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nadvs · 6 months

Text

cam girl (part eleven)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

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Rafe has never had a hangover this bad. The sharp ache hammering against his temples is relentless.

He feels absolutely fucking finished. Last night, he passed out on whoever hosted the party’s floor, so not only is his head a mess, but his back is sore as fuck.

And the black eye doesn’t feel so good, either.

Even after last night’s aggravating argument with you and the embarrassing drunk texts he sent and this residual hangover from hell, when Rafe gets home in the late morning and finds you curled up in his bed, he feels better.

His head always does this when he’s around you. It’s like the whole world is nothing but fucking noise but with you, the loud turns quiet.

He still doesn’t know how you do that.

Rafe peels his clothes off, takes a hot shower, brushes his teeth and puts on new boxers… and he comes back to see you still passed out on his bed.

You must be exhausted. He feels the usual warm and incomprehensible buzz in his chest when he looks at you, even though he’s mad at you.

Rafe settles in his bed half-naked, slow not to wake you.

He’s half-asleep, fighting the ridiculous urge to turn around and hold you, when he feels you finally shift behind him. He turns to look at you and hates how his first thought is that you look pretty. He’s supposed to be pissed off at you.

He has no idea what the fuck happened last night. Why you made him feel like you’re sick of him all of a sudden.

“Crap,” you whisper as you sit up, realizing where you are and dropping eye contact with him immediately.

“Thought you needed a break from me,” Rafe mutters. “Why are you in my bed?”

He didn’t intend for his words to come out so sharp.

“I didn’t… mean to fall asleep.” You don’t even look at him. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

You’re about to get out of his bed and Rafe is powerless to his impulses like he always is around you. His hand circles your wrist, pulling you back.

You drop to sit on the edge of the bed and he can tell you’re annoyed by the way you look up at the ceiling and sigh. He remains on his back, the pain radiating through him keeping him from sitting up.

“I have work to do,” you say, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“Did we go too long last night?” Rafe asks, needing to know why you’re so cold, why you’re done with him all of a sudden. “Is that why you’re being like this? That shit was your fucking idea.”

That stupid toy you got was what kept him from cumming for so damn long. He was fucking you for ages. Maybe it was much for you. He can’t think of what else could have compelled you to say you want a break.

“I’m obviously tired, Rafe,” you breathe. “In every possible way. Just let me…”

Your words fade into nothing once you look at him. He sees the same concerned expression you wore when you towelled the raindrops off of his face last night.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice soft.

He knows how rough he looks; he saw himself in the mirror this morning. His right eye is covered with an ugly purple splotch that spreads down to his cheekbone. Evidence of the fight he got into last night. He doesn’t want to think about it.

So, he resorts to what he does best and tries to suffocate the feeling with sex.

“You wanna make me feel better?” he asks suggestively, cocking his head. He hopes he has the effect on you that he usually does.

You’re motionless, your eyes still hard on his face. Okay. Now he’s fucking desperate.

“Please?”

Did he really just say that?

The corner of your lips curl up into a small smile. He’s embarrassed, but thank fuck you don’t look angry anymore.

“Are you… begging me?” you ask. Your voice is back to that playful tone he’s used to.

His hand is still curled around your wrist, tense that you’ll try to leave again.

“Come here,” he says.

“How bad do you want me?” you tease. He loathes when you fuck with him like this. But why does he kind of like it, too?

He only says your name in warning, even though he knows he doesn’t have the power here.

It’s so goddamn frustrating. He’s used to you doing what he wants. But after last night, after you mentioned a break, he realized he needs to feel needed by you. You’re the one actually in control here.

“I’m all you think about, right?” you goad him. “According to your text?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. It’s humiliating how he typed out everything he was feeling last night.

“I was drunk,” he says defensively. Your smile drops and you start to twist your wrist out of his grip. Shit. Wrong thing to say. “But, yeah,” he adds. “You are.”

“You’re only saying that to get laid,” you murmur.

“I’m not,” he admits. He takes a breath. “All I do is… wait until the next time I can see you.”

Rafe’s not looking at you as he stammers his way through his words.

“That’s what you meant last night?” you ask him. He thinks back to the way he had you bent over the table, stupidly saying he’s the one who always has to wait.

He needs to fuck. Now. He can’t take this feelings shit.

Once he finally meets your eyes again, he’s relieved to see that your stare has softened. You turn to move towards him and his muscles immediately lose their tension.

You straddle him and the way your thighs box him in like this feels so fucking good that he forgets he’s hungover.

You start to grind against him and the thrilling promise of satisfaction washes over him, his boxers getting tighter as he gets harder.

“Does this help?” you whisper. He watches you through low lids, his hands on your thighs.

“Yeah, like that,” he groans. “Good girl.”

He slides his hands up to grip your waist and beckons you to lean over so he can kiss you, but you stiffen and reject the advance. Whatever. You must still be kind of pissed off, but he’s not about to stop what’s happening.

You sit up straighter and pull your dress up over your body, tossing it on the floor.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily trail down your body. Every time he sees your body or even just thinks about it, arousal burns through him.

He hates the feeling of you getting off of him, but once he realizes you’re taking off your panties and straddling him to fuck him in reverse cowgirl, his head feels like it’s spinning.

The sight of your bare ass perched on his pelvis is mind-blowing. He feels you pull down his boxers just enough to take his cock out, your hand running up and down his length.

You stroke him to get him fully erect, which barely takes any time. He gets hard for you in seconds.

When you lower onto him, he exhales in pure elation. You’re so wet and tight and soft and the moan you let out when you fill yourself with him is so fucking pretty.

You finally put all your weight on his hips, your hands stabilizing yourself on his knees. It’s heaven the way you squeeze him so damn tight.

You start to rock on him and his eyes drink in the way his cock is burying into you, the way your pussy looks stretched out like this.

Rafe looks over at the mirror mounted on his closet door to watch you arch your back and start to bounce on him. He doesn’t know which vantage point is hotter.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Look how fucking good you look.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror, your lips puckered as you hold back your moans. That look is for him only. He can’t stand the thought of you doing it for another man.

He watches you put your hand on your clit, touching yourself while you ride him. There’s something so fucking hot to him about how you know your body and how you shamelessly chase your own pleasure.

Rafe looks forward again, taking in the way your ass is bouncing on him, the way your back is curved, the way your cunt is clinging to his cock with every recoil.

He feels himself getting to the edge. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to delay it so you’ll get there first. Cumming will remind you of how good this arrangement between you is and you’ll forget this stupid ‘take a break’ idea.

You start to writhe even faster and breathe even quicker. He knows he’ll finish before you at this rate, so he buries his fingertips into your hips and holds you down to stop you from moving anymore.

“Why?” you whine, needy.

“Sit on my face,” he orders.

You lift your hips off of him, his cock popping out of you, glossed with your wetness. You obey and shift back on your knees.

You lower your core onto his mouth. Rafe fucking loves the way you taste. He puts his lips on you, rolling his tongue out over your velvet folds.

When he feels your hot mouth wrap around his cock, he exhales sharply. He sucks and licks you as he revels in the feeling of your tongue flicking up and down his length.

The way you’re pleasing each other at the same time makes his stomach tighten with something he’s still not used to. His body hasn’t ever reacted like this during sex, but it keeps doing this lately with you.

Rafe shoves away the thought.

He hooks his arm around you, dipping two fingers inside and curling them as he eats you out, eager to get you to cum.

Your breath is shaky, your hole tightening around his fingers. The way you looked at him when you told him you needed a break last night flashes through his mind again, pissing him off all over again.

“Nobody else can make you feel like this, hmm?” he mutters, his lips wet from you.

“Rafe…” Your voice is thin.

“Answer me.”

“No,” you tell him.

“And you want a break?” he huffs. “Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”

You’re silent, your mouth sliding up and down his cock, palming him. Frustration rises in him when you don’t answer. He needs the control. He needs to know how badly you want him.

“Do I?” he asks angrily, fingers slipping out of you to slap your ass. Your back arches at the impact, bucking up off of his face. “Do you need to watch me fuck you to get it through your head?”

Rafe pushes through the stiffness of his hangover to press against the backs of your thighs, forcing you to sit up.

“Get on your knees,” he says. “In front of the mirror.”

You groan out of irritation, but you listen to his instructions like the good girl he knows you are.

His eyes remain locked on you as you get up off of him and settle on all fours in front of the mirror on the floor, looking back at him with those beautiful eyes.

Rafe guides himself into you, finding bliss all over again. He lustfully looks at your reflection and sees the necklace he gave you hanging on your neck. It starts to swing as he thrusts into you, a reminder of how you belong to him.

Every plunge into you is fucking perfect. You squeeze his cock so nicely.

When you tighten around him, your breath hitched, he has no chance of stopping himself anymore - he cums at the same time as you, his moan tangling with yours.

Rafe can see stars as you tremble beneath him. He feels you take in everything he has to offer.

“Damn,” he says gruffly. He can’t stop himself from teasing you. “Sleeping and fucking on the clock. You’re looking to get fired.”

You let out a weak laugh and pull away from him. You stand to pick your uniform up off the floor, giving him another view of your hot, quivering body.

“Tell on me, then,” you challenge. You walk to his ensuite, shutting the door behind you. He’s sure that you know he’d never risk letting you get fired and losing this access to you.

Rafe’s heart is racing. How does every time he has sex with you feel better than the last?

He gets back into bed and pulls his cool comforter over his bare body, coming down from the high. He’s needs to figure out why the hell you’re retreating from him. And he’s determined to show you why you shouldn’t.

But with the hangover and lack of rest, Rafe falls asleep before you step back out into his room.

୨ᰔ୧

You couldn’t let Rafe kiss you. You’ll allow that sort of tenderness if, and only if, you’re more than a sex toy to him, and all signs point to that possibility being a big, ugly no.

When you step back into his bedroom to see that he fell asleep, you take a second, just a second, to look at him.

His lips are slightly pursed, his hair a tousled mess. The bruise on his swollen eye looks painful. You wish you knew what happened. You figure you’ll ask him tonight when he inevitably comes over.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the rush from the sex you just had starts to dissipate and you realize you shouldn’t have done it. You have heavy, unavoidable feelings for Rafe. You said you needed a break. Giving into the temptation was stupid.

But the way he was looking at you, holding your wrist… You couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you seem to have for each other.

The self-destructive hope flares up as you think about what he said today. It rattled you. He thinks about you? He’s always waiting to see you again? It can’t all be sexual, can it?

You’re desperate to know what’s going through his mind.

You begrudgingly accept that because of the time you spent sleeping and having sex with Rafe, you’ll need to stay late to complete all your tasks today.

After finishing up your work in the kitchen an hour later, you head out to the backyard to throw out a few bags.

You give a polite smile to the gardener, who’s standing by the gazebo. Your mind flashes back to what happened when Rafe caught you talking to him.

Rafe’s possessiveness couldn’t possibly be purely sexual. Not after the way he looked at you once you reassured him he was the only man who could touch you.

You drop the bags in the bin and turn to head back inside, but get stopped in your tracks.

“You should be careful.”

You look up to realize the gardener is speaking to you. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“What?” you ask.

“I overheard him talking about you.“

“Sorry?” you repeat.

“The son. I heard him.” Anxiety fills your veins. He wouldn’t know Rafe’s name - he’s just the son of the millionaire you’re all working for.

He heard Rafe say something about you? You decide to play dumb. You have to. You could lose your job.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“He was with his friends out on the balcony a few days ago,” he says. “I was working and I heard him say that he’s… uh, nailing a maid.”

The word seems to make him uncomfortable. You’re so used to Rafe’s vulgarity that you forgot some people blush at a crude word.

Honestly, you expected Rafe to brag to his friends about fucking you. But you didn’t expect a coworker to hear.

You remember watching him through the window that day. Sending him that explicit video. Slowly developing feelings for him when you knew you shouldn’t.

“What, and you think it’s me?” you say with a laugh. Maybe there’s a chance you can convince him that Rafe was lying or that the conversation wasn’t about you.

“People have been talking… Apparently you got caught in the laundry room?” he says.

Shit. All that other maid saw was Rafe in the same room as you. That was it. You didn’t expect to make friends at this job, but this is ridiculous. Do they have nothing better to do but gossip?

You’ve been found out.

“Please don’t… say anything,” you finally say quietly. “I can’t lose this job.”

“I won’t. And I’m not judging,” he says, but he definitely is. You can see it in his expression. “Just wanted to tell you that I heard some… bad stuff.”

“What?” You cross your arms, feigning confidence.

“He told his friends that you’ll do anything he wants you to,” he says. “And that you never say no.”

“Okay,” you say. You’re trying to keep your gaze steady. This is humiliating. But it’s all true and not a surprise. You didn’t expect any better from Rafe.

“And one of them said something like… that’s the type of… um…” He looks nervous again.

“Just say it.”

“The type of… slut you run through then drop when she gets boring.”

This is what finally breaks you. You only nod, trying to seem unaffected.

“What did he say to that?” you ask. You hate that you have a little bit of hope that Rafe would defend you, show a shred of respect for you.

“They all just laughed.”

Your heart sinks.

Of course that’s what Rafe thinks of you. Of course to him, you’re just a whore that he’ll get tired of eventually. You shouldn’t have ever given him the power to disappoint you.

For fuck’s sake, you asked him point blank over text last night if all he wants to do is fuck and he replied with a clear YES.

“Okay,” you say, turning away before he can see the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Sorry. Thought you’d want to know,” he says to your back. “These rich guys are all assholes.”

“Yup,” you reply, walking away.

You don’t even give a fuck about your job anymore. It’d be better if you lost it so you don’t have to see Rafe ever again.

This is fucking agony. You feel so dehumanized.

