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hannieehaee · 4 months

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OUTTA MY MIND

18+ / mdi

summary: getting a brand new job as a senior idol's manager was scary enough on its own, but it became even worse when said idol was jeon jungkook, idol of all idols. what made it even worse? when jungkook began taking a special liking to you, damning any conflict of interest his crush on you may have had.

content: idol!au, staff!reader x idol!jungkook, jungkook is shameless about his crush on reader, but it's fine bc reader likes him back!!, reader acts hard to get bc her job is too important though boo, afab reader, banter, jk is a flirt, reader is a little bit shy, a lot of rlly wrong info about working in the industry, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 7.7k

a/n: my first jungkook solo writing!! i hope u guys enjoy<33 ive been into bts since 2017 idk why i never wrote about them before lol anyways hope this is a good introduction to all my future jungkook works<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Whenever you'd tell someone you worked within the entertainment industry, – the music industry, to be precise – people always showed a little extra interest in your words, probably assuming you to be involved in the flashier aspects of it. The statement on it's own sounded exciting, enigmatic even. This would only then be followed by disappointed upon finding out your specific profession of choice, deeming it less exciting than most.

You were a manager. No, you were not an active member of the entertainment industry itself, but you were one of the many pillars necessary for the talent to create the entertainment people would always seek.

Being as young as you were, it had been hard to get to where you were so quickly. Networking had been your best friend all throughout your career, eventually landing you in your current role – one that would only open even more doors for you.

It had only been a week since you had received a call from your friend – an old friend from an internship who just so happened to be a former Hybe video producer – letting you know of a recent opening as one of the many managers at the company. Having been between gigs at the time, you jumped at the chance without a second thought. Hybe? The biggest entertainment company in Korea? You didn't need any details before agreeing.

It was a few days later in which you found out the details. The opportunity had been even more life-altering than you'd thought.

Originally, you had believed you'd end up becoming manager to one of the many brand new rookie groups in the growing company. With so many surging youth in the industry, it made sense to you that you'd be assigned such a role, not having had any prior experience within Hybe itself.

Except that wasn't the case. Having previously worked and interned at a few other South Korean entertainment companies through the years, it seemed like Hybe deemed you experienced enough to assign you the role of becoming a senior artist's manager.

Jeon Jungkook.

Senior artist had been an understatement. Those had been the words written in your contract, explaining your role in excruciating detail, yet failing to mention that your client would be Korea's most popular singer.

You couldn't lie, you were insanely intimidated by your new role. Despite being proudly skilled at your job, becoming the manager of an idol who had been in the game for longer than you'd even been out of college was a bit scary. Jungkook had gone from the absolute bottom to the top, he had most likely lived through it all by now – what kind of expertise could you offer someone who had already seen it all?

Being manager of an idol differed slightly from managing any other person. Idol companies usually handled the schedulings, bookings, and the legalities of their artists. As a manager, you somewhat took the role of a bodyguard. You were meant to show up everywhere Jungkook went and become his spokesperson – vying for him as if your life depended on it.

And now it was too late to back out – not that you actually wanted to. All paperwork had been signed, you had your own personal Hybe badge and all the benefits that came along with working at the company. Any feelings of intimidation or fear for the role would have to be put aside as you walked into the Hybe building to meet with your new client; the boy you'd have to stick by 24/7 from now on.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon meeting him. It wasn't like there would be any special introduction, or even as if you were his sole manager; no, he actually had a few others who would occasionally aid him in the absence of his main manager, which was now you. Today was a workday for him, meaning that he likely already had a few people in supportive roles as he did whatever it was that Jeon Jungkook did while working.

Walking into the huge building, after getting lost a few times, you made your way to the seventh floor, which, as you'd been informed, had various rooms designated for photoshoots. That's where you'd find Jungkook for the first time, presumably having one of the many shoots scheduled for this week.

Having possession of his schedule made you realize how busy idol life was. Despite having no public schedules all this week, he had a packed itinerary, filled with either shoots or signings or producing sessions. You hadn't even met him yet, but you were already assured that he was overly hardworking – and you had maybe also stalked him online this past week.

It was very unlikely you'd even speak to him, seeing how busy he was. Your duty, after all, was just to be one of the many members of his team, taking care of any logistics as you went around with him, but not taking away from his time by socializing with him.

Upon entering the room, he was the first thing you noticed. Ignoring every other person working the room, your eyes focused specifically on him. It was hard not to, since he was quite literally standing under the spotlight, modeling for a camera. But it was more than that. He had an aura that filled up the room. Putting aside every stylist and photographer in the room, every staff member and intern, he was truly the epitome of main character.

