin's.”

You snicker and shake your head. “Take off your pants.”

His forehead scrunches up in surprise, but he eventually obeys.

He's standing in a pair of socks and his white boxer briefs. At least he didn't lie, they are Calvin Klein.

“Do you want—”

“The Calvin's stay on,” you sentence, then you descend from the counter. “Head over to the bedroom. I'll come over in a minute.”

He stares at you, flabbergasted.

“Oh, and I almost forgot: don't touch yourself. Settle down, hands on the headboard and wait pretty.”

He blinks, unsure of where this is going to end or where it came from, but so blazingly grateful for it.

“Okay.”

You give him a quick once-over as you stand in front of each other. His abs are toned and defined, but now less alarmingly than the days before the shoot. His thighs are strong and you love how the material from the boxers wraps around them comfortably and smoothly.

You dare stare at his crotch, at the way the fabric traces the curve of his length, so perfectly long and so perfectly thick.

You allow your fingertips to trace the curve of his spine, so lightly that it causes him to close his eyes, his head inched to the side as he shivers in pleasure.

“Can I be rough with you?” you ask him, your hand reaching the small of his back and cupping the curve of his ass.

He moves his hands on you the exact same way you did. “Maybe I like pain,” he suggests, and from the collection of tattoos and piercings, but mostly from the supercut of memories of him getting bitten, spanked and scratched by you, you’re reminded that you’re not dealing with the edited version of him he has promoted publicly.

This is your boyfriend. Jeongguk. Your Jeongguk.

You sink your nails into the flesh of his ass, and he hisses but smiles, pulling you closer, swaying his hips to tease your crotch with his. “Go get ready, babyboy,” you croon.

He hums invitingly and kisses your neck, trying to get you to move with him, but you’ve made up your mind already.

“Go,” you repeat.

He pouts and grabs your hips. “Come on, what are you trying to do?” he asks, his brow furrowed, his eyes dark and wide and imploring for you to just follow him and spare him whatever cruel surprise you want to use against him.

You grab his wrists, making him unclasp his hands. “Go and you’ll find out.”

He hesitates and then he faces away, still reluctant, turning around a couple times on his way, checking if you’re following him — perhaps, maybe, hopefully…

Yet, you don’t move, not until he turns the corner to the bedroom. And then you make your way over, slow, unbothered.

And you close the door on him.

You head to the bathroom, wash up quickly, and equally quickly you cover yourself in his favourite lotion, taking special care of your neck and chest. Once properly buttered up and covered in nothing but pretty Calvin undies and his favourite Calvin jeans jacket, you’re ready to attack. But you stare at yourself in the mirror, and you feel like there’s still something you could do to give him a heart attack…

Oh, that, you think. And you get to work.

Apparently he has behaved, as you find him lounging in bed, with his boxers still on, his hands laced behind the crown of his head, a fine slab of abs in full glow from the dark amber hue coming from his led lights.

“Are we on a sunset gold kinda vibe— Holy shit.” He didn’t manage to sound as cool and aloof as he’d tried to be once his eyes landed on you.

He wished he could take a picture of you and spread it across town, just so he could stare at it while waiting for a bus, or hanging out at Hongdae with his friends, and excitedly point at it while tipsy to holler “that’s my fucking girlfriend, that fine piece of ass fucking owns me”.

He wished he could put you on an album cover and fill it with all the insane stuff you do to his heart and his mind and his body. How his heartbeat does a little hiccup thing when he sees you first thing in the morning, and how he’s spent every wish on fallen eyelashes over you, and making you happy, and building you a house and having fireworks for your wedding night, and having all his fans seeing just how incredibly fantastic you are to him, how you make him so happy and deliriously smitten and barely coherent when it comes to talking about you, and just… He just wants everyone to love you half as much as he does.

And maybe for you to be only ever in love with him, so he doesn’t risk anyone thirsting for you enough to steal you from him.

“What were you saying about golden lights?” you ask, climbing on the bed, your hand modestly holding the lapels of his jeans jacket together — it’s not time to destroy him yet.

“I— I…” He tries to sit up, but you push him back where he belongs with a well-placed hand pressed to the middle of his chest.

“Put on the red lights, love.” You grin devilishly, watching his doe eyes glimmer with wonder and disbelief.

“Have I ever told you I am one lucky motherfucker?” he says, staring at your neck, at your face, at your hand, his palms already moving to your hips as you straddle him.

“I just know it.” You sit on your throne — his lap —, stretch to the end table to grab the remote to switch the lights to red, and once the deal is settled, you let the jacket open. “I mean. I’m the luckiest because I have these, but considering you profit from them… You know…” You let your breasts show.

“I know…” he says, entirely mesmerised. God, he is so easy, you think, watching his eyes scan your chest like a cat playing catch with a laser light. You mix your standard level of charm with a slow grind of your hips, so slow and gentle that it’s straight up teasing, torture at its blandest level.

“You make it so hard to think,” he speaks with a strangled voice, trying to make you move the way he wants, but you grab his hands with the excuse of lacing your fingers with his, only to drag them back by the sides of his head.

“I didn’t know I could turn your brain into mush just like this,” you reply, feeling your folds moisten in an attempt to ease the sliding of your crotch against his length. Too bad both of you are still clad in your underwear and, according to your plans, would stay that way for quite a while, as long as possible. “You’re so whipped.”

“I am,” he purrs, and tries to get away with moving his hands back to your hips, but before he can dig his digits in the soft of your flesh, you tut.

“You’d better not touch that ass, Jeon. Keep your hands to yourself if you want my hands on you,” you threaten. “Just to remind you who’s in charge, sweetheart.”

His eyes go wide and he moves his palms back behind his head as soon as you finish your remark. “Yes, miss.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, and you visibly notice him holding back from smiling at the praise. “Did you see my little mark?” you ask. “Call it a slog

an of sorts. A vision statement.” You shrug and push back the lapels, hoping for the lights not being too low for him to see.

It has taken a while for your handy work to happen, mostly because it can be absurdly tricky writing in reverse, but thankfully you’re quite prone to graphic arts.

Jeongguk rises a little, getting closer to where he can recognise dark scribbles on your chest. Unusual dark scribbles.

“Is that… Tattooed?” he asks, and his eyes go wide as he meets your face.

You cackle at him, leaning over and licking his lips, sucking his lower one, then travelling along his jaw, nibbling at his earlobe in a way that makes his hips jolt against you, buckling. “I can't have that tattooed, can I? Unless the world knows and it gets a little too permanent.”

He frowns, not at the way he loses contact with your warm crotch, but because of the unwelcome realisation of what it means to not belong to you entirely. “I'm so sorry,” he sighs, trying to hold you, but stopping his hands before he can touch you.

He goes back to his assigned position and begs you with his eyes.

“Oh, no. Don't worry, it's okay.” To keep him distracted, you get back to a soft roll of your pelvis against his, and he seems to oppose, but it only lasts for maybe five seconds.

His wound-up exhale convinces you to reward him further, lowering your chest so that it drags against his as you keep grinding on him.

“Jeongguk, baby,” you murmur fondly.

“So unfair… That I don’t get you like a girlfriend like anyone else…” He speaks, his focus spotty and frail.

“What do you mean, love?” you egg him on.

“All the public stuff… All the PDA and the grand gestures. The stuff that makes it official, you know.” His eyes are glassy and fleeting as he speaks, and it really feels as if speaking were like making a necklace except he can’t quite line up the beads the right way and he can’t manage to get the string inside the hole and it takes a very long time for the words to finally turn into meaning and it’s all so frustrating.

“I don’t care,” you reassure him, and this time you’re not unaffected either, the sentence stumbling out of you before you can even fully register the meaning you were trying to convey. “Can you read the tattoo, Guk?”

His eyelids lift through great effort, and in slow motion. You stop moving to help him focus on the writing, and he grunts at the interruption. He does not like that at all, and having you so close, so soft, so hot and wet for him is making his instinct vibrate with need to be inside you, move inside you, and then finally find his release in the welcoming darkness of your womb.

“I—” He’s really trying so hard, god bless his heart, but he’s so unfocused and his vision is blurry and he needs to blink for a bunch of seconds before he manages to spell the message, and then compute it, and then smirk wildly before he bucks his hips up against you, letting you know that you’d better move on him.

“What is it, Jeongguk? Mind sharing with the class?” you bait him with a cheshire grin.

“Not sharing any of this,” he growls, and you can feel his arms jolt at the urgency to wrap around you, press you to his front and shove you underneath him, so that he can finally move as hard and as fast as he knows the both of you need.

“Oh, don’t be a greedy little boy! Don’t you want to test how it feels to say it?” you tease him further, ready to push him to his breaking point. After all, that is what you’re always trying to do, get as far as it needs to make him go wild on you, barely coherent and entirely animalistic.

“You want me to say it, don’t you?” he provokes you, feeling just how much the humiliation will further send you soaring over him.

“I do,” you admit.

He bites his lip and you look at him, you study the shape of his lips, the glint in his eyes, the dark shimmering of his lovely ebony locks, and the way his chest heaves with effort and arousal. “These tits own Jeon Jeongguk,” he speaks, his gaze piercing yours, holding you accountable for the undoing he knows will follow.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” Your smile is sardonic, evilly pleased with his admission of submission, with him confirming, with conviction, that he is indeed entirely enslaved to his fascination for your chest, that he is so deeply enticed by it that just a silly part of you can guarantee you his unflinching devotion.

“You know it’s right,” he grunts as your movements resume. And at this point, he knows this is going to take a while, and it will most surely turn out vicious.

“Just checking in on you, making sure you haven’t found a better pair—”

“Don’t you dare talk to them like this. Not in front of me,” he hisses with a passion, and you chuckle at how chivalrously he defends your breasts from your own ill assumptions.

“That’s so gallant of you,” you reply, your hands pulling his hair back, your tone fond and just vaguely lined with mocking. “Let them repay you for your kindness,” you suggest, as you start crawling down his body, your breasts landing heavily on his lap.

“Really…?” he asks, first distracted and then extremely alert as he connects the dots. “With my boxers on?” He says with a frown.

You shrug and smirk. “Maybe we’ll get rid of them later…” You sprinkle some kisses on his abdomen, your chest dragging against his sensitive parts.

He frowns at the weight of them, so welcome, and yet deceiving as the fabric is hindering him from fully enjoying the act. “Please, off,” he huffs, tutting and fussing a little, but you decide to reward his patience with your nails tracing patterns against his chest, your fingertips drawing his areolae, your eyes hungry on his lost, bewildered state.

“Not yet, love… Be patient with me,” you reassure him, tracing the rift in between the crests of his hips, one side, then the others, ricocheting between the bones on the two sides. “I’m going to make it so good to you,” you promise him, placing kisses all around the underrated perfection of his belly button — a huge ‘fuck you’ to the people salivating over him and never, ever knowing how such a minuscule inch of his body has you so irreversibly whipped.

“Candy… Mh, love—” His voice has grown unbearably raspy and airy, so light it feels almost incorporeal, if it weren’t for the velvet smoothness of his skin underneath your lips, like marble that has finally received the breath of life, your boy an ineffable Galatea.

“If you knew, Guk, if only—” kiss— “you knew—” kiss— “how sexy, and erotic, and exciting and poetic you look right now, baby. You look like art.”

“Lemme touch you, I need you, I need—” he gasps and you’re almost expecting him to release a groan before he comes, way too early, much earlier than planned. But fortunately he doesn’t, he holds back stoically and cants his hips away. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispers, an arm covering his eyes. “I need a second if you need me to hold back.”

“Oh,” you reply in surprise, lifting yourself off him. “Are you alright?”

“Just give me some quiet for a second, Candy, don’t you dare even speak.” Jeongguk’s chest is rising and falling in wide movements, enticing and captivating.

Finally he removes his arm from his eyes, but he barely makes eye contact.

“Guk?” You ask, worried.

“Just— I’m trying to keep it cool here, love.” He wiggles his body a little, trying to get his boxers to fit a bit less tightly around him. “We should be smarter about this, you know?” His hands clench as he stops himself from reaching for you. “We should get a cockring for next time.”

You ogle him, then smile excitedly. “Really?” you chirp.

“Totally,” he concedes. He smiles even bigger at your smile. “Don’t tell me you bought one already.”

“Uhm… No,” you admit with a pout.

“Dammit. It would have been weird, but I wouldn’t even have complained about it since it would pretty much save my ass right now.” He licks his lips, stares at you some more, and he groans and throws his head back at the renewed flare of arousal after he’d just managed to tone it down a notch.

“I’m so sorry, bunny.”

“I’m alright,” he admits, his tone defeated.

“Is this the right moment to suggest I ride your face?” you say, your grin now sardonic, almost drunk on him and the sight of his body shutting down for you, malfunctioning at the mere touch of you.

He stares at you, wide eyed, nodding energetically, like a kid being asked if they want to visit Disneyland. “Guess it took a half naked commercial to get you to finally ask for it like you own it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Careful or I can keep going with torturing you. I’m liking it anyway.”

“No no no, come over here,” he says with a stern and determined expression on his face, his hands reaching for the back of your thighs. “I’ve been waiting. Get comfy,” he encourages you, and after some manoeuvring you settle on top of him.

He nods to himself, his nose nuzzling against the crotch of your panties, his mouth opening so he can feel your heat with his tongue, trying to get as close as possible.

Unsatisfied, his fingers reach to slip your panties to the side, but you slap at his hand.

“Nope. You wanted the Calvin’s, and we’re keeping the Calvin’s,” you scold him.

He frowns. “No, you were the one wanting them,” he argues. “Keep them on, you said.”

“Whatever.” You arch an eyebrow at him, but you also know he’s right and this decision has come to bite you in the ass. “Imagine how good it will feel once we take them off… And it feels a bit kinky to keep them on. Like… Like we’re having a quickie and everyone out there is waiting for model Jeongguk to come out anytime now, but once he does, well, he looks freshly fucked and everyone can’t stop talking about it— Oh, that!” you moan, your musings interrupted by Jeongguk trying to get bits of you in his mouth.

You’re thankful for the brazilian cut panties giving him plenty of stuff to work with even with the underwear still on.

“Stop me if it’s lewd but, dammit, I love the smell of you.” He drags his face side to side, basking in the damp, salty scent of your arousal. “I don’t even know what it is about it, but I like it so much.”

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing,” you comment, your voice breathy.

“Do you want me to keep talking?” he asks, and you just rub yourself against his chin, his mouth, and his words come out muffled. At some point you think you might have hurt his nose, so you ease the pressure a little, but he grabs handfuls of your butt and keeps you snug to his face, parts his lips wider as if he were really trying to eat you.

He parts from his designed heaven only long enough to announce, “I’m pushing ‘em to the side, fuck it.” And you’re barely coherent, and he’s speaking with that intimate lisp of his, his accent heavy, like he can’t pay too much attention to words anyway.

You don’t oppose.

In seconds, his tongue is tipping inside you, slippery, and so hot, and you moan without even noticing it. Everything is soaked, his chest is covered in perspiration, and so are your thighs.

You dare look down, and his eyes are closed as he is filling all his other senses with the sensation of you.

You bask in the sight of him, one forearm draped against the headboard of the bed, your other hand reaching down, to his fluffy hair currently tickling your inner thigh. You grab it, careful to be right between gentle and aggressive, in that way he finds so pleasant and sexy.

He opens his eyes suddenly, and the moment he finds your eyes already connected with his face, he finds himself more eager to give you just what you need to plunge into oblivion.

He gives you lush, slow licks, from your centre to your most sensitive spot, he takes his time, and moves into more sinuous motions, drawing curve after curve on his way up. He is unrushed, patient, and eloquent. He is luxuriant, explorative, curious.

He loves what he’s doing, and he loves you and he’s showing it, top to bottom, and all the way up again.

“Guk,” you breathe out, and it’s almost a hiccup.

“Yes, I know,” he murmurs against the bend of your inner thigh, right at the fold to your crotch. It’s so private, so sacred. It’s heartbreakingly yours and his and no one else’s. You’re in a shared space where nobody else can tell what you and him know.

“Please,” you manage to say.

He rearranges his arm so he can move two fingers along the seam between your legs, and then they’re inside, and he’s moving them right, rubbing them against the back wall of your entrance.

As you tip your body forward, he moans with his mouth to your clitoris, happy with the new angle, and once you start grinding against him, climbing your way to your climax, he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t go faster, he doesn’t add pressure. He does not change one single thing, and you’re so grateful for the way he has come to understand you, your body, your tells.

“Just right,” you encourage him. “You’re so damn perfect, love— Oh, there.”

That’s the last thing you can remember saying before he sets you off like fireworks. You don’t take much into consideration after that. All is fair, unless he’s holding you back.

You grind, hump, moan, thrash just a little as you get too sensitive and fold in two, your forehead pressed to your wrist on the headboard

as you shake your head ‘no’ but can’t bring yourself to stop from feeling everything he wants you to take.

When you manage to recover, you whisper, “Okay, gimme a second.” And you try to unstraddle his face, but he holds you there, and simply avoids touching your sensitive parts, removing his fingers from inside you.

“Are you alright, Candy?”

You nod and take some large breaths.

He moves your panties back in place, then kisses your mound softly, affectionate, innocent even.

“Can I do anything for you now, love?” He asks with a reverent, caring note in his voice.

You shake your head, still recovering. “Can I lay on top of you?”

“Sure thing,” he says, unlatching from you and leaving some room for you to realign with him, face to face, torso to torso, hip to hip, calf to calf.

He’s still hard as marble, and the gentle grind of your pelvis against his causes him to groan softly.

You press your lips to his to distract him.

The jeans jacket you’re still wearing gives him something to ground himself, his focus aimed entirely at the feeling of the fabric underneath his fingers instead of the humid warmth of your crotch pressed against his.

Just then, you bring your heels underneath your ass, rising to your knees as you swiftly remove your upper garment.

The way his focus moves immediately to your breasts makes you cackle a little, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Candy, you’ll have to get that tattooed.”

“Nah, too dangerous. They might tell on you.”

He frowns. “You’re right,” he still agrees. Too dangerous. You’re dangerous to him too, and there are not many chances of him keeping some form of dignity if he could at any time see a tattoo calling him out for his undying liaison with your chest.

He catches your wrists, making you lose your balance so that your torso collapses onto his. And he keeps you there, wraps you up in his arms.

“Still jealous, love?” he asks you.

“More than ever,” you admit, and you look into his eyes, recognising the feeling pooling in them.

“I'm only yours,” he swears, kissing the side of your head, whatever he can reach, and it's so tender, so innocent, so magical. “What can I do for you?” he whispers, flirting with you.

You wrap your hands around his forearms and bring them up above his head. “No. I want to do things for you.”

You press your lips to his gingerly, then start to kiss down, tracking his throat and moving further downwards, to his chest, stopping where his heart thumps against the petals of your lips.

“Beats so hard for me,” you comment lightly. “Do I make your heart race, love?”

“You do, Candy,” his reply is strained, as if it hurt to speak at that moment.

“But I—” You let your nails tickle the flat of his waist, the elastic band around his hips— “I also make your dick hard, don't I?”

He moans eloquently, then chuckles at your teasing. “You so do,” he admits, embarrassed but also excited, and so so thankful for having found you.

You grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth, letting it slap against his skin with a dry snap. “Grab a pen from your bedside, will you?”

You look up just in time to catch his eyes flickering open, his expression coming to life slowly. “What?” he asks, confused.

“A pen, from your drawer,” you repeat.

“Oh.” He had been too unfocused and he hadn’t realised you were talking to him, as if the words were just sound with no meaning; however, now he’s paid attention, so he stretches to the side, exposing the slender twist of his waist to your reverent mouth. You kiss him there, his body contracting as your lips attack his ticklish spot.

“You’re a menace,” he complains, giving you the side eye, but also offering you a boyish, loving smirk.

“And yet, you love me.”

“You’re lucky,” he says, right before you nip at his skin in reprimand. “Okay, I am the lucky one,” he concedes, returning to you with a pen in his hand. “You want this one?” he asks.

You nod and stretch for it, then peck the mole beside his navel and make your way down.

His underwear by now is bitterly persona non grata, still you make yourself okay with it and simply move the elastic down, exposing his hipbone more fully.

“What you gonna do?” he muses, propping himself up and staring at you bent over his pelvis. You look at him and prepare the pen, staring in his eyes as you suck at your bottom lip, torturing it a little as you think.

“Are you gonna mark me? Sign me up?” he asks, a mocking grin on his face.

You move the pen away and loll your tongue out, drawing a thick stripe following the shape of him in his boxers.

He immediately drops his cocky act and arches up, sensitive, holding on barely.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” you scold him provokingly. “Remember where this is all coming from,” you remind him threateningly.

He gasps as your mouth sucks his tip through the fabric, your nails tracing the indentations of his quads.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’ve got me.”

You nod to yourself. “I do,” you say, patronising just in the slightest. And because you can you rise, remove yourself from the way, and pull at his hipbone, trying to flip him around.

He’s alarmed, but he follows your lead. You straddle the back of his thighs, bend down, and move his underwear down, the elastic stuck under the fold of his ass, further emphasising it. It looks plump and delicious, and for a moment you’re caught admiring him.

He’s twisting his neck to try and see what you’re doing, filled with wonder at the way your hair tumbles over, and he’s mesmerised by the shine of it, the softness of the tips, like a brush, whispering at his skin.

You pick the right spot, then settle down, folded over his glute. His skin is hot against your touch and when you finally bring the pen to his flesh, you hope it won’t fail, despite the perspiration and the soft surface.

Shamelessly, you draw the words like an inscription on a stone.

Poetic, and dirty. Just the way you like it. However, you don’t give him the benefit of knowledge.

You lean back, watch your little handywork with a surging of pride and love and confidence. You smack it, just because you can, not hard, not soft either, just sweet enough that it doesn’t feel like a violation doing it without asking his permission first.

His muscles squeeze, and his breath catches.

Because I can, your brain keeps telling you, over and over, like a mantra. You’re allowed to. He’s yours and you’re the only one allowed to.

“You’re getting confident with this,” he comments, and suddenly your eyes are meeting.

He looks like something you would paint. Something you would dream of, and then wake up and sketch down in the middle of the night, caught by some sort of frenzy, some urgency mixed with an impending fear of forgetting, of losing it. Losing him.

“I’m gonna draw you.”

He doesn’t connect the words for a bunch of seconds. Not until you’re standing up and running out of the room and he asks himself, why, why the fuck is she leaving?

“Candy?” he calls, unsure.

He tries to see what in the world you’ve written on his ass, but you’re making your way back in the room, tablet in hand, and your steps are bouncy and your tits follow the movement so his attention is divided.

“What— Where—?” He’s confused.

And then you’re perched on the armchair at the corner of the room, and the light from your tablet reflects on your face, and you look spirited, caught by some urgency he can’t quite find a name for.

“Candy, for the love of—”

“Just a bunch of minutes. A quick sketch, no more.”

He’s been patient. He’s been understanding. He’s let you tease him, and he’s let you touch him, lick him, suck him. He still has your taste all over his face and chin and he still feels the phantom touch of your breasts against his crotch and all he wants is to feel you on him, around him, against him.

“Please,” he whines.

“Just a minute.”

He swells. Frowns. Thrusts his hips against the mattress.

“Almost—” you say, drawing a couple more lines.

You’re in his arms next. “Put that down, Candy.” His face is right above yours and he’s carrying you bridal style. “Put it down,” he repeats.

You're very still. He's looking at your quick sketch, at the way it was all a rough frame and some basic lines. “You're gonna post that? Share it as some fanart instead of a live portrait?” He throws you on the bed and you clutch your tablet harder, trying to save it from any damage. He's on top of you next, grabbing the device and moving it to his drawer before he returns upon you, blocking your wrists above your head.

“Are you maybe going to draw it faceless, so you can sell it as a picture, to decorate somebody's house?” He bends to your ear and nips at the side of your neck. “Let my ass hang naked on someone else's wall?”

You feel overwhelmed and surprised by his counterattack, not really knowing how to react.

He drags his body against yours, stealing a whimper from your lips. “I think you enjoyed topping a little too much tonight.” He flips you onto your front next, and you find yourself only mildly embarrassed that he's made only one tenth of the effort it had taken you to flip him.

He slaps your ass, and it is nowhere as playful or light as the spank you'd given him. It is his turn to grab the pen.

“Let's see if you can walk the talk, Candy. If you like the taste of your own medicine,” he muses, and he bites your ass cheek, bending over to start writing, but accidentally finding himself unable to resist the urge to sink his teeth in your plush flesh.

“Since I'm not a selfish asshole, I'm gonna tell you what I'm writing. Here we go, 'This ass likes spankings from Jeon Jeongguk'. What do you say? Is it true?”

You're panting, wiggling in his hold, trying anything to see the possessed look on his face. “It's true,” you admit, breathless.

He smirks and lands one more hit on your ass. “Damn right it is,” he says confidently.

He tugs your underwear off harshly, almost angry.

Soon he's naked, and so are you, and he's slipping inside you while you're still on your front, your hips arched all the way up, cupped by his hands. “Let's make this fuck more fun than your drawing, huh?”

And when he starts, goodness, you want him to never, ever stop.

He's ruthless, and he only asks if you're alright once, after three strokes. After that, all's fair, and he's ramming inside you in a way that makes you gasp and arch further, trying to get him even deeper, to an even better angle.

You can't really look at him, since you'd risk a kink in your neck, but he doesn't care. He only cares about his handwriting on your ass, and his name on it. He only cares about the way you're gasping his name, and sometimes, when he slams in at the right moment, the impact causes too much of your breath to come out, so the whispered begging gets punctuated by moaned-out, hiccuped syllables.

He smacks your ass a few more times, his hand tingling, but the spanks seem to make you happy, so he doesn't stop, and he doesn't complain either.

“You're jealous of me, Candy,” he manages to speak, slowing down just enough so he has more of your attention. “Do you have any idea how jealous I am of you? How hard it is to feel like you want to own me half as much as I want to be yours?” He's on his knees behind you, and his thrusts grow more patient, more luscious. Richer and fuller. “Sometimes I'm scared you'll leave me, and someone else will get to have all the wonderful sex I get to have with you. Someone else will get to see your face first thing in the morning, and become a character in your cartoons, and talk about you with their granny, and bring you home for New Year's.” His face collapses close to your shoulder. “What will I do with myself, then?”

You turn your face and you finally get to see him. “Flip me around,” you order him, but your voice is fond. “I want to look you in the eyes while you fuck me like no one else has ever.”

His hair is fuzzy with his perspiration, and his face glistens with a light sheen of sweat. “Sure?” he asks, in confirmation.

“I'm sure,” you comfort him.

He's only happy once you're below him, and he's on top of you, inside you.

You clench around him, and he frowns deeply, trying to control himself. Still, he gives a sharp jab with his hips, and it steals your breath.

“Like that,” you praise him. “I want you to fuck me like that. Like no one else can.”

His eyes stay wide open, stubbornly nailed to yours as he starts moving. It's hard and slow, and it makes you see stars.

“Do you still feel like drawing?” he provokes you, “Or am I fucking you good enough?”

You hiss and bite his arm, both to keep him humble, but also, again, because you can — and nobody else does.

“Maybe I could get on top of you so you can watch my tits bounce, and maybe that will make you want to draw,” you bite back, and next thing you know you're both sat up, you're on his lap and he's bouncing you on his dick.

“Definitely feeling inspired right now,” he concedes. “Maybe I should stop and paint them.”

You push him down and he's finally with his back to the mattress, you on top. “Or maybe you could shut your mouth and get busy so I can cum.”

The slap lands almost immediately on your ass. “Dirty mouth. And a fucking divine cunt,” he speaks through gritted teeth.

He lets you lead for about thirty seconds, during which he stays occupied with your boobs, grabbing them, slapping them, pinching your nipples, and then he grabs your hips and stills them.

“Touch yourself,” he orders your roughly before he starts fucking up from below you.

It escalates quickly from there, and in less than a minute you're gone, collapsing forward, against him, and he's so thankful because he's coming too and your kegels are squeezing him just right, and he only manages to say “fucking yours” before he abandons all his inhibitions and loses himself inside you.

You come back to reality only, and you find yourself tucked in his embrace, his body above yours. You don’t know when he flipped the two of you over, but you like his weight on top of you.

“Hey,” you murmur, combing his hair away from his face.

His expression is lazy and satisfied.

Well done, you tell yourself, almost giving a pat to your own shoulder. He looks fantastically fucked, deliciously edible and perfectly yours.

“Hey you,” he replies, with the most heavenly, blissful grin on his face. No, too tired to be a grin, more like a glowy smile. It’s not fully on, it looks like those battery-operated lights when they’re almost out of energy, a bit faded, or maybe pale. Faint, feeble, dim. Soft. Muted. If his bunny smiles were jewel tones, this was the most delicate pastel pink. A powder baby blue, almost robin egg blue.

You want to wrap yourself in the hazy glow radiating from him, gentle as a sunny dawn in late May.

“So glad you got those Calvin’s,” you joke, and there it is, bunny grin, ten million watts. Apparently that makes his battery die because his head collapses to your neck and he doesn’t seem willing or ready to lift himself back up.

“So glad I made you jealous. But also sorry,” he says, truly apologetic. “I’m happy we did this. I’m happy I saw you like this.”

His lips tickle the side of your neck, and you squirm a little, but you try not to move too much. You want to be comfortable for him to rest on. You want him to stay like that on top of you forever. “I’m still maddish. But I think I can deal with it.”

“There’s more pictures coming,” he says tentatively, and he makes the effort to pick up his head to give you a helpless look, trying to protect himself already by giving you the sweetest pair of puppy eyes he’s ever used on anyone.

“Oh, I’m totally getting your ass branded,” you reply, saccharine. “I was thinking I could make those ribbons, like the ones the police use, except I put my name on it and I wrap it all around your chest, so they can’t drool all over your abs.”

He laughs, and the sound is boyish and playful, and lovely. You fall in love a tiny bit more.

“Can I see the pictures in advance?”

He hums as he thinks about it for three seconds, except he already knows how he wants to play it. “Mh…” he says some more, keeping you on your toes. “No.” He looks up, testing you. “But let’s say I hope you get that cockring ready.”

You pull your head back, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re not naked in your Calvin’s, right?”

He grins, gives you a devilish wink. “Maybe.”

You grab his cheeks and squeeze his face and he laughs so hard you can’t be possibly mad at him for even a nanosecond. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“And your tits will be it for me,” he flirts back.

You shake your head. “Brat.”

And he kisses you. Just that.

Before he hits the shower the following morning, Jeongguk inspects the damage you’ve done on him.

He’s quite happy with it. A very faint bruise on his neck. A red splotch on his abs, and another on his hip, but nothing that won’t fade within one or two days. He knows you know the drill by now.

He turns around to inspect his back, and he’s okay with it, nothing that will get him in trouble in case he needs to be shirtless or generically undressed around staff members. He drops his underwear and it’s only once he’s making his way to the shower that he notices something strange on his asscheek.

Oh, fuck. Suddenly reminded of your little handiwork with the pen the night before, he bends to the side, trying to get a better view at his ass.

He finds himself wobbling side to side, like a silly puppy chasing his tail, and that is exactly the way you find him when you enter the bathroom.

A laugh bubbles out of you and you smack his butt playfully. “Do you need help with that?” you ask, cheery.

“No,” he bites back, but he has the most innocent, pouty look on his face, and he is having fun a little. “Maybe,” he concedes, his voice young.

You wrap your arms around him and rise to your toes, propping your chin on his shoulder as you hug him from behind. “I wrote, ‘Candy’s babyboy’.”

His ears go red, just the tiniest bit. “Really?” His expression is so sweet.

“Really,” you confirm, confident, serious, and loving.

“You’re not making fun of me,” he asks, vulnerably.

“I promise I’m really, really not, Guk.” You kiss his shoulder. “You’re my babyboy. And my sexy man. And just mine, generally speaking.”

He nods, a happy, fulfilled look on his face. “Right.” He’s once more confident. Entirely adult.

“Love you,” you reassure him again, and then you kiss his shoulder, again.

He grins. There he is, your boy. “Love you too.”

Hi it's Dita, the writer, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment to keep this poor gremlin fanfic writer motivated. Bye and I LOVE YOU!!!

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x candy #jungkook x yn #jungkook au #bts x reader #52 hertz #bangtansorciere #btswritersclub

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hannie-dul-set · 30 days

Text

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING.

p — LEE JENO x female! reader. g — gang leader! jeno, actress! reader, humor, tension tension tension, jeno gets kidnapped by his celebrity crush, this is stupid, this is dumb, don't take this seriously. w — swearing, kidnapping, morally dubious characters HAHHAHA. 935 words.

note — happy birthday jeno. to the anon that sent the trope list curated for me, this is your fault. take responsibility. the prompt "accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss" suddenly terrorized my brain while i was studying. enjoy.

when lee jeno opens his eyes, a dull ringing in his ears, he sees nothing but the faint impression of a lightbulb burning through the sack covering his head. it’s dark. there’s an echo when he grunts and tries to move, but upon feeling the rope pressed against his wrists, the stiffness of his shoulders and the metal scratching of the chair against the rough ground— he’s quick to understand the situation he’s in.

the last thing he remembers, he was about to board a plane to japan. to spend a few months lying low after the particularly risky job his gang had to undertake not too long ago.

seems like someone managed to sniff him out before he could flee.

splash!

“wake up, you slimy son of a bitch.”

cold water hits, seeping into the fabric covering his face and crawling down to his collarbones. now, considering his line of work, jeno isn’t too fazed by this situation. he has a lot of enemies. maybe this one’s from a rival gang. could be a relative seeking revenge for a brother’s cracked skull, or some shit. doesn’t matter. he’s not gonna stay sitting for long anyway.

“did you really think you could cheat on me and run away scot free?”

cheat? the sack gets thrown off from his head, a hand yanking a handful of his hair to pull his head back and he lets out a grunt. the chair is tipped back. jesus fucking christ, that felt personal. but when the sudden illumination stops blinding him, and he can finally see who the hell had the guts to jump and kidnap him, he’s a little taken aback.

jeno has a lot of enemies. the list goes on and on.

“use your fucking mouth, bast—”

but he’s pretty sure that the darling angel of south korea’s film industry isn’t on that list.

jeno watches as the vivid scorn and disgust in your eyes slowly meld into confusion, then realization, then a slow but sure descent into panic alongside the loosening of your grip.

“oh.”

must be the skills of an award winning actress. he feels almost a hint of disappointment when you stop pulling on the roots of his damp hair.

“oh, shit. one moment.”

clang! the chair he’s tied to settles once more into the ground with a clatter, and jeno watches as you quickly secure a distance between you and him, pulling your phone out of your sweats while biting the tips of your thumbnail. it’s a little funny seeing the nation’s sweetheart pacing back and forth all jittery in what looks like a basement— maybe your basement. as far as jeno can remember, you’re always casted for romance films. those feel-good, slice of lives and the pocari sweat commercial you once did echoes in the back of his head. but maybe you have a hidden knack for some thriller.

he starts fiddling with the ropes tied around his wrists right at the moment you screech into your phone. dispatch would have a field day if they see this.

“you got the wrong guy! my ex isn’t this hot!”

his fingers slip. his skin scratches the rough threads of the rope.

“i paid you useless fucks a shit ton of money to get the job done, but you can’t even get— ugh! nevermind. just go and bring me the actual son of a bitch i asked for this time.”

the knot is almost loose. this is quite the show. it’s better than all the movies he’s seen of you.

“what?! hello?! what do you mean you can’t help me anymore, what about our—”

drop. jeno gets up from the chair. he stretches his joints, neck cracking, watching as you sputter out a trove of profanities at your phone. his clothes are still damp from the water you splashed him earlier. maybe he should have a bit of fun first before leaving. it’s not everyday that you get to meet your celebrity crush.

“hey, dollface,” he calls out. you freeze. you look at him with the drop of a needle, eyes growing a little bit wider when you realize he should be sitting down. damn, they really need to cast you in a grittier film. “you should pay a bit more attention when you have someone hostage.”

a beat of silence.

“uhm,” your voice croaks. jeno takes a step towards you. you take a step back. “listen, haha, there has been a misunderstanding.”

your steps stutter a little, moving back and back and you swallow nervously, looking at him with almost sheepishly— a sense of feigned bravery in the midst of retreat, teeth tugging on the skin of your lips. “oh, yeah?” he says, and you visibly rattle. you’re prettier like this than when you’re batting your eyes and flirting at the camera. you’re definitely prettier.

“yes, ahaha, there was a minor switch-up, you see i— i didn’t mean to...uh, escort you from the airport, i actually meant to target someone else, and— o–oh, and there’s a wall behind me. oops, haha. do you mind backing away a bit, um—”

“how about i help you with the ex boyfriend problem you have?”

the tables turn. it’s him digging his face up against yours this time, but the mention of your ex strikes a chord. you’re looking at him, gaze unbreaking. he can feel your shallow breaths on his skin.

“who are you exactly?”

“someone who can do the job better that the fuckers you sent me, definitely,” he chuckles. “how about it?”

he won’t ask for much. maybe just an autograph in return.

#jeno x you #lee jeno x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream x you #nct dream sc #nct dream scenarios #nct sce #nct scenarios #jeno x reader #nct drabbles #nct au #jeno au #this is not proofread btw fuck it we ball!!!

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apollodeath · 11 months

Text

I want to make my own hc for König so here goes my attempt!

(Also there is some inspired by the millions I’ve read but some are purely from my mind lol)

My own König Headcannons!

(SFW)

He loves petting your hair whenever he can.

The bracelet he wears is a matching one to yours. Bought as a pair somewhere and you mailed it to him while he was away.

He never takes it off. Ever.

He loves getting home to see you, of course, but also just loves taking off his shoes and wearing pjs.

He definitely loves holding things up in the air away from your reach just to tease you. It makes him feel even bigger.

When you are sad he loves picking you up baby style and just holding you on his lap or in bed

Nights when he can’t sleep he whispers to you even tho you both live alone; he says he talks quietly because the stars are sleeping.

Usually falling asleep halfway through a sentence

Loves hugs, will without a doubt ask for one right when you wake up.

Hates coffee, makes him jittery

Maus is FOR SURE his petname for you.

Doesn’t see a reason for a phone. Has one but barely knows how to use it.

Loves seeing you in his oversized shirts

He really likes when people are intimidated by him (unless he wants to be their friend.)

Gets tears in his eyes when he sees ASPCA commercials with the sad animals.

He saves every letter you send him under his pillow, he swears it smells like you and helps him have better dreams

He shaves his face rarely cause only stubble grows slowly for him

He minds his scars

He’s insecure about his scars that litter is body but he can’t help but blush when you trace them or kiss them

He treasures a moment in his mind when he tried hiding his scars with clothes or his mask but you said “let me see your pretty face, Köni~ ?” He said why he didn’t want you to see but that just made you say “I understand if you don’t want to now I’ll wait for when you are ready.” It made him smile and more comfortable with showing you slowly

He thinks it’s so cute and romantic when you tie his shoes so he returns the favor

He loves brushing your hair after showers/baths

Loves taking baths. Especially with you.

MDNI

DO NOT READ BELOW THIS LINE IF YOU DON’T WANT NSFW CONTENT

(NSFW)

Loves baths when they end with you on top and water on the bathroom floor from…. Splashing.

He’s guilty of leaving bruises on your hips on purpose because he just loves seeing them.

He also loves when you leave marks on his neck and chest just before he goes on missions

I feel like he has a super high sex drive and masturbates whenever he’s away or thinks you’re busy or you’re sleeping

If he’s away and catches a glimpse of his hickies on his chest or neck while getting ready he can’t help but get hard and have to finish himself to the thought of you leaving them on his body.

He moans quiet at first touches but, once he’s in the middle of pumping in you he’s cussing in his own language because honestly he forgets English when he’s in so much pleasure.

“Bitte kleine Maus, du fühlst dich so gut Scheiße”

Translation: Please, Little mouse you feel so good fuck!

He doesn’t do it often but, when he aches for only your touch not his own he will ask you even if you’re in the middle of your chores/busy. If you make him wait he’ll sit back getting more and more frustrated. His hard on will stay prominent and his hands will be pinned at his sides as he watches like a hungry animal ready for its pray to take a step closer. At times you get done and think about doing something else just to watch him shift in his seat and sigh.

But once you’re free and give him the look or a simple “König~” in your bedroom voice he’s up and pinning you to any surface ripping his own clothes down to his ankles and yours off and thrown to the side

After moments like that he usually apologizes with words sprinkled in kisses and cuddles

If he orgasms before you he will continue thrusting his seed in you

HE HAS A BREEDING KINK

He gets off on how he can throw you around and hold you to a wall while thrusting in so deeply

He knows you like when he holds both your wrists in his hand

He also enjoys being dominated. If you wanna tell him to get on his knees or that you wanna try something he’s in for it.

He loves watching you please yourself, no matter how it’s done.

Once you rubbed yourself against his thigh until your release and he had so much precum leaking it puddled in his pants. He bites his knuckle trying to stop his moans watching you.

He’s masturbated to you in his bunk while away… and other places like the bathroom, shower, outside under the stars on a mission etc.

He sometimes keeps all his gear on to fuck you in. He likes when you grab at his chest for stability and hold his tac vest. Must admit you like when the rough fabric rubs against your legs

His gloves on your body while he stares at you through his mask

He trains still at home by doing his workouts and going on runs just to keep up his health but he especially loves when you admire him sweaty and breathing heavy.

He knows what you’re thinking when your eyes travel up and down his body after a shower.

He keeps his mask on and only that when laying you out

He gives head for hours until his jaw feels sore just to taste you on his tongue and lips

When you finish he asks if he can make you cum again and again

He’s very jealous type but doenst let it get to him unless the person starts flirting or touches you.

Thank you for reading!

If there’s any typos I’m so sorry and I haven’t written anything like this ever soooo again sorry if it’s different or weird to read 😅

Also let me know if you want more I actually really liked this.

#konig call of duty #konig #konig smut #konig mw2 #konig fluff #konig x reader #konig modern warfare #konig mwii #konig cod #konig hcs #konig headcanons

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intoanotherworld23 · 10 months

Text

His Behind The Camera II

Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: MATURE CONTENT NSFW 18+ ONLY, there is smut in this, oral, female oral receiving, drinking, mentions of porn, adult films, swear words

Length: 2200+ words

Summary: It’s a life that you never thought you’d have, but you’re desperate and you need the money. That’s how you get into the adult film industry, and your first movie is with the devastatingly handsome Joel Miller

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

Part 1

The schedules were out and it looks like you were already scheduled with Joel. What seems to be multiple times too. Which made your heart skip a beat at the thought.

Guess the ratings went through the roof with you two. Apparently yours and Joel’s video was the most watched video in one night. It made you feel good hearing people were already in love with you.

You really mind doing the rest of your films with Joel anyway, but they told you it didn't work like that. In the world of adult film you had to make movies with people you weren't interested in.

Although you really were looking forward to doing another film with Joel. It had your lips feeling numb, and the tips of your fingers tingling.

Laying on the couch watching random shows you heard a loud knock on the door. Muting the television as you stood up to go see who was at the door.

You weren't expecting anyone nor did you know anybody else in the city. Maybe it was the wrong door, and they didn't realize it. This was someone you didn't expect though to be standing on the other side with a huge smile.

"Joel." You stated looking him up and down. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I would drop by and come see you." Shoving his hands in his pockets as you stood there shocked.

"How did you find out where I lived?" Scrunching your eyebrows at him.

"The office gave it to me." He said like it was no big deal. "I hope that's okay."

A part of you wanted to say yes it did bother you, but you were afraid you would then lose him. Not wanting to risk that you put on a big smile and welcomed him in.

"Of course not it just surprised me."

He walked in as you shut the door behind him. He looked around checking the place out making you a little nervous. Feeling a little unprepared at his unexpected visit. Licking your teeth with your tongue, and smoothing your hair down.

"Nice place you got here." He complimented and you just nodded.

"Is there something you needed?" Asking out of curiosity crossing your arms underneath your breasts.

"Not really I just thought we could hang out." His voice became soft making you feel bad for sounding harsh for his drop by.

"Sorry I just didn't expect you would want to see me outside of work." You choked out the last word. "If that's what you call it."

"No I'm sorry I should have asked if this was okay." He seemed nervous almost like he didn't know how to act.

"It's actually nice to have some company." You smiled to whir he returned. "Since I don't know anybody here."

"Well let's get this party started." He hollered clapping his hands together making you laugh.

"Party for just two people?" Raising an eyebrow.

"Even better." He wiggled his eyebrows at you making your cheeks heat up.

The two of you talked for quite some time about each other. You got to find out that he had a brother and two sisters. He grew up normally from you understood.

Admitting he loved sex and the feeling it always have him, so he decided to get paid to have sex. He started off as a low ranking actor who only got small roles in commercials. He wasn't happy with his life so he made the decision, and he's glad that he did.

Afraid to tell his family what he was doing for the past year, but they accepted him still anyway. It was never brought up whenever he came home for holidays though.

When he did mention sex though the air around the two of you became heavy. It was like there was always this pull towards him you couldn't control. It was intoxicating but also very dangerous.

The way he looked into your eyes and just stared had your heart beating so fast. It was getting hard to swallow the longer you were talking with him. You started to feel that pressure between your legs again. Clenching your thighs together to help ease the ache.

"You got anything to drink around here?" He asked as he stood up.

"Yeah I'll get it." You told him making him sit back down as you headed to the kitchen. "I've got water, soda, tea, vodka, whiskey, tequila you name it I've got it."

"I'll take tequila." With a nod you stood in the kitchen and grabbed a cup with some ice.