When you make it home that evening, two hours later than usual, you type a text you mentally drafted on your drive home.

You open the conversation with one of your close friends from college and text her: hey, are there any parties tonight?

Getting drunk and partying is not a healthy way to cope, you know that, but you desperately need to get your mind off of things. Thankfully, your friend responds quickly about a party at a frat house on campus.

After you get ready, you take a cab to the address your friend sent you. It doesn’t take you long to find her and start downing shots.

Your phone buzzes, right on cue. It’s 10 pm, after all. He’s waiting for you on that depraved website where it all began. The text is blurry through your tipsy eyes.

Rafe: where are you?

You finally send him the message you’ve been toiling over, anger and disgust and embarrassment and sadness heavy on your chest.

You: i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

{ read part twelve here }

#yay i finished this way earlier than i thought i would #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and readef #rafe cameron and y/n

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notmyneighbor · 6 months

Text

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 7

Word Count ~ 3.9k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ minor mention of blood and gore, sexual content

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You are walking the yard surrounding your home in early August.

Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger is beside you, his fingers laced with yours as the pair of you leisurely stroll. You love mornings like this. Lazy weekends when you shut the rest of the world out. There is just this, this safe haven you’ve created, away from the city where the invaders seek to gain entry and conquer, where the humans continue to try to see past the lies standing right before them, the deceivers and pretenders like the one whose hand you’re clutching now so tenderly. Except he isn’t like the others; nothing like any of them. He is yours, and you are his. There is nothing else like this phenomenon, what you have with him.

The blackberry bushes lining the picket fence are heavy with fruit, the plump, deep black specimens dull skinned, ripe and ready to be plucked.

“So many of them,” the copycat murmurs, halting beside you as your pace slows and pauses, contemplating the sight of those heavily laden shrubs.

You nod. “My grandparents used to make jam from them. I can remember spreading it on pancakes on Sunday mornings.”

“Do you still recall how to make the jam?”

“Yes. It’s not difficult. Just a bit time consuming. A lot of prep work.”

“We have the whole day. Want to try?”

“Really? You want to?”

“It sounds pleasant.” He tugs you gently towards him. “Everything with you is.” His lips meet yours, warm as the summer sun heating you through the button front dress you’re wearing.

“We need something to gather them in.”

“Will this do?” He reaches for the fabric of your dress about halfway down the skirt portion, lifting the loose material until it forms a kind of scooped makeshift basket.

“That’s what my grandmother did with her apron. Yes, this will do.” You reach for the handfuls he’s gathered, keeping the improvised bowl in place. “Only pick the ones that are black. No purple or red, they’re not ripe. Nothing shiny. Only the dull ones. They should come off fairly easily. If you have to pull too much, they’re not ready.”

The imposter milkman follows your directions and the dip in the fabric you’re clutching is soon full. It is a little awkward walking up the porch steps, balancing the unfamiliar weight at your front. There are stains on his fingers, on your dress as you dump the gathered berries into the colander he grabs from the cupboard for you, followed by a mixing bowl, anything he can find to relieve you of your burden. Overzealous in the picking, perhaps, but you don’t mind. The excessive berries would just have gone to waste otherwise, more than even your wildlife neighbors could indulge in.

“You should get used to having extra weight around your middle,” he murmurs against your ear. Still persisting in the notion of having a baby with you. The previous month had ended with your menses. You’ve no idea if it’s even possible to create a new life with the doppelgänger. You’re still conflicted about it. Afraid for its life, for yours and Francis’. But you can imagine the face. As a toddler. Convinced somehow it would be a boy. Identical in every way to his father. A father as devoted to him as he is to you. The child clinging to your side, standing in those same fields near the house in summer, looking at the world around him with those dark eyes that are unshadowed, not yet tired like his parent’s. Soft brown hair. Human, because you won’t let yourself imagine anything else; refuse to concede that it would be part doppel as well. “I can’t wait,” he says, his arms enfolding you from behind, your hands settling on his, the quartet all resting over your abdomen.

You smile, leaning your weight against his chest for a few moments before reaching for the faucet. It was time to rinse the harvest, removing the stray leaf or stem here and there. You fill a pan with water to boil to sterilize the lids of the mason jars. There are a set of them under the sink. The glass portion needs to be similarly treated. It will be hot in the kitchen with the stovetop working so hard. You lean and lift the window behind the sink a little higher, hoping for any sign of a breeze.

“Go pick out a record to play.” A new tradition. You let your lover choose the music, discovering what he likes best. Perhaps some of Francis’ favorites. Some for the invader alone. You cherish both selections equally.

The man and the doppel themselves; that is something your conscience has struggled with for many weeks now. You think you will always love Francis. But you love the new creature inhabiting his form, too. More and more with each passing day.

The music begins and you smile to yourself. Al Bowlly. Something from two decades ago, but a timeless classic. One of the records your mother had left behind when she’d moved to the city, inherited from your grandparents. You were long overdue for a visit to your mother and father. You’d received a letter not that long ago. Still safe. It was a worry that gnawed at you. One of the reasons you’d joined the DDD in the first place. Wanting to protect your family, the people you love.

The very thought of you and I forget to do

The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do

You spread a tea towel on the counter. The jars will air dry there after you’ve finished preparing them.

I'm living in a kind of daydream and I'm happy as a king

And foolish though it may seem, why to me that's everything

“How am I meant to not want to dance with you when this is playing?” Your partner’s lips graze the nape of your neck softly, his hands on your waist.

The mere idea of you, the longing here for you

You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you

You smile again. A gesture that comes so easily when the imposter is around you. “After. You wanted to make jam, remember?”

“I want to make a lot of things,” he murmurs beside your cheek, his nose nudging aside a stray piece of hair that’s come free from where you’d pinned it up, mouth now on the patch of skin he’s cleared.

“Francis!” You giggle, playfully squirming in his arms. You aren’t really trying to get away. “I need your help. Use those muscles of yours and pulverize the berries. The potato masher is in the second drawer there.”

I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above

It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love

He rolls up his sleeves, beginning to crush the fruit while you gather the measuring cups and sugar.

“I know it’s equal parts berries and sugar. Three minutes to boil? And then another three after the sugar’s been added. Oh, I need the whisk, too. And one of the larger spoons to stir. Yes, that one, thank you.” Francis’ copy hands you the culinary tools you’re searching for, retrieved from the same drawer the masher had been in.

Speaking of which, he’s done a great job with the blackberries, making short work of them. For a brief second your mind teases an imagining of something far less pleasant being ground down like that, pulped human flesh, the gore that is left behind when a doppel feasts on a human. Your grip on the spoon tightens until it’s white knuckled and you force yourself to relax. You’re with him, the one that you love, that adores you. Your home. With the beautiful crooned words of longing issuing from the turntable in the background. Those horrors do not exist here. “Those look perfect. I think that’s maybe around six cups’ worth. But we’ll measure.”

Your estimate of the mixture volume proves fairly accurate. You begin stirring the berries in the stainless steel cook pot, watching the seeded dark red mixture begin to bubble, keeping an eye on the clock on the wall. The doppel is at the sink, already washing the used bowls and tools.

It’s time to add the sugar. You stir it in, once again timing your task, finally deeming the developing jam ready to be removed from the heat of the burner, switching the knob for the pilot light off as you move the pot to an unused burner.

You can feel the perspiration beading on your forehead as you whisk the heated fledgling fruit spread. Nearly there. Your strokes with the thin wired tool were releasing the natural pectin in the berries now. After that it was just a matter of filling and sealing the jars.

“What’s next? What can I do to help?” The doppelgänger asks, resting a hand on your lower back, where the heat lingers, making the dress cling damply to your skin.

“I think this is actually just about ready to start pouring.”

He turns over the mason jars that had been resting upside down over the tea towel to air dry, lining them up on the counter. You transfer small batches of the jam to a batter bowl, making it easier to fill each jar without spilling. A lot of dishes being used for this. Funny how you didn’t remember that part from childhood. Just the fun of making it with your grandmother.

The replicant screws the last of the lids on. The jam looks so inviting. You can’t wait to spread it on some toast with some butter after it’s had a day or two to set. Maybe just one day. You were really craving it now.

“It’s hot,” the imposter says, dragging a hand across his forehead. “I’m ready to head back into the tub after that.”

You like the idea of that yourself. “You should.”

“Coming with me?”

“I was hoping for an invitation.”

He kisses you and you taste the salt of his perspiration. “You look a little flushed. We definitely need to go cool down. And then heat up again.”

“Francis, you’re impossible. Go get the water running. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

“It’ll be faster with both of us working together.”

You won’t argue with that, allowing him to assist you. Munching on some leftover blackberries as you work side by side. The last of the dishes done. Everything put away. Shutting off the record player on your way to the stairs. His hands work on the buttons of your dress after you’ve turned on the faucet to fill the tub. You loosen his belt. Shove the hem of his undershirt upward after he’s removed the outer layer. He reaches between his shoulders and pulls it free. You kiss the dip between his pectoral muscles lightly covered with dark hair. Suddenly finding yourself hungry for him.

“Should we wait on the bath for after?” he suggests.

“Yes. Definitely.” You switch the faucet off hurriedly, turning your attention back to him. He’s already entering the bedroom. The temperature in this room is hotter than it had been in the kitchen. No fresh breeze coming in through either of the windows. Just that stifling humidity. It needed to rain.

Undergarments removed. He kisses your bare shoulder, humming the song that had been playing the previous evening, when he’d met you at your front door, the start of your weekend together.

Blue Moon, you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You sit down on the edge of the bed. A hand rests on your thigh as he kneels down. Fingers stained from some of the berry juice, garnet and magenta smudges along cuticles and nail beds. Your hand sinks into the hair you’d trimmed recently, finding it’s already growing long again. You bend to kiss his mouth and he tastes like the fruit, like summer itself, warm and fresh and sweet.

He leans to kiss the breasts that will one day bear the nutrition to feed your child, if it was ever meant to be, sucking gently, each nipple responding to that sensation, rising and hardening, the melody of that love song still emerging all the while.

Blue Moon, you knew just what I was there for

You heard me saying a prayer for

Someone I really could care for

Then he is between your thighs, every kiss still languid, drowsy, a leisurely summer afternoon gifted in each touch of his lips on your skin. Caressing your legs, the limbs that part to receive him. Gentle kisses on those nether lips, still humming, sending little vibrations into your body.

And then there suddenly appeared before me

The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me"

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

His tongue strokes your clit and you lean back slightly, hands sinking into the mattress, arms braced to either side. His hands curl around your thighs and he sups at your sex, the pace still unhurried, easing you along into pleasure. Delving into your entrance, rolling the taste of you on his tongue before sweeping through the petals back to your bud, massaging it from side to side, up and down, pausing every now and again to plant a kiss on your mound or thigh, suckling the bundle of nerve endings and then dipping back into your canal in short, gentle little thrusts, the tune nearing its end, reaching the final verses, but yours have just started, that thrumming he sends through you, deep inside, an echoing response in your core.

Blue Moon, now I'm no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own

You let your weight rest on one hand so you can touch his hair again, meet the gaze of those dark eyes watching you, those depthless pools of desire you get lost in, drowning, a tide that washes you away into your release against his mouth.

You're sweating profusely now, damp inside and out as you scoot yourself back to the center of the bed, making room for your companion to join you.

There is always the little surprised sounding moan when he first enters you, as if he’s forgotten that feeling, rediscovering it each time his cock pierces your pussy. His hips roll against you in slow, lazy thrusts. He combs your damp hair back from your face, hair that has completely fallen loose, natural. He kisses your forehead and cheeks and lips, your jaw and throat and ear lobes.

“I love you,” he breathes against your neck. His voice sounds raw, full of emotion.

“I love you, Francis.” You grind up against his damp body.

His face hovers above yours. “Marry me.” You gasp as he grabs one of your thighs and rocks forward, pushing deep inside of you. “Marry me, be my wife. Stay with me always.”

Your heart pounds. To be joined with him like that. The mark on your arm only a faint pink line now. The traces of the bite completely disappeared. He wanted to put a ring on your finger. Everyone would know, then. There would be no concealing it.

“Be the mother of my children. Be mine forever.”

“Francis…”

“Please.”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“I am happy. Happier than I’ve ever been. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you,” you add softly.

A heavy sigh as his body moves against yours, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. “My love, my only, mine.” His pelvis knocks against yours faster now. Your knees tightly embrace his ribs. Every part of skin your lips touch taste of salt. His hair is darker, saturated with sweat, the tendrils clinging damply to his forehead. A drop slides from his nose and pools between your lips. The arms bracing his weight near your face are trembling. So close to the edge of bliss.

“Love,” he gasps.

“Yes,” you answer, and he spills into you, filling your womb with his seed.

***

You sit inside the bathtub between the doppel’s legs, resting back against his chest.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and you obey, hearing something being lifted from that basin of water. The wash cloth, you realize, feeling the cool liquid dripping onto you hair, sliding down over your heated face. Repeating until your hair is thoroughly drenched in the bath water, his fingers slicking back those wet tresses, smoothing over your eyes, your cheeks, curling beneath your chin and lifting your face so that he can kiss you. Your eyes open and you see him smiling. “Better?”

“Much.”

“Good.” A rumble of thunder in the distance. Finally, the rain was coming. “Will we lose the power again, do you think?”

“Maybe. Wouldn’t be so terrible, though, would it? Just being here in the dark together.”

“Not at all. I have fond memories of doing that very thing.” He kisses you again and your stroke the damp cloth over his forearms. “I am going to get you a ring, you know. Propose properly.”

“I know.” You lift his left hand and kiss it. “We should tell my parents. Visit.”

“You want me to meet them?”