Fuck. Was this going to cause trouble?

Admittedly, you had found him attractive all previous times you'd come across the name Jeon Jungkook whilst working in this industry, but that attraction did not go further than seeing it as an objective fact. You had never had any interest in artists outside of for work-related reasons, so you only knew him by name. Yet now, seeing him in person, it was a while other story.

It wasn't until the director gave Jungkook the green light to take a break that you first made eye contact with the boy. It appeared as if he had also noticed you immediately upon your entrance, as his eyes had gone straight from the camera onto yours. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part.

To your absolute surprise, his eyes stayed on you, lighting up when he realized you were staring back at him. Even more surprisingly, that's when he began walking towards you, a bright smile on his face as he approached you.

"Hey! You must be Y/N! It's really nice to meet you," he bowed at you when he reached you, bunny teeth still sticking out in a smile.

"Oh, I- Thank you! It's nice to meet you too, Jungkook," you managed to get out, bowing awkwardly. You were surprised at him even knowing your name. Was he on a first name basis with his staff? That was crazy to imagine considering how many people he must work with on a daily basis.

"Today's your first day, right?"

"Yeah, hah, is it that obvious?", for some reason you were at a loss of words, not having expected to even speak to Jungkook at all today.

His eyes widened as his head shook in negation, almost as if he believed to have genuinely insulted you by assuming it was your first day.

"Not at all! I know it might look kind of hectic, but I swear you get used to it pretty quick," he assured, giving a quick once-over to his surroundings.

Your eyes left him in favor of eyeing the room, noticing how everyone continued to work on separate tasks as Jungkook spoke to you. Too many tasks were being performed all at once, yet there was some sort of synergy to it all. It seemed far too fast paced for you, but Jungkook seemed to get the rhythm of it all by now.

"Has anyone given you a tour yet?" he asked, making your eyes go back to him.

"Oh, no. But it's fine. I only got lost a few times on the way here. I'll get used to it," you reassured. You had been given an overall overview of the premises, but you were yet to explore the entirety of the place. It was likely unnecessary, considering the size of the building.

Jungkook's eyes widened once again. Jesus, his eyes were gigantic. He seemed shocked at no one having taken the time to show you around.

"What? No tour?? I can't have that. I'll have to take you in one after this."

"What- No! It's fine, Jungkook. I'm sure you have more pressing things to get to. I mean, I have your schedule, I know you have a packed day. I'll just-"

"None of that. I have more control over my schedule than it might seem," he chuckled, "so you don't have to worry about that. It'll be a nice way for us to get to know each other."

The following five minutes or so were taken up by your consistent, yet polite, refusal to his offer, not wanting the talent himself to feel like he had to work his schedule around you. These refusals were met by even more insistence. He was overly charismatic and likable (on top of extremely cute), so it was a lost battle from the start. There was no way you could deny him in the end.

His break ended soon after, forcing his conversation with you to be interrupted. With an exaggerated groan and a lighthearted eye roll, the boy went back to posing, sending you a friendly wink when he was finally back in action in front of the camera.

As a true professional, he got back in the zone very quickly, taking on the form of a model as he followed the director's directions to a T. You continued watching him from afar, easily getting entranced by how good he was at his job. Being too distracted by him (as he kept sneaking glances towards you), you almost forgot to make the rounds around the room and introduce yourself to his other staff.

After about twenty minutes or so of conversing with his other staff (who all had nothing but positive things to say about the boy), things began to quiet down. The director announced that he had everything he needed and things began to get packed up as people left one by one. As everyone left, Jungkook made sure to express his gratitude to each team involved, even personally bidding goodbye to some staff he seemed a bit more familiar with. By the end of it, only a few people were left as Jungkook finally approached you.

Once again, the boyish smile was on his face, almost as if he specifically excited to talk to you. But that was just wishful thinking.

"So, about that tour?"

"You really don't have to-"

"Are we really gonna go over this again?", he groaned humorously, "Please let me show you around. It's the least I can do if I'm gonna make you attend all my schedules," he insisted once more.

"Fine, okay. You wore me down, Jungkook."

With a kiddish yet sarcastic fist bump to the sky in victory, Jungkook gestured for you to follow him and began leading the way out of the room, ready to show you the building.

"So, how are you liking Hybe?", he asked after a while of walking around the endless building.

Jungkook was a great guide. He was extremely talkative, so no question was left unanswered. Even before you were able to inquire about certain part of the building, he was already giving you a response, even being able to start a brand new subject of conversation every time.