Grabbing the bottle you stood with your back to him. You could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Suddenly the room became very quiet and tense. Holding the bottle in your hand it sounded like something moved behind you.

Slowly pouring the liquid into the glass you felt a warm body standing right behind you. Keeping your head down as your breathing became shallow.

As if time was slowing down feeling him press right up against your figure. Your eyes focusing on the still empty glass. Unable to move or feel like you could even breath.

Feeling his hot breath fanning across your neck making the hairs on your skin stand straight. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body back against his. Dropping the bottle back onto the counter.

His lips softly grazing your exposed neck kissing the skin making you moan. The stubble on his face rubbing against your shoulder as he moved his lips around your neck and shoulder. Your hard nipples pushing painfully against your shirt.

"God I want you so bad." He growled into your ear making you close your eyes.

Leaning your head back against his chest as you let him take over. His touch was so gentle but sensual at the same time. If you weren't wet before you were right now.

"I got to feel how tight that pussy was for me." His left hand moved down your hips moving towards your front. "Now I want a taste."

Gasping as your felt his warm hand reach inside your sweatpants cupping your pussy. His mouth open slightly as he felt how soaked you had become cause of him.

"Fuck baby all for me?"

He teased as his pointer and middle finger rubbed up and down your folds. Hearing the sound of your wet pussy as he slid his fingers down.

Feeling yourself moving your hips around to get more of a feel for his fingers. Chuckling into your ear at how easily he could control you.

"Such a dirty little slut." That was the first time he's called you that, and you loved it.

His other hand gripped your hip as he twirled you around to face him. Sticking the same two fingers that were just inside you into his mouth. Groaning against his fingers as licked your juices off.

Standing there in awe that a man could make you feel this way. Something as simple as licking his fingers had you wanting to bend over this counter.

Grabbing you swiftly as he placed you on top of the counter making you squeal. Maintaining eye contact with you the whole time as he gripped your pants, pulling them down your legs, throwing them to the side.

"Little pussy all wet for me."

He spoke as he looked down between your legs. Your pussy glistening in his view making him lick his lips.

Getting down on his knees as he spread your legs apart by keeping his hands on your ankles. Keeping yourself balanced by leaning on your hands.

He started to kiss from your ankle all the way up to your inner thigh. Every other kiss he would glance up at you to see how crazy he was driving you. Your mouth was opened as shallow breaths left your lungs.

His mouth was inches from your folds, and you found yourself lifting your hips just wanting to feel his tongue. He chuckled at your eagerness, and instead of teasing you more he placed his entire mouth on your wet folds.

Leaning your head back as you moaned out loud. Sticking his tongue out so he could slowly lick you from the bottom of your pussy to your clit that was now poking out.

"Oh fuck Joel." Moaning louder than you intended, but it just felt too good.

Doing that movement over and over again. He started to draw figure eights against your folds. Teasingly sticking his tongue inside you very fast quickly pulling it out making you gasp.

"You taste even sweeter than you look." He groaned as he licked your pussy again.

It was hot to hear him talk about you like this while he was on his knees. You've never felt more powerful than where you were sitting right now.

His tongue was moving faster this time as he rapidly moved it up and down against your pussy. Flicking his tongue around your clit making your squeal as you gripped his hair. He loved how sensitive you were.

"God yes lick my pussy Joel." Those words were enough motivation for him to turn into the animal he was meant to be.

For several minutes he kept the same pattern and rhythm up without breaking a beat. Your hands went from gripping his hair to gripping the edge of the counter. Unable to control your body or hands anymore.

"Feel my tongue baby." He encouraged you not to think too much and just feel. "Imagine my cock."

He then would trace circles around your clit for a few seconds, and then slurp your pussy. He was eating you out like you were legit his favorite meal, and he couldn't get enough of you.

He kept that same movement up until he felt your legs shaking against his hands. Burying his face between your legs as he stuck his tongue inside of you growling when he felt your insides clenching around his tongue.

"That's it sweet baby." He cooed up at you as he maintained his eye contact with what was between your legs. "Feed me."

Looking down to see his mouth practically swallowing your entire pussy. Grinding your hips against his face trying to feel more of his tongue. His hands keeping a grip on your knees to keep you open and spread for him.

Feeling your lower stomach tightening you knew you were seconds away from cumming on his face. Your moans filling the room you were glad at this moment you didn't have a roommate otherwise that would have been embarrassing.

"Ugh yes right there." Encouraging him to not lose the spot that had you seeing stars.

Joel knew you were close as his mouth left your pussy and started to suck on your now swollen clit making you scream. Your legs were shaking and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.

"God yes yes yes." Squealing through your tightly bit teeth.

Making eye contact with him as you felt your orgasm swiftly approaching you. His tongue felt so good you could stay like this forever. You were never one to be eaten out like this, but if he were the one doing it all the time you wouldn't mind it.

"Cum around my face baby." He commanded you as he stuck his tongue back in your pussy.

At the same time he moved one of his hands so his fingers could flick your clit as well. It was like a fire was being ignited inside of you, and you were about to lose control.

Your senses were becoming overwhelmed and your body was basically grinding against him and the counter. Feeling the urge to pee you kept trying to push his head away from you but he stayed right where he was.

"Shit I'm gonna cum Joel."

You moaned almost as a warning but that only encouraged him to move his tongue and fingers faster.

Joel moved his hands then to your hips when he felt your pussy squeezing around his tongue. He knew you were close, and he planned to bring you to your orgasm. Your thighs clenching around his head as you tried not to suffocate him.

Your stomach tightening as you felt your release hitting you quickly. Joel swallowed every last drop of you and he groaned loudly as he did it. Your body started to relax when you were coming down from you high.

"Sweet holy Jesus." You panted as you felt a drop of sweat roll down your back.

Joel stood up as he kept his hands on your hips. A layer of your arousal covering the scruff around his lips. Taking his fingers and wiping it off then sticking those fingers inside of his mouth groaning at the taste of you.

You sat there out of breath and satisfied. He looked across your face to make sure you were okay. Once you weakly smiled at him he placed his lips against yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

Placing your hands on his hips as the two of you made out on top of the counter. It was like he couldn't get enough of you, and had to feel every inch of your body.

"Next time you're sitting on my face."

He joked as he poured himself a drink shooting the whole glass smirking when he set the glass down.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“It’s a promise sweetheart.” Coming back over to you grabbing your face in his hands kissing you deeply.

#Pedro pascal #Joel Miller #Pedro pascal imagines #Joel Miller imagines #Pedro pascal smut #Joel Miller smut #Pedro pascal x reader #Joel Miller x reader #Pedro pascal fanfiction #Joel Miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal fic #Joel Miller fic

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