“Why not? They’ll be your in laws. The grandparents of your children.”

“Hmmm,” he hums. “We will need someone to watch the little ones. When it’s time to make more…”

“How many are you planning on?”

“I don’t know. There’s no specific number. I just want it. Badly.”

“I know you do. I do, too.”

“You’re still scared.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t let anyone harm you. You, or the children. However many there are.”

“I know you’ll be a good father. A good husband.”

His arms tighten around you. “You are my perfect everything.”

***

You do not lose the power that evening.

There is light for your repast at the kitchen table. Still too soon to indulge in the fruits of your earlier labors—pun intended—and neither of you want to heat up the house again using the stove, so you have a simple meal of bread, cheese, grapes, and iced tea, listening to the storm outside, this one much calmer than the last, starting to write a letter back to your parents, beginning with the exciting news of your engagement.

“Do you think your parents will like me?”

You pop a few grapes into your mouth. “Yes. My mom is very similar in personality to me. My dad maybe a little gruffer, but he’ll soften with time. Especially when he sees how well you treat me. He’d probably like it if you asked his permission first. Just as a courtesy. A formality.”

Francis’ copy slices another piece of cheddar free from the block, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “What are you going to tell them about us, exactly?”

“Just that we met while I was working. You’re a resident in the building. The truth, you know.”

“But that’s not the whole story.”

You set your pen down. “I can’t tell them what you are. You know that.”

“Of course not. I’m just…wondering what to say. Or what not to say. How to behave.”

You lift the writing utensil again but don’t use it, merely holding it between your fingers. “Just be you.”

He looks over the top of his glass as you resume writing, neat cursive script filling the page. “Don’t forget to mention how handsome I am.”

“Hush, you.” You smirk, tossing one of the crumpled rough drafts at him and he easily catches it, returning your smile.

“And that I’m a good dancer.”

“You are a great dancer,” you concede, pausing again to tear off another piece of bread.

“We didn’t get to dance earlier.”

“We sort of did.”

His eyebrows lift. “I’ve corrupted you. That’s the sort of innuendo I’d deliver.”

“Speaking of which. No talking about wanting kids when we visit with my parents, at least not yet. They’re against premarital sex. Society doesn’t favor unwed women and it certainly doesn’t favor women who are unwed and pregnant. It’s because of the war. The need to repopulate, our purpose to create more soldiers.”

“We’re engaged, though.”

“Yes. But still not married.”

“I don’t want our children fighting in a war,” he says solemnly.

“Neither do I.” You pause, hesitating midway through writing again. “We are at war already. They’ll be born into it, just by the very nature of who they are. What they are.” You sigh, setting down the pen. The letter could wait for now. You don’t like the dark look on the features of the replicant sitting across from you.

“Come on. I owe you a dance.” You rise, reaching for the doppel’s hands and he allows himself to be tugged to his feet. “Go choose a record for us, my love.”

You clear the table while he rummages through the sleeved recordings. You leave the letter where it is. You’ll finish it in the morning, drop it off on your way to work Monday. At least there was one more day of this relaxed comfort, before you had to go back to the reality of the DDD.

You join your fiancé in the living room, positioning yourself with your dance partner, smiling as you recognize the song that starts to play.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak

And I seem to find the happiness I seek

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“Fred Astaire, singing to Ginger Rogers. Another classic. This song was from the musical Top Hat. A big hit on the music charts.”

The doppel is silent, his hand warm against your waist, the other clasping your hand as you step and sway in a small circle.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And the cares that hung around me through the week

Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak

When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek

“My mom loves that movie. You’ll curry some favor if you mention it. We’ll have to watch it together. The movie house downtown plays classics on Sunday nights. I’m babbling, aren’t I?” Two more verses of the song have already passed by.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind. We should go. I’ll take you.”

“A real date.”

“Yes, a real date.”

You grin, nuzzling his jaw. “I look forward to it.”

Dance with me. I want my arms about you

The charms about you

Will carry me through to

“I like making you happy.” He draws back to look at your features. “I want your parents to like me. I know it’s important to you. It’s important to me, too.”

“They’ll love you,” you say softly. “How could they possibly not?”

“Because…”

“No.” You release his shoulder, resting a finger against his lips. “You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s all that matters. I love you. You, inside of this man.” Your hand cups his cheek. “I’ve been calling you Francis all along. I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s…not something you could ever pronounce. The differences in language…”

“I’ll do my best to learn.”

“Sweetheart. Call me Francis. That’s who I am now. Your Francis. Yours.” He kisses you, and you become lost in the feel of it, in the sound of the needle of the record player tapping restlessly now that the song has finished, in the lullaby of the soft patter of the rain outside.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman #milkman x reader #milkman x you #thats not my neighbor #doppelganger #the milkman

1K notes · View notes

purple-content-rater · 10 months

Note

can you rate her?? she's a candle

Mostly purple!

Some not purple colors

candle.

9/10

#purple #purple content #purple rating #purple content rating #9/10 purple content

19 notes · View notes

ihavethedreamies · 6 days

Text

Only You | Bang Chan

Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.6k

Pairing: King! Bang Chan x Noble! AFAB! Reader

Genre: Historical AU!, Joseon Era, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Married

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, First Times (Readers), Breeding Kink (a bit), Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Big Dick! Chan (duh)

Summary: You are a nobleman's daughter and your father is struggling to find you a husband. The king refuses to marry all of the women brought to him and will not take any concubines. You end up meeting each other.

Author's Note: Oh boy! Here is the first part my dudes. I wanted to have this out sooner but I'm living with my uncle with my parents right now and so I don't have the same freedom to hole away in my room all day like I would prefer. Also can't really write smut in the living room with your dad like two seats away from you.

At the bottom I will have a guide for all the untranslated words I use, most of which are to do with the clothing they wear.

P.S. I only need to write the smut part for Lee Know's and Changbin's parts right now and then I can do the others after. Hopefully I will have one if not both of those up tomorrow. Hopefully.

Also, if any of my historical information/words are inaccurate, I apologize, I did the best with what research I could and what I know from watching too many historical K-Dramas.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Lee Know's <-

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Sighing deeply for a third time, you lazily turned the page of your book, head tilting to rest on your shoulder. Your braid fell over your shoulder, the purple daenggi draping down and covering the characters in the book. Didn't matter, you weren't really reading it anyway. Already had several times. It was nearly impossible to get books you hadn't already read several times, or things that were actually interesting to you, because your father wouldn't let you get them. Most of the books not directed toward women that you had, you more or less smuggled into your house. Because of that, it was hard to get more, and so you were once again bored with your choices. A delicate breeze wafted in through the open window, a small bird flittering down to rest on the sill. You looked over its various shades of brown feathers and you wondered if you could ever get a book for studying birds. Probably possible, but not probable. Men don't want women that know more than them, that's why you can't keep a suitor. Your father's voice echoed in your head, and you rolled your eyes. Unfortunately, though, it seemed he was right. You had many suitors out of the sons of noblemen, but none of them stayed around too long when your conversations turned from dainty and feminine matters to things that actually made them think. Looking out to the sky, you wondered if there was anyone out there at all that wouldn't mind your learned state.

~~~

On a day you were actually able to go out, you were grateful it was your brother who could go with you. You both were wandering the various seller's stands and storefronts, only just glancing at most things. If you had a guard escorting you, you wouldn't be able to smuggle another book home, but your brother would help you. As you pretended to look over various different earrings, you cast a glance from under your sseugaechima to where your brother was at the book seller. Rummaging through what they had, he held a few up to look closer at the contents before putting them back down. Must all be fiction… Looking back at the wares before you, you nodded to the shopkeeper and moved on, instead looking at some shoes. You were closer then to your brother, enough that you could see when he held a book up toward you, pretending to rest it on his shoulder as he continued looking, like he was reserving it. When you caught his side glance, you shook your head no. Already had it. He sniffed, putting it back, and kept looking. As you moved on yourself, across the way, you watched a young nobleman sidle up next to your brother. He was a great deal shorter; it almost made you giggle, but you tried to remain inconspicuous.

"Oh, my lord, the book you were looking for arrived!" The book seller slipped inside his shop, coming back with a book you had never seen anything like before.

"I managed to get in contact with the Arab trader and he got it here all the way from the far west!" The book seller smiled wide, and you had fully turned around at that point, your brother looking over his shoulder at you.

"Thank you." The man smiled, handing over a significant string of mun before turning to leave. You weren't able to react fast enough, and he caught you looking at him. Well, not him, but the book he was holding. It was bound in what looked like leather and you had never seen writing like it.

"Wait, my lord, this as well!" The shopkeeper reached under his stall and the man went back, taking the locally bound book from him.

"Might be hard to read without the translation." The young lord smiled and then went to leave again, pointedly looking right at you as he did, a small smirk on his face.

"Let's follow him." You whispered to your brother, yanking him down to your level.

"Are you sure? He paid a lot for that, he's not just going to give it to you, and we don't have that kind of money on us."

"I just want to look at it, come on." You hissed out, following after the man before he got too far out of view. You heard your brother sigh dramatically, but he hurried after you anyway, making sure he didn't lose sight of you.

You finally managed to catch up with the man in a small courtyard behind a restaurant not yet open. He was standing at the edge of the stream, watching it, the two books held in his grasp as he rested his arms behind his back. Right as your brother caught up with you, the man turned around, a playful smile on his face. It was then you realized how gorgeous he was.

"Interested in this?" He turned toward you, holding the book up, and in your excitement, you dropped your sseugaechima, the garment fluttering to the ground.

"(Y/N)!" Your brother scolded, grabbing the head covering. You had moved so fast, you were already standing in front of the man, ogling the book. Even though he was probably four or even five chon shorter than your brother, he was still nearly a head taller than you.

"Aigo, put this back on." Your brother draped the garment back over your head, dragging you back by the shoulders a few steps.

"Wait!" You reached for the book, not having gotten to touch it, but your brother stepped in front of you. Stupid societal chauvinism.

"Apologies, my lord, but she's…intense about her hobby." You rolled your eyes behind your sibling.

"This isn't a normal book." The other man said, and you rolled your eyes harder. Obviously, that's why you wanted it!

"It's all the way from Dogil." Huh? Where?

"If she wants to look at it, she can." You shoved your brother out of the way, so hard he not just stumbled, but fell on his butt. The man held the book out to you and with shaky hands you took it. The text was so incredibly foreign, and when you flipped the book open, it didn't even look handwritten. Then again, you couldn't be sure since it was such a foreign script. Little symbols sat in the top corner of each page, and the words were horizontal rather than vertical. Each little letter was so small, the book cramped with lines. It was heavy too.

"This goes with it." The other man held the translation book up and snatched it from his hands without thinking.

"(Y/N)!" Your brother scolded, hurrying to get off the ground.

"She's fine." You moved toward a bench and sat down, opening the translation on top of the foreign text. Though, it wasn't a direct translation, just a catalog of what each word meant. It would take time to fully translate it.

"C-could I translate it fully?" You looked up at the man, your sseugaechima falling off your head again. He smiled and your heart skipped a beat, but you weren't sure if it was because he smiled, or what the smile meant.

"I would rather not just give it to you. What if you don't give it back?" His tone was slightly teasing. You deflated then and he held back a chuckle.

"You know, I have a lot of far western texts that I don't have the time to translate myself. You could come to my home and do it for me?"

"Wait-" Your brother's tone grew stern and you looked between them, the other man holding his hand up to stop the other's words.

"Rather improper I know. Though, the King can get away with quite a bit." The man was smirking, and your eyes widened. What?

"Y-You're-" You met your brother's gaze and you both fell to your knees before him, bowing so your foreheads touched your hands. Immediately, you realized how brazen your actions were. You were doomed.

"Don't worry about it." He waved you both off and you stood, head still bowed, avoiding looking at his face. Instead, you glanced back at the books. You wondered if the book seller even realized who he was. Your brother sat up, but remained on one knee, if he stood, he would be higher than the king. That was not allowed.

"What is your name? Who is your father?" He asked and you swallowed hard, trying to get words out. You spoke your name and family clan, as well as your father's name and rank. If he told your father about what happened, you would never be allowed to touch another book.

"Your age?

"Twenty-two."

"You're unmarried?" He raised a brow, and you nodded sheepishly. Reaching around your back to tug on the end of your braid, hanging down to signify your marital status.

"Your name?" He nodded to your brother, and he told him.

"Well, if you wouldn't mind showing me to your home. I would like to converse with your father." Oh, no.

~~~

Nervously pacing around your room, even down the halls through the building of the estate you inhabited, you wondered what was happening. You had scurried away like a scared mouse once you all returned to your home, looking behind you to the books held by the King. The King! Geez, you felt like you just escaped with your life. You heard your mother being summoned to go to your father and it had been nearly an hour of them talking.

"(Y/N)." You heard a whisper from outside your bedroom window as you wandered around it. You opened the shutters and your brother's head barely could look over the sill from where he stood on the narrow edge of the building's platform base.

"What's happening?" You whispered back.

"A servant just brought them our family registry."

"What?" Why the heck would they need that?! Unless…

"You think he's going to court me?" Your legs felt week, you weren't sure what to make of it. Your father had desperately wanted you married, but not enough to submit you to the palace. A life of luxury and prestige wasn't actually very safe. Most adversaries tended to target the women closest to the king since they were easier targets. You knew the King was unwed, and that the palace officials were just as fed up with him as your father was with you. Sure, you would rather marry someone for love, but that was hard to do as a noble. But if you did…that meant you could have access to the King's library. Was that his plan to let you translate his foreign books without it being improper? Honestly, you were fine with it. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. If marrying the king gave you access to even more knowledge and learning, than you would happily do it.

~~~

After the long meeting, the King left, and your mother came to inform you of the results. You were right, he wanted you to be his wife. But marrying a king to be the queen was much more intense than just being a concubine. Sure, the king had a lot of say, but so did his ministers and the Queen Dowager, his mother. Normally there was a long selection process, but instead you were brought to the palace and thoroughly analyzed by palace officials. They interviewed you rather extensively, then finally, his mother entered. After more questions, she left with the officials and you were left to sit in the pavilion, looking at the water, uncomfortable in your nicest hanbok ensemble. All of your fanciest accessories were in your hair, on your goreum was a heavy norigae, and heavy jade earrings sat in your ears. You twisted the jade ring on your finger in nervousness, feeling like you were waiting for hours. Soon though, the Queen Dowager reentered along with a few handmaidens and a eunuch. You had been approved of.

~~~

A grand dowry was sent to your family's estate, and in return your belongings were sent in as well. You were moved into a palace set aside for the future queen, and you were beyond grateful that your chest of books made it to your new home. Waiting for the actual ceremony and coronation, you were put through hours of etiquette training and lessons. Over the short time it took for you to learn everything, and have the ceremony and coronation performed, the King had spent a considerable amount of time with you. Every minute he could spare. He didn't want you, nor himself, to marry a stranger. Never having been in love, you were sure your feelings were either quite similar if not the predecessor for love. In a fleeting whisper he told you his name was Chan, of course it was part of his birth name rather than what he was crowned king with. He preferred you call him that though, even if you only could in private. When he could, he would bring a few of his foreign books for you to look at, but he said there wasn't time for you start the translations before all of the ceremonies. Chan seemed just as passionate about knowledge as you were, and that made you fall harder. And it appeared to work that way for him as well.

The day before the wedding, as he left before the time was improper, he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth with his soft lips. Your face blossomed red you were sure, and he chuckled gently to himself as he left.

The wedding itself was…a mess. Well, figuratively and only to you. You felt like you were being directed as a puppet going through so many specific rites and rituals. The most nerve-wracking part of the whole thing was being before so many people. Your tutor was proud you had learned all of your etiquette so well and you were ninety percent sure you did everything just right. By the time night fell, you were beyond exhausted. You weren't sure if you were more excited about your marriage, which felt more real thanks to your blooming feelings, or the future translation work. It was nice though that your love of scholarly pursuits didn't turn him away like all of your other potential suitors.

Finally, though, everything was more or less complete. You were wandering through the large room of the king's quarters, everything even fancier than where you had been. You picked at the white fabric of your sokchima, feeling naked despite being completely covered. Your hair was still in a chignon, the golden decorative binyeo holding it up made your head feel heavy. It was strange to have your hair up like that, but you were going to have to get used to it. For some reason, it felt nice to have that weight, signifying you were married, you honestly didn't want to take it out as much as you did. So, it stayed. You had bathed, rather, been washed by maids before going to the king's quarters. You presumed he too was washing up, and the longer he took, the more nervous you got. Finally, the side door that led further into the palace where the bath hall was, opened. Your heart thudded against your rib cage as you saw the King enter, also in white garments. He no longer had his headdress on, only the manggeon he wore under his crown was there. You wondered how long his hair was when down.

"My Queen." He smiled and you bit your lip, looking around almost like you were checking to see if anyone was around.

"What are you looking for, (Y/N)?" He stepped closer, hand going to your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. All the lessons that had been drilled into you made you want to look away, but if he was okay with it…

"We're really alone?" Not even his Eunuch was there, he followed him everywhere as per his job description.

"Yes, my love." Your breath hitched, the term of affection hitting your heart, and you stepped just a bit closer.

"W-we-" He stepped once more, his lips placing a delicate peck on your forehead. Still not able to get any words out, his kisses moved to your cheekbone, the side of your mouth, then his hand cupped your jaw, tipping your head up. Your eyes met his and you couldn't keep yours from flitting to his lips. Chan smirked, and you gasped as he kissed you, hard. Your teeth clacked against each other at the force and your head swam, trying desperately to match his pace. You hadn't been kissed before, not like that. Chan himself had given you a few small pecks, but this was different. He was claiming you.

His strong hands gripped your waist, one sneaking down your back to pull you closer, the other sneaking up the ties of your sokchima. The hand on your back went even lower, gripping the flesh of your butt and you huffed, Chan's tongue sneaking its way in your mouth. When he withdrew, you heaved in breaths, heart racing and with a final tug, your sokchima fell to the floor, leaving you bare. You shivered, goosebumps rising on your skin, but his next actions distracted you from the embarrassment of being bare. He undid the ties of his own garments and as the white fabric pooled at his feet, your eyes rapidly danced over him. You were convinced he was molded directly by the deity of sex, because he was gorgeous.

"Oh." You sighed and he huffed a laugh, moving closer, taking your hands in his, and bringing them to the ties of his sokbaji. Your hands brushed over him through the cloth, and you froze.

"A-are you…?"

"No, love. But," his hands ran over the bare skin of your back, pulling you to him, your naked breasts pressing to him.

"I'll get there." Chan whispered in your ear, then he ran his tongue around the ridge, sucking on your earlobe. You whimpered, turning your head to allow him access, fingers clenching the hem on his pants. His lips then moved to your neck, laying searing kisses on the flesh, strong fingers digging into your skin, and when you were pulled even closer, you felt his cock hardening in his pants.

"Come with me, my love." He pulled away and you pouted in disappointment, making him laugh. The room spun as he yanked you to him, lightly shoving you on the raised bed. You huffed, then squeaked when he grabbed your ankles, yanking to the edge of the platform, kneeling on the floor below.

"W-Wait, Chan-!" You tried to close your legs, hide yourself from him, but he was too strong, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread.

"So cute." He hummed and your entire body jerked, back arching as you felt his tongue swipe through your folds, the sensation almost overwhelming. It was hard to get words out since you could barely take in air, your body immediately catching on fire, blood boiling. You heard him hum as he tasted you, and you flinched when his nose brushed your clit.

"C-Chan, it's too much!" You shuddered, not sure how to handle the sensation.

"I need to get you ready, love, I don't want to hurt you." He finished his statement by wiggling his tongue inside you. The foreign sensation made you clench, and he rubbed your tense thighs with his thumbs.

"Relax, pretty girl." You tried to do as he asked, taking measured breaths, whimpering when his tongue left you, flicking your button again. Heat pooled in your belly, rising fast and you logically knew what was coming, but had never felt it before.

"I-I…fuck!" Your head tossed back, and he groaned at the crass word leaving you. Chan kissed your clit and that sent you over the edge, wind roaring in your ears with your pulse, and you barely registered him filling you with a finger.

"You're so fucking tight sweetheart." The curse word riled you up more than it even did when you said it for him. He helped your ride out the orgasm with that finger, each press against your back wall seeming to draw out your climax. Finally, the waves dulled, then stopped, and you finally recognized his finger inside you. Because he did it when he did, it didn't hurt, but it felt weird.

"Oh, you're so good." He smiled wide, his normal warn grin was hot with lust. You mewled when he started to pump his finger, the wet squelch of your slick and release seemed to be louder than anything else.

"That got you nice and wet for me, but you're too tight." His thumb barely brushed your clit and your pussy clenched, body jerking again, it almost hurt.

"Sorry, love." He continued with the single digit and at some point, he decided to continue and you let out a shuddering breath when he added a second. That…didn't hurt per se, the slight burn of the stretch was somehow more pleasurable than painful, and you wondered how much his dick would make you sting.

"Oh, oh my." You tried to hold back a whiny moan when his fingers wiggled and spread, getting you further prepared, the same pleasurable feeling starting to build back.

"Ah!" Chan added a third finger, and you lifted your head to look at him, one knee resting on the bed so he could kneel over you. Eyes flitting down, you noticed the tent in his white pants, and you swallowed hard. You didn't have any metric to go by since you had never been with or even seen a man naked, but-

"That won't fit." You whimpered, not even seeing him bare yet. Chan huffed a surprised laugh, looking at himself.

"I promise it will." His fingers crooked up again, hitting some intense spot inside you and you shivered at the sudden intensity.

"N-no, no, no!" You whined when he removed his fingers, the pleasure had begun to crest and even if it was overwhelming, it did feel good.

"Hold on, love, I'll fill you back up." You propped on your elbows to watch him, the tie of his sokbaji coming undone by his fingers, then the garment fell. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen.

"Won't fit." You gasped out and he had a hard time controlling his smug grin.

"Let's see about that." He scooped you up in his arms, moving you up the bed so your head could rest on the pillow. The cool silk of the bedding did nothing to quell the fire Chan had set on your skin, especially not when he propped himself over you.

"I love you." He leaned down, nose rubbing over yours and you giggled at the innocent gesture.

"I love you too." Your hands cupped his face, and he kissed you again, gentler than the first. Distracting you with the kiss, he hitched one of your knees over his elbow, his free arm bringing his hands back to your slick cunt. His fingers ran through your arousal, then he pumped his fist over his hard cock, bringing the fat head to your entrance. Chan pulled back from the kiss, bringing your hands up to his shoulders.

"Dig your nails in if you have to." You should have taken it as a warning, not really sure what he meant. When his cock breached your core, the heated burn seared through not just your cunt, but all the way through you. Your back arched, and your mouth hung open in a quiet scream. You couldn't tell whether it hurt or was such an intense pleasure your body malfunctioned. His cock pressed deeper, and you could feel his pulse inside you.

"So tight, fuck, hmm, love your just perfect." He groaned, relishing the sting of your nails digging into his skin. After what felt like an eternity, he bottomed out, the head of his dick kissing your womb.

"Y-you're in my throat." You gasped, trying not to clench around him too much, cunt stinging but weeping, a drop of your slick hitting the bedding.

"Does it hurt?" His hand brushed some sweat-dampened strands of hair from your brow, and you shuddered through some breaths.

"I-I don't know." You had never felt anything like it before, obviously, and your brain seemed to be stopping and starting again over and over. He was being so patient, letting you adjust, but he shifted his weight differently, changing the angle slightly and the sting faded, pleasure rising, and you couldn't get words out again. He must have noticed the change in your gummy walls' pulsing, because he grinded into you slightly and, stronger than before, you came.

"Woah." Chan forced himself to breathe through your orgasm, the tight vice of your pussy nearly sending him over the edge and gushes of your slick shined on your skin as well as his. Your vision dotted with stars and your head swam, you finally were able to gasp for air, panting as you returned to reality.

"Are you okay, love?" He stroked your cheek with his thumb, and you held his hand to your face with your own. You nodded, swallowing a buildup of saliva.

"Y-yes, you…you can move."

"Are you sure?"

"Please~!" Your like whimper heightened into a moan as he pulled back just a bit, going slowly back in to make sure it didn't hurt. It didn't. Sure, it felt like he was carving his cock through you, but it was more than good.

"Tell me, sweet, if I hurt you." The next thrust, he pulled back a bit further, and back in harder.

"Please, Chan, you- fuck!" He had picked up the pace just a bit, still going fairly slow, but the stretch of his fat cock was more than enough stimulation.

"D-don't-"

"Don't what, love?"

"Don't…oh, fuck, please, don't stop. Just-!" Your toes curled, throwing your head back, nails digging into the bedding as he pulled out about halfway, then buried inside you hard. He sat up more, slinging your other leg over his elbow as well, rolling his hips against yours. Chan's eyes skated all over you, beautiful and bare below him, and when he got to your face he groaned. Your eyes were hazy, mouth open, drool pooling from the corners of your lips. You had never felt anything even close to the pleasure he was wreaking on you. You couldn't think, and you seemed to lose strength in your body, the crest of another orgasm building.

"Shit- can't hold back anymore love." He grunted and you didn't have enough available thought process to react. He moved his hands to your thighs, pinning your knees up by your shoulders, then he pulled his fat cock out nearly all the way, and started to pound into you. Tears rose in your eyes from the overwhelming feeling, little squeals of delight forced out of you with each thrust and your cunt spasmed. Chan just thundered through your orgasm, not stopping or slowing and your eyes rolled back.

"Fuck, you're just perfect love." He huffed a laugh, "oh, I can't wait to fuck you full!" All you could focus on was the heat of his dick and how much hotter your womb would feel full of his cum.

"Pl-please! Chan, please, fuck!" You gasped, his pace growing unsteady, and he finally fucked as deep as he could, hot ropes of cum filling you and painting your cunt white. Your belly was on fire and a combined glob of both of your releases dripped out from where your bodies met. As Chan panted, looking down at your fucked out state, he smiled.

"You're my wife now, only you."

Daenggi - the ribbon that was tied around a unmarried girl's braid. Sseugaechima - this is the extra-skirt looking garment women would wear over their heads. Mun - Joseon Era Korean currency Chon - historical unit of measurement, close to an inch. Dogil - Korean word for Germany, might not be completely accurate for the time. Hanbok - traditional/historical clothing, most people think of women's dresses, but men's clothes were called this as well. Goreum - the ties that fastened the top of a hanbok. Norigae - accessories that were tied to the goreum of women's handboks Sokchima - basically a dress/skirt like under-garment. Binyeo - the long pin that would hold a woman's bun up, mostly used for married women. Manggeon - the mesh-like headband men wore to hold their hair in place. Sokbaji - pants-like under-garment, mostly worn by women actually…

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Taglist: @huldrelokken, @estella-novella, @astrobebba, @kayleefriedchicken, @rhonnie23, @minghaosimp

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the-fiction-witch · 2 months

Text

My King

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen (Aegons Wife) Rating - Sweet + Smut Word Count - 1330

Requested - I submitted a request/idea like this to another writer but I will not keep this like head canon idea type thing to myself........ Aegon is 100% the type to love his girl breastfeeding him... him being all stressed and angry or sad from the council not listening to him and Alicent being cruel and everything and he just wants to lay his head in her lap and latch his mouth onto her nipple and drink in her sweet milk... it makes him feel at peace... makes him feel wanted and loved and special

Writers Notes - I actually loved this idea so much I made two versions of it, cause I couldn't decide which angle I liked better so this is Version one a second will be coming soon.

Y/n sat in the royal chambers, perched softly on the ottoman beside the fire. Wearing her sweet soft green cotton gown with long off-shoulder sleeves. The twilight of the hour cascades purple and gold across the floor and tapestry-lined walls. Maids and guards long since sent away leaving only gentle sounds behind, The sound of the fire's soft crackles and pops, the sounds of gentle sucking, and of sweet heavenly humming.

Y/n hums softly to the baby in her arms, his little body cradled so sweetly and gently as the new prince feeds from his mother's breast.

“There we are, all done my little prince,” She cooed as she pulled the baby from her breast, wiped his lips, kissed his forehead and stroked her fingers softly over his Targaryen silver hair, She chuckled slightly at the baby's milk drunk little face, eyes droopy and sleepy.

“Fuck those cunts!” Erupted from the door as Aegon forced his way into the chamber throwing open the doors, letting them smack into the stone walls to their sides. He turned and slammed the doors in the faces of the guards who followed him, screaming to the ceiling like his own dragon,

Y/n, blinked a few times before she set the baby in the crib, “Is… everything alright my king?” She cooed,

He ran his hand through his silver hair and took a breath, “I wish to burn this infernal castle to the ground.”

“I see.” She nodded, “May I ask why?”

“Everything is why!” He yelled, “My mother is being a pretentious little bitch! Gives me all the power in the world and then forbids me to do anything! My brother is being a self-initiated little prick! Anyone think he thought he was king! This council constantly going round and round in bloody circles! Undermining My AUTHORITY!” He paced,

“I understand Aegon,” She nodded,

“W-what?” He froze up a moment,

“I understand, that must be very hard. Very conflicting emotionally and politically. I’m sorry you have to feel this way,” She cooed,

He scoffed a moment, “How is it… that you are… as angelic as you are?” he leaned his arms on the back of the chair, “You know just what I need.”

“Years of practice,” She chuckled,

He let a laugh slip, “I was expecting you to tell me how foolish I am, for feeling this way.”

“You are not foolish for feeling this way, your feelings are never foolish.” she affirmed, “It is a complicated time, but you have every right to feel disheartened and upset as everyone else does.”

“You’re too sweet. For a man like me.”

“Perhaps that's why you need me,”

“Perhaps it is,” He chuckled finally his eyes meeting his wife, He smiled at her a moment letting out a rather happy and content sigh, but his eyes flicked down to her bare breast and his teeth caught his bottom lip,

“Ohh! Forgive me, my king, I was feeding the prince.” She blushed pulling her dress back up and tying the small ribbon,

“You have no need to apologise Y/n,” He cooed, “How is he? Baby Baelor?” he asked coming to the crib to loom over his son,

“He’s fine, sleeping well.”

“Thank the gods,” He nodded, “And you?”

“I am very well my king,”

He chuckled and sat down in the chair beside her ottoman, “You have no need to still call me that,”

“I know, I just like to,” she smiled,

“You are far too sweet, for me, for Kings Landing … for Westeros,” He said pressing his forehead to hers and caressing her cheek, “Must you love me so strongly?”

“I must,” She nodded,

“Hum…” He smiled rubbing his thumb on her cheek before softly pressing his lips to capture her own,

The two shared a soft and loving kiss for a few moments before he pulled back,

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” she asked,

His eyes trailed down from her lips, down her neck and lingered on her cleavage, he licked his lip and captured it once more in his teeth, “Mhm,” He growled,

Y/n blushed a moment, “Yes my king,” she nodded moving her hands to unlace the top of her dress tugging the dress down and holding it at her waist exposing both of her bare breasts to him,

He smirked a low growl in his throat as he took his time, looking at her. His eyes trail over every single inch of skin with a look of feist desire. After a while, he moves his hands to stroke her skin running his fingers gently across her, “what happened here?” He asked his thumb briefly brushing over the small mark on her tender breast just above her nipple,

“He bit me.”

“Bit you?” He rasied an eyebrow,

“It’s alright little guy just doesn’t know his strength yet,”

“You poor thing,” he cooed, “It’s a crime to bite something so beautiful,” He cooed fully cupping her breasts in his hands his thumbs softly circling her nipples watching with glee as they perked up and hardened for his attention, He gives her a few tender squeezes before his attention fully moves to her nipples brushing his thumbs over them in little clockwise circles around the pointed peak, only so often brushing the peak itself which always made her whimper, “May I, my queen?”

She blushed, “Of course my king,”

He smiled and moved to kneel on the floor his body between her legs, he laid his head softly on her thigh looking up at her with a joyful smile,

She smiled down at him and stroked his silver hair as he began to pepper her breast with kisses,

He made sure to kiss as much as he could before reaching her nipple, he slowly circled the hard peak with his tongue before lapping at the nipple with the side flat edge of his tounge, forcing a giggle from her, “So sensitive Y/n,” He cooed,

“Well they’ve been working hard feeding you both,” She chuckled,

“True,” He smirked, “Come here my angel,” He cooed taking her other breast in his hand and locking his lips around her nipple latching to it, he circled the nipple with his tounge a few more times before he began to gently and softly suckle,

“There we go, does this please you my king?” She cooed as she stroked his hair,

He nodded as he began to gently drink, making sure not to be too hard or too fast on her tender breast as he slowly suckled and drank her milk, as soon as the milk touched his tongue he began to moan and groan his eyes rolling back before squeezing shut completely, his other hand squeezes and rubs her nipple on the other breast while he enjoys her sweet milk.

“Not too much, or there’ll be none left for Baby Baelon,” She chuckled,

“Hummm” He nodded a little dismissively enjoying himself far too much to stop,

She chuckled and rolled her eyes a little petting his silver hair and caressing his cheek as she held him in her lap letting him drink and play for a good while until finally, he pulled back.

Ageon licked her nipple clean and wiped his mouth, “You make me feel… so peaceful my angel,”

“I’m glad I can, I’m just happy you feel better.”

“I feel much better now,” he cooed nuzzling into her lap, “I love you y/n,”

“I love you too Aegon,” She smiled giving his cheek a soft little kiss,

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evilminji · 1 year

Text

You know... >.>

My Dad always used to tell me, if I get a Genuine Genie(tm)? Get a lawyer first. Before I make my Wishes(tm), so they can help me word them correctly.

Obviously, a human lawyer would not be foolproof... BUT! What about a Ghost Lawyer?

Like? Obviously Desiree would be PISSED. How DARE you twist HER wish twisting! Her THING is "what you believe is your heart's desire always comes at a terrible cost" which is what she DIED to learn.

So obviously she would NEVER, willingly, bend her Obsession for ANYONE. And you'd have to make a DAMN good case to that Lawyer for why he ISNT breaking the law by helping you. Probably some "you can: save the life of an unconscious person against their will/shove an unobservant person OFF the train tracks, even if they get hurt, to save their life" clause.

Like? Using a ghosts Obsession against them? Bad. Illegal.

Using it against their will, to save OTHER ghosts, who are in immediate danger? Not illegal, but they will be PISSED. Still not great though, you will want to apologize and fast.

So like??? Reality Bending Power. Patrick Star Method of "what if we MOVED the city... somewhere else?" Considered at 1am. Team of Ghost Laywers, acquired.

Amity and all Limnals are REMOVED from the DP-verse.

Wish worded juuuuust so. Any ghost that forms there? Yoink! Instantly removed to the Zone. Natural Portals? Cut off. Let the whole Reality fade out at an accelerated rate, as no NEW energy is fed into the system. Entropy will do, what entropy does. Exactly as they wished it.

They hated Death so much, they speed up the heat death of their ENTIRE universe by Eons. Congratulations, you guys "Won". Enjoy the wildly more fragile flora, fauna, and general ecosystems. Now that none of you have that ambient Ectoplasm strengthening your bodies. Yeah, the things you used to shrug off? Those are gonna maim or kill you now.

Doesn't MATTER if you "learn your lesson" though! Cause this is WAY past that point! This is "cutting off the tumor before it kills us" territory, and buddy? Amity ISNT the tumor. Go forth a grow, just like you wanted.

They won't be here to fix your messes anymore.

Because Danny got himself a dictionary thick "I Wish..." contract. Which was worded, as it needs to be, in one loooooooong run on sentence. Shouted "I Wish what's written on THIS, as it is currently, and without any form of editing or negotiation!" As fast as he could. Yote the document in Desiree's direction. And Flew like an INCANDESCENTLY pissed off Genie was trying to set his everything of fire.

Which she was.

Thankfully, Paulina came in clutch with her History of all things Jewelry, world fashions, and Make-Up knowledge. That, coupled with the Power Of Rich Friends(tm)? (Sam. Her mother was THRILLED to take her Jewelry and clothing shopping for something other then blacks and dark purple. They went on a jet setting whurl-wind tour. Sam actually kinda liked a some of what she found.)

They have Apology Bribes.

They shamelessly HIDE behind the mountain of Apology Bribes, while they explain themselves. Is Desiree HAPPY? No. But those bracelets are magnificent and she DOES deserve nice things. Those silks will really bring out her eyes. And she... DOES... admit...

Maybe...

That things are not... SAFE. Any longer. Danny TRIES. Everyone else can see it. And he's made incredible strides! Even convinced his lunatic parents. Though they're still not quite POPULAR. (WAY too pushy and invasive with their questions, for most people.) But the fanatics in white?

They nearly killed Box Lunch. If her father hadn't BEEN there...

And the poor man will have that scar on his back for the rest of his afterlife. Desiree can see why Danny is pushing. Does she LIKE it? No. But...

She supposes she will content herself with the suffering of the Fanatics in White and all who support them. THEIR wishes, twisted. Their ugly heart's desires.

Fine.

"SO YOU WISH IT. SO IT SHALL BE!"

And? The ghost town of what WOULD of one day grown into Amity, had the witch's there not been found by those they had fled from, which sits in long rotted ruins, amongst the trees in nowhere Illinois? Poof! Two "Towns" are switched.

The roads out of town coming to a clean line stop, meeting not even goat paths. Just trees. Old growth.

But it's not ALL of Town, is it? Faces missing. New, confused, faces from every corner of the map, taking their place. No Limnal left behind. No supporter of the GIWs genocide, brought along. Family's kept together where they could be. But by the few, scared and upset, green flashing eyes of children in the crowd?

It seemed for some, it was easier to fear and hate, then love their children.

Already they were being gathered up by school teachers and PTA parents. As everyone tried to figure out what had happened. Concerned, quite muttering a dull roar as everyone tries to coordinate.

Red Huntress joins Danny and Dani in the Sky. She doesn't get a word in. Wanted to know what the HELL was going on. She was with her dad in Chicago! Dani was in Taiwan! Literally! As in, sitting in a SUBWAY station one second, the next? Outside!

But they don't get to demand those answers. Because there is a sonic boom on the horizon. And then? Floating... weird... not ghosts?

Uuuuuuhhhh?

Hi?

That much blue... sure is a Statement. Like the cape and... bloooomers? Shorts. Bikini bottoms? It.. it's a Cool Look, dude! No, really. They are being VERY supportive here! If YOU like it? That's the only thing that matters!

Red Huntress smacks the Danny/i's Repeated upside their heads and demans to know what the Not-Ghosts are doing in their airspace.

Oh YEAH. Good point! What she said! And can it WAIT? They're kinda going through A Thing right now...

Kon? Wants it on record he loves these guys. They're hilarious. The LOOK on Clark's FACE?? He wishes he could frame it. Preserve it for future generations. Thing is? There was NOT a town here a second ago.

Well, bout 30 minutes or so, but you get the idea. One moment? Tree noises. Bam! Thousands of people! Obviously the checked it out. Only to be met with two... three maybe? Heros who have NO IDEA who they are.

Clear Reality warping shenanigans. Might be time travel or multiverse. Question is... are they STAYING? And if SO? What now...

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

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oddinary4bts · 1 month

Text

Chasing Cars | ch 15.5 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: curses, mentions of jk's unaliving attempt, explicit content: hickeys, fingering, they are so in love and can't stop saying it, unprotected sex, creampie

☆word count: 2.6k

☆a/n: i love them, and my bad if there are any typos this is heavily unedited haha let me know if you see any!

☆series masterpost

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Jungkook feels anxious. Ever since Taehyung asked him to meet up to talk, he’s been feeling incredibly anxious, like his heart might explode in his chest. Even worse - he’s afraid he’ll run into you when he gets to the apartment, and after what you said on Thursday, he thinks he might break with no way to heal if he sees you.

He’s scheduled an appointment with his therapist later today. All he can do is hope that it’ll help. And that his conversation with Taehyung will help, too.

Taehyung is in the living room when Jungkook gets home, playing on the Switch. He pauses his game the second Jungkook walks in, and they both stare at each other for a time, an uneasy silence filling the apartment.

Taehyung breaks it first. “Hey.”

Jungkook takes off his shoes but keeps his coat on as he heads towards the living room. “Hey.”

“How have you been?” Taehyung asks.

It’s awkward, and Jungkook hates it. He’s been hating way too much stuff in his life lately.

“Fine,” Jungkook replies.

He can’t bring himself to return the question, and he sits at the other extremity of the couch, as far away from Taehyung as he possibly can.

“Listen…” Taehyung says when he realizes Jungkook won’t say anything else. “I’m sorry I punched you.” He winces as his eyes go over the bruise and wound Jungkook knows adorn his cheek. “Shit, I actually got you good.”

“You did,” Jungkook coldly replies.

Taehyung eyes his knuckles, which have also turned red and purple from the blow. “I really am sorry for that. I don’t know why I punched you, and I’m a little disgusted with myself that I did.”

“You were mad. It makes sense.”

Taehyung shakes his head no. “It doesn’t make sense. But… man, why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“Because you told me you’d kill me if I did touch her?” Jungkook chuckles bitterly. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Yet you still went behind my back and fucked her,” Taehyung states, a hint of anger flashing behind the words.

“I didn’t fuck your sister,” Jungkook spits. “It’s never been like that with her.”

Taehyung remains silent for a few seconds and then sighs deeply. “Then how is it?”

His tone is cool, composed, and a lot nicer than Jungkook expected it to be. It calms down the anger that was starting to simmer in his blood better than a cold shower would have.

“Wha - what?” Jungkook lets out.

Taehyung offers him a smile that seems forced, yet Jungkook sees it for what it is - he’s trying to make an effort.

“How is it with Y/n?”

Jungkook gulps, gaze widening. “Huh… well…” he trails off, eyes falling to his hands, where he’s been mindlessly pulling at the calluses he gets from working out. “It’s… great. I know she’s your sister but fuck… she’s amazing.”

“She is,” Taehyung agrees.

“But I fucked everything up in Paris when I kissed Gabrielle.”

The silence that follows is heavy, interrupted by Taehyung’s sigh what feels like an eternity later.

“Were you guys together then?” Taehyung asks.

Jungkook shrugs. “We weren’t together together. But yes we were.” He pauses, and his throat is so dry it feels like sandpaper when he tries to swallow. “We started on Valentine’s Day.”

Taehyung’s nose is scrunched up, much like you sometimes do, when Jungkook looks at him. “That’s… a long time ago.”

“We ended in Paris, though,” Jungkook adds. “Except last Thursday.”

“I thought you and Lisa…” Taehyung trails off.

“It happened once last month,” Jungkook immediately explains, probably far more defensive than necessary. “And Y/n actually caught us together so… I ended things with Lisa right away.”

“I remember Lisa being pissed about it,” Taehyung admits. “But then she said that it was because of another girl, and looking back I was stupid to think it was Gaby.”

Jungkook purses his lips. “I haven’t spoken to Gaby in person since Paris. We only texted a couple of times.”

Including that one time she’d given him shit for not telling you about his promise to her.

“Right…” Taehyung trails off. He sighs, sitting back on the couch, throwing Jungkook a look. “What do you want with my sister?”

Jungkook gulps around a sudden lump in his throat. What does he want with you? He already knows, but can he tell Taehyung? Can he tell your brother that he’s so irreversibly in love with you he thinks he’s been dying since you said it was a lapse of judgment on Thursday?

That he almost died in July after he lost you?

“You want the truth?” Jungkook asks, his heart rate spiking. “I’m in love with her. I just want her to be happy, and of course I wish she’d want to be happy with me, but I don’t think that’ll happen after last Thursday.”

“You’re in love with her?” Taehyung repeats.

Jungkook gulps. “Yes.”

Taehyung nods and, to Jungkook’s surprise, taps Jungkook’s shoulder. “Noted. Come home, Jungkook. You should talk to her.”

Jungkook is stunned silent, and he just stares at Taehyung, just stares at his best friend unblinkingly, not understanding where the conversation went.

“What?”

“Come home,” Taehyung repeats. “I’m not mad at you. I was mostly mad that you both hid it from me for months, but clearly I was wrong.” He pauses, chuckles lightly. “At least that’s what Ari said. She quite literally beat some sense into me.”

So… this is it? The biggest obstacle to you and him… wasn’t even an obstacle?

“She did?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung tilts his head to the side, gaze widening as if he’s reminiscing about what happened with Ariane. “She said that I was a dick for not letting you guys figure your shit out. I think Gaby told her about the two of you.”

That would make sense, considering that the two girls are best friends.

“Oh,” is all Jungkook manages to say.

Taehyung surveys him for a few seconds, as Jungkook’s world crumbles down around him. It’s like the floor disappeared, and he’s plummeting towards the ground with no parachute to save him.

Taehyung is not opposed to your relationship.

If you want it, Jungkook can be with you.

“So come home,” Taehyung repeats. “Talk to Y/n. Fix shit with her.” Taehyung smiles, and this time it’s fully genuine. “I just want you both to be happy.”

Jungkook nods, and he has to take a deep breath to refrain from crying then and there. “Okay.” He nods again. “Okay, I will talk to her.”

There’s a moment of silence as Taehyung just carefully observes Jungkook. Jungkook wonders, can Taehyung hear the wild beats of his heart at the perspective of talking to you?

“Can I…” Taehyung starts, and then his eyes drop to his hands in his lap. “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook’s heart seems to come to a full halt in his chest. “Yeah?”

“What happened last summer…” Taehyung trails off. “Is it related to Y/n?”

A bottle of wine crashing on the pavement comes to Jungkook’s mind. But he never told Taehyung - how would he know?

“What do you mean?” Jungkook replies, pulling on his piercings.

“In July.” Taehyung sighs, meeting Jungkook’s gaze for a few seconds. “Lisa told Sera, and she told me and Jimin.”

Jungkook hates it. He hates it so much, hating the vulnerability that it imposes him.

“Ah.” He gulps, and he thinks about you for a moment.

Thinks about the fact that you were the only thing on his mind when he was so close to ending it.

“It was partly caused by losing her, yes,” Jungkook finally answers, and he’s suddenly blinking back tears.

“Fuck, JK…” Taehyung trails off. “You really should have told me about her…”

“I didn’t think you’d be… open-minded,” Jungkook says, shrugging his shoulders. “And she’d already ended things with me then.”

Taehyung nods once, and then sighs again. “Please don’t keep everything to yourself now, okay? I really don’t want you to think you’re alone. And I really don’t want you to ever feel like… that is a solution. So please talk to me, talk to Jimin whenever you need help, okay?”

Jungkook can’t speak around the lump in his throat, so all he does is nod. Taehyung understands - they’re best friends after all.

“I love you, bro,” Taehyung adds. “Please talk to Y/n.”

“I will,” Jungkook answers, his voice choked up with emotion.

All he can hope for is for you to be open to the conversation, whenever it comes.

*****

For the first time in months, Jungkook feels at peace.

You’re here with him, and for the first time, he knows he won’t have to let go. Maybe that’s why he’s kissing you slowly, softly - you have all of eternity stretched ahead of you. Yet it seems you want more. Your kisses grow deeper, and soon his blood is pulsing at his ears, shooting down to his dick, and Jungkook pushes his tongue in your mouth.

It’s like he’s discovering you for the first time. He marvels at your sight, at your taste, at the way you moan softly against his lips. He swallows your sounds, inhales your inebriating scent, and he climbs on top of you, gently parting your legs with his knee so that he can be as close to you as possible.

He has half a thought that Taehyung is somewhere in the apartment, but the way you wrap your legs around his waist makes him forget everything until there’s just you and him.

He leaves your mouth to find your neck, his tongue darting out to taste you. A second later he’s sucking a hickey on your skin, and you moan softly, hand pulling at his hair.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

He pauses, just content with being close to you. “I love you, peach.”

Your arms wrap tightly around him, and though you have to be aware of his erection pressing against you, you both just stay there for a moment.

“Love you too, Kook. So, so much.”

It’s the way you say the words. Jungkook immediately feels the need to be inside you, to be surrounded by you, and he kneels between your legs so that he can take off his shirt. You run a hand on his body, awe in your eyes like you, too, can’t believe you made it in the end. He takes a moment to look at you, to take in the way your eyes sparkle with emotion - with love, lust and yearning.

He loves you. And the best part about it is, you love him too.

“Fuck, peach,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

You sit up, taking off your shirt in one swift motion that reveals so much skin - you weren’t wearing a bra - and Jungkook thinks he’ll go insane. It’s like he forgot what you looked like despite seeing you just a few days ago - it feels like a whole lifetime ago.

You’ve gained muscles over the months apart. You’re leaner, and there’s a strength to your curves that makes Jungkook’s dick twitch in his pants. The tattoo on your ribs is all too attractive too, and Jungkook takes a moment to trace it as you lie back down under his watchful gaze.

The art is beautiful. Delicate, with fine lines that have sunk perfectly in your skin. Jungkook wonders who your artist is, if they’d be able to tattoo something on him too, something to remind him of you. But then you’re whining from lack of attention, and Jungkook leans down, kissing you deeply.

You run your hands on the skin of his back, nails lightly digging in his skin, and when he grunts softly, you whisper, “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

He goes fully insane. Insanely in love, perhaps. He undresses you, kissing every inch of skin revealed, and though he wants to taste you, to eat you out until you come undone on his tongue, his dick is throbbing too painfully for him to ignore it.

You’re glistening, your arousal evident the second his eyes land on you. He still takes a moment to slip two fingers inside of you as he kisses you again, swallowing your soft moans as they come. And when he thinks you’re ready, stretched enough for his dick, Jungkook takes off the rest of his clothes. His dick springs free, already rock hard like it always is with you, and he jerks himself off a couple of times as he watches you, as you watch him through half-lidded eyes.

“Condom?” he asks, though he hopes you’ll say no.

He wants to feel all of you again.

You shake your head no. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Fuck,” he curses, his dick hardening even more. “Fuck, peach, I love you.”

He comes closer, rubbing his tip on you, collecting your juices. It’s so sensitive without a condom, and he has to bite the tip of his tongue so that he doesn’t come right away. It doesn’t help that you’re so wet. That a moment later he’s slipping in, inch after inch, your walls sucking him in.

It doesn’t help that you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as your eyebrows bunch together from the pleasure. You’re so hot like this, so sinfully beautiful, and some feral part of him just wants to pound into you, to fuck you until the whole neighbourhood knows that you’re his forever now.

But he tames himself, slowly pulls out before pushing all the way in again.

“Kook,” you moan, and your hand finds one of his where it’s holding your waist. “Come close.”

You don’t have to ask twice, especially not as he wants you close, too. So he bends down, cages you between his forearms, and then he establishes a slow rhythm. Your hips lift to meet his, your walls tightening around him from the motion, and he knows he’ll come fast.

You’re too tight, too wet, for him to hold on for a long time. So he tells you how much he loves you. Whispers on your lips that he never wants to be separated from you again, that he thinks you’re the reason he’s alive. You confess your love back, tell him that he’s so worthy of your love, that you wouldn’t want anyone other than him.

You tell him that you’ll love him when you’re old, which makes him laugh against your lips. There’s beauty in the thought, in the knowledge that he does have a lifetime with you.

“You’re…” he trails off, because he has no words to describe how amazing you are, and his dick is stealing most of the blood from his brain.

So he kisses you instead. Kisses you slow, kisses you deep, his motions growing faster until they turn sloppy, and then he pushes all the way in, his dick twitching as he unloads his cum deep inside of you. You hold him tight, pussy pulsating around him, and Jungkook’s high keeps going on and on, your lips muffling his groans and soft moans.

“I love you,” he says again when he starts being able to think once more.

He’ll never get tired of telling you.

“I love you too, Kook,” you whisper.

He’ll never get tired of hearing that, too.

Read chapter fifteen here!

☆☆☆☆☆

he is so in love with her please send help. Let me know what you think of the drabble!

#chasing cars ch 15.5 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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decayedgloria · 1 year

Text

sundress szn pt. 2

pt. 2 ft. scaramouche, sandrone, pantalone, and childe

Summer’s finally come, so you decide to wear something that fit the occasion- much to your lover’s excitement.

tags: nsfw under cut, public/semi public sex in almost all of these, I got carried away during pantalone’s, harbingers x afab! Reader (minus signora this time bc I genuinely cannot think of smth for her rn but I can promise in the future that she may be in one of these.), slight ooc maybe? mdni.

word count: ~2.2k, I wrote these half asleep on a nine hour flight these are not going to be proofread

Scaramouche

This was a good idea. Totally. Sumeru’s just much, much more humid than Snezhnaya, which was something you were willing to get used to. You were absolutely fine.

How you wished you were right.

Even in the shade of the Grand Bazaar you could still feel the light sheen of sweat begin to form on your skin as you hastily fan yourself, occasionally observing your surroundings for your boyfriend. As a newly-inducted Vahumana student, he was bound to get busy, so it left you with a lot of time on your hands. Too much time. But hey, it got you a new dress so who are you to complain?

It reminded you of when you were both in the Fatui, the Harbinger and his loyal partner, who were too busy to really see each other until he whisked you away to Sumeru. You assumed it would be different this time, but it had dawned on you recently that it would take quite a while to get there (not that it wasn’t deserved, he had a lot to atone for after all.)

But it still disheartened you. You would be lying if you said that it didn’t. You missed his hugs and his presence, no matter how much you annoyed each other you always seemed to find a way to touch each other. And on nights he would be up in the Akademiya studying, leaving you alone in your shared bed, your thoughts wandered to those scarce intimate moments you shared- nights where his chest was pressed against yours, with that stupid smirk on his face as he fucked you silly. Just thinking about those nights made a familiar heat rise in between your legs, making you curse as your cheeks reddened.

Archons, first the heat, and now this? Scaramouche had better hurry, you felt like you were going to be torched alive at this rate.

Thankfully, you did not need to wait long. Looking into the crowd again, your eyes met with a familiar pair of tired purple ones, much to your delight. You hopped off the bench you sat on and beelined your way to the grouchy purple boy, a smile blossoming on your face as you get closer to him. He doesn’t return the same excitement, content to just catch you in his arms like he always does. You don’t seem to mind, though, as you were too preoccupied with burying your face into his chest.

“Scara…” You whined, pouting your lips. “What took you so long? Do you know how hot it is in here? I almost died.” Expecting a smart retort from him, you were thoroughly surprised at the next words that came out of his mouth.

“What on earth are you wearing?”

There was no malice and spite in his voice, just irritated confusion. Which, in turn, confused you, prompting you to release your position against his chest and stare at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you not like it? I got it a while ago.” You hesitantly let go of his embrace, spinning once to let him see the whole dress. It was perfect for a hot day- light and airy, revealing as much skin as possible without spilling everything out. When you turned back to him, his face had gotten redder, but his eyes stayed on you- more specifically, your figure.

“Aw, what’s got you blushing, Scara?” Your teasing tone was met with a glare, and a pathetic attempt to hide his face by looking away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you don’t like my dress?”

“That’s not the problem.” Suddenly, he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him again, lowering his head so he could murmur into your ear, “I like it too much. Fix it. Now.”

With that, he dragged you to the nearest concealed spot- behind some crates that barely covered the both of you. When you emerged, all that was left of your dress was the tattered skirt that barely hung on to your body as Scaramouche placed his jacket over your top, that same stupid, hot smirk on his face.

Sandrone

Sandrone tried. Really, she did. But she could not help it in the slightest.

The seventh harbinger has a reputation for being a recluse, cooping herself up in her lab toying with her automatons all day. On the rare occasion she did speak to someone, her tone only seemed to indicate annoyance and malice- she didn’t mind since it drove people away. However, things changed the day you were assigned to work under her; suddenly, she didn’t hate the world that much anymore.

Certainly not when you’re dressed like this.

A quick trip to the ruins of Liyue, both as a break and to gather intel, made you a bit… adventurous, with your outfits to say the least. The entire time you had walked around Qiongji Estuary, Sandrone could not help but linger her stare just a little bit longer than usual. Your outfit consisted of a short dress, loosely clinging around your body, but it made you look so alluring in her eyes. A perpetual blush seemed to occupy her face, which you had innocently chalked up to the heat.

As her automatons roam around in search for whatever she had told them to find, Sandrone busied herself under a makeshift tent inspecting what seemed to be an artifact encased in cor lapis, tinkering with the ore as if it were a toy. You were by her side, head on her shoulder, observing your lover with loving eyes. Your subtle touches combined with your warm breathing had already put her on edge, but she continued nonetheless.

However, the last straw came when you stood up a little to grab something on the other side of Sandrone, aptly placing your bosom right in front of her face. So, forgive her for breaking her composure and pulling you back onto the ground, dirtying your dress as she straddles you eagerly while crashing her lips into your own before you could react.

“You’re so fond of distractions…” She said breathlessly, hands all but dying to get your tits out of your dress for her nimble fingers to play with. You moaned in response, a bit taken aback at her suddeness. Looking up at your blushing, desperate girlfriend, you decided to tease her just a little bit.

“I was just trying to help, Sandrone.” Your tone feigned innocence, which only fueled her frustration. She caught your lips with fervor as one hand pinched your nipple, and the other tugged on your hair, all while grinding down on you.

“Shut up and fuck me, please.”

Pantalone

Pantalone was a man of many talents. One of those talents happens to be spoiling you rotten. Too rotten sometimes. But who were you to complain? The richest man in Teyvat was wrapped around your finger, and you couldn’t help but be a little cheeky and take advantage of that sometimes.

What should’ve been a business trip to Liyue to check the Northland Bank’s activities turned into Pantalone emptying out every boutique in the harbor so you can get a new wardrobe for summer. At one particular store, where there were no other customers besides you and your husband, you had decided to try on some dresses that caught your attention. On one hand, you really did want a few more relaxed additions, but on the other hand, well…

You had emerged from your dressing room not long ago, and yet you were already sat firmly on top of your husband, head in his neck as you try to brace yourself against the waiting room’s couch. Under you, Pantalone only gave you his usual, sly grin as his hands firmly hold you in his lap, keeping you in place as you grind on his ever-growing erection.

“I think this dress looks lovely on you dear.” He whispered, taking in the sight of you writhing on top of him desperately. Chuckling, his hand makes it way all the way to your ass, hiking up the long dress before giving it a smack. You moaned in response, hiding your face in his neck, hands raking over his toned chest.

“You simply look ravishing in it.” He continued his assault on your body, propping you up just a little bit so he had a clear view of your chest, kissing you quickly before delving in between your tits. Archons, he was impatient- he made you impatient. You confess, you did think the dress would get a rise out of him, which was why you picked it first when trying clothes on, but to think he would be this roused by it filled you with a titulating thrill only he was capable of causing.

“Ah- Does the dress make you- ngh… this excited, love?” Despite your teasing words, it was clear that you weren’t the one in control as you rocked your hips to feel even a little bit of relief from the growing ache in between your legs. Pantalone didn’t say anything back, rather he took off his gloves and positioned his fingers over your mouth, commanding you in a husky tone.

“Open up and suck them, darling. I’ll have plenty more for you.”

Childe

“Fuck you mean no?”

“You just aren’t going out like that.” Childe deadpanned, crossing his arms. “It’s a pretty dress for sure though.” The contrasting grin on his freckled face made you want to punch him, though it also illicited some questionable butterflies in your stomach.

Nobody quite knew what you and Childe were. On the surface level, one could assume that you two were just close friends; however, if they took the time to observe how Childe’s touch always lingered for a little too long, or how you stared at him with such bold adoration in your eyes as you smiled at him- it would be quite obvious that there were unspoken feelings for each other somewhere there.

It was quite common for you to visit his office in the Northland Bank like today. You really just wanted to show him the new dress you made for yourself, and figured you could flirt with him a little bit- not that he’d catch the hint. He always did treat you just like a good friend, something that disappointed you a little bit.

Because as it stands, right now, with him towering over you with his arms crossed, a grin on his handsome face- somehow, you’re horny because of this smug bastard. You imagine how good it would be to just smash your lips on his just to shut him up because Archons, is it tempting.

“I’d like to show off what I’ve made for myself,” you huffed at him, pouting. “I’ll go ahead and stroll the streets as I please with or without you then.” You try to turn and leave, expecting him to just laugh and go back to work. However before you could even step towards the door’s direction Childe’s strong hands snaked around your waist, pulling you firmly back.

Without much warning, you fell back into his chest letting out a small yelp. Once you realize the position you were in, you froze- your cheeks heating up an unbearable amount as you try to wriggle away from the (much) stronger man. It only became worse when he placed his lips right on top of your ear, chuckling lowly.

“C’mon… I can’t have all of Liyue see my girl this good.” He remarked lowly, trailing his lips down until they settled on the base of your neck, to which he then placed a gentle kiss. “They might be tempted to steal you away from me, and we can’t have that, can we?.” You’d be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on so fucking much, trying your best to hide it by pulling your legs closer together.

“We aren’t dating though? What do you mean-“ You let out a moan as he started sucking at the same spot, his lips forming a smile as they worked. Your hands flew to his arm on your waist, turning yourself around to meet his gaze. He lifted his head, lips puffy and blue eyes glazed over with lust.

“Everyone in Liyue knows that we want each other. Why not give in?” He pressed his forehead against yours, lips deliciously close to yours as he placed his hands on your waist.

“Only if you want to.” Was your sheepish reply, slightly embarassed to be this close to the man you’ve been covering for months. Was it really this easy? Is it just another one of his pranks? You weren’t sure, but at this point you didn’t care much, especially after he launched his lips straight at you in a fervent kiss. His hands lifted you up, haphazardly swiping away everything on his desk and placing you on it while your fingers tangled in his hair.

Both of you fumble with each other’s clothes, but Childe took extra care in taking the sight of your dress halfway off your body, admiring the view. He suddenly brings his hand up to your chest, flicking your nipple. You moan in both surprise and pleasure, burying your face into his bare shoulder.

“Be as loud as you want girlie. I want everyone here to know who’s finally got you.”

pt 2 is finally out yall i can rest

i wrote these on my way to and from london on the plane and i am sick bro i just wanna sleep (jet lag and chugging redbulls prevent me from catching a break tbh)

hope yall enjoy, this did take a little bit longer to make tho so i apologize for that.

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greenglowinspooks · 11 months

Text

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #liminal scarecrow #Jon’s PTSD is triggered by the smell of ectoplasm because his life is a nightmare #HDJFNDNDNFKDJF #I am the master of emotional whiplash #rip Jon just trying to have some peace in this fucking house #never gonna happen king 🫡#oh also Eddie is not lying that bat can manwhore #and like half the rogues in Gotham know this from experience #and also most of the JL #and some of JL dark #btw Eddie and Jon are besties #they’re both awful but they make it work #when Jon full-names Eddie that just means that if he doesn’t stop whatever he’s doing he’s gonna get a dose of fear toxin #Eddie isn’t intimidating enough to full-name anyone so if he gets mad he just bashes whoever in the head with his cane #Jon is the living embodiment of ‘me and my girl don’t argue she bash me in the head with a rock and I walk it off like a man’#also side note I’m not doing any ships in this #because I don’t want to #they are just Like That #if you wanna read it that way though it’s completely fine #also shoutout 2 that one scriddler fic on ao3 that helped inspire that riddle LMAO

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illusivelle · 3 months

Text

just right

pairing: carmen 'carmy' berzatto x reader rating: t (for now) length: 1,699 words content: mild cursing summary: you go to the market every week like clockwork, normally one of the first ones there. but you don't expect to see a familiar face standing at one your favourite vendors. a/n: did someone say brain rot? hope you all enjoy this one. i just can't get enough of a neighbour trope apparently. not proofread although not exactly a middle of the night dump - more like middle of the day. read part one link to ao3 here!

You'd gone from never seeing your neighbour, Carmen — no, Carmy — to seeing him every so often. In the halls mid afternoon, when you'd just come home and were ready to settle in and it looked like he was heading out to start his evening. Sometimes out in front of the building while you exchanged your goods with your elderly neighbour, fresh bread for flowers and greens, Carmy strolling into the apartment with his own bag in tow. And now, well before most of the city had even had their first coffee, at the farmer's market.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. The silhouette of your neighbour that started to haunt your dreams at night. Floppy soft curls, stark blue eyes, tattoos littered over the carved muscles of his arms and hands. But as you slowed your pace to a near stop and focused, you knew it wasn't just your eyes playing tricks on you. There was Carmy standing underneath the tent of one of your favourite growers, a tattooed hand covering his mouth as he grazed his knuckles along his lips. Those blue eyes bright even this far away, darting between the offerings on the table and the familiar face behind the counter who was eagerly smiling and chatting him up.

And again, you were rendered frozen. He hadn't even looked your way and yet your feet felt cemented to the ground in your indecision.

Go to pick out your produce like any other day, or turn around and run?

The latter made your brows pinch together because why was that even an option? Carmy didn't own the market, and he sure as shit wasn't going to be the reason you leave the market fruitless (literally). But there was a churning low inside your belly, a wash of nerves as you started to close the distance between the two of you. Or rather, between you and the stall. The vendor — the real reason you were approaching now, and it had nothing to do with the undeniably attractive man standing there, too.

You didn't look at him. Instead, you busied yourself with the incredibly interesting purple cauliflower, flipping it in your hand a couple of times before you heard the soft grumble of somebody clearing their throat.

But still, you didn't look up from staring at the vegetable, like it was the single most fascinating thing in the world. And truly, it was, because you had no idea that cauliflower could even be another colour other than white, nevermind the fact that these stalks were larger than usual with its long leaves cradling them on every side.

Maybe that was your first mistake, going blindly for the first and nearest thing you saw instead of picking up something you were used to. God, why didn't you pick up the onion or garlic or tomato? Or maybe, just maybe, it was an unconscious choice to try to break through the hypothetical wall between you and your neighbour.

"Hi."

The look of shock on your face wasn't exactly fake. Carmy did surprise you. Partly because you weren't expecting him to say anything to you at all, but mostly because when you tipped your head to acknowledge him, he was suddenly so incredibly close. Close enough for you to catch the lingering smell of smoke, a hint of coffee, and fresh soap. A strange blend but on him, it oddly worked — and made you want to lean in closer.

"Hi."

"It's sweet."

"What?"

"A little nutty."

"I don't—"

"The cauliflower." A shy smile split Carmy's lips as he stared pointedly at the bunch of purple florets in your hand before he locked his gaze with yours. "Mostly sweet, though."

Right, the cauliflower. "Too sweet, you think?" Your attention faltered for a second and landed on his lips at the same time he decided to roll his tongue along the bottom one.

"Mm, just right, I'd say."

"Just right."

What was it about Carmy's presence that made you want to sit with it a moment longer? Your conversations with him have mostly been in passing save for the time you handed him his package, but even that was short, only a few words exchanged between the two of you. It didn't matter how little he said, you hung onto the words. Not quite grasping for more but appreciating that he wasn't the type to speak just to fill the air. Appreciating that there seemed to be more under the surface he wasn't voicing, but was clear if you just had enough courage to look into his eyes a little bit longer.

And today, you found that courage. Flicking your gaze up to him and holding his stare, a slow smile unfurled from one corner of your mouth to the other, shocked to see it mirrored in Carmy's face.

"Have you ever tried it before?"

"No, never."

"You'll have to let me know how you like it."

"Oh?"

"Roasted is usually a pretty safe option," he continued, picking up some sage and handing it to you, "but turning it into a soup with some crispy sage on top is better."

You glanced down at how easily Carmy placed the herb in your palm, smiling to yourself before nodding. "So you like to cook?"

"Uh," he chuckled, knuckles lifting to graze his mouth again as if he wanted to hide that smile, the indent on his cheek peeking out from behind his wrist, "something like that, yeah."

"A chef?"

"I, uh, yeah. I cook. I'm a chef. Of sorts."

"Of sorts."

"I used to— um. Used to cook fancy things, now I cook other things."

"Right," you drawled, and although your brows were bunched together, amusement lined every other inch of your features, "so, used to cook in your basement and now you cook…?"

"In a kitchen."

"Real food this time, though."

"Mostly edible."

A loud laugh escaped you, almost embarrassingly so. The banter between you two was quick, easy, fun even as you caught the way his chin dipped into his chest on a wider smile. His dimple was very much showing itself now and you were glad that your hands were full because they itched to touch him.

And that would be absolutely no fucking good, would it?

You barely knew Carmy — Carmen. He was just your neighbour, nothing else.

As your laughter dwindled down to nothing but soft smiles, the vendor came around to greet you. In his hand were some of the other fruits and veg you normally liked to keep, a handful of fresh lemons in a basket and extra radishes and red onion.

"D'you—?"

"Do I?"

"Come here often?"

"I mean, as often as I can given it only happens once a week." You teased.

Carmy redirected his attention to the man behind the small counter, and they did a similar exchange. Cash for produce that went right into the large bag you hadn't noticed was tucked behind his back. "Are you, uh, you gonna walk around a bit more—"

But a sharp ringtone sounded from his pocket and Carmy was already groaning, fishing for the phone and giving you an apologetic look. "Sorry, I gotta—"

"Of course."

With his back turned to you and his voice lowered, speaking in hushed tones, you moved to the side in an effort to give him his privacy. But you couldn't help your curiosity, peering over your shoulder to watch the way he tangled his hand through his hair and paced back and forth.

Who was he talking to? What was it about? Why was there a divot in his brow and why did you so badly want to soothe it with your fingers?

You shook your head in a shallow attempt to shake the thought, the thought that had no business forming in your mind. Carmy stared at his phone for a moment before he pocketed it again, turning to you with an uncertainty flashing in his eyes, like a cloud rolling through the sky. "Hey, I, uh, I gotta go, but… woulda been nice to have some company today."

"A chef's company, no less." You kept your tone light and easy, fingers wrapping around the straps of the bag you hitched higher on your shoulder.

But his tone was far less playful, laced with intention as he spoke. "Or just a person with a curious mind."

And there it was again, another moment that hung on a thin thread in the small space between you two, a ghost of a smile that made his dimple peek through the stubble on his cheek.

"See you around?" He asked quietly, his head slanted to level with your gaze.

Was there any other answer? "Yeah."

"Okay." Carmy nodded, wiping his fingers over his mouth before giving a nod to the vendor and turning back to you. "Okay."

"Okay."

A few seconds passed where you thought maybe the rest of the world stopped. Just the endless swirls of the blue in his eyes, like the sky meeting the sea and each blink, a tide calling to you. A few seconds, a few blinks, before Carmy was nodding and walking past you, throwing you a tiny smile over his shoulder that you would've missed if you hadn't been staring so blatantly at him.

Carmen Berzatto, your next door neighbour that was clearly reeling you in whether he knew it or not. And for fuck's sake, you should really get a grip sooner rather than later, scolding yourself silently as you belatedly realized you'd been ogling him as he left.

When you went home less than an hour later, your elderly neighbour gave you the fresh bread and asked you what she was supposed to do with the purple cauliflower you handed to her. "Heard it was best roasted," you shrugged, but hung onto the vegetable, "do you want me to make you something with it instead?" This thrilled her, clear in the wide grin crossing her face as she shoved the bundle back into your bag, letting you know how excited she was and thanking you.

"Thank Carmy." You said without thinking.

And almost too quickly, she smirked. "Oh, why am I not surprised?"

#the bear #the bear fic #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto fanfic #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy bear #jeremy allen white

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theturtlelovers · 5 months

Note

"Cum for me baby" from Don with his girlfriend please?

₩Φ₹$Ω¡₽₽¡₪g $¡₪

Pairing: Donnie/fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Contents: Donnie is strangely overcome with the need to have you right then and there. Warnings: 18+, mdni, mating season, hickeys, creampies, unprotected p in v (wrap it up peeps) Wordcount: 1,594 Sentence Prompt: # 75

𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤

Notes: Excuse my poor attempt of being more poetic in my writing! Hope you enjoy!

Your presence was like a living temptation to him, as if every cell in your body was crafted to make him lose control around you. Carnally irresistible, Donnie found it impossible to keep his hands off of you. Earlier, he had tried with great effort to keep his eyes on the TV, but your scent drifted into his nostrils—so sweet and enticing. Overcome, he leaned down to breathe deeply in the crook of your neck.

The look you gave him almost made him shudder visibly. You appeared concerned by his sudden change in behavior, yet there was an undeniable excitement in your eyes as he ran his tongue over your pulse point.

He wasn't sure if something was wrong with him, but he wasn't entirely focused on figuring it out, as your soft gasps were far more captivating than anything else. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his glasses had become an irritation, so he quickly removed them and tossed them onto the coffee table. He didn’t need them anyway; you were close enough that he could clearly see your beautiful expressions.

Donnie was a turtle steeped in science, his expertise evident in the gadgets he wielded both in the lab and on patrol. He had deciphered ancient codes to deactivate a timed toxic bomb threatening New York City and uncovered the mysteries of the purple ooze. Yet, in your presence, all logic seemed to evaporate, leaving him a slave to his emotions. His instincts urged him to keep you selfishly close and immerse himself in your natural scent. He desired to fill the very being he worshiped with his essence so intensely that no one else could occupy your thoughts but him.

But as time stretched on, it seemed like hours had passed, and he was certain you were too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. Your skin was flushed, adorned with a trail of red marks across your delicate skin—marks destined to deepen into purple.

It almost felt like your first time together, heated with a passion so intense that you couldn't stop trying to touch each other, yet tinged with nervousness due to a lack of familiarity with each other's physical needs. However, despite the similar rush of emotions, Donnie's hands never fumbled or shook with uncertainty. They moved with confidence and precision, driven by an eager desire to worship your very existence.

Just a tilt of your head was enough for him to capture your soft lips with his, sighing softly as he found a semblance of relief amidst his lustful haze. His large hands were intent on exploring the canvas of your body despite the fact he’s seen more times he can count, gently kneading your flesh, which was much softer than his own.

"Donnie..." Your whine pierced through his haze of desire.

He shuddered this time at the sound, murmuring, "So pretty and all for me.” The turtle licked his lips, dried from his heavy pants for air.

The space between your thighs glistened with a mixture of your juices and his essence—a beautiful concoction, Donnie might add. Despite the evidence that he had finished inside you several times, his attention remained laser-focused on your pleasure, his mind relentlessly urging him to give more and more. It would be remiss of him not to, especially when your lips parted so beautifully with each mewl that escaped them.

He pressed one hand firmly on your back to keep you pinned against the couch. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, wondering if a three-fingered imprint would remain, but it quickly dissipated as he became captivated by the way the sweat on your skin sparkle ethereally.

Seriously, were you a fallen angel hell-bent on cursing him to eternally crave your body? No matter how many times he made you cry out his name, no matter how tightly you clenched around him that is felt like you were pulling him deeper until he climaxed, he still wanted more. Or perhaps he needed more. Donnie couldn't tell anymore; his thoughts were so tangled that he couldn't distinguish desire from necessity. Either way, it seemed his body was surrendering to its own carnal instincts, relentlessly seeking release with you, in you.

Donnie muttered a curse under his breath as his free hand slipped beneath you, caressing the bundle of nerves that made your thighs begin to quiver. Your hands clutched weakly at the cushions, moaning with abandon.

He hissed through clenched teeth as he felt your inner walls tighten around him once more. "Come for me, baby. You can do it," he encouraged gently.

It was only a moment more before you released a stuttering squeal, your nectar coating him further as he continued to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. Donnie bit his lower lip as his torso lowered to brush against your back, emitting a groan and a deep, reverberating churr that would make Raph envious. He pushed himself as deep as he could inside you as he came. Your smaller hand clung to the wrist of the hand between your legs, panting loudly.

Finally, Donnie's mind began to clear, his intense sexual need appearing to wane and find satisfaction. He hoped he hadn't pushed you too far.

You seemed to recognize that it was over when Donnie didn’t immediately resume thrusting into you with his previous unrestrained vigor. Slumping beneath him, you felt his weight relax as he lazily placed kisses on the hickeys decorating your shoulders. Both of you appeared content to remain in your current position, with him still inside you, enjoying the quiet aftermath together.

"Holy shit..." you mumbled.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Too much?"

You shook your head. "No, no. It was amazing! I just don't know what came over you so suddenly.”

“I actually don’t know either,” Donnie hummed thoughtfully. Carefully, he pulled away and slipped out from the comfort of your warmth. He had to restrain himself and look away when he heard you release a small whine, feeling the emptiness and his essence dripping down your inner thigh.

Donnie quickly put his glasses back on and walked away to grab some water and a towel for you. While he was gone for that brief moment, you sat up, grimacing from the familiar soreness setting in. You hadn't felt this achy in over two years, back when you were both fresh adults, newly eager to explore the beginnings of your sexual life together.

Once your turtle lover returned, he insisted on helping you clean up despite your protests about him being just as messy. Nevertheless, he was determined, so you let him help subconsciously avoiding your inner folds to leave them coated with his essence. After ensuring you were comfortable, he took care of himself.

After redressing lightly, you headed into the kitchen, taking the water Donnie had provided with you. Following a session like that, you definitely needed some food. Donnie, meanwhile, simply pulled up his underwear and lingered in the kitchen, watching you closely. His instincts urged him to stay nearby.

His mind was still slightly clouded from the spontaneous moment, but not enough to impair his decision-making. He had a gut feeling that the intense desire might return. It was confusing, though, why such behavior was manifesting in the first place, especially since nothing specific seemed to trigger his sudden, overwhelming urge to take you right then and there on the couch.

And your poor couch. It was probably ruined from your activities now. You two had used it like dogs in heat. Huh. Like dogs in heat. In heat. Heat. Heat!

Donnie's eyes widened impossibly with realization. He and his brothers were now at a sexually mature age. Furthermore, it was that time of year—mating season for red-eared sliders, when they succumb to their need to breed.

Oh God, he was in heat and completely unprepared for it. He cringed at the thought of what his brothers must be enduring without a partner to satisfy their reproductive urges. He guessed it was wrong to assume they wouldn’t experience it just because they hadn't felt it immediately after reaching puberty. Casting a long glance in your direction as you prepared packaged ramen, Donnie walked into the living room to grab his phone and sent Leo a text. It was around this time that his family usually gathered for dinner.

Donnie: How’s things going at the lair?

The self-taught scientist received a swift reply from Leo, who was always prompt when responding to Donnie, knowing it wouldn’t be just another meme or silly pun. Unlike Raph and Mikey, who enjoyed sending Leo those sorts of messages just to tease him.

Leo: Everything fine

Leo: Why? Should there be something happening?

Donnie lifted a brow. Donnie: No, no! I was just checking in! See ya later He set his phone down on the coffee table, his lips pursing in confusion. Leo wasn’t one to mislead about the state of their close-knit family, so surely everything was fine with them. It seemed the issue was just with him. Perhaps it was because he was the only one among his brothers who had any sort of sexual experience.

Donnie turned at the sound of your feet pattering across the floor as you returned with two bowls of steaming ramen. He couldn't really complain. Not when you approached him, your body adorned with such beautiful marks, a testament to the intensity of their earlier moments together.

Since you were around, maybe this experience won’t be so bad.

Tagging: @mrghostings, @whygz @supershiny-raven Interested in getting tagged? Come check it out!

Like what you read? Check out my masterlist to see if you find anything else!

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt x reader smut #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader

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loveshotzz · 1 year

Text

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Melt With You

summary: A cancelled movie night, Steve’s first high, and a realization you weren’t expecting.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: my blog is 18+ but this will be pretty safe for work. takes place in 1988 when Elvira Mistress of the Dark came out. post season four but no mention of the upside down, fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mentions of being stoned and being high for the first time, mutual pining, cuddling.

A/N: first I want to dedicate this to @bewilderedbunny for pointing out that Steve Harrington is Bob coded which made me fall even more in love with him. You can also thank @dr-aculaaa for putting this brain worm in my head where it spiraled and then she entertained it again and it spiraled some more. p.s. I know her movie macabre was cancelled in 86 but brought back in the 90’s but let’s pretend.

mini series masterlist -> chapter two 🎃

Steve was close. Too close.

His thigh is warm pressed against yours, long legs spread wide taking up most of the room on the couch. The cedar that clings to the threads of his maroon sweater mix with the old spice that he’s almost sprayed too much of, and you’re surprised at how much you actually like it. You blame it on the joint you both shared, and you do it again when his socked foot touches yours from under the blanket draped across your laps and your heart rate kicks up a few beats. This was just Steve, your new friend. Eddie’s new unlikely friend.

The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close.

The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.

When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin.

“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”

The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?

Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.

“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.

“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”

There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.

“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.

“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”

He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his.

“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.

Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there.

“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.

It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck.

The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.

Cozy. Too Cozy.

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted.

Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.

God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.

The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession.

Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it.

As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now.

The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet.

“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this.

“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”

Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow.

“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.

“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most.

“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”

You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow.

“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.

“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.

His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh.

“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.

Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight.

“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”

Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated.

He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black.

The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed.

Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.

The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground.

It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.

“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.

“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.

The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.

“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.”

“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.

“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’

“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”

“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon.

So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.

“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.

“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,

“Abso-“

His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.

“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.

What was going on here?

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