"Well, it's kinda my first day. But it's nice. Just, uh, maybe a little intimidating," you admitted, walking side by side with the boy.

"Intimidating? Is it cause of me?", he tilted his head to the side with curiosity.

"Maybe," you winced, hoping he didn't take it to heart. You knew it must've been annoying for people to put him in a pedestal, but it was kind of hard not to, especially upon barely meeting him.

"It's okay. I'm not as intimidating as my fame may make me seem. Most people think I'm pretty nice, actually-"

"No, it's not like that! I know you're nice, I, uh, I looked you up before accepting the job. It's just," you paused to gesture at your surroundings, "I've never worked at such a huge company, managing one of the biggest artists in the country. I ... I don't wanna mess it up," you admitted.

He slowed down his walking at this, turning to face you better as both your movements lessened in speed.

"You won't trust me. I, uh, I actually chose you specifically. You know, to be my manager."

That took you by surprise.

Jungkook knew who you were? He picked you? It's not like you had anything to your name, just a few managing gigs here and there, along with endless internships from your school years. Why would he have picked you from what you assumed must've been a pool of tenured professionals at this?

"What do you mean you picked me? Did you-"

He shrugged, the speed of his steps still slow as he focused more on conversing with you, tour of the company fully put aside.

"They asked me for my input, since, you know, we're gonna be spending a lot of time together. I saw you on the list. You were my age and your cover letter made you sound so sincere and excited," he explained, "You were also pretty cute ...", he muttered in a cough before continuing, "I just wanted someone I could be friends with. And I think I made the right choice."

You chuckled, "Yeah? How can you be so sure?"

"I can tell that you like me," he grinned, "We're gonna be besties in no time."

His hand bumped yours as he said this, lightheartedly making contact with you. It was hard to gauge whether he was just overly charismatic or if he had been genuinely hitting on you all this time. All you knew was that if he kept it up, you'd probably end up actually falling for him.

Humoring him, you absentmindedly bumped your hand into his own too, rolling your eyes jokingly as he grinned even bigger at you.

Yeah, you were going to get close in no tome.

It had been two months. Two months since you started your job. Two months since you met Jungkook. Two months since you'd been right – you did fall for Jungkook.

It wasn't as dramatic as it sounded. You were pretty sure this was just an innocent crush. One that most people in Jungkook's vicinity probably had to battle on a day to day basis.

Innocent civilians could not be blamed for the natural effect Jeon Jungkook just had on people. He was handsome, funny, charming, and he was also a flirt. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like he reserved that last trait for you and you only.

Through the weeks, Jungkook was not shy to show his special interest in you. He'd seek you out constantly, always making you stick to his side – which was your job, but still! There was always a sense of something more behind his actions. As he had said, you two became friends quickly, but just as quickly, you had become one of the closest people to him within his staff.

He'd make conversation with you, constantly migrating to your side the moment he got a short break from whichever schedule you were currently at. He'd go as far as interrupting your work just for some of your attention. In short, he was driving you insane.

Walking far too close to you in the hallways, he'd question "Where to next?", with a smile, walking side by side with you while putting his entire attention on you.

And now, you were currently overseas with Jungkook, accompanying him for some solo recordings while the rest of his members worked on their own stuff. It was a small team of people, which was quite unusual for a member of the biggest group in the world. Since it was an unofficial schedule that only Jungkook would be attending to, only the closest members of his team were really necessary. This meant you and a few others.

The situation had started off pretty much okay. One of the requirements for your position had been to become a translator for Jungkook in any situation he ever needed. That had been unnecessary so far, as you had been in Jungkook's home country these past few weeks of work. Now that you were in America, however, Jungkook sought you out even more, claiming you must attend to every outing with him in order to help him in case he needed a better understanding.

You didn't know Jungkook too well yet, but, you were aware that after so many years in the industry, he knew enough English to get by. This was simply yet another excuse of his to keep you close. When you lightheartedly confronted him about this, his response was to stare down at you with his gigantic doe eyes and pretend as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

"English? What's that?" his head had tilted to the side, cutely feigning confusion and giggling when you broke out into an annoyed smile.

On top of joining him any time he went out for leisure (under the false vice of translating), he had also insisted you accompany him to the occasional dance practice he'd attend while in America. Your presence in this instance was completely unnecessary, but you still did not question it. Nor did you question why you were the only person he insisted on bringing along. His other managers? Nowhere to be found. As time passed by in Los Angeles, less and less people would accompany you and Jungkook on his outings – whether they be for leisure or work. It had now fallen down to Jungkook, his bodyguard, and you.

"C'mon, don't you want to see me dance? I'll buy you a meal afterwards, pinky promise," he'd hold his pinky up to you with a boyish smile, knowing you wouldn't deny him.

Anytime Jungkook would discreetly hit on you or fluster you with his attention, you'd simply laugh it off or play into it just the right amount. It wasn't like you didn't enjoy it. His decided infatuation with you gave you butterflies that had you kicking your blanket late at night when you'd think back to how much he must've liked you.

You were entirely aware that he knew you liked him back also. You never said it, nor did you ever return his flirting, but you knew that he knew. Any rebuttals or instances in which you told him to chill (jokingly, of course) were just covers you'd put up. The nerves about actually acknowledging his feelings always stopped you in your tracks, leaving you the lone option of just giggling along to him or rolling your eyes (depending how cheesy he was being).

Jungkook loved your back and forth, you could tell. He enjoyed when you'd jokingly tell him off for his sickly flirtatious demeanor or when you'd simply banter with him. It was likely just a motivator for him to keep going, naturally knocking down your walls one by one as time passed.

The camel's back had broken one week after your arrival in LA, when Jungkook finally decided to take things further, now inviting you over to his hotel room after what were assumed to be work hours. The excuse? He wanted to go over next week's schedule. Both you and him were fully aware he simply wanted to hang out, but the lines were beginning to blur.

"Hey," he welcomed you with a smile when you came knocking on his door, leaning against the frame before gesturing at you to come in.

"Hi, Kook," you walked in, unsure of what to do after making it past his door.

"You can take a seat while I get us some drinks," he gestured to the hotel room couch and walked over to the mini fridge in the living room.

"Drinks? Thought we were debriefing next week's schedule?", you asked with a teasing tone, reclining back into the couch.

"Oh, yeah, the schedule, for sure," he responded in a completely unserious manner.

Approaching you again with drinks in hand, he sat on the same couch as you, leaving a small distance between the two of you to create a more casual environment.

Handing you your drink, he chuckled before even being able to speak.

"Have I been obvious enough or should I try harder?", he asked, sipping his beer.

"Jungkook ..."

"C'mon, it's been a few months. You already know I like you, right? You have to know by now. Are you really not gonna reciprocate at all?", he pouted, "I know you like me back."

"What makes you so confident?"

"You haven't once told me to fuck off," he grinned, leaning back against the couch in complete relaxation.

"I can't do that, I work for you," you rebutted.

"Hah! Please, I know that wouldn't stop you. You might've been a little shy when we first met, but I know by now you would've told me to get fucked if you weren't interested."

He had a point. There had been a few instances in which you did, quite literally, tell him to get fucked. It was always in jest, of course, but you knew that if you ever turned down his flirting, he'd tone it down without question.

Of course you never wanted his flirting to stop. You had found a new source of energy within yourself any time Jungkook would shamelessly shower you with attention. Despite being discrete about it, never being direct with his flirting, he still gave you the same undivided attention any boy with a crush would. It made you feel giddy and wanted. Yet it also made you worry for what may come of acknowledging his interest further than you already had.

You laughed along with him and entertained his banter for a while, following along with his flirting as the two of you drank with one another, eventually arriving to a tipsy state. He drank like a sailor while you only nursed a few drinks, yet somehow reaching a similar level of drunk.

"Are you ever gonna answer my question? I already know the answer, I just want to hear it from you," his original question in regard to your feelings did not circle back until now, catching you off guard yet again.

"Jungkook ..."

He scoot closer to you, "Come on, it's just us. You know what they say – acceptance is the first step."

"If you already know I like you, why do you keep asking?", you groaned, taking yet another swing of your third drink of the night.

"Aha! You do like me," he pointed at you as if he had made the grand discovery.

"Jungkook!"

Raising his hands, he relented, "Sorry, sorry. I'm just excited to hear it. Can you blame me? I've been trying to get you to flirt back for months."

"I don't have the same liberties as you, I'm your subordinate, it'd be inappro-"

"Inappropriate? Not any more inappropriate than me hitting on you every day since we met."

"Inappropriate, exactly," you scoot further away, "which is why you should stop."

He scoot closer again, this time even more so.

"I like you, you like me. Why should either of us stop?"

"I work for you. Yeah, you can flirt with me, but-"

"But what? Come on, don't reject me before I've even asked you out. At least let me have that much," he insisted, knowing he was wearing your false rejection down.

You sighed, twