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sailoryooons · 2 months

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Boyfriend Material | jjk (m)

☾ Pairing: Hockey Player!Jungkook x f. Reader

☾ Summary: Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material – except when he is.

☾ Word Count: 2,127

☾ Genre: FWB, Hint of Angst, Smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Friends with benefits who are very obviously pretending not to have feelings, being in a confusing relationship that is basically a relationship without titles, feelings of confusion and self-doubt, lying to oneself, mentions of some toxic interactions with other people/women, repressed feelings, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) in the shower, honestly, in general, some very cliche/stereotypical conflict you’d find in a relationship with someone of status

☾ Published: March 23, 2024

☾ A/N: This is a self-insert of one of the most confusing relationships I have ever had in my life and I will die on the hill that no one should date athletes because 98% of them are the rule, not the exception no matter how much they seem like it! TRAUMA!!! Also, should I have been dating a professional athlete for the sport I worked in? No!!!! This is for all the people who have been in a not-relationship-that-is-a-relationship why the fuck do people do that like it is okay to have feelings and call ur partner ur partner??

☾ A/N 2: This is drabble number six for the Drabble Challenge that I have been utterly failing at! Today I rolled for ‘athlete’ but I didn’t feel like writing actual sports so I was like :) I worked in sports for ten years, I can just share a glimpse of my life when I was 23 years old :) Enjoy

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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“Fuck, I’m so tired,” Jungkook groans, leaning back in the chair and stretching his arms. Sun beats down on his golden skin. You feel the heat of it on your back and the top of your head. It’s pleasant, the cool spring breeze threatening to send the napkins on the table running. “Wanna lay out at the pool?”

Finishing the rest of your coffee, you nudge the empty plate away from you. Where once an eggs benedict had stood is now smears of leftover yolk and a single onion you missed when eating your hashbrowns.

“Not sick of me?” you ask, raising a brow.

Jungkook isn’t looking at you, scrolling on his phone. The bill of his hat is pulled low, hiding most of his face as he squints down at the device held low in his lap. You wait patiently for his answer, running your finger up and down the now-empty glass as it sweats from the sun.

“Nope,” he answers, popping the end of the word sharply. “Did you ever get your desk fixed? Yoongi said he would fix it if not.”

“I have not.”

He nods. “He said he’ll swing by this afternoon. We can lay out at the pool at my place and then head to yours after?”

Your mouth twitches. You don’t say it out loud because you don’t want to risk him backing out, but another full day spent with Jungkook is a surprise to you. Not because it doesn’t happen often – it does. But rather because it keeps happening more often.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. He’d established that the first night he met you at a bar. Him being a professional athlete was a warning sign enough that you didn’t want to romance that but what had come afterward has been nothing short of surprising.

Friendship and… well. You don’t know how to explain the extras.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material. But you do your groceries together on the weekend. You drop him off at the arena when they’re heading out for a road trip. You take him to doctor's appointments to monitor the knee injury from last season.

You’re not Jungkook’s girlfriend but he takes you to team events. He lets himself in and does your laundry at your apartment while you’re at work so you don’t have to do it when you come home. He has his teammates fix furniture for you and they’ve asked you to babysit their kids.

“Babe?” the endearment makes you blink a few times, realizing you’d been staring into your lap. Jungkook’s dark eyes are focused on you now, phone shoved into his pocket. “We don’t have to go to the pool. We can just nap.”

We. Not you. Jungkook is going to hang out with you regardless if you like his original idea or not. Your stomach flips in that way you hate, the way that you know you’re doing everything you said you wouldn’t.

“Sounds good.”

Jungkook flashes a grin and you become acutely aware that thinking you could be friends with benefits without being anything more was a stupid idea. Jungkook is not made to be resisted, with round eyes that darken when he’s turned on, a giggle that contrasts with the big, broad-shouldered athlete built, a smile that lights up the room and can dispel any tension, a sweet voice that can tempt anyone the moment he pouts or when he decides to pur.

You were fucked - literally and figuratively - that first night you let him in your apartment.

Instead of thinking about it, you hide from the truth. Again. Jungkook is not boyfriend material, despite the fact that he pays for breakfast despite your protests, and reaches over the center console in the car to squeeze your thigh.

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers skating over your flash and making you squirm in the passenger seat. “Warm.”

“I was sitting in the sun.”

“I like it.”

Jungkook likes a lot about you. He tells you all the time, very open about how he likes the way you taste, likes the way you organize your books by color, likes the way you sing in the shower, likes the way you speak in Star Wars quotes.

Perhaps that’s what makes you the most wary about him. He says he’s not boyfriend material, but his actions betray his words. And you let them, every single time.

Jungkook smells like sunscreen, sweat, and a little bit of his cologne from earlier that morning. You’re hyperaware of him as you lounge on the cabana bed together, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his firm body.

His tattooed arm is tossed over his eyes, blocking out the sun as he snores a little. Careful not to knock into him, you lean over him and grab his phone to check the time. You haven’t been lounging in the sun long, but you don’t want him to get a sunburn.

Again.

You wager you can stay a little longer, placing the phone back down under his discarded shirt where it can hide from the sun’s heat. Sitting back in your spot, you pick up your book from your sweaty thighs as the sound of the gate to the pool yard opening catches your attention.

Some of Jungkook’s teammates live in the same apartment complex. It’s easier that way, especially for the players who get sent up and down from the minors. You catch a few of the younger players with a few girls you don’t know the name of tugging a cooler on wheels behind them with a speaker blaring.

Jungkook doesn’t so much as move. He can sleep through anything – has slept through you falling into his gaming setup while trying to get to the bathroom drunk. His slumbering leaves you to watch them head to the beds a few over from yours.

One of the girls notices you. You don’t recognize her specifically, but she recognizes Jungkook. Looks back at you. Frowns and mutters something to one of the other girls, who is not very subtle as she cranks her head around in your direction.

You don’t wince anymore. It’s not an uncommon thing, among these circles. You refuse to engage with any of it. You used to tell yourself it was because a casual whatever-Jungkook-is simply isn’t worth the drama. At night, you know you don’t engage with it because you don’t want to know.

Ignorance is bliss, especially in this dangerously plastic world Jungkook exists in.

Thankfully, you’re not alone in the matter. Jimin appears out of thin air, dropping down on the empty bed next to you. Namjoon – arguably Jimin’s better half and team captain – is nowhere to be found. Jimin lowers his shades and looks beyond you to the group of now rowdy players.

“Gross,” he huffs. He slides his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stretches out on the bed like a cat. Jimin doesn’t play, but he certainly has the body of an athlete, all fine lines and corded muscle. “Ignore them.”

“I was doing that already.” You lift your book as if to prove yourself.

He snorts. “You were thinking about it, be honest.” Your silence is answer enough and Jimin grins, lacing his hands behind his head as he tilts toward the sun. “Don’t let Jungkookie burn again.”

“I’m not,” you huff before snapping your book shut. Jimin is in the circle of player’s partners that you genuinely enjoy, but he has the keen ability to get under your skin and tell you all of the truths that you don’t want to be voiced out loud. Still, having him on your side has more benefits than just keeping the hyenas away from you. He’s also genuinely nice when he wants to be. “Jungkook, wake up.”

The man mumbles and turns his head away from you. You sigh heavily, squeezing his strong, very sweaty arm gently. “Come on, you’re gonna burn if you stay out here any longer.”

“Mm. Feels nice.”

“A sunburn won’t feel nice.”

“You can rub aloe all over me.”

“I will not.”

“Just five more minutes.”

“Jeon.”

He drops his arm from his eyes, squinting in the bright light at you. His hair is damp with sweat and hangs in his eyes. He’s been growing it out longer and longer, especially since Seokjin keeps encouraging Jungkook by telling him he has the best flow on the team.

“So you don’t want to rub aloe all over me?”

“You don’t need to get sunburned for me to touch you, Jungkook.”

“Bleh,” Jimin grunts.

That makes Jungkook sit up, rolling his shoulders and twisting to pop his back. He sighs for a moment, closing his eyes as though willing himself to get up. When he opens them again, there’s a light in them and he smirks, looking you up and down.

“Wanna shower?”

Your mouth twitches and you roll your eyes to hide how much you want to shiver. “Come on,” you sigh, getting up, the fabric of the sunbed clinging to your sweaty skin.

Eyes cling to you as you pull the sundress over your head and slide your sandals on. You don’t have to glance over at the mini-party a few sunbeds over to know you’re being watched. You suppose they’re watching Jungkook more than anything, but you’re in direct view behind him, grabbing your book.

You know Jungkook notices them. He says nothing, though. Instead, he offers his hand out when you shove all your belongings in a bag, wanting to carry it. You grin and hand it over to him, smile growing as he shoulders it easily and offers his hand again, this time for you to take.

And you do take it. Perhaps the satisfaction that thrums through you as he leads you out of the pool yard and onto the deck that crosses the lake toward his apartment building is a little bit insidious. You don’t care. The momentary triumph that you shouldn’t be feeling at all is far too powerful and Jungkook’s hand is far too warm and safe in yours to care about why you feel good about the public display of affection.

It isn’t like he hasn’t done it before. Jungkook isn’t shy with others in front of you. It’s what makes the whole thing worse, somehow. Because Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he introduces you to people and friends and slides between your legs to lean on you when you’re sitting on a barstool. He holds your hand when you go on a lunch and shopping spree with your mom and he brings her coffee and flowers.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but you don’t care when the shower hits the warm skin and runs down your back as he presses your chest to the cold shower wall in front of you. The cool stone stings against your nipples, over-sensitive and sending a shiver down your spine as your eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he curses low under the sound of the shower as he pries your legs apart, tongue seeking the heat between them hungrily. Your mouth falls open as Jungkook’s tongue licks you soft-slow, lips sucking gently against your clit.

“Shit,” you hiss. The difference in temperatures between the hot water and the cold wall makes the room spin. Steam makes it harder to breathe, your head pleasure-dizzy as Jungkook laughs and rolls his tongue lazily around your dripping cunt. “Fuck.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he eats you out slow and hungry. He doesn’t care that the water starts to lose its warmth as his mouth works you, smacking his lips loudly and moaning, vibrations going straight to your core where you drip on his soft tongue.

His hands grip your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pries you apart further, tongue delving into your aching hole. He slurps at you, mouth loud and sticky over the sound of your panting and the water hitting the tile floor. His little hums of appreciation buzz through you, making the room spin.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to the wet, cold stone as you try to ground yourself. You twist an arm backward, gripping Jungkook’s wet hair. He lets out a loud groan in appreciation, always pleased when you pull on his hair. “Don’t stop.”

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material, but he does whatever you want him to. His tongue delves in, working you to orgasm until you’re shaking against the wall, knees knocking together and nearly collapsing on him. He catches you easily, standing and pressing you against the wall as he grabs your chin and brings your mouth toward him, his to devour.

Jungkook isn’t boyfriend material.

But more than anything, you want him to be.

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook bts fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #100 drabble challenge

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gracieheartspedro · 4 months

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Your Needs, My Needs

THE PRELUDE

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: you have made it to your new home in taylor, texas. your anxiety of owning your our home and being alone is coming to a head, but you need to be productive. a trip to the local furniture turns into you meeting some locals and your new cowboy neighbor.

word count: 3.7k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, description of small age gap, joel being a sarcastic shithead. sarah is canon, so joel is a dad. distracted driving. talks of consuming food. reader has mental illness, mainly described as anxiety, but could be other illnesses. I make it pretty vague. the reader likes football? lmfao

author's note: this is the prelude to the many parts I have planned for these two. this is sort of just setting up everything. I want a slow burn for these two, so hopefully these first couple parts make you guys sweat with anticipation. I also wanna quickly thank all of you for the love on the preview of this fic. I hope you all enjoy it! let me know what y'all think. YEEHAW!

“Sign here and she’s all yours.”

When you brought the pen to the dotted line, you knew that this was going to be the start of your new life.

While you were nervous about taking on such a huge project, you were ready to find solace in your alone time and work on yourself along with the beautiful farmhouse. You needed some peace and quiet, anyway.

She was set on 20 acres of land on the outskirts of a small town called Taylor. The land looked like something out of a movie, it’s rolling hills and sprawling fields.

The house was about 130 years old and needed a lot of TLC. You found it online after hours of scrolling. It was still liveable, but the older couple who owned it before moved to a retirement community and could not keep up with the maintenance. When the inheritance hit your bank account, you called the local realtor and told them you would be flying out there to check it out. When the car pulled up the long driveway, you knew that it would be yours.

Texas was a new start for you. And boy, were you ready for it.

You did not have a lot to move in, just a small UHaul full of boxes of clothes and miscellaneous trinkets. You left your furniture in your shared apartment in New York. You needed to find something that was more your style, anyway.

You moved everything yourself. You were not sure you were ready to trust anyone to help you move in. You knew no one locally, anyway.

It took about three days to get settled, and by that, you simply put up a shower curtain and finally put sheets on your mattress on the floor. You had also created a laundry list of random things you wanted to get done around the house in the next month. Priority number one was getting the bathrooms working. The toilet downstairs doesn’t stop running and your upstairs one won’t flush at all.

You decided that today was the day you would go out and buy some furniture for your living room and bedroom. You would also inquire to some locals about a plumber. It would take you days to work up the courage to reach out to someone in the phone book, so here’s to hoping you just run into someone on the street.

You hop into the sedan that you were renting until you could buy a car. It was nice but it was no match for your long dirt driveway. You already expected to pay extra for all the dings on the exterior.

The roads that lead into Main Street are long and winding. You loved driving, so when it was nice enough to put the windows down, you did so.

Since there’s no one on this specific stretch, you decide to switch the CD you had shoved into the disc drive, opting for another mix you had made years ago. The radio never played what you wanted, especially the local stations in Taylor.

In your distracted scramble for the CD, you don’t take note of the large stallion running next to your car. The CD is wedged between the seat and the main console and your fingers cannot reach the awkward position.

You’re not speeding. But when a giant horse runs out in front of you, you can not hit the break quickly enough. You stop breathing, bracing for impact. You jerk the wheel slightly, swerving away from the steed. Before your front end can make an impact, the horse is snatched back towards the divot in the road.

You are in complete and utter shock over how abruptly it all happened.

Your eye eventually catches a man on horseback, his cowboy hat shields most of his face, but you are more focused on how built this man looks. His biceps were straining against his button-up shirt as he held the lasso taut against his chest. His legs were locked around the brown stallion he was on, his jeans riddled with mud and dust. He had dark curls that peaked out from under his hat.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” You yell, your car slowly inching forward from its spot in the middle of the road, “Where did that thing even come from?”

The mysterious cowboy just shakes his head and trots away, clicking his tongue to guide the horse back into the field.

Your heart felt like it may leap out of your chest. A car was chugging down the road ahead of you, so you knew you had to move out of the way. You turn into your lane and slowly start down the road again.

You do not even bother trying to find the CD, again. You would rather sit in complete silence.

When you make it to the small stretch of downtown, your heart rate slows down. You spot a local furniture store that looks a bit dated. It was your best bet plus, you wanted to stand on solid ground and gain your bearings.

You parallel park rather terribly and hop out of your car. You huff loudly, throwing your purse over your shoulder and slamming the door behind you.

A hot cowboy saved your life.

It’s the most Texas thing that’s happened to you since you moved here.

You head inside the storefront. A smaller white-haired lady sits at the front desk, her head in a gossip magazine.

“Well, hello there,” You muster in your best cheery voice, trying to act like you did not almost die, “I’m lookin’ for some furniture.”

She chuckles as she places her reading next to the register, “Well, you came to the right place, sweetheart.”

You return the laugh, glancing around the large store. Couches and recliners in rows in the front, wooden bed sets lining the back wall. You were so indecisive, you were not completely sure where to start.

“I need a bedroom set and a couch or two. I just moved into th-”

“The old Caldwell farmhouse,” She cuts you off, hopping off her stool, “Saw you movin’ in a couple days ago. My boy is your neighbor.”

The joke about small towns is always true, you know that already. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You could not shit without someone knowing about it.

You raise your eyebrows, acting like you’re shocked she knows about you already. “Yes, that’s right. Your boy?”

“My oldest son, Joel. He lives across the way from ya,” She starts gesturing towards the couches, “Pop a squat on one and see which one ya like.”

You end up sitting on every couch before landing on a brown leather one with a matching loveseat. The old woman is a great saleswoman on top of being sickly sweet. She told you since you are one of her first customers of the month, she would give you a great discount on a coffee table. You were a sucker for a good deal.

You knew what bed set you wanted immediately. It was a light-washed wood with tall pillars sticking out of every corner. It came with two matching dressers and one nightstand. It was only you, so you didn’t quite care about another side table anyway.

When the lady starts tallying up your total, you watch the slow-moving downtown. A couple walking across the street into the small diner. An older gentleman walking his small dog. The rickety old trucks that loudly took up the roads.

You’re so stuck in your head, you don’t even hear what your total is. All you do is hand over your credit card. She smiles and giggles as she swipes the card.

“So I’ll have my boy deliver it to you tomorrow. He is busy workin’ today, but I’ll have him get it to you. He’s quite the handyman, always busy doing jobs around town. Will you be home in the morning?”

You would have to have some strange man in your home to set up the heavy wooden furniture. It made the hairs on your arm stand up. You knew you would not be able to haul it all, so you had to take the leap of faith and hope and pray this frail old lady’s son is not a serial killer. Or stalker. Or both.

You needed your furniture, after all.

It will be okay, you tell yourself.

“U-uh, I will,” You swallow, “I don’t work right now, so I’ll be home all day.”

“Oh, goody! I will send him your way in the morning. He may have his brother with him just to get the bed up your stairs, but I promise they are good boys. If they aren’t, you come to me and their mama will deal with them.”

You laugh nervously, “Of course, thank you so much.”

–

You had woken up late, your anxiety creeping up on you last night. Your brain would not stop racing. You didn’t fall asleep until 2 am. You hop out of bed around 10:30 and wrap yourself in a cardigan. You have been leaving all the windows open at night, but you can tell the seasons are shifting because it gets so cold at night.

The doorbell rings and it’s like your heart falls out of your chest. You know that after you open this door, you’re welcoming in someone completely new and unexpected and it makes your whole body jitter. You make your way to the front door and take a deep breath before opening it.

Of course. It’s him. The hot cowboy.

It made sense. The endless green across from your home had to be part of his property. The road you almost died on yesterday was right beside his land. His house was tucked right across from the end of your driveway, with countless barns spread across a couple of acres.

You were secretly hoping he would be some silly-looking hillbilly, but instead, you find out your delivery man is the ridiculously attractive cowboy from the day before. His hair is tidy and dark without the cowboy hat on. It’s peppered with some white hairs, but it only adds to his appearance. His flannel has the top three buttons undone and his jeans are stained with age. You are finally able to get a good look at his face with no shadows covering his permanent scowl.

He had to be about 10 years older than you. You were not too far off from wrinkles, but you were still young enough to bear children without being considered geriatric.

He squints at you when you swing the door open. The sun is hitting his eyes, highlighting the warm rich brown color.

“Howdy neighbor,” He greets, a small smirk plays on his lips, “’m Joel. Nice to meet you officially.”

You introduce yourself, trying not to stutter as you say your name. He made you nervous. You chalk it up to just being nervous around men in general. But it’s the way his eyes trailed you as you moved just slightly.

You feel the need to clear the air because of the way he’s staring through you.

“And uh, listen, about yesterday,” You try to apologize, but he cuts you off by raising his hand.

“Wouldn’t be the first time an outsider got themselves hurt bein’ reckless down the backroads. Just glad you didn’t hit my horse.”

The response has a bit of a bite to it. You back up a step, your body also taken aback by his directness. You are used to confrontational people, but you’re not used to Southern folk being that way.

“No, next time I’ll aim for the ditch and tell my insurance that there was a silly cowboy in the road that I had to miss.”

You can tell by the sheepish smile on his face that he was not expecting you to be feisty.

“Don’t think they’d give ya’ much money for that,” He says in a hushed but matter-of-fact tone.

You relax your shoulders, trying to collect yourself. “Probably not.”

He turns back to his truck that has your bed frame in the back of it, disregarding the previous statements. “My brother is comin’ by in a few to help me get this stuff in.”

“Well, let’s not let all the air out of the house right now,” You extend the door wider for him. You are giving this man full access to your home now. You try to suppress your obsessive thoughts and instead decide that you know exactly what you can have him do while you wait. You remember his mom told you he was good with his hands, and since he wants to be snarky to you in the comfort of your own home, you would try to pick his mind about some of your home projects. “Come in, let me ask you something.”

You begin, gesturing him into the entryway. He accepts the offer, kicking his boots off on the porch. You appreciate his thoughtfulness and for a second, you realize you may be the asshole.

“Mama told you I was a handyman, didn’t she?”

You giggle, finding it funny that he could read the situation you were about to put him in. “She sure did.”

“She needs to stop tellin’ folks that,” His accent is so thick and syrupy, that it makes your insides tingle, “Got too many people askin’ me to fix their stuff.”

You guide him to the bathroom right off the living room and kitchen, “You know much about plumbing?”

“I’m assumin’ you don’t,” He mutters, “What do you have goin’ on?”

You point to the loudly running toilet, “This thing won’t stop running no matter what I do.”

“Well, what have you tried doin’?”

You both stand in the hallway, you looking up at him with furrowed brows, him looking down at you with anticipation. He was quick-witted, and you started to hate how much you liked it. He gave your sassiness a run for it’s money.

“I’ve flushed it a bunch of times. Cursed at it and kicked it,” He stares at you blankly. It makes your stomach roll, “Jesus, Cowboy, can you give a girl a break?”

He enters the narrow bathroom, approaching the toilet like there may be a bomb in it. He reaches towards the handle and jiggles it violently, which makes you giggle a bit. That’s exactly what you did.

“So, why here?” He questions, squatting in front of the bowl. He continues to mess with the handle while you process his no-context question.

“What Texas or this bathroom?”

He chuckles, his smile spreading across his beautifully tanned skin.

“You got tons of jokes, huh?”

You don’t respond, just shrug your shoulders. He stands up, wiggling the top of the tank off the toilet. You watch his hands lock onto the sides of it, ensuring it will not drop off and shatter on the dated tile.

“Texas,” He strains, freeing his left hand to mess with the handle. You lean against the door frame.

You are not even sure why Texas. You just needed to get as far as you could away from New York. You did not want your past to catch up with you, and you did not want to get stuck in a city again. But you could not share all this with a random stranger. He may be in your house, looking at your commode, but you can’t completely trust him yet.

“I just wanted a change of scenery. I always wanted a farmhouse.”

“Lots of upkeep,” He jabs, doing one more once over of the tank, “‘M thinking you may need a new float or chain. I can get my tools tomorrow and come over to fix it. May need to order a new part, though.”

You push off the wall, arms still crossed over your front. He puts the top back on and finally makes eye contact with you.

He would come over again? To fix your toilet?

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, ‘m sure it’s the chain or float.”

“No, I m-mean,” You start to stumble over your words. You swallow, collecting yourself for a moment so you do not look crazy to him. “Are you sure you’re okay coming back over?”

He gives you a thin-lipped smile, “What are neighbors for?”

His brother arrives in a rickety old truck at about 15 past 11. He looks a lot like him, but shorter. He has those same eyes though, permanently tired.

“Nice to meet ya, ma’am. ‘M Tommy.”

You grab his hand to shake it and he lingers a bit longer than you anticipated. Joel stayed on your front porch, putting his boots back on to start unloading the furniture.

You are thankful the weather was kind today, especially since every evening this week has been stormy. The sun was beating mighty hard on the men as they collaborated on getting your furniture inside.

While they get everything set up, you busy yourself making lunch. You get the bright idea to make them each a sandwich. It’s the least you could do.

You pile the cold-cut turkey and cheese onto the white bread you had, topping it with some mayo. When you hear their footsteps trailing down the stairs, you race out with the sandwiches on a porcelain plate.

“For your troubles,” You say before standing in their path to the door. Tommy smiles brightly, instantly snatching a sandwich from the plate.

“Thanks, darlin’,” He takes a big bite, humming in satisfaction. He walks around you, leaving you standing in front of Joel. His eyes are piercing, his lips ajar a bit, but nothing is coming out.

“Turkey and cheese, I promise.”

He reaches out grabbing the sandwich from you, “No sweet tea to go with it?”

Your heart sinks, instantly becoming self-conscious of your decision to be nice to these hicks. He was so intimidating with his steely expressions and broad shoulders. There was an essence about him that did not speak to his stone-cold exterior. It was more gentle. But you could only see hints of it when he smiled.

He can tell the wheels in your head are spinning. Before you can speak, takes a bite of the sandwich and shakes his head.

“‘m kidding, Yankee. Thank you, I ‘preciate it.”

You settle for letting out a long sigh and returning to your kitchen. You spend a couple of minutes, putting back all the ingredients in their proper places.

You hear Tommy yell for Joel, his voice kind of panicked. You race out the front door and see Tommy balancing your coffee table off the side of the truck. Joel is running to his aid, the dust from your driveway kicking up behind him. You hold your breath watching Joel help him balance the wooden piece of furniture.

“Can’t have you breakin’ your back before homecoming,” Joel fusses, guiding the legs of the table to the ground, “You know damn well Maria would have me, too.”

“Yeah, what’s a homecoming game without the head coach?”

You perk up, instantly becoming interested in the conversation that you weren’t supposed to be listening in on. The two men lift the table and start heading your way, right on the threshold.

“You coach football?” You ask Tommy, trying not to show your excitement. You loved football, it reminded you of Sundays with your grandfather. You never got the privilege to go to an actual game, even in high school.

“Yes, ma’am, for the local high school in Taylor. We are gonna make it to the state championships this year.”

You glance at Joel when he says it. He rolls his eyes, “Gotta win at least one game to do that, Tommy.”

They place the coffee table right in front of your new leather couch. Tommy grunts, trying not to argue with his brother in front of a strange lady.

He can’t help himself, though. He instantly snaps back at Joel.

“You know them boys have been practicin’ day in and day out. Why ya gotta be so negative?”

Joel places his hands on his hips, “Cause Sarah told me the guys in her grade are a bunch of dummies. I highly doubt they are ready to kick Georgetown’s asses.”

Tommy starts towards the door, “Just cause Sarah says it, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“I believe my honor student daughter before I believe my dumbass little brother.”

You are not shocked Joel has a daughter. You are just shocked that she’s in high school. He looked too young to have a teen, but then again, he did have some grays sprouting. You cross your arms over your chest, watching Joel scoot the table across your hardwoods.

You’re staring at his hands, trying to conjure up a wedding ring on his left finger. But there’s nothing. Maybe he did not wear it when he was working. Maybe he just forgot to put it on this morning. Maybe his passive aggressiveness towards you was simply to ensure there was distance between you and him, giving you subtle hints that he was taken.

He finally glances up at you, stopping in his tracks when he notes your gaze.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

You have no clue what to say because you are so trapped in your head about him. He’s a stranger, god damn it.

“N-no, everything is okay.”

“Don’t look it.”

“I just was not expecting the coffee table to look so dark against the hardwood,” you lie, pulling whatever you could think of out of your hat, “Doesn’t it look dark?”

Joel looks between the floor and the table, shifting in his stance, “Don’t know bout that.”

“O-oh okay.”

“Alright, well we got ya all set up now,” He starts to head towards the entryway. You trail behind him like a lost puppy, “I’ll be by sometime tomorrow with that part for the toilet. I’m expectin’ another sandwich for that one.”

You grab your front door as you wave to Tommy as he heads for his truck. He smiles and gives you a head nod. Joel turns back to you, his ears perked up for a sarcastic jab from you.

You think back to something he said to you earlier. You crack a smile, “What are neighbors for?”

PART 1 COMING SOON!

taglist (ppl who asked to be tagged): @joeldjarin @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @mysaviorjoelmiller @brittmb115 @missladym1981 @jasminedragoon

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #cowboy!joel #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller angst #joel miller tlou #joel x reader

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captainreecejames · 10 days

Text

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill.

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up.

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating.

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him.

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque.

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #Charles leclerc x fem!reader #Charles leclerc smau #formula 1 #formula 1 smau #formula 1 imagine #my stories #read #my writings

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taylormarieee · 5 months

Text

Wanna make out in the backseat of my brothers car? Sam Winchester

Summary: You and Sam planned on just making out but what happens when it leads to more...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 932

Warnings: PiV sex, Clit rubbing, sensitivity, overstimulation, Kissing, hair pulling kink, praise kink, Sam being an absolute slut, established relationship, Car sex, Dom!Reader, Switch!Sam, Creampie

A/N: Strictly written for my wife @dollyfl1rt for you babygirl

You have been dating Sam Winchester ever since his last girlfriend died. You took it slow and let him grieve.

You two were like peas in a pod. Always together, laughing, hunting. It was always hard to go on dates considering the circumstances of a Supernatural crime happening all over the world.

Demons, shapeshifters, wendigos, and vampires. It was so much for you yet so exciting and exhilerating.

Tonight you and Sam went out for a little night drive in Deans car. You had to negotiate a plan with him.

Granted it took like two hours of begging, you made him crack. Now here you two were sitting on a hill in front of the city.

"God, it's so pretty, don't ya think Sammy?" You ask, staring and admiring the stars.

"Yea, it is. But not as pretty as you" He says with a shit eating grin on his cute features.

"You are so corny you know that." You say laughing in between sentences.

"Yea, I know." He says laughing with you as he rubs your thigh. "One of the many things I like about you." You compliment.

"He smirks and turns his head towards you shuffling his hand higher up your thigh.

"What other things do you like about me?" He asks. You turn to him and smile.

"I love your hair and how soft it is, I love your face, I love your jawline, and I love your lips and how soft they a-are."

You notice him getting closer and his hand going higher until there under your mini skirt.

His face gets closer until your noses are touching. "You wanna feel how soft they are?" He whispers to you.

He watches you squirm in your seat and you whimper. You frantically nod your head and he grabs your neck and smashes his lips on yours.

You moan in to the kiss and he stars rubbing your clit through your panties. You squirm and whimper at his warm touch on your soaking wet pussy.

"Y-You like that baby?" He whispers into your mouth. You nod and whimper out a 'yes'.

He loved watching you squirm whenever he touched you like this. All in your areas and making you all hot and flustered.

"Sam please, please I need you." You moan out, "I can't sweets, it's my brothers car, He'll kill us."

"Sam I don't really care, we won't have another time. Please Sammy.”

He stares at your glossy eyes and finally gives in. “Ok but this is the first and last time baby, we say nothing to him.”

You nod your head frantically as a silent promise and he grabs your hips dragging you over to him.

You grab his face once your settled on his lap and he reclines the seat as you place your soft lips on his.

He is the one to moan into the kiss now. You begin to grind on him in a slow motion and he groans squeezing the flesh at your hip.

You take of your shirt leaving you in your black bra. He skillfully slides his cold hands to your back and in clips your bra.

You tough on Sam’s hair and he moans. You keep tugging on his hair and he continues to moan out grasping your ass.

You start to grind faster on the rough denim of his jeans. You tug on the hem of his shirt so he could take it off.

He takes his shirt off and unbuckles his jeans and pulls the down far enough to let out his cock.

His boxers are being tugged off by you and you both are rushing so eager to touch and feel each other.

You pump his cock and Sam let’s out the sluttiest moan known to man.

You moan as you slide down on his length. He fills you up so nice.

You begin to bounce on his cock, your breast bouncing all in Sam’s face.

He begins playing with your tits and throws his head back when you roll your hips in a type of way.

“Fuck you feel so good! You fill me up so nice Sammy.” You whimper out.

“You gonna cum inside me Sammy? Please cum all inside me sam.” You whimper out.

“Shit. Holy~f-fuck, I’m gonna cum baby.” He moans out. You roll your hips, grinding on him nice and fast.

You bounce on him non-stop until you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You feel him shoot his warm seed inside of you nice and deep inside your velvety walls.

“oh f-fuck baby.” He moans out. You continue to bounce on him after his orgasm not letting up and he begins to squirm.

“baby! Ahh~ it’s t-to much!” He whimpers out. You roll your hips on him and finally stop.

He then begins to ram into your tight pussy from below you.

“Cum for me now baby! Come one you can do it sweetheart. So wet for me.”

You whine at his praise and hide your head in his neck and whine incoherent nonsense.

You chant Sam’s name like a prayer. You feel your orgasm approaching and he chuckles.

“Let go mama, let go all on my cock.” He whispers. You moan his name and cum all on his cock.

You shake at the feeling of your pleasure coursing through you.

When you finally catch your breath you look around and notice deans car windows are all fogged up.

“Remember baby, not a word about this, okay?” He asks once again.

“Yea. Yea I know.” You say smiling before kissing him once again.

Taglist: @itzdarling @dollyfl1rt

#sam winchester #sam winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fanfiction

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ivysangel · 12 days

Text

WHERE ARE YOU TONIGHT? (JASON TODD)

NOTES/CW - mild angst but it's short lived, porn with plot, mutual masturbation, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, shower sex, happy ending, the endings a little rushed, i think that's all?

It was the early hours of the morning, and you had been "sleeping" restlessly all night. The worry of something happening to Jason loomed in the darkness every time you closed your eyes. Tiredness weighed you down, but it was no match for the sickening feeling in your gut that came around every time he was a little late coming home. It didn't matter how long it had been since you started dating him; you found that nothing eased the nerves or the ache when you started to overthink about what he could possibly be doing at that moment instead of being beside you.

Hot water runs down your chest, and you crane your neck away from the heavy streams coming from your showerhead. Steam curls up and out of the shower, dampening the ceiling with tiny droplets of water. And the heat doesn't do much for your mind but it does ease the physical ache that comes with sleep deprivation. That's not what you needed right now though; what you needed were the thoughts of Jason dying alone, again, out of your head.

Your hand reaches for the knob and turns it the absolute farthest it would go, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out your surroundings and the familiarity of this space you'd shared with him so many times.

Jason, Jason, Jason. Where was he?

The jarring sound of metal sliding across metal invades your ears and is quickly followed by the presence of someone else entering the cramped space. "Did you hear me? I was calling your name."

There he was.

The feeling of his arms around your waist brings you back to reality. His voice could have just been your head messing with you, but this, him wrapped around you, this was real. "How was patrol?" You say carefully, trying to keep your words, even for fear that he'll hear the distress in your voice. "You're home later than usual." He noses at your neck, and he hums into the skin, water pelting his head and soaking his hair. You bring your hand up to his wet locks, rubbing gently, deciding not to ask again, knowing he wouldn't answer anyway.

His fingers knead at the flesh on your hips as you both just stand there in the scalding hot water. "I missed you." You say, feeling him exhale deeply into your neck and slide his hands further up your body. Large, warm hands find your breasts, squeezing lightly. He breathes in your scent, a comfort to him after a long night of taking out criminals, something to ground him the same way he grounds you. He pinches at your nipple, rolling it around and tugging lightly, and your breath hitches at the stimulation of the lewd action.

"Did you miss me?" You sounded desperate, pathetic even, like you were begging for your life when you really were just craving his affection. He laughs wryly, head lifting from out of the crevice of your neck, and his lips find the space behind your ear.

He presses a kiss to the skin and brings his head down again to nip at your earlobe. "You always ask me that," he says lowly, the bass in his voice reverberating against your eardrum. "I just wanna know."

One of his hands slowly drags down your chest, over the hill of your chest, and you moan at the warmth spreading through your body. "You're too..." he moves further down your torso, "in your head sometimes." Lower and lower, "but it's okay," until it settles between the wet heat between your legs, "I can fix it."

He rubs gently, pointer finger ghosting over your clit, while he presses his boner into you. You hadn't even realized how turned on you were until this very moment, until you were suddenly all too aware of how close he was to you, drenched in water and naked. His thumb presses the sensitive nub between your legs, the added pressure making your back arch into him, feeling his dick dig into the soft flesh of your ass.

"You know I love you, right?" He asks, rubbing small quick circles into your clit, earning a gasp from you. "You do, right?" You swallow hard, nodding your head while one of your hands finds its way to your lonely breast while the other slips behind you to Jason's crotch. "Mmm, that's right, I know you do."

You feel around for his cock, the task made more difficult by the fuzziness clouding your brain from the thick finger that was slowly making its way into your cunt. The size of your hand was nothing compared to the size of his dick; his erection was heavy in your hand, radiating heat and weighing it down, but god, did you need it in you.

You stroke from the base to the tip, using his pre-cum as lube, and he groans into the side of your neck. His thumb leaves your clit as his middle finger joins in on stretching you out. Two thick fingers sit deep in your cunt, curling into your sweet spot, the sensation sending chills down your spine. The pitter-pattering conceals the squelching sounds of Jason fucking his fingers into you and the pornographic moans escaping your lips.

Long, slow strokes of his dick become short and shallow as you jerk him off while his fingers continuously move in and out of you. You attempt to focus on the task at hand, getting him off, but your breath quickens, and you go weak in the knees as your climax approaches. The tingling of your nerves puts you on edge, and you have to refrain from squeezing his dick too hard as you get lost in pleasure.

The water's almost run cold by now, and every single drop should feel like a piece of hail on your skin, but it doesn't. The nearly ice-cold droplets don't compare to the temperature of your body when he's got you riled up like this. Your climax was quickly approaching, and you knew Jason's was, too, by the way his groans and grunts were becoming more frequent. He had started rocking his hips back and forth into your hand, and you were sure your fingers would be painted in cum sometime soon. "I'm sorry, baby," He mutters, "Sorry for what I'm about to do." it comes out breathlessly, and if you were facing him, he'd see the confused expression etching itself on your face. "But it'll be worth it. Promise."

His words are followed by an unwelcome emptiness, one that leaves you clenching around nothing, aching to be filled once more. He withdraws his fingers from your cunt with a pop that you can't hear but definitely can feel, and his hand grabs your wrist, stopping you from jerking him any longer. You turn to face him, ready to object, and plead, and beg on your knees if you had to, but you never get the chance.

His hands cup your cheeks, and he kisses you deeply, your mouths falling into a familiar synchronization. "Feel like I can't fuck you without kissing you first." You finally get a good look at him for the first time since he'd gotten home, hair wet and eyes green as ever, strong features looking especially intimidating in the dim lighting of your bathroom, and muscles earned from years of training littered with bruises he'd ice when you weren't around.

While you find yourself admiring his features, he takes your shoulders in his hands and gently pushes you up against the shower wall. Gripping your thigh, he lifts your leg up and aligns himself with your entrance. He pushes inside of you with a deep groan and stills himself for a few seconds so you can adjust to the stretch. It's a dull pain, an intense throb deep in your womb that leaves your legs weak and you more wet than anything.

He keeps your leg up and places his palm flat on the shower wall, bracing himself before drawing out of you completely and plunging back inside. His hips rock rhythmically, each pump of his cock leaving you holding onto him for dear life. His hand curls into a fist against the wall, and you know he's close, already having been wound up from fucking your hand earlier. He towers over you, wet hair hanging in his face, muscles tensed, as he loses himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

You bring your arm up around his neck, pulling him as close as you can without causing you guys to slip. His breath is hot on your face, combatting the chilliness of the water, and you're hard-pressed not to kiss him, but you couldn't, not when you were so close to release, not when you wanted to see his face when he came.

You bring your hand between the two of you, rubbing your clit, trying to bring yourself over the edge, and he lifts your leg higher and buries himself even deeper. A loud moan slips out of your mouth and echoes off the walls as he hits that soft spongy spot deep in your cunt again and again. Soon enough, the knot in your stomach completely unravels, and you tremble as your orgasm washes over you, his big arms keeping you upright as your eyes roll back.

Your eyes flutter open just in time to see his face contort. Brows furrowed, and jaw clenched as his hips stutter, pace faltering as he's sent off the deep end. His grunts get louder, and he begins to sound almost animalistic until he lets out one final sound, long and drawn out as he fills your guts.

The both of you stand there, catching your breath as the shower rains down on you, skin dripping and water pooling at your feet. Your chest heaves, and your eyes close to avoid drops of water getting in your eyes. He pulls out slowly, giving you time to adjust to the emptiness before gently letting go of your leg and helping you stand up straight. His hand finds the shower knob, turning until the water stops, and you admire him from behind as he steps out of the shower, grabbing a couple of towels.

"Do you get it now?" He asks, holding open a towel, waiting for you to step into it. "Get what?" you ask, using the wall to hold yourself up, legs still weak from Jason being so deep in you just a few moments ago. "Get that I love you?"

His arms wrap around you, tucking the towel into itself before pulling you close and bringing his lips to your forehead. His lips are warm, and he smells nice, like a mixture of soap and gunpowder. Ironic because he didn't wash and will probably hop back in the shower when you're fast asleep.

He looks down at you earnestly, waiting for a response to his question, and you would call him ridiculous, but you know he needs to hear this just as much as you need to hear him say that he loves you in the first place. "Yes," you nod. "I know that you love me."

"Good."

edited this for like four hours so if there are any typos and errors that's just what the universe intended.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #jason todd drabble #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine #jason todd blurb #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood smut #red hood drabble #red hood fic #red hood imagine #red hood blurb

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roanniom · 1 year

Note

I wanna say best friend Steve, who doesn’t get why you’re insecure and wants to hype you up…

Reflections

Best Friend!Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, friends to lovers, light angst from body image issues but it resolves, PIV sex / mirror sex, praise, groping, a LOT of fluff

You’re getting ready for a party and he’s waiting for you but you’re taking foreeeeever and he’s so BORED. He’s flopped on your bed with an arm over his eyes moaning about how late you two will be. But then he realizes you’ve been in your closet for a long time and you’re really quiet.

“Babe? C’mon, what’s going on? Get outta there.”

When you finally do, Steve’s eyes go wide. He’s never seen you in something so form fitting. Something that hugs every delicious curve and exposes the hills and valleys of you. His mouth goes dry and suddenly he’s feeling all hot and clammy like a fucking teenager again.

Keep it together, Harrington. You used to run shit and now you’re getting stiff over your best friend? He swallows thickly at the thought and wrenches his gaze up to your face, startled to find you frowning.

“What’s wrong?” he asks and you throw your arms up into the air.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” you huff, walking over to the mirror. Steve steps up behind you, doing his best to maintain a respectful distance. Your hands grab meanly at the rounded parts of you and your frown deepens. “This doesn’t fit how I wanted it to and I look awful and -,”

You’re cut off suddenly by the massive snort of a laugh Steve let’s out behind you. You glare daggers at him over your shoulder through the mirror.

“What the fuck, Harrington?!”

Steve continues chuckling but puts his hands heavy on your shoulders, good natured and soothing.

“I’m sorry but you’re fucking crazy if you think you look awful. You’ve gotta be pulling my leg here, babe.”

Your jaw tenses as it does every time he calls you ‘babe.’ Reminding yourself that he’s your friend and nothing more, regardless of the way his fingers are digging into your muscles, you shake your head petulantly.

“I look like bag of lumps,” you argue.

“Nah, you look like one of those paintings we saw on that field trip to that museum in Indianapolis,” he says wistfully, no longer pretending to not be appraising you in the mirror. Despite your lingering trepidations you can’t lie to yourself. You like the feeling of his eyes on your body.

“You calling me Rubenesque?” you ask, finally quirking a smile. Steve’s answer grin is huge, glad you’re no longer frowning.

“Look, I have no idea what that means but if it’s good, then yeah.” He shrugs and takes you in again, scanning your figure with eyes that finally settle on your ass, no longer looking in the mirror. You feel heat spread through you while he licks his lips unconsciously. “But really I’m calling you sexy.”

“Sexy?” you groan, ruffling with discomfort and squeezing your eyes shut against embarrassment. “Shut up, Harrington!”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up.

“What?”

“Just shut up, will you?”

“Why? Because I called you sexy?” he asks defensively.

You curl in on yourself covering your ears.

“Stop fucking saying that word.”

“No. I won’t, you weirdo,” Steve laughs, grabbing you by the waist and wrestling you back to full height. You fight against him weakly by wriggling in his arms but his grip is firm. He locks eyes with you in the mirror and forces you to hold the contact. “You’re fucking hot, okay? Deal with it.”

“Ok fine, hot is a word that, while an exaggeration, I can maybe live with,” you respond, rolling your eyes. Steve shakes his head. It’s not lost on you that his grip tightens on your waist.

“But you’re also sexy,” he continues to insist. When you loll your head to the side in discomfort he has to steel himself so he doesn’t lean down and inhale the scent of your perfume on your exposed neck. He shakes you a bit and your head lolls to the other side. “What’s your problem with that word.”

“Because, Steve,” you harumph, slapping your hands over your eyes to hide your face. “Calling someone ‘sexy’ implies that people would willingly have sex with them.”

Steve is momentarily silent but the puff of air that you feel on your neck from his sudden and harsh exhale makes goosebumps erupt on your skin. It’s his turn to frown darkly at you.

“Is that a joke?”

“The idea of people willing to have sex with me?” you ask, reaching to dig and elbow back into his ribs. “Yeah. A big joke. Haha Ho Ho. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Steve’s mouth flattens into a tight line.

“Lots of people want to have sex with you.” He says it bluntly. It’s not an argument. He’s not trying to convince you. Just stating it as if it’s fact.

And now it’s your turn to snort.

“As the sexual object in question, who has been so celibate it’s like her virginity has been reinstated, I’m gonna have to beg to differ with you, buddy.”

Steve stiffens behind you. You’re best friends. He knew about your dry spell, but he hadn’t realized the extent to which it had messed with your confidence. It makes him almost shake with a sudden rage he doesn’t understand. Not at you, of course. But at the situation. At the male population of Hawkins who clearly don’t have fucking eyeballs let alone brains to comprehend what a catch you are.

He’d been nursing his own pathetic crush on you since that first day you’d waltzed into Scoops Ahoy and immediately turned down his over the top advances. You’d laughed him off as completely unserious and the two of you began an unlikely friendship born of teasing, complaining, and messing with Dustin and Robin. Steve had swallowed his attraction to you, letting it surface only in moments when he could appreciate you without you noticing. Which means “appreciating” your ass when you bend over to pick something up. Or “appreciating” your tits when you bend over to pick something else up. The fact that you haven’t noticed how consistently Steve drops shit is honestly concerning.

Steve’s not a particularly eloquent guy. He can be smooth when he wants to be, but if his current season of striking out constantly has taught him anything, it’s the fact that he isn’t getting any better at speaking. All he knows is he’s desperate to change the look on your face that says you don’t believe in your own looks.

He doesn’t think. He just pulls you against the front of his body roughly, closing the gap he had been maintaining.

“Steve, what - oh!” you gasp when you feel it. Him. Hard against you, his fingers digging into your sides to keep you pressed to him. Steve lowers his head to speak in your ear, all the while maintaining eye contact with you in the mirror.

“You’re more than a sexual object,” he says roughly. Then his hands drop to the sides of your thighs, applying pressure as he slides them up to map the slopes of your curves. “But if that’s what you wanna be, believe me. You’ve got takers, babe.”

“Steve…” you mumble under your breath. Your eyes are wide and fixed on him. Lips wetted and parted as you inhale shallowly.

Well. At least he’d managed to get the frown off your face.

Steve does his best to analyze the look in your eyes through the mirror. He doesn’t want to make you more upset accidentally. You gape for a second, remaining silent, and his hands follow the same path back down your curves, sliding around to press into the roundness of your lower belly to push you more securely against his erection.

“You’re…you’re just trying to make me feel better…” you finally say weakly. Steve’s hands slide back up to hold your hips, pressing into the dip of your waist to savor in a supple roundedness present there as well. Your eyelids flutter for a second at the touch.

“So are you saying this is making you feel better?” He asks. You don’t respond so he rolls his eyes. “You think I got hard just to make you feel better? Seriously?”

“Well I don’t know how it works…” you sputter indignantly. Steve laughs into your hair.

“Yeah I don’t believe that for a second. I think you know exactly how it works and that’s why you find it so fun to mess with me all the damn time.”

Your brow furrows and Steve shakes his head.

“Cut the crap. You do shit to turn me on every single day. It has to be intentional at this point.”

Your mouth opens and you struggle to respond.

“I don’t know what you’re…I’m not doing anything.” Then your face screws up in frustration. “If you’re making fun of me, I swear to god, Steve, I’ll -,”

“Does this feel like I’m making fun of you?!” Steve says abruptly, grinding against you. Your dress is so short that this time it rides up with the pressure, making it so that his clothed cock presses between the plush of the backs of your thighs.

You want to protest, but the moan that rips from your throat doesn’t sound much like a protest. Steve groans in your ear and your eyes whip up from where they’d rested on his hands to find his face. The hunger in his expression steals your breath.

“You cant…you can’t really want this,” you mutter. You can’t want me, is what you mean. It makes a lump form in Steve’s throat. Makes him want to hold you even closer, so he does.

“I do,” he contradicts, rocking himself against you consistently now. He’s encouraged by the way you shiver and grip at his wrists. Not pulling him off you but anchoring him to you instead. Steve brings his face to the side of yours, staring till you turn your head to look at him. In real life this time and not through the mirror. He’s disconcertingly close and your breath stutters in your chest. His eyelids are half mast as he takes you in. “The question is…do you want this?”

You kiss him before you can think any deeper about what’s going on. You kiss him before you can convince yourself that this is a prank or a pity kiss or anything else other than an attractive man you care about lavishing you with physical affection. Steve’s eyes slam shut easily and he holds you close in this awkward position. Craning your neck around as his front is pressed still to your back. His lips are insistent and hot and wet and quickly he’s forcing yours open so his tongue can slip in.

You practically swoon over the combination of his hands and his lips and his tongue. His dick presses more insistently against you and you find yourself pressing back. Shimmying your was a bit to create more friction. Triumph shooting through you when Steve let’s out a quiet, low “Fuck” in response.

When you finally pull away for a oxygen, you straighten up and look at Steve and yourself in the mirror again. You look absolutely debauched out of no where. Eyes hazy, lids low, hair and dress askew, chest rising and falling in a restless pant. Steve ignores the opportunity to breathe, instead using the pause to start kissing your neck.

You watch him work at your skin. His jaw moving and throat tensing and releasing. His hair wild and disheveled in a way that makes him look even more sinfully delicious than normal. It really isn’t fair.

You’ve always been attracted to Steve Harrington. You have eyes and a healthy libido after all. But you’d never believed someone like him could want someone like you. You did believe, however, that you were a perfect match in every respect other than aesthetic. He needed someone to challenge him. Someone to keep him humble while also supporting him and building him up. You had plenty of confidence in your humor, intelligence, and overall personality, so him becoming your best friend made sense when you both fell into it.

But with his body against yours now, it’s the first time you’ve ever even considered the meaning behind his flirtatiousness. The intent behind the hands he places comfortingly on your shoulders or thighs. Hope bloomed hot and hesitant in your core as you watched his hands begin to roam and grope at parts he’d never dared touch before.

“This…this okay?” he asks into your skin as he tentatively cups one of your breasts. He cracks an eye open to look at you in the mirror and when you nod, he allows his hand to close tighter around you. You swallow another moan.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” he whispers back, not looking up from your tits which he’s begun massaging through your dress. You grasp at his wrist and shake him to get his attention.

“Steve.”

The strain in your voice has his eyes snapping up to yours and his hands stopping immediately. He looks sheepish.

“Do you not like that? I can stop -,”

He goes to remove his hands from your chest but you slam your hands down over the backs of his to keep him fondling you.

“No!” you say hastily. Steve seems confused so you continue. “Remember what you said about there being ‘takers’ for me?”

Steve bites his lip, not enjoying the thought of how many other guys would find you thoroughly fuckable. But he nods.

“Yeah?”

“Well…” you say before you can overthink and ruin this. Your mind is reeling and your body is aching. The signs are too clear to question and even if this wasn’t what it seemed to be, you didn’t feel strong enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. You bite your own lip. “Would you…would you take me?”

Steve stops breathing. You can tell because his breaths were coming in heavy before and now suddenly his chest is still against your back. You don’t let yourself question it. Instead you widen your stance and lean over, flattening your palms against the wall on either side of the mirror. In the reflection of the glass Steve gets a good look down your dress into the cleavage below. Looking behind you he gets a good look up your dress where it’s ridden up, revealing a pair of dainty lace panties.

The groan that rips through him seems to restart his lungs because suddenly he’s practically hyperventilating behind you. His hands land heavy on your hips and he grinds against you with even more purpose. Steve’s instinct is to ask again if you’re sure, but you hum a low “yess” and drop your head to hand between your arched shoulders.

You’re into this. Maybe even as much as he is. It’s time to man the fuck up and take what he wants. What you want to give him.

So Steve places his hand on the dip of your lower back to encourage a deeper arch. You oblige him, sticking your ass out further in the process, and he groans.

“I’ll show you how you should be treated, babe, don’t you worry,” Steve says hoarsely. A thrill runs through you at his words but he continues. “But you have to do one thing for me.”

“Anything,” you answer breathlessly. You’re surprised by your own enthusiasm but you can’t help it, visions running through your mind of what he could ask of you. You mentally prepared yourself to drop to your knees, mouth already prematurely watering.

“Acknowledge how sexy you are,” he says, suddenly wrenching you upwards so you can see yourself more fully in the mirror again. Your back is once more flush with his chest and you moan at the sight of his hand wrapping lightly, delicately around the base of your throat.

“That....I’m...” you struggle with the words and then shake your head. Steve’s hand slides down and pulls at one strap and then the other, letting gravity do the work of exposing your breasts to the air and him. Steve’s eyes roll back and he bites his fist.

“I mean come on,” he moans. He gestures to your chest. “What the fuck is this? You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You can barely meet his intense gaze in the mirror but try your best.

“You...wouldn’t have dated me in high school.”

Steve blinks. Completely taken back by the juxtaposition of your sudden vulnerability and the absolute fantasy of having your body against him, tits out and ready to be fucked. It takes a second for his brain to work through it but then he’s laughing.

“We wouldn’t have even been friends in high school. I would have made fun you and Robin if we’d ever crossed paths. Probably would have beaten the shit out of Dustin if he’d been old enough. And you know why?” he asks. You’re confused by his laughter so you shake your head and he continues. “Because I was an absolute asshole. It’s a me problem. High school Steve was a dick and honestly you’re better off not even knowing him.”

His tone is flippant but you can see the strain in his features. He feels guilt about his past and you know that. You suddenly feel guilty for letting your insecurities drag up an ancient history that you know he’s more than happy to move past. Comforted, you squeeze one of his hands that now rests on your hip and smile.

“And these days you’re only sometimes a dick,” you tease. Steve’s smile becomes more genuine, but his features screw up when you catch him off guard and bend over again, grinding against his still present erection. His fingers dig into your hips harshly.

“I’ll show you a dick,” he hisses, pressing into you in a shallow thrust. It’s absurd and it makes you laugh, finally free of the tension that had coated everything up to this point.

“Please do, Harrington. You’ve kept me waiting,” you respond, impatiently wiggling your hips. Steve abruptly pushes the bottom of your dress up, exposing your ass and leaving all of the material bunched around your middle. He lands a slap against your right ass cheek that has you squealing, finding his eyes in the mirror. They glint with mischief.

“I know you liked that. You forget you’ve told me what gets you hot,” he says simply. You flashback to the weed fueled honesty session in the Family Video parking lot you both had had one night and tingles erupt at the thought of what else he might remember. But then you remember what he’d said.

“Yeah well you like it when a girl touches herself, right?” you say cockily, lifting one hand from the wall and brining it to slide from your jaw, down your neck, to cup your breast and play with your nipple. While doing so you accentuate the curve in your back. Steve watches, swallowing audibly, but then fast as lightning rips your hand away from yourself and presses it back to the wall. His full body doubles over yours. You gasp.

“Usually I do, yeah. But I’ve waited so long that right now only I get to touch this body, understand?” You’re nodding before you can even think about it. When he trusts that you’ll leave both your hands pressed to the wall, Steve let’s his hands return to you. He slides up from your knees to grip fully at your inner thighs. He manhandles your hips, moving them side to side in order to grind your ass against his tented jeans. He palms up your soft stomach beneath the bunched dress. And then he cups your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, making you gasp again. His chuckle is low.

“See this is better. I’m the one who appreciates this body anyway. I should give her what she deserves.”

Your eyes are heavy lidded as they hold one another in the reflection. There’s hunger there that you’ve never known in your short lived sexual experience and suddenly you know for a goddamn fact that if this man is not inside you soon you will combust.

“Steve can you…can we just…?” You move against him impatiently and he leans in to kiss your neck with a chuckle.

“I’ve got you, babe. No need to beg.” The cockiness makes you roll your eyes but you hate that a fresh wave of wetness coats the tops of your inner thighs.

“I wasn’t gonna beg.”

“You weren’t gonna beg?” Steve asks, feigning shock. Your hands ball into fists against the wall.

“Pull your fucking pants down, Harrington.”

“Can do,” Steve says with a big grin. He unbuckles his belt and pulls down his jeans swiftly, in spit of how tight they are, leaving them and his underwear bunched at his thighs. He pushes you down farther and you have to strain to look up and watch him.

Over the curve of your ass you are treated to the sight of Steve Harrington stroking his massive cock. He hadn’t been called King Steve for nothing, that was for sure. His fist moves over it smoothly and with a familiarity that has you jealous of his fucking hand. Your eyes are wide and he seems pleased by your reaction.

“This work for you?” he teases. You bite your lip and consider your response.

“You’re sexy, Steve Harrington.”

A flush spreads across his face and down your neck and you’ve never been so smug in your entire life. But to his credit Steve clears his throat and grins.

“Thank you, babe,” he says before leaning over your body and rutting his cock against your core, leaving you gasping. He chuckles in your ear. “See, that’s how you take a compliment.”

“It’s not a compliment when it’s a fact, Steve,” you argue. But then he’s pulling down your panties and your legs begin to shake in anticipation.

“I don’t know because this is both a compliment and a fact - you’re fucking soaked!” he groans, running two fingers through your folds to collect the slick there. He flashes you a smile in the mirror that you can’t return because he suddenly sinks two fingers into you, causing your jaw to drop. “Which sexy thing in the mirror did this to you - you or me.”

“Shut - fuck. Shut up, Harrington,” you grit out.

He laughs and starts kissing your neck in tandem to his thrusting fingers. You bite back a moan, especially when his free hand lifts to play with your nipple. As someone who’d never been afforded much foreplay, you probably could have taken him two minutes into your argument, but Steve Harrington is warming you up. Getting you ready for him. And the realization makes you want to melt into a puddle at his feet.

When he adds a third finger and your hips work overtime, practically riding his hand, Steve finally pulls away, pressing a swirl into your clit that has you spasming as he takes his hand from between your legs.

“I think you’re good and ready,” he mutters, almost to himself. You nod feverishly up at him, swiveling your neck to try and see him directly. He shakes his head and nudges you back to the mirror. “No you’re gonna watch. You’re gonna watch me fuck you and see how well you take it.”

His words almost have your eyes rolling back in your head, but you hum an affirmative and go back to watching him in the mirror. Steve rubs the head of his cock through your folds and the way his face crumbles in pleasure has you absolutely preening. Then a sudden thought has your back rigid.

“Steve. Condom,” you say softly but urgent. His eyes snap open and he’s nodding immediately.

“Yeah sorry. Sorry!” He leans down and nips at the swell of your ass playfully and you yelp at the casual intimacy of it, heating up further as he reaches into the pocket of his bunched up jeans and pulls a foil packet from his wallet.

“How old is that?” you challenge with a cocked brow. He studies the packet for a second before looking up at you grinning.

“New enough that it’s not expired but old enough to have been collecting dust in there for a while,” he says, ripping it open and rolling the condom over his length. You bite your lip at the subtle confirmation that he hasn’t been with anyone else for a long time, trying to tamp down how good that makes you feel. Steve notices. “You like that? The fact that you’re the only one?”

You roll your eyes and repeat the refrain of the night.

“Shut up, Harrington.”

Steve pushes forward, one hand wrapped around the base of his dick, the other hand grounding on your hip. He spreads your folds with the head to cover himself in your slick. You sigh at the feeling.

“You’re not the only one whose been in a dry spell,” he says with a chuckle. You groan, letting your eyes slide closed while the hand that’s on your hip slips between your thighs to rub circles into your clit. He’s making you wetter. Prepping you further to accommodate his size. Again you feel overwhelmed by his attentiveness and how different this is from all your previous experiences. “You know the difference between us though, right?”

“Hm?” you ask, fully distracted by the pressure of his cock at your entrance and his finger on your bud.

“The difference is my dry spell is cuz I was waiting for you.” He says it simply. As if he’s not dropping a bomb on you in an incredibly intimate moment. Your eyes fly open and find his in the mirror and he’s grinning but this isn’t a joke. Your mouth opens to respond but the only thing that comes out is a moan when he chooses that exact moment to push all the way into you.

The feeling is otherworldly. It’s a stretch you’ve never felt and it’s got your legs turning to jelly and your face crumpling just on the line between pleasure and pain. You search for Steve’s face again in the mirror like a tether in a storm and he looks as overwhelmed as you feel. His eyes are screwed shut and he’s biting his lip so hard you’re worried because you sure as fuck want to kiss those plush lips again.

“St-Steve…” you all but whimper. He finds you in the mirror and looks almost distraught.

“Sorry yeah I’ll move it’s just…fuck.”

The desperation in his tone is such a boost to your ego that it’s got you rocking back into him.

“Feels good, Steve.” It comes out in practically a slur, but it seems music to his ears with the way he leans forward, gripping your waist and pulling out inch by inch.

“Feels incredible,” he contradicts before slamming back in. The suddenness of the movement has you clenching around him with surprise and he groans, fingers digging into your soft flesh. “Baby. Baby.”

Baby.

Not babe. Baby.

You hear the word ringing in your ears and your entire body reacts, letting him drive in even deeper somehow. It punches the air out of your lungs and you don’t let yourself think before responding.

“I like that.” It comes out in a rush. Steve huffs a laugh and starts finding a regular pace.

“You like that, huh? That the spot?”

“No,” you try responding but cut yourself off with a gasp. “I mean yeah, but no. I mean I…like you calling me baby.”

Steve’s eyes melt watching you. Saying sweet shit like that while taking his cock so well.

“Good. I wanna keep calling you baby,” he says quietly.

Your gazes connect and you could swear your hearing cuts out. Time stops and everything in your view fades into fuzzy blurriness, leaving only room for him. Steve had slowed his thrusts, but as you focus on one another he renews his efforts. Not going faster, per se, but harder. Deeper. Your hands do what they can to keep you propped up against the wall, but soon your cheek is mashed against the mirror. You’re completely unable to stop the momentum of his thrusts from driving you forward with each upswing.

“Defeats the purpose - fuck! Of the mirror if you’re not watching the show, baby,” Steve grunts out after a few minutes. Sweat has begun beading on his forehead and he’s losing patience with the distance between you. He’s enjoying fucking you from behind - it’s usually his favorite way of fucking - but there’s something missing. Before long he’s pulling out, much to your vocal protestation, and hauling you over to your long empty bed.

“Wanna do this now,” he says as explanation. You don’t care. All you care about is the relief you feel when he sinks back into you. He has you on your back now, knees pushed up to your ribs. But you do care when everything comes into focus and you realize his face is right there. And the weight of his body is on you and around you and suddenly you need nothing more on this earth than to kiss him.

So you do.

Steve hums into your mouth when you lurch up to press it to his. Your tongues fight for dominance and a line of saliva connects you when you finally part enough to pant for much needed air.

“Holy shit, Steve. Fuck!” You slam your head back down against the pillow, doing your best to lift your hips to meet each of his thrusts.

“I’m kinda mad we haven’t been doing this all along,” Steve admits with a grunting laugh.

“We were friends,” you reason, bucking against him when his fingers find your clit again. with the way he has you folded in half, the added stimulation has you rocketing towards orgasm at a breakneck pace.

“Aha, ‘were?’ So we’re not friends anymore?” Steve asks.

“How many friends have you been inside?” you ask, but then your eyes widen. “Never mind, I don’t want to know the answer to that.”

Steve barks out a laugh, shaking his head before pressing his forehead to yours.

“Only you, baby,” he says good-naturedly. “Don’t think I can settle for just friends now, though.”

“No?” you ask absently. You’re beginning to ascend and losing yourself in the feeling. He can tell by the way you’re beginning to spasm irregularly around him.

“No, I need the whole sexy package,” he teases. You hear even more than before at the implication. That he might want all of you, and for more than just this, in this moment. You bite your lip and don’t say anything but his lips find your throat and you whimper. Steve sounds impatient when he speaks again. “Tell me you want me, too.”

You blink up at the ceiling and sputter.

“Wh-what?”

Steve pulls back, his thrusts slowing to a roll. He looks a little more tense. A little more vulnerable.

“You’re not the only one who needs to hear it, you know.”

You almost laugh at that but swallow it when you see he’s serious.

“Of course I want you,” you respond firmly. “Obviously.”

“It’s not obvious to me…” he mutters, dropping eye contact. You crane your neck to follow him.

“Steve, you’re hot as fuck - ,”

“That’s not -,” he tries to cut you off dismissively but you continue over him.

“AND you’re my best friend. I love being with you. In any way.” You roll your pelvis and look shyly up at him when he meets your gaze again. “But I’ve been wanting this way the most.”

Steve perks up, his hand grabbing yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanted this?”

“Since that first time we spoke at Scoops Ahoy,” you confess. Steve’s thrusts come in faster now so your breathing picks up again. He snorts indignantly.

“I asked you out that day! You turned me down!”

“Well yeah, cuz I thought you were still a dick back then, Steve,” you reply with a massive smile. “We’ve been over this. Oh god…”

“You like this dick now, though, don’t you baby,” he intones, nothing but smooth Harrington charm. You don’t have it in you anymore to laugh or disagree.

“Mmmmhm…”

“You know you’re beautiful, right?” You seem just fucked out enough at this point that you finally won’t protest and he’s right. Your head lolls around on the pillow and you blink up at him dumbly. Steve takes in the bouncing of your breasts and the way your curves jiggle with each impact and he swears under his breath. “Gonna remind you how beautiful you are till you believe me, baby.”

He drives himself in all the way to hilt, holding himself there deep inside you till you’re clawing at him and clinging to him, moaning around gasps. Steve’s huge, but even better than that is the fact that he knows what to do with it. You ache with the supreme stretch of him. Pulse around his throbbing length in a way that makes you dizzy while you look up at him with glassy eyes that show you’re at least kind of understanding the depth of what he’s saying to you.

Steve can’t even begin to comprehend how he was lucky enough to finally find himself in this position. With you beneath him, staring up at him as if he hung the moon and the stars rather than simply stating plain, painfully obvious facts. He sees the crease in your brow as you wrestle with all the emotion he’s making you feel, however, and he wants to ease it. There’s been enough agony tonight. Right now, all he wants you to feel is pleasure.

“Hey,” he whispers suddenly, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose against yours as his thrusts start up again. A hazy smile lights up your features.

“Hey,” you respond weakly.

“Still worried you’re not fuckable?” he teases. You huff a laugh that barely sounds like one because Steve chooses that moment to return his fingers to your clit, making you whimper.

“You seem to…mmm. You like…oh fuck…”

“Easy for you to say,” Steve chuckles, but the heat’s not lost on him either at this point. His face is screwed up in pleasure and the arm holding him up beside you is beginning to shake. He’s so fucking close, he just needs you to cum first because no matter the growth he’s gone through, he’s still King Steve and he’s gotta break you first for his ego, damn it.

Finally you whimper the magic words.

“Steve! Oh…’m so close…there…”

Steve knows what that means, so he changes nothing about what he’s doing, just focuses on doing it better. A deeper push against your sweet spot. A harder swirl against your clit.

“Come on, baby, c’mon,” he talks you through it and then you’re crashing over the edge. Seizing in his arms and clamping down on him in every way possible. Constricting your arms and legs around him. Pussy spasming and locking him in, making it hard to continue to steadily pull in and out.

The sudden onslaught of pressure has Steve toppling over soon after. He lets out a guttural grown and buries his face in your neck, his hips stuttering into yours as he spills into the condom. Though it accepts none of his cum, your pussy milks his pulsing cock for all its worth. His shuddering breath matches your own and you gasp and cling to one another as you slowly come back to earth.

It’s quiet for a few minutes in the aftermath. Aside from your combined slowing pants, of course. Steve’s face is still buried in your neck and it takes a while for you to regain feeling enough to recognize that he’s administering soft kisses to the skin there.

It all floods back into focus. The fact that you had been getting ready for a party (one that you were now astronomically late to). The insecurities you had exposed to your best friend. The insecurities your best friend had exposed to you.

You want to be worried about it. You want to feel stressed about what this will do to your friendship and about how he will look at you when he finally pulls back and sees you sweaty and disheveled and…and…and…

And Steve pulls back to give you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. And he’s sweaty. And disheveled. And luminous. Before you even realize it you’re stretching out your hand to touch his cheek. His eyes slide closed as he leans into your touch. Turns to press a kiss into your palm.

Your lip quivers and you do your best to swallow any of the negative self talk that had tried to bubble to the surface. When Steve’s eyelids float open again he sighs.

“I know you were thinking about it, but we’re not making it to that fucking party. I don’t care what you say.”

The laugh you let out is strangled. Rocketed right back to old times and the root of your teasing friendship. You go to swat at him and he grabs your wrist, nipping at the back of your hand.

“Hey, it’s your fault for being so sexy. Think I got my fill fucking you once? Not a chance, baby.”

His grin lights up the room. You manage to match it.

“Shut up, Harrington.”

~*~

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things smut #best friend!steve harrington

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muntitled · 2 months

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫

Summary: Visiting home brings up old feelings for the boy next door…

Myung Jaehyun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Boy Next Door AU, Non-idol!AU, Language, Mutual pining, Hyperfeminine!Reader, Childhood friends to lovers, Smut +18 (Minors DNI), dry humping, slight ddlg themes, praise kink, dom/sub themes, Dom!Jaehyun, Needy!Jaehyun, Hyperfeminine!reader, Premature Orgasm, Loser!Jaehyun, Needy sex

The lack of actual boy next door fanfic for Boynextdoor is harrowing...

You did not hate your childhood. In fact, you would venture to say that you should look quite fondly of most of it because most of it had taken place here- in a picturesque wasteland of suburbia, and as you drive through the narrow main road, staring at glimpses of childhood relics, you begin to frown. Every memory was so unequivocally perfect except, maybe, for the ones containing him.

"Can you at least try to sound like you're not going kill yourself while you’re there?" Your best friend's voice drones on from the car speaker. Her words, no matter how valid, elicit an eye roll from you, effectively stopping your journey down memory lane. "It would be awful to have to drive down to your childhood home just because you tried to kill yourself, I refuse to have that be the way you introduce your college best friend to your mother."

"Relax," you affirm in a voice groggy from underuse. Spending an entire 15 hour drive beguiled to your car without any company except for maybe of course your Destiny's Child album and a swelling sea of dread in the pit of your stomach.

This would be the first time in a year that you were visiting your childhood home since you left for college. The first time anyone who mapped the outline of your childhood, would perceive you as the budding, blossoming, depressive adult you have become. You felt like a storm coming back into your picturesque childhood neighbourhood, threatening to sweep everything away. That feeling of dread only doubles when your driveway appears on the bottom of a hill. The cul-de-sac of your childhood with all its trimmed hedges, neat fencing and constantly perfect shudders, sends you hurtling into nostalgia and once again, common ordinary dread.

"What If I just turn the car around right now, would that be bad?"

"I have never met a college student so unhappy to be home-" Your best friend mumbles, "You're going to be living the dream!? Actual balanced meals!? Please take one for the team,"

Almost immediately, her words trigger a rumble of hunger from your stomach and you groan as your car curls into the cul-de-sac. Your heart is hammering in your ear, not for the reasons anyone might think, but because of those memories locked in your childhood. As you drive, you try to keep your eye on your house. Your perfect homely house.

Your eye doesn't even stray to the house beside it!

Honest to God!

Not even once.

"Is there a reason you don't wanna go home so bad?"

"The weather is so bad," you say almost automatically, "I think the line's about to cut,"

"Bitch, you only avoid my line of questioning like this when it's about some dick-"

"Jeez, the weather’s messing with the connection."

"If you drop this call TRUST you will be dealt w-"

"I'll call when I unpack, love you-" when you drop the call, your car is parked in the driveway and your shoulders are slumped over. You contemplate waiting around in the driveway until some relative forcibly pulls you out but that thought is quickly made obsolete when you hear a harsh knocking on the door. Your stress levels gravitate to an all time high as you watch him, waving frantically at you from the other side of the glass. His smile is bright and just as crooked as ever. His wave is frantic and energetic; Jaehyun is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, so unequivocally happy to reunite with his childhood best friend.

His only friend. The return of that voice in your head is one of things you had been anticipating on this trip. Mainly because your childhood had been riddled with so much self esteem issues, your feelings practically metamorphosed into that voice you now hear now. That's all you'll ever be to him. All you've ever been, Your mind remarks in a distasteful spit of venom.

"Get your face off of my windows unless cleaning my car for the foreseeable future is a job you're actually interested in." You say coolly as you slide out of the vehicle. Jaehyun gives space for you to stretch, all while shuffling from one foot to the next, picking at the sleeves of his flannel with a dopey smile like he was one second away from proudly telling you he 'frew up at school'.

"Still as homicidal as ever." He says your name with a familiarity that nearly knocks you unconscious. You focus on lifting your arms to the air, and ironing out tje various aches in your back.

"How long has your ass been waiting here anyway?" It's Jaehyun's turn to nearly evade eye contact at your question. He finds it exceedingly difficult to follow along with what you're saying when you so very clearly have boobs now.

"Since my mom told me you'll be back,” He says before immediately adding, “hey- how long have those been there?" You drop your arms with furrowed brows as you look at him.

"What?"

You await a response that doesn't arrive. Jaehyun only points nonchalantly towards your chest. You look down at your v-neck and back at Jaehyun. "I don't know what you're talking about," you roll your eyes as you shuffle past him.

"YOU HAVE BOOBS NOW?!” He exclaims, “EW-"

You turn around to face him, pushing your acrylic nail into his sternum, "I've always had tits- sh-shut up-"

"You literally finished high school without them. I would have noticed as the tiddy connoisseur, trust me."

You find yourself embarrassed, not by his avid teasing (this is something you've been forced to deal with every single day of your childhood and adolescence,) but you find your stomach warming for completely different reasons. Your Jaehyun-obsessed brain wants to pick apart and dissect his entire statement. Maybe he's finally noticing you now? Maybe this age-old crush will evaporate and metamorphose into something else.

You cannot speak because your nail is still digging intently at his sternum and he's staring down at you, as if waiting for whatever venom laced comeback you had waiting for him.

All you're able to focus on however, is the way in which you're staring intently at each other. For him, this proximity is probably nothing, but for you... "Also when you get in there, please for, the love of God, act surprised."

The spell is immediately broken and you're once again brought back down to earth.

The cul-de-sac.

The driveway.

The afternoon sun, surrounded by a cooling breeze.

"Please don't tell me I'm about to walk into another family dinner," your eyes grew heavy with fatigue at just the mere thought of all your family dinners before. 'Family' being used very loosely because he always somehow found himself in every single one.

"You know how our moms can get," you did. You really did.

"Ugh," you exclaim, trudging up the house steps, "1 hour of this and I'm done." Your hand pauses before the doorknob and you turn to Jaehyun with a bored, almost questioning stare. "Aren't you gonna get my things?"

His grins a wolfish grin before clutching at the t-shirt under his flannel, "Oh how I've missed being bossed around by you-"

"Fuck you-" You chuckle out. Jaehyun only turns his torso sloppily as he continues walking to your car.

"A guy could hope!"

And just like that, that smile is gone. The moment is sour. Because whatever he meant, you knew from childhood experience that it did not mean what you wanted it to.

Meeting everyone all at once had been as jarring as you expected it to be. You ceremoniously heeded Jaehyun's advice, acting so completely shocked when your relatives and Jaehyun's family yelled 'Surprise' in unison. Everyone was sporting smiles that crinkled their eyes and arms open for hugs. Before you were made privy to every line of questioning surrounding school, Jaehyun's mom swept you into her arms.

"How's is my daughter in law-" there was no time for her to watch you grow tense at her words because Jaehyun who was lugging your luggage in, calmly affirmed, "She has tits now, apparently-"

"MYUNG JAEHYUN-"

The evening had progressed with all the domesticity that you lacked during college and you found yourself at immense ease throughout dinner. Home is still home. Jaehyun is still Jaehyun. Everything that once was, still is and you took a second after dinner to ruminate in the feelings of comfort seeping into your entire being.

That is until your mother ruined it by inserting a very unnecessary, wholly uncalled for fact during dessert drudgery.

"Any boys on campus?"

"It's campus," you snorted as you stuffed your face with malva pudding, "of course there are boys," Throughout the course of your dinner, Jaehyun, who is dutifully seated directly beside you, has taken to swinging his leg against yours. A provocation from childhood that you almost immediately latch onto until you are both playing a violent game of footsies under the table.

"No boys to smooch on campus," Jaehyun speaks up, petulantly puckering his lips at you. All you're able to do is try and ignore him which proves to be a dangerous feat.

"I should think there's a new boy." Your mom says before pointing at you and Jaehyun with the flick of her utensils, "The primary school crush you two had on each other has gone on for way too-"

"MOM!?"

Your mother's slip of the tongue instantly grabs all of Jaehyun's attention. He's perking up in his seat like a rottweiler at attention with his head snapped in your direction.

"Crush?" His eyes falter, scanning the side of your face as if he was perceiving you anew. All traces of a smile are gone as he dumbly asks "What crush?"

"I've been driving for an insane amount of hours," you begin by pushing yourself out of your dining chair, "I should unpack and get to bed-"

"W-Wait I can help." You glare daggers at Jaehyun, that look alone should be enough to stop him from rising from his seat.

"Don't be rude. Your best friend hasn't seen you in ages" your mother scolds, lightly prompting your hands to curl at your sides, "We'll take care of the dishes."

Your ascension up the stairs had been charged with tension and filled with something else entirely. You walk ahead of Jaehyun as if trying to distract yourself from his presence, but everything about him is so completely there, "I can feel you staring at my ass," you mumble, needing to fill the air with something, anything at all as you reach the upstairs landing. "Guilty," he says as he follows you into your childhood room which is much the same.

Jaehyun beelines for your twin bed, almost immediately flinging himself on the childish quilted bedspread. "This place is still the same..."

"So are you actually going to be useful, because if not," you fold your arms as you stare him down, "You can leave?"

His mouth hangs open in a lopsided grin as he reaches around to grab at the very first plushie he finds. One of many.

"You still sleep with these?" He asks instead, as if your question meant nothing at all. He plays idly with the stuffed dinosaur in his hands as he leans his head back against the pillows. Seeing him here, amongst your things, brought an avalanche of nostalgia and a wave of hopelessness. He is still so attractive, even after all these years.

You sigh, "Jaehyun if you're not gonna-"

"So was that true?" There it is. The shotgun question that had been hanging like damp washing between the two of you. With your nerves shot to hell, you decide to lower your behind on the very edge of the twin bed as you busy your hands with folding your clothes. Your back is turned to him but you can feel those piercing, smiling eyes watching you.

"Is what true?"

"C'mon, don't do that,'' there is a noise of shuffling behind you. Your heart hammers in its cage with the dip in the bed sheets and you can feel him seated directly behind you. You look down at your lap to find that he's placed your plushie there, as if to distract you from the fact that his legs were now framing yours, his front pressed against your back.

"You know what," he whispers straight into your ear, sounding as serious as you've ever heard him.

Craning your neck backwards to let your eyes fall on Jaehyun would prove to be a cataclysmic mistake. It only heightens the wobble in your voice as you say, "The crush I had on you was juvenile and childish and frankly didn't mean any-"

"Dude..." he whispers, eyes seemingly boring into every single square inch of your face, "I've dreamt about being your boyfriend since I fucking found out what a boyfriend is." His words knock the breath cleanly out of your lungs and your voice grows quiet as he lifts his hand to the side of your face. "What..."

"Yeah!"

His voice is loud and boisterous but you're still somehow locked tightly in your stupor.

"Nu uh," you mumble, your eyes daringly drifting across his lips, "You're lying?"

"How am I lying, angel?" you suck in a deep breath because his thumb is rubbing dizzying circles against your cheek now and his voice has descended a gravelly octave. He dips his head down, experimentally placing a feathlight kiss on the corner of your bottom lip. So innocent, but charged with so many expletives, the possibilities rush straight to your clit.

Still, you soldier on.

"B-Because remember what you said at our grade 6 dance?"

He's not listening. He's not listening because he's finally got a taste of you and he'd be damned if he didnt get more. Jaehyun cranes your neck until you're facing forward once more and you gasp when his lips descend on the skin between your neck and shoulder. "Enlighten me," he mumbles against your skin, placing more featherlight kisses there before he quickly grows bored and decides to stick out his tongue experimentally. You turn into molten clay in his hands and the whimper that escapes you is borderline pornagraphic. This is the stuff all Jaehyun's previous fantasies are made of.

"W-When you asked me out- you said..." your voice drifts off because Jaehyun can't help but let his right hand reach around until he squeezes your torso impossibly closer. All the pudge, all the skin, all the ways he's been dreaming about having you this close and you were there for the taking this whole time.

"Fuck, I'm obsessed with you…" He says, and he does a very odd thing. He buries his face in your neck and just sniffs. This momentary slip of weakness allows you to regain some of your senses as you say,

"Y-You asked me to be your date," Jaehyun is drunk on the very scent of you now and his cock throbs as he brings you impossibly closer against his lap,

"What else did I say, baby," he wants you to carry on talking. Anything that might distract you from wanting him to leave. Anything that might keep you here just a little longer. His cock throbs at that thought alone and it has him rubbing against your skin like a dog in heat.

"Y-You said you didn't have anyone else to go with-" you suck in a deep breath through your air as Jaehyun's hand venture underneath your shirt. He slithers his hand up in a hurry until his cool fingertips are grazing the flesh of your breasts. Like a crazed adolescent driven by his hormones alone, he pulls your bra down, all while tonguing and licking at your neck like his life depended on it.

"S'sorry," he mumbles incoherently behind you, and his hand on the side of your face cranes your head backwards so that you're facing him once more, "So'so'sorry," he places a sloppy, apologetic kiss on your mouth which immediately triggers a very deep desire that is almost as old as you are.

"I wanted you so bad-" you admit with a gasp, and Jaehyun feels your confession shoot straight down his spine. He plasters his front into your backside, pressing his hips against your ass in an apparent wave of lust.

"I've always needed you," he ventures to admit, pressing his bulge against your backside as if needing to persuade you further.

Those words of affirmation are all you need , all you've needed for a lifetime and you immediately turn until you're lumbering onto him before letting your knees frame his hips. His hands instinctively grip onto, your supple, full hips and the feeling of your softness on top of him alone is enough to have him groaning into the air as his hips stutter up at you.

While you crash your lips against his once more you lift yourself away but his hips follow, "The fuck are you doing!?" He mumbles against your lips before biting lightly at your bottom lip.

"Too heavy," you mumble, "I don't wanna be too hea-"

Your words dissolve in your throat and in its place, a yelp escapes as Jaehyun forcibly pulls you down onto his sweatpants-clad lap. "You did this to me," he says, watching you intently as if scolding you, "You did this to me and now you wanna run away?" He scoffs as his hands begins to guide your hips against his. You're both in very flimsy material. Him in his sweatpants and you in similar attire except your sweatpants were a dusky pink. "Youre so pretty grinding on me like that fuck-" he speaks quickly and fluidly as he leans backward onto your bed, making more space to watch you grind yourself on top of him.

His attention is utterly intoxicating and so you do nothing but listen when he says, "Take your top off, baby-"

You peel the item of clothing off, unclipping your bra with all the speed and sloppiness that came with your lust-filled fog/ Jaehyun doesn't help. He's all too focused on guiding your hips against his, watching you face contort into pleasure.

"Pants," he says, needing to see more of your open-mouthed moans, "Take your pants off," he whispers, "Make a mess on me," he swallows thickly, "Please,"

You lift yourself to momentarily push your sweatpants, Jaehyun lifts himself momentarily to grab at your stuffed animal.

"Whatre you-" When you straddle him again, you're completely naked while he's fully clothed. The juxtaposition only elicits another wave of lust. "Hold this while you ride me," he stuffs your plushie against your chest, watching your mouth hang open as you lower your clit onto his bulge,

"O-Oh my fuck, Jaehyun-"

"Just like that, angel, fuck,' he throws his head back momentsrily stumped by the weight of his pleasure. He's trying to be dominant for you. He's trying to keep his control for you, but you're moving your hips against his, with his bulge between your legs, using him for absolute filth. It ruins him entirely.

His voice cracks when he lifts his head to look up at you and say, "Oh my god, you feel so fucking good, oh my god," When Jaehyun curses, your cunt only presses down harder against him, prompting a needier response out of you.

Jaehyun swallows thickly, "Use me, baby," he says, "F-Fuck, just fucking use me," his hips stutter upwards and his hands on your sides grip you so tightly you know it'll leave marks. "Doing s-so well for me. Youre doing so fucking well-"

He watches with an open mouth at your tits, so pillowy and full, bouncing as you rub yourself against him and he completely loses it.

"Fuck- p-please cum, I need to cum so bad-" Jaehyun gasps, wracking another torrid moan out of you as you descend almost immediately into your orgasm. Jaehyun watches with an open mouth and half lidded eyes, unable to stop himself from fucking up into you. He wraps his arm against your waist and buries his face in your chest. You rake your fingers through his hair and he shivers

"No way you just made me cum in my pants," he is so incredibly overcome with embarrassment, he dreads having to look up at you.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"No, Jaehyun, its-"

"I mean about not being honest sooner. That was bad of me, he mumbles into your chest and you chuckle at his petulance, "I'm sorry,"

"Apology accepted for making me wait so long..."

#boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor smut #jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #myung jaehyun #myung jaehyun x reader #myung jaehyun smut

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6ix9inewiturmom · 2 months

Text

Moments with Chris

Summary: Chris can’t stop making out you

Warnings: making out, choking slightly? getting caught?

A/N: HC WITH CHRIS MAKING OUT WITH YOU?! how we feelin?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

𝜗𝜚 ever since Chris and I started dating and actually became comfortable with each other we cannot stop making out.

𝜗𝜚 were in boston visiting his family and were all watching a movie, Chris' arms around me and looks around and noticing everyone is asleep. chris looks around and looks back at me and smirks. grabs my waist placing me on his lip and kisses me passionately girpping my waist firmly and sliding his tongue in my mouth.

𝜗𝜚 chris was filming a video and he came up stairs to “use the bathroom” and he barges into our shared room and smirks at me.

“alright ma i got 5 min” he says while climbing over me placing his legs on either side of my thighs.

“chris go film” i say through laughter

“nah im good” he smiles and leans in and kisses me deeply and with desire using his hand to grip my throat using his tongue to explore my mouth.

“CHRIS HURRY THE FUCK UP” nick screams from downstairs which interrupts our make out session.

𝜗𝜚 matt, nick, chris and i went to target to get some stuff for their new video and chris and i followed a little farther behind nick and matt holding hands when chris pulled me to an empty isle pinning my back into a shelf. chris kissed me deeply and poking his tongue to enter my mouth and use our tongues to fight for dominance , he obviously won. then he pulled away hearing the sound of a buggy getting close by.

“could you not have waited?” i smiled with a small whisper in my voice

“not when my girlfriend looks like this” he took my hand and spun me around before finding nick and matt.

“where the hell were you guys at?” matt says with annoyance in his voice”

“Y/N found these chips she was lookin for a while ago…” his voice trailed off.

“yeah? what were they called? lipstick flavor? cause that’s what’s all over ya lips chris” matt says using his pointed finger to trace around his lips

𝜗𝜚 Tara invented chris and i to her one million party and chris and i was dancing to a song he liked and i had my back against his chest dancing when he used my hips to spin me around and place his hand beneath my jaw and lean down and kissed me with passion and lust in his kiss using his tongue and using mine to intertwine with each other’s and i quickly pull away from embarrassment.

“chris not here please” i say smiling nervously checking my surroundings knowing tara was filming and not wanting chris and i making out on camera.

“yeah? why not? hm” still holding my jaw

“i would not like to be filmed chris” i softly smile

chris places a quick peck on my lips before holding my waist getting me to get more comfortable and dance with him to the music.

𝜗𝜚 matt and nick left chris and i in the car while they went to go get our pickup order of pizza and as soon as the door closed and both nick and matt left chris unbuckled me and placed me on his lap pulling me into a quick but passionate kiss. this time i use my tongue to enter in his mouth and explore his mouth with my tongue trying to fight for dominance i lost obviously. i jump at a sudden knock on the window from matt. i lean over and roll the window down.

“i just left my wallet… if you don’t mind stopping what your doing in my car before i have cum stains on my seat and grabbing my wallet so i can pay for your fucking pizza you demanded to have… that would be great” matt sarcastically smiles

i slowly get off chris’ lap and sits back in my seat as chris gets matt his wallet and rolls the window back up.

“so do you wanna continue or?” chris looks over at me

“nope just no… i’m officially turned off” i lean my head back and let out a sigh of frustration and embarrassment

“yeah no that cool i feel you…” his voice trails off trying to play it off

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N yes it’s short but I HOPE YALL ENJOY THIS!!

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets

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steddielations · 10 months

Text

Steve walks into utter chaos.

He was stopping by just to see Max, but all the increasingly concerning noise coming from the Munson’s trailer drew him over there instead. Worried that all the cursing and clattering would drown out any chance of a knock being heard, Steve lets himself in.

Eddie doesn’t even notice him come inside, too busy scrambling around the complete wreck of a kitchen.

“Dude, are you cooking or just banging pots and pans together? I thought you were dying in here.”

Eddie squawks and jumps about a foot in the air. His hair is even more disheveled than usual, barely tied down with a bandana. He’s got flour splotches on his face and all over the frilly grandma apron he’s wearing (which Steve is definitely getting a photo of and showing Dustin later) along with a suspiciously sticky goo on his fingers.

“Stop laughing at me,” Eddie groans.

“I’m not laughing,” Steve laughs, going to join him in the kitchen, “What are you doing, man?”

“Well, I’m trying to bake Wayne a cake, but at this point, I might as well give him a frosting covered rock for his birthday,” Eddie sighs, frustrated hands scrubbing the flour off his apron, “I don’t know, man, usually I just get him another mug and a pack of smokes, and he’s never asked me for anything, but I’ve put him through hell this year I just wanted— I don’t know like, to do something special but I can’t even—”

“Alright, take it off.”

Steve folds his arms and waits while Eddie just gawks at him for a moment, cheeks reddening under the patches of flour.

“What?”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Eddie scoffs, starts muttering like he does when he’s nervous and Steve cracks a smile when he realizes why.

“The apron, Eddie,” he gestures, “Hand it over.”

Another moment of confused staring and Eddie slowly gives it to him.

Steve wastes no time shaking out the flour and tying it around himself. He moves past Eddie, gets right to work clearing the mess and salvaging what ingredients he can.

“You…” Eddie peeks over Steve’s shoulder, “You know how to bake?”

“I can make a cake,” Steve shrugs, “Robin obsesses over shit sometimes, calls them her “little brain worms” or whatever. She couldn’t stop thinking about this cake she swore she had for her 5th birthday but couldn’t remember the flavor. So we made every cake recipe in her mom’s cookbook until we found the right one.”

“So Harrington’s got a secret Betty Crocker power-up, impressive.”

“Nah, just small stuff. I help Claudia with Dustin’s birthday cakes. Little shit is very particular about his red velvet.”

Eddie snorts and Steve waves him over to start washing the dishes. He does so with a small salute that smears more flour on his forehead. The word cute comes to Steve’s mind but he just rolls his eyes.

“So you dusted off your oven mitts for little old me, hm? I’m flattered.”

“Only because I like Wayne and I’d prefer if you didn’t give him food poisoning,” Steve teases, dumping out Eddie’s abomination of batter into the trash. Though he softens when he sees the way Eddie winces at it. “And I think it’s nice, you know, you doing this for him. I wanna help.”

Eddie clearly holds back a smile, looking down at the bubbles in the sink, and the cute word comes back to Steve’s mind.

“Okay well, take it easy on me. Not everyone has a bunch of mom friends teaching them to bake.”

“Oh yeah, then where’d you get this grandma apron? You just had this little number in the closet with your leather and chains?”

“No, it’s Mrs. Bennet’s and she’s not my friend,” Eddie bristles and Steve senses a hell of a backstory there, “I stole it off her clothesline.”

Steve laughs and makes Eddie tell him the whole story, all the inner workings of Forest Hills feuds. It’s nice, Steve’s been spending more time here since everything, listening to Eddie’s stories and sharing his own. It’s easy to be around Eddie, even though that pesky word won’t get out of Steve’s head.

Once the batter is finished, Steve dips a finger in to test.

“How does it taste?” Eddie asks, “Better than mine I hope.”

Steve hums around his finger, “So good, here taste,” he meant to slide Eddie the bowl, but the wires must’ve gotten crossed somewhere, because now he’s holding out a dollop of cake batter on the tip of his finger to Eddie’s mouth.

They both look down at it, then at each other again. Steve knows he should apologize, drop his hand and say it was a mistake but there’s something about the way Eddie’s looking at him, the way he subtly licks his lips is almost like— He wants this.

So Steve lets him have it.

Eddie leans in, keeps his hands at his sides and slowly guides himself down on Steve’s finger. His eyes fall shut as his mouth closes around it, like it’s too much, watching Steve watching him. It’s a lot for Steve too, the wet warmth of Eddie’s mouth, one swirl of his tongue almost makes Steve’s knees buckle.

Something comes over him, he presses his finger down just slightly, feeling Eddie’s tongue curl around the tip. It elicits a soft noise from Eddie that sends heat thrumming all through Steve. Eddie’s eyes flutter open, brows turned upwards and mouth in a plush little O around Steve’s finger, looking up at him through dark lashes, a dot of flour on his nose. The sight makes Steve’s breath catch in his throat. It’s fucking cute and hot.

Steve has to swallow his own noise when Eddie pulls off.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, a slight grin on his lips, “Really good.”

Steve’s about to do something crazy, put his finger back in Eddie’s mouth, maybe more than one this time, or just his lips on Eddie's, maybe even slip his tongue inside instead of his fingers, lick all that sweetness away until he just tastes Eddie, something— but a sudden loud knock on the door has him dropping his hand like it’s made of cement.

It’s Max, wanting to know why Steve ditched her for Eddie. She comes inside to ‘help’ which means she leans against the counter, talks about her day, complains, teases Steve and makes fun of Eddie for being demoted to dish duty.

Steve puts the cake in the oven and focuses on cleaning and composing himself. He can feel Eddie trying to meet his gaze, trying to see if Steve's going to freak out on him after that. Once Steve can look at him without feeling like he’s going to burst into flames, he gives Eddie a small reassuring smile, even throws him a wink when Max isn’t looking. Eddie gives him a smile back.

And later, after Wayne comes home and they sing happy birthday and eat the cake that Steve insists Eddie helped him with— Just the tasting part, Steve says and revels in how Eddie covers a blush with his hair— and after they walk Max home, Steve pulls Eddie behind the trailer and kisses him until he doesn’t taste like cake anymore.

for the prompts "You heard me. Take. It. Off." and "Stop laughing at me" for @highkingpenny and anon, thank you and I hope you enjoy this!!

#behave boys taste testing is a Very Important job #steddie #steddie ficlet #rueswriting #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fluff

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saturnxgojo · 4 months

Text

trios dont work. // satosugu x reader (business AU)

test to see how people like this idea

✦ Pairing: satoru gojo x suguru geto x afab!reader (she/her)

✦ Summary: trios dont work, and nine years later consequences hit

✦ Warnings: alcoholism, mention of death (mamagumi), passing out due to alcohol consumption, abandonment, clubs dunno what else lmk

✦ A/n: this so far isnt done yet, ive been writing a mucchhhh longer version since october, but i wanna see if you guys like this idea so lmk in the comments if yall want more so i can post the whole thing

✦ Wordcount: 2905

✦ ATTENTION!!! do not copy. translate, remake my work, i do not give you permission to so dont do it. also GIF not mine, credits to the creator.

full post!!!

nine years. It had been nine years.

The first year felt unrealistic. It was strange. going from being side by side with each other almost 24/7 to no contact at all. [Name] didn’t know what she did wrong, just that one day Satoru and Suguru decided they didn’t want her in their life anymore.

She remembered everything of their last day together, every once in a while it would suddenly pop back up into her head, but in that first year, it replayed again and again; every day.

“Suguru!” [Name] had called out to one of the two teenage boys as she caught up to them “hi!”

Suguru flung his arm around the girl's shoulders, pulling her into his side as she greeted Satoru.

“Where have you been, doll? We were looking for you.”

[Name] laughed as she grabbed their hands and pulled them along. “Shoko and I accidentally forgot to sleep, so when I did fall asleep around ten I was doomed to wake up late.”

The two boys looked at each other and smiled, the little ball of sunshine walking in front still pulling them along.

“So four hours of sleep and already this energetic? you still gotta teach me that trick.” Satoru commented as he looked at her, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. She replied with a ‘real magicians don’t explain their best tricks’

After they walked for a while, they finally reached the top of a mountain, looking down on the city below.

The beginning of summer break celebration was going on, kids from their private school and from public schools in the city came together to celebrate. Many people crowded the streets, there was music, and they could see everything perfectly.

“look who knows the best spots once again”

They had spent the entire afternoon on the top of that mountain since classes were canceled due to the celebration, their fellow students were down there, having fun.

But as they were probably dancing and partying; Satoru took on the challenge to chase [Name] around the hill, she yelped and ran behind the other boy, clutching to the back of his shirt for protection as she heard the two boys negotiate.

“Don’t you dare Suguru,” she warned, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. He placed one of his hands on hers and suddenly pulled her to the front. “Not you too please! ah!” she yelped, but the next moment she was giggling, she could never stand a chance against their tickle war. Ever since they found out she was very ticklish a few years ago it had become a thing for them to annoy her with. Whenever it was if she were sad, annoyed, angry, or if they felt like it, the boys would look at each other and [Name] would run instantly if she saw. (Which she most of the time didn’t and fell into their grasp giggling.)

Later at night they went back to the school, they had watched the sun set, then the fireworks, and then [name] and Satoru listened and looked in awe as Suguru pointed out constellations in the night sky. It was perfect.

At some point her eyes fell and she slept. The black haired boy looked down at her sleeping on Satoru's shoulder before giving a sad smile.

“She will never forgive us.”

“But at least we'll protect her.”

The next morning when [name] woke up in the room she shared with Shoko there was a little note on her nightstand.

‘you’re gonna be okay’ in Satoru’s messy and rushed handwriting. She got dressed and ran out of her room, looking for her best friends. what did Satoru mean with that she was gonna be okay?

She looked all over the grounds, the dining hall, library, common rooms, classrooms, the fields and gardens. Eventually she decided to also check their dorm. Girls and boys weren’t originally allowed in each other's dorm rooms, but since everyone was packing their stuff for summer the teachers didn’t care. So she followed the familiar path towards the boys their shared room. The posters were gone from their door, but they probably took those down first she thought. [name] knocked on the door, no reaction. She opened the door to find it completely empty except for the furniture that belonged to the school.

Graduation was next week, why were they moved out already? For the last few years they always did that together. Where were they? As she turned around and bumped into Nanami, he looked just as confused as he took in the empty room.

He looked at her, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. She knew what he was gonna ask, “They’re putting their stuff into the car or?”

She showed him the note in her hand and Nanami just got more question marks behind his eyes.

For a week she wondered where they were, she held hope they’d come knocking on her temporary apartment building her parents owned as she waited in the city for graduation. However; no knock came, no call, no letter or note, nothing. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru disappeared from the radar.

When graduation rolled around word went round that Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru would not be attending. They had waited for this moment for she didn’t know how long. Plans were made to go out with their other friends after, they had plans for the future! But now, instead of her two best friends cheering on her louder than anyone else as she held her valedictorian speech, her other friends cheered double as hard. They knew she’d been struggling this week. Shoko had crashed at her temporary apartment since she didn’t want to deal with her parents. Nanami also came by daily, and if they hadn’t been there, no one would’ve known what would’ve happened to [name].

The second year was still unbearable. [Name] worked a lot, saving money, attending college, going out with her friends on the weekends. She often found herself looking to her sides, expecting to see one of her two former best friends walking there. She always looked for them in crowds, she looked everywhere, but they were nowhere to be found.

In the third year [name] finally figured out her future. She was in her third year but decided to drop out. She saved a lot of money, and she was relatively well off so she bought a building in the busy city and within six months the place opened to a magnificent night club and partially a cafe two times a week. It took a lot of promotion, and a lot of patience until the place blew up.

In just the first year that it opened, she gained so much she paid off the entire loan of the building. It hit off with people her age, and at just nineteen [name] was going to become one of the youngest millionaires of her time, she just didn’t know it yet.

Her friends loved the place too, and they were immensely proud of [name] after what she had gone through a few years prior. She proved to the world that the only person she truly needed was herself and that she could do whatever she wanted to.

The second year after opening the fourth without Gojo and Geto [name] opened a second location of her club across the world in Los Angeles.

And now nine years later, and six locations in Tokyo, Los Angeles, Amsterdam, NYC, Paris and London [Name] had in fact become the fastest growing self made millionaire at her age. She lived in Beverly Hills, had her own place designed and built and she was living the life.

Now; in her bathroom it was still a calm Saturday night but she knew that in an hour she would be in her own club, observing the people as she sipped on her drink. Saturdays were the busiest; first day of the weekend but that also meant a lot of money.

“Scarlett?” [name] called out to her assistant who walked towards the entrance of the bathroom. “Take two weeks off, alright? Paid vacation of course, take your wife anywhere you want, put it on my bill. It’s summer and you haven’t been on a break since last year. It’s not up for debate.” She was fixing the last strands of her hair before turning towards the woman in her doorframe who looked a bit ill at her words. “Now, how do I look?” she gave Scarlett a smile.

“As beautiful as always. And… Are you sure you’ll be fine? I mean… Two weeks is a lot.” Scarlett loved her job, not because it paid well, or because her boss was very generous. She loved her job because her boss felt more like a close friend rather than a boss.

“You’re right, make it three weeks. You deserve it, you and your wife both. I’ll be fine, I know how to start a washer and dryer, I know how to do the dishes. What else would I need? Now, have fun on your vacation, you better send me pics, and have fun! I gotta get going now though cause I'm already late.”

Scarlett still looked a bit sick as she bid farewell to her boss, but at least she could finally take a break, which she was too shy to admit she actually needed.

[Name] walked through the front door of the club, she didn’t pick favorites is what she told others, but the location here in LA and the one in Paris were definitely her favorites of the six she owned. The music was beaming, lights flashing and the scent of alcohol and sweat hung in the air. Security guards nodded at her in a silent greeting as she made her way to her office, one of them trailing her for her own protection. Tonight was going to be a good night, she thought as she poured herself a drink, quickly drowning it before taking a glance at the paperwork that had been assembled on her desk during the last few days. She’d take it home when she left tonight. The security guard opened the door again and waited for her to lock it, after she gave him the signal he didn’t have to trail her tonight.

She walked past the VIP area, making some small conversations with people she’d seen before. There were new faces too, there always were. All different types of ‘em too. It was a safe space as well as a club. She stopped at Toji’s table, how he and her met was a long story. Everyone at [Name] her boarding school knew of the Zen’in family and their generations at the school, same as the Gojo family, as well as her own. She’d seen him here at the club one day a few years ago, standing at the bar and damn he looked familiar she had thought. It soon clicked in her head and she walked up to him.

“Zen’in?” she had called as she stood behind him.

“Fushiguro now actually, took my wife's last name.” he said as he turned around, looking at the young woman in front of him. “Wait,” he had studied her face, until his eyes landed on the obvious giveaway of her family “[last name]?”. She nodded and smiled in response to his guess. “Never thought I’d see one of you all the way out here.”

“Well, someone has to be the millionaire of the family.” Toji’s eyes widened as he asked for more details, giving an impressed grin when he found out she was the owner.

“You got it good, girl. I wouldn’t have suspected you to be the type.”

“Hello again, it’s been a while.” She sat down on the couch next to him, observing the people as they danced to the music. There were some empty glasses in front of him but Toji seemed rather sober.

“[Last name], you look good tonight.” he gave her a grin, it had been a few years since his wife died, the first few years were a mess for him, he was in here every night drinking away his grief. But over the years he had come to accept her passing and actually started taking care of his son again. Now he came every weekend, mostly just Saturdays since that's when his son was at his friends’ or godfathers house. “Thank you,” she smiled at him, smoothing out the satin dress on her body. “How’s Megs?” She hadn’t seen either of them ‘cause they’d been residing in Japan for a while. Toji smiled at the mention of his son. It took him too long to realize that the little boy was his light in life, his wife lived on in him and oh he was amazing.

“He’s fine, great actually. He graduated from Jujutsu High a few weeks ago…” as Toji said that an old but familliar scent hit [name] her nostrils and she immediately turned her head around but didn’t find what she smelled. “It was amazing to see him receive his diploma. To be really honest, a few years ago I thought I’d never be back at that place again after I graduated years and years ago myself.”

“He’s so grown up already, I can remember when you told me he just started.” [Name] turned her head back towards her friend with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “And to be fair, I don’t think I’ll ever return to Jujutsu High again, no matter the reason.” there was a reason- there were simply too many memories there that she had tried her hardest to forget. Those memories being the ones she just smelled.

The mixed scent of sweet floral yet strong cologne and a really overwhelming smell of pine and vanilla still hung faintly in the air.

It can’t be, she thought. Her mind was just playing tricks on her because Toji had her remember things she didn’t want to. There’s no way.

Yet when she bid farewell to Toji and walked towards the bar she smelled it again. The bartenders didn’t look up when she walked behind the bar and poured herself a drink, yet she overheard their conversations.

“That man's eyes… wow! I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that bright!”

It’s not him. They’re not here.

“But the other one! His shoulders… my god.”

[Name] walked away before she’d drive herself insane over this. There was no way they were here. If they were, she would’ve spotted them already. Even though a decade can change a lot about a person; Gojo’s bright blue eyes and bright hair and Geto’s long dark hair and muscled figure always stood out, especially when together.

She wasn’t even sure if they’d regcronise her. She cut her hair, the final stages of puberty hit her later so she got some more curves and flesh, her style had changed and so had her personality. Though deep down she knew that if she’d ever see those two boys again, she’d turn back into her old bubbly self if it took too long. She always had a soft spot for them, no matter what happened or how much she denied it, they would always be a part of her past. Toji had also once told her she walked around like she owned the place, to which she replied that she did. He’d given her credit for the remark and she’d told him to put things on her tab that night.

With a racing heart she went back to observing the crowds. Walking alongside tables, along the dancefloor, everywhere.

Theres no way these two fucks still wear the same cologne after years.

She sipped her drink, it burned in her throat, but it wasn't unpleasant. She walked towards the staircase for staff and security. All the way up it overlooked the layout of the building and she could spot things easier.

I’m going to drive myself insane by looking for people that aren’t-

Her train of thoughts stopped when she saw a mob of bright white hair, she stared at it for ten seconds before looking at the person's face and she felt her head get light, looking besides him she saw a familiar black haired man.

Fuck.

She turned around, not being able to look anymore. The top of the stairs wasn't lit, so the chance they would’ve seen her was slim, very slim. [Name] sunk to the ground and drowned her drink in one go, this time the burn lasted longer and she closed her eyes. A few years ago she had promised herself that if she’d ever find them in her club- her property, she’d get them kicked out. Yet now that she found them, that seemed impossible. She couldn’t just walk up to them and tell them to get out of here.

Why not?

Why not? There was no reason as to why not. As she said, it was her property, she could do whatever she wanted and before she realized it herself she was already making her way to the table they were sitting at.

The music seemed to dim, the world became clearer yet also blurrier as she stood in front of them.

“Get the fuck out of my place.” she said, there was anger and aggression in her voice as she looked at them. “Now.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

lmk what you think of this in the comments so i can post the whole thing!!!! OH AND LMK IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN THE FULL THING ONCE I POST IT :3

#satosugu #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #suguru geto #gojo x reader smut #geto x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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surielstea · 2 months

Text

Taunts and Tension

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Azriel go on a spy mission and come back a little more touchy than usual?

Warnings: Sexual tension | Briefest mention of a threesome | innuendo of oral (m receiving)

2.8k words

“You have got to be kidding me,” The Shadow Singer grumbled as the High Lord told him we’ve been partnered for his next mission.

“Unfortunately, he’s not,” I huff to the tall male, just as annoyed as him. “Rhys with all due respect, I work alone,” Azriel contended and I scoff. “Does that apply to your love life too?” I quip but they both ignore me. “I know Az, but Eris likes her, he’s more likely to play by our rules if we use her as bait,” Rhys says. “It’s just a meeting, the both of you only have to get along for a few hours,” He hums and I roll my eyes, I couldn’t refuse the offer, he was paying me double for this. “Fine,” Azriel uttered, the fool agreed for free.

“Good, you leave at sunset,” The half-fae instructs then quickly dismisses the both of us when his mate comes into his office, a babbling Nyx in her arms. “Hi sweetie,” I coo at the two-year-old as I pass Feyre on the way out. “Auntie!” He exclaims with a bright smile. The High Lady waved at me and I returned it. “Be careful on your mission tonight,” She advises and I brush her off. “It’s just a meeting, nothing to be worried about.” I smile. “Oh, I wasn’t referring to your assignment,” Her eyes flick to Azriel and my lips form an ‘o’ shape in realization. She chuckled then gave me a wink as the Shadow Singer passed by me, muttering a curse under his breath. I return her smile then nod in a farewell and go the opposite direction down the hall.

The Spring Court was a lot duller than I had expected. Sure the flowers were in bloom and the sun still seeped through the trees but, there was no vibrancy to the colors. “Feyre really did a number on this place,” I hum, looking out at the deserted Court. It still held some beauty, the crystal clear lakes with lily pads floating heedlessly, the rolling hills, and flower fields.

“I kind of feel bad for him,” I mutter, bending down and plucking a daisy from a patch sprouting out the trunk of a maple tree. “Don’t,” Azriel huffed. We were on the border between Spring and Autumn so there was a weird merging between wildlife, the magnolia trees slowly shifting into maples, bunnies sectioned from foxes, and lush forests morphing into rustic woods.

“Are we early or is he just trying to make an entrance?” I sigh, already bored. “Early,” He replies and my shoulders sag. “Can you only respond with one-word answers?” I narrow my eyes on the Shadow Singer. He smirks. “No,” He says and I grit my teeth, looking down at the daisy in my hands.

We go silent for a moment. I stare out at the dusky sky, the last of the sun slipping below the hills. He seems content to continue staring at me, much to my dismay. I didn’t know what for, it’s not like he had to keep an eye on me, and there was nothing I could do that his shadows wouldn’t report back to him, they were often all over me, seemingly out of his control when I was around.

“What?” I snap my head back to him after only a minute, his stare becoming too physical, like I could feel the way his eyes traced my features. “Why are you dressed like that?” He tilts his head. I look down at my gown with creased brows. It was a silk slip, a rich mocha color. I look at what he’s wearing, his usual leathers. “It’s a meeting Azriel, we’re not battling warriors,” I remark. “Is it because we’re meeting with Eris?” He tilts his head. I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bite back. “That you’re trying to impress him,” He surmises.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Nuh uh?” He mocks. “That’s your defense?” The brunette scoffs and my frown deepens, leaning against the tree at my back. “I wore the dress ‘cause I didn’t wanna change, okay?” I explain with narrowed brows. “And it’s not my fault he admires me,” I add. “Not that you know the feeling,” I murmur under my breath but of course, he heard it.

He takes a menacing step forward, shadows turning sporadic around him and I roll my eyes on the dramatics of it— anyone else would’ve been begging for forgiveness just by looking into the darkness of his eyes. “What was that?” His hand comes to my chin, forcing my head toward him. I jerk out of his hold with a grimace.

“I said you don’t know what it’s like to be admired, or do you need a reminder that you’ve been chasing the same girl for five hundred years?” This time I was the one to take a step forward, my chest nearly pressed to his. “Because newsflash Az, she doesn’t want you—” I start but his hands come to my wrists and pull them up above my head, pinning me to the tree, his other hand on my hip so I can’t thrash.

His nostrils flared, eyes ablaze and I nearly laughed. “You’re constantly teetering on that edge huh? Can’t ever keep your temper in check?” I arch a brow up at him, my smirk only widens as I watch him grit his teeth. He knew what I meant. Knew that he pounced on anyone who damaged his fragile ego, and talked down on his precious family, gods forbid I mention Morrigan. His hold moves from my waist to my neck, wrapping his large hand entirely around my throat, softly squeezing.

“You’re choking me,” I whisper out and the sadistic fuck has a smile on his face. “You seem like the type to be into that,” He presumes and he wouldn’t be far off if this was a different situation. I flush pink at the idea, it’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t imagined the Spymaster on top of me more than once. My cheeks were burning hot, I was beyond embarrassed, and slightly turned on.

“Not so talkative now, are we?” He was so close, so close his body was pressed to my own, our breath shared as his face hovered above mine, cauldron damn his height.

“Let me go,” I pull at my wrists but his grip is iron, and maybe my attempts were halfhearted because, in all honesty, I didn’t want to leave this position one bit. “You learn your lesson yet? Or are you gonna keep being a brat?” He hums and arousal pools in my panties. I quickly glamour the scent, praying he didn’t recognize it before I got the chance. “Fuck you,” I seethe, continuing my futile attempts to escape. “Such a filthy mouth, you wanna put it to better use?” He asks and if I wasn’t red before I definitely was now. “In your dreams,” I hiss. “Oh love, it is,” He smirks, and my brain stutters. What’d he just say?

My pointed ears perk before I can reply, noticing an unfamiliar pair of footsteps. Not Eris.

“Someone’s coming, kiss me,” I say with a rushed tone. “What?” His hand loosened around my neck. “Just—” I don’t finish and interrupt myself by lifting onto my toes and crashing my lips against his.

He seems taken aback for a moment then to my surprise, leans into it. I melt at the feeling. He was tentative at first but once I showed him this was what I asked for he seemed almost, hungry. His hand slips from my throat and cups my jaw instead, calloused thumb pulling at my bottom lip and forcing them open. I can’t help but obey his silent command, parting my lips wider so he can capture me fully. His mouth seals over mine yet again and my stomach ties into knots, the thrumming sensation in my ribcage making me realize this was a point of no return.

His tongue explored my mouth like it was his and his alone, he was devouring me and I savored every moment. An energy buzzed between us, my wrists still pinned up by his hold, but I wasn’t any less greedy with my lips. I wanted him to taste me, to memorize me, and never forget the feel of his lips on mine, I wanted it to hurt when he had to pull away. Languid movements with his tongue turn into messy, impatient strokes, needing all of me right then and there— and I would’ve given it to him if not for that pair of footsteps returning, so much closer this time.

“What’s going on here?” A gruff voice demands answers and Azriel hesitantly detaches, like he was unwilling.

It takes me a moment to even open my eyes, gods if he’s got me this paralyzed over just a kiss who knows how much more I could take? Azriel lets go of my wrists and I regain consciousness.

“I’m sorry Officer,” I put on my most innocent smile. The male in front of me was Autumn Court patrol, lower in rank based on the patches on his arms. “What’s an Illyrian doing so far from home?” He snarled the word like it was a curse. “We’re traveling sir,” I say, intertwining my hand with Azriel’s. He stiffens at the action as if I didn’t just have his lips on mine. “Travelin’?” The officer scoffs. “Out here?” He hums. “Yes sir, it’s our honeymoon,” I grin wildly, trying to capture the excitement of newlyweds as I hold our linked hands up.

The officer raises his brows a fraction, he was buying it. He was visibly older, you had to be ancient as a fae to start having wrinkles and this guy had plenty. “You know, I feel like I recognize you,” He hums and I swallow thickly. It was more likely for Azriel to get recognized out of the two of us, so the Shadow Singer didn’t take his chances and stuffed his face into my neck, lining kisses from my shoulder to my jaw. My hand goes into his hair, weaving my fingers into his soft, dark locks as I continue carrying on the conversation.

“Really? What from?” I tilt my head, resting my luck. “Not quite sure…” He thinks for a moment. “Ah, forget it probably just confusing you with my granddaughter, she’s lovely like you,” He says and I giggle light-heartedly. “That’s sweet to hear,” I smile. “Alright you kids be safe, perhaps find an inn somewhere,” He starts his trek once more. “Thank you, officer!” I call to him and he gives me a wave.

I nearly cackle as Azriel pulls away from my neck, my lipgloss smeared along his lips. I reach up and wipe it away with a teasing smile. “Not much of a spymaster if I’m the one saving you, hm?” I say, hands cupping his cheeks. “You were the one distracting me in the first place,” He defended, crossing his arms and I snicker. “Awh, poor Illyrian baby is pouting 'cause I’m better at his job,” I taunt, his gaze on my lips as I talk.

“Well, that was quite the show,” A familiar, smooth voice intones from a short distance away and I whip my head towards the figure, leaning against a tree with an unmistakable foxlike smirk on his face. “How long have you been standing there?” Azriel questions and it seems like the Heir might laugh. “It’s truly a wonder how your shadows didn’t find me, though I suppose they’re preoccupied at the moment,” He gestures to the ground beneath me where they were pooling at my feet, flicking up and twining at my ankle every now and again, completely forgetting what their job was in my presence.

The meeting went smoothly, Azriel was a bit on edge with the lack of his Shadows but other than that Eris complied easily, he seemed to have something up his sleeve but we’d worry about that at a later date, we were only ensuring his loyalty was still with us.

He updated us on some information including his father, the two males briefing over a plan to take down Beron, and as I stood there I realized I was just for show, a shiny jewel for Eris to look at, keep his attention before he got the idea that he could survive on his own. Not that I minded being looked at by the Heir, he was quite pretty— hel, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t dreamed about both the males in front of me, at once, more than once.

Azriel shadow-walked us back to the House of Wind when we were finished, or rather when he was finished. I probably could’ve stayed a few more minutes just to admire Eris in the pale moonlight, but my plans just had to be foiled by the Shadow Singer.

Az flew me the rest of the way into the house bridal style— since you couldn’t winnow straight in due to the wards. His hold on me felt more familiar than usual, and when he put me down he didn’t step away so neither did I.

“Hey,” Cassian said from the dining table, a mouthful of food muffling his voice. We both swivel towards the male, sat next to Nesta who couldn’t be bothered to look up from her book to greet us. “How’d the mission go?” The brunette at the table said once he swallowed his food. We both stiffen, the memory of that kiss has been replaying in my head over and over since it ended and yet it felt odd for anyone else to bring it up.

“Uh, went nice…” I shrug. Nesta looks up from her page, eyes piercing as they read me like the chapters in her book. “Really?” She intervenes and I nod. “Yup, just, so normal,” Azriel blurts out, and for a Spymaster, he was awfully bad at lying. Cassian creased his brows, clearly concerned for his brother. “Why are you acting so weird, then?” Nesta interrogates and the male and I share a look. “I don’t think he’s acting weird,” I scoff. “Do you think you’re acting weird?” My words are fast like I only have one breath to finish my sentence. “Pshh, never,” He shakes his head, looking down at his feet then back up to Lady Death.

“Right, well, man am I exhausted,” I stretch, feigning a yawn. “Yeah, the mission really wore me out,” He sighs, rolling his shoulders like there’s a weight off of them, following me up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Nesta looks to her mate, a small smirk on her lips. “What?” The lord of bloodshed says cluelessly. “They’re totally going to fuck,” She hums, sinking into her chair a little and picking her book back up.

Azriel and I split off into our respective bedrooms, just across the hall from each other.

I paced beside my closed door, wondering what the fuck was I thinking when I let him kiss me. Sure I’ve always thought he was pretty but that was always a stupid fantasy, not something I would ever pursue… until now. Fuck, I am so finished. I repeatedly hit my palm against my forehead as I racked my head for any thought that didn’t immediately trace back to him. I couldn’t even look at my own hands without thinking about his hands, how they held my jaw— no. I wasn’t going to let myself romanticize this, it was just a mission. Nothing more. Just a kiss. A yearning, passion-filled kiss that fed all my cravings and somehow created new ones.

I groaned, deciding that this was the finest form of torture. I now stand still in front of my door, hoping that if I stare hard enough at it, he’ll come knocking and kiss me again because, fuck, I do want him.

I can’t sit here and wait for him to come rescue me from my own torment so I do it myself, hand coming to the doorknob and before I can psych myself out, I fling the door open.

To my shock, I’m immediately met with Azriel’s figure, his hand up like he was just about to knock.

“You couldn’t even let me make an entrance?” He tilts his head and I roll my eyes. “Shut up and kiss me already,” I grab him by the collar of his leathers and pull him in, the door closing behind him as his lips crash onto mine yet again.

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mayhemories · 1 year

Note

Hi could you possibly write Neteyam x reader?

- Reader is best friends with Kiri and has feelings for Neteyam

- Reader sees herself as ugly, undesirable and believes Neteyam sees her as a little sister

- Yet Neteyam loves her and respects her

- Sexual tension between Neteyam and reader. linger hands and sneaking glances

- Kiri notices and secretly sets them up one night

Best Friend's Brother

Oh Jesus Christ I loved writing every moment of this, but I kinda strayed away from your last point in the request, I'm sorry! I still hope it satisfies <3

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar)

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: Just fluff, some lowkey spice. No minors, get outta here! Reader is insecure and self-conscious, Neteyam puts a stop to that rather quickly.

Words: 3.7k

Author’s Notes:

Neteyam is 19, reader is 18 but only a few months older than Kiri. Lo’ak and Kiri are roughly 17, moving on to 18. Lil Tuk girl queen is the same age as the movie because I will protect her childhood. How old even is she? 8? Maybe im a fake fan.

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Read below the cut:

High Camp provided so much warmth, love and safety for its people. You were not old enough to remember Hometree or the destruction of it. But you could not imagine living anywhere else but in the densely protected cave systems of the Hallelujah Mountains.

Everyone knows everyone, all the kids play together, live together, laugh together. The community that Olo'eyktan Jake Sully, and his mate, Neytiri had fostered here was against all odds.

Your mother was one of the most talented hunters in the clan, this love of hunting easily transferred to warmongering, alongside the leadership (or maybe the leashing of your mother’s bloodlust) from Neytiri and Toruk Macto. Neytiri and your mother grew up together, so closely. Neytiri never forgets her friends and knows every name and face of the clan. You couldn’t help but admire her for this. Your father, on the other hand, was an irreplaceable healer and herbalist. He worked alongside T’sahik Mo’at, training younger Na’vi who showed promise in interpreting the ways of Eywa’s medicinal signs. With your family’s connection to the Sully’s, it was impossible to avoid them, even if you wanted to.

You grew up with the Sully kids, being a year younger than Neteyam, their eldest, and only a few months older than Kiri and Lo’ak, the four of you would always be playing. Running through the majestic forests of Pandora, swimming through creeks, lakes and rivers, kissing the dirt as you rolled down hills into meadows of wildflowers. The older you got the closer you got to Kiri. The sister you’ll never have.

You loved your parents, you did, but they made it clear that one child was enough for them. Your father loved the Sully’s as you did, he thought with his entire heart that Jake was the best for the clan. He was Toruk Macto, after all. Your mother, however, made things harder. She loved Neytiri like a sister, and always wished for her happiness.

“I remember when Jake was like a baby, you know.” She would say at mealtimes, your father would have a small smile. You could do nothing but roll her eyes. “He was trouble maker, still is.” She was grumpy. You knew that she trusted Jake and saw him as a good Olo’eyktan, but the disdain grew from your friendship with his kids.

“His boys are the same, no different.” She would always say the same thing, with the same pointed look.

You and Kiri had just finished your rituals of womanhood the week prior. For the both of you finding a mate was expected. For Kiri, nothing was ever expected in terms of mateship. In fact it was almost the opposite.

“You never have to do something you don’t wanna do, Babygirl” Jake said, smoothing down Kiri’s wild hair. The two of you sat in the middle of the floor in the Sully’s tented home. Braiding beads into your songchords to commemorate the recent transition from child to adult.

“What about you, (y/n)?” Neytiri asked, watching the two young girls weave their cords, reminiscing on her own bead.

You sighed, knowing your parents had been pushing the topic for a while:

“What about Tsu-wey? Or, Marek or Teyk’ah?” Your mother said, rattling off the names of warrior boys, flinging her arms around, exasperated. You shook your head, you weren’t really interested in anyone.

Your father, always taking the approachable, personal angle, sat next to you, tucking your shoulders under his arm.

“What about Aäna? She’s a lovely girl-”

“Dad!” You shot up, crossing your arms over your chest, the blood rushing to your cheeks. “It’s not that Dad, I just don’t like anyone like that yet really.”

“You’ve got to work it out, (y/n),” Your mother said harshly, “Soon.”

“Uh no, no I haven’t really got anyone in mind.” You replied quietly.

“Ugh come on, lets scram.” Kiri said grabbing your wrist and practically marching you out of her family home.

“Ughh Kiri, I only just finished my chord-oof” Your complaints were quickly cut off as Kiri stobbed abruptly, your whole body coming in contact with her back. “You skxwang! What are you doing-”

“Brother.” Kiri chirps, cutting you off. Neteyam stood in the doorway, leaning against the timber frame, smirking. His braids fell around his face, his high cheekbones and delicate features seemed to play with the soft golden lighting of High Camp, his tail flicked subtly from side to side, amused.

“Sister, (y/n),” Neteyam replied, sounding almost bored. “Where are you two running off to?” his fingers fiddled with his waistband, running down to his songchord. You knew you were staring, tracking the motion of his large hands, rubbing each bead, shell, and stone in between his thumb and pointer finger. It was embarrassing, you couldn’t look away, and why should you? There was nothing inappropriate about the action. Just his large, capable hands and skilled fingers…

Oh Eywa, that is enough.

“None of your business, big brother,” Kiri said, teasing as she often did. You swore she only knew how to convey her thoughts through sarcasm and hints.

Neteyam chuckled, his fingers resting on his crossed arms once, more. Your plain eyes found his warm, deep ones, as he said:

“I think it’s my business where my girls run off to, no?” You knew he did not mean it the way your stupid little brain heard it, you know he meant it as a brother. Nothing more, nothing less. But god, you wished you were his girl. You always had, since you were twelve. All of a sudden, you woke up one day and Neteyam was cute. Cute turned into cool, cool gave way into hot, and hot turned into so incredibly sexy as you got older. And you stayed, well awkward and plain and not much to behold.

But, you could pretend, that was something you were good at. Rolling your eyes, you broke the contact with Neteyam, shoving Kiri with your shoulder and righting the way of the world, again.

“The meadow.” You said flatly.

Kiri wasn’t as much of an airhead as you seemed to think she was. She knew her best friend, and she knew her big brother. Neteyam was a loser, a goody-goody with a desperate need to be the perfect son, the perfect soldier. Around you, he became this swaggering popular guy that Kiri knew him not to be, really. Maybe around his stupid Ikran Rider friends. But never around Kiri, or Lo’ak or Tuk. He never bought that facade into their home, save for when you were in it.

You, on the other hand, Kiri knew you like the back of her hand. You were shy, sweet and just so obviously and painfully in love with Neteyam. She watched you watch him, and him in turn trying to memorise every freckle, scar and nick on your body.

Neteyam cleared his throat, embarrassed that Kiri had caught him, once again, stealing glances at her best friend.

“Just be home for dinner, before eclipse, yeah?” He questioned, the muscle upon his brow bone tilting slightly upward.

“Of course!” Kiri yelled out as the two of you ran off, hand-in-hand, giggling as you did so. Neteyam watched your retreating figures flee High Camp. Pulling his attention towards his own songchord, his most recent bead was longer than the others, a hollowed-out green gemstone, mottled with white and silver patterning. The one he chose for himself the year prior at his own ceremony, welcoming him into manhood. Neteyam smiled to himself, remembering the bead you had obviously chosen for your own ceremony, made from the same little green stone.

Neteyam didn’t know how much longer he could go on going like this. He felt like he was walking in circles, orbiting you, waiting for his gamut to eventually crash him into you. Sighing he opened the flap to his tented family home. Maybe it was time to ask Toruk Macto for advice.

The long grass of the meadow was a deep shade of green, almost the colour of seagrass. Its long strands waved in the breeze, tickling your face as you lay on your back, watching the clouds, birds and everything that called the clearing it’s home. You felt connected to the place, like you were in the lungs of the world, simply floating in the breath of Eywa.

Kiri sat at your feet in the long grass, facing you, but with her knees drawn close to her chest, playing with the end of her face-framing braids. She was thinking hard, hyperfocused on a thought that was so deep-rooted it took you multiple attempts to get her attention.

“What’s wrong my Kiri?” You asked, finally catching her eye-line, sitting up to mirror her position.

“Nothing is wrong, why would anything be wrong?” Kiri responded, trying to act nonchalant.

“Do not bullshit me, you penis face.” You say, pulling a smile out of her distracted figure while nudging her leg with your foot.

“You would be my sister if you mated Neteyam, you know that right?” She asked, like she didn’t say the craziest fucking sentence you’ve ever heard in the world.

All the air left your lungs at once, she may as well have punched you in the stomach. You were going to retch.

“What are you talking about!” You felt the blood rush to your face, fanning itself over your nose, cheeks, ears and shoulders. Your whole chest felt like Kiri had taken a flare to it. You couldn’t bear it, you felt hot all over. You covered your face with your shaking hands.

Oh, mother Eywa I will die here, I will die here of embarrassment and pass through to you.

“Don’t be stupid, I know you loooooove him,” She said stretching out her o’s as she so often did when teasing, she poked you a few times too, for good measure. “He obviously is pining for you too, you skxwang.”

Kiri was a tease, she was sarcastic and blunt and hilarious. But she was not mean. Which, is why you couldn’t work out why she was being mean to you now. About something so personal, too. You felt the hot tears start to form.

“Why are you being mean?” You asked softly, pulling your hands away from your eyes, to try and read her face.

Kiri was taken aback by how upset you were. She did not mean it to be mean, she was serious. She quickly took you in her arms, all jokes aside.

“Ma (y/n) why are you crying?” Kiri asked softly. You sniffled, letting the tears fall freely now.

“You know I love Neteyam, why would you tease me like that knowing it is like stones in my heart.” You began to ramble, as you so often did when you were emotional. “Neteyam sees me as his little sister, nothing more, nothing less.” You said seriously, vehemently. Lip quivering, you felt stupid and pathetic crying about it. But now that ball of thoughts had started to be unwound in your mind you could not stop, all the words you could not say since you were twelve just fell out of your little mouth. “And besides, if Neteyam didn’t see me as just a little annoying sister, I am ugly Kiri.” Kiri started to shush you, but you did not listen.

“I am not unique in features like you, I am not as elegant as your mother, I’m not as alluring as Aäna, or as talented as Lor’ät. I’m so fucking boring.” Your tears fell so freely down your face and neck, you felt them fall behind the straps of your breast cover. You hated it. You hated everything about you and you would never be enough for Neteyam.

You would never be enough for anyone, really. When you thought critically about it.

Kiri held you close as you sobbed like her mother would, smoothing down your hair like her father would. She was beyond confused about how you could ever think this about yourself. Knowing fair well what a lot of the hunter boys Lo’ak was friends with say about you, what Neteyam’s Riders say in confidence, what the healer girls under Mo’at whisper about during Kiri’s training. Usually it makes her want to gag. But in this moment she wished she told you earlier. Maybe it would’ve given you more self-confidence in a perverse roundabout way. You were so wanted. If it wasn’t for Neteyam’s possessive nature of you, you could have anyone you wanted. Kiri reasoned, that if Neteyam wasn’t going to let anyone else have you, but not move on you himself, Kiri would have to set it up.

You and Kiri came back to High Camp, just before dinner and just after you finally stopped crying. You asked Kiri to never talk about the whole thing, preferring to just shove the whole thing into a little lockbox, throwing it away into the undercurrent of your consciousness.

You stopped dead in your tracks infront of Kiri’s home, hearing Jake’s laugh and Tuk’s squeals. Neteyam was in there. No, you couldnt it was way to fresh. To have dinner with them would be the last petal in your funerary basket.

“Come, lets eat.” Kiri whined, pulling on your arm. You stood firm like an island of stone against the tide.

“I think I will eat with my parents tonight, I’m sorry.” You said in a low voice. “I’ll be back to normal tomorrow I promise.” You quickly added, to appease your headstrong sister.

“Okay.” Kiri said softly, taking both of your hands into her five-fingered ones. “It’s all going to sort itself out, (y/n). I promise.”

The usually short walk across High Camp to your family home felt unusually long, cold and dark.

Kiri flopped down on the woven mats around the firepit with a huff. Next to Jake and Neteyam, Kiri was hungry and angry and sad for her friend.

“Hey , Babygirl.” Jake said, kissing Kiri on her forehead. Jake looked toward the door, confused. “Where’s my other beautiful girl?” Jake asked, confused. (y/n) always joined them for dinner, he couldn’t remember a night her presence had been missed since she was born.

Kiri sighed, big and deep. “She’s having dinner with her parents.”

“What has happened?” Neytiri asked, serving dinner on a leaf for little Tuk.

Kiri felt internally conflicted. It was not her business to share, not her secrets to lay bare. But her best friend was hurting, and the skxwang next to her was the only one who could fix it. But (y/n) never begs for anything, and she begged Kiri the whole walk home to say nothing.

She could not say nothing, but she did not have to say anything, either.

“(y/n) was sad, about finding a mate. Her parents are really hard on her about it.” Kiri was not one to lie, and this was not a lie she convinced herself. But not the whole truth either.

“Bro, that’s so stupid. Literally everyone is asking her mom for courting meetings.” Lo’ak piped up. His sentence muffled due to his full fucking face of food. Kiri screwed her face up.

“Courting meetings? What do you mean?” Neteyam looked panicked. The face he usually reserved for Lo’ak’s antics on the field.

“I don’t know man, some of the guys were talking about it today during lessons. But her Dad keeps turning them away for now.” Lo’ak answered, shrugging nonchalantly, stuffing his face still, despite the family’s disgust.

Kiri stared at Neteyam, reading every inch of his face as he calmed down. He was running out of time, she knew it. But, Neteyam looked at Jake. Jake raised his eyebrows at his eldest son, turning his head slightly and shrugging. It was a shared look, Neteyam knew exactly what Jake meant, though Kiri felt left in the lurch.

The Sully’s did not talk about it for the rest of dinner, thankfully.

Neytiri was putting Tuk to bed. Jake, in a rare moment was teaching Lo’ak how to properly clean a gun. Kiri sat, next to Neteyam, running her hands up and down her own songchord, anxiously. Neteyam was evidently anxious too, his legs pulled up close to his chest, he stared at the fire pit as if the answers were going to lash out and brand him.

“She is in love with you, Neteyam.” Kiri said softly. Neteyam felt like he was going to pass out and bleed from his nose.

“I don’t think so baby sister,” Neteyam ruffled her hair, trying to present himself in a lighthearted way, despite his creeping blush. Kiri smacked his hand away.

“Listen to me, you idiot.” Kiri’s serious voice felt like a hot knife running through Neteyam’s soul. She never sounded this way, this upset. “She loves you. And, and she thinks that you only think of her as a little sister.” Neteyam chuckled at that, he never treated her the way he treated Kiri and Tuk. Surely, that was obvious, no? “I know. I laughed too.” Kiri said with a small smile. She took Neteyam’s hands into her own, like she did with you only a few hours prior.

“Neteyam, she thinks that she’s ugly, that she will never be enough for you. She thinks she’s not talented.” Kiri’s round eyes filled with empathetic tears for her best friend, thinking back on your small frame sobbing in the long grass.

Neteyam’s blush soon turned to anger. His heart finding the possessive pit that he reserves only for his feelings for you. “I do not understand, does she not know that everyone wants her?” Neteyam hissed in a low voice, Eywa forbid, Neytiri heard him talk about how the other boys of the clan view (y/n). Neteyam hated how they spoke of her body, her face, her mind. Her beautiful voice and nimble hands. Only he was allowed to think of you like that. And the Great Mother only knows how they think of you at night, how they think of you when they-

Neteyam stopped himself before he went any further. He knew how he thought about you at night when he has a hand between his thighs.

“She does not know.” Kiri said, bringing Neteyam back to the forefront of his mind. “I have never told her.”

Neteyam’s heart swelled in a terrible way. You were so sweet, so innocent, you did not know that boys rutted into their own hands at the thought of the way your waist dips, or the mound of your breast. He needed to protect you, and Jesus, he thought he had by laying an unofficial possessive claim. But, it seems that the future Olo’eyktan has been ignored.

A growl fell out of Neteyam’s mouth. To Kiri it looked like a dark light fell over her brother’s features. A man possessed. He stood, cracking his neck and shoulders, like he always did, but this time Kiri flinched. She had never seen Neteyam so…scary.

“I will fix this tomorrow, sister.” Was all Neteyam said, as he retreated to the sleeping quarters of their home.

(y/n) did not sleep a wink. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Neteyam. Neteyam laughing with other girls, Neteyam riding with other girls. How they wave to him when he walks past.

Neteyam. Neteyam. Neteyam.

You felt so guilty, so, so guilty. As the night went on your thoughts went south, went dirty and wrong. You dreamt about kissing Neteyam; How soft his lips would feel against your own. His rough, calloused hands would hold your face in place and he would kiss you like he loved you, kissed you like he meant it.

Simply, you did not deserve to hold romantic thoughts about Neteyam in your heart like that. He was not yours. He would never be.

You quick hands made light work of the repair you were currently undertaking. You enjoyed your work as clan seamstress. Fixing, making loin cloths, beading breast covers and threading jewellery. You enjoyed the freedom to create things, but to also be useful to your clan. You could never offer them safety, food, medicine or freedom. But you could make sure they were warm in the cool rains, and protected from the glistening sun in the heat of the day.

You folded the repaired loincloth, placing it to the side. Ready for its owner to pick it up when they had a moment to spare.

The flap to the tent flew open, causing you to jump out of your skin. The last person you wanted to see stood in the entry way, ripped loincloth in hand.

“Good morning, Neteyam.” You said softly, casting your gaze downwards. He quickly sat across from you, legs crossed like a child.

“Well, it’s good now.” He smiled brightly. You felt all the blood run to your cheeks. “Do you uh, do you mind fixing this for me?” He said, stumbling over his own words, handing over the dark green textile.

“Of course, easy fix.” Your fingers brushed his and you felt like your hands had been set on fire. Shaking, you began stitching the fabric back together. You knitted your brows together as you worked, not wanting to see his face any longer, the more you stared at your hands, the worse they shook. This tear made no sense, it was cleanly cut with a knife. Neteyam had purposely ripped his own loincloth. “How did this even happen?” You asked.

“I needed an excuse to come and see you, my (y/n).” Neteyam spoke softly, reaching out to take one of your hands, distracting them from their job. His eyes caught yours, and you knew you were done. So warm, so full of life and love.

“Neteyam-” You started, but he cut you off. Something of which Neteyam had never done before.

“I know you do not see yourself how I see you.” He started, his stare holding you to the spot, you sent a brief prayer to Eywa, that this was not some cruel trick. “You are the most beautiful creature that has ever walked these lands. You care so deeply for the people, the forest.” His hand ran the length of your arm, goosebumps rising in his wake. “I see you. I love you. I want you.” Neteyam said vehemently.

You felt everything, everywhere, all at once. Everything you have ever wanted to hear had fallen out of his mouth like it was always meant to be. It sounded so right. It sounded natural and real. It was so out of character for Neteyam, to be so open, so raw and honest with his feelings.

So, under the guise of love, you acted out of character too. Like for like.

Taking his beautiful, soft face between your small, shaking hands, you kissed him. Pulling away for breath, you remembered what needed to be said.

“I have always seen you, Neteyam.”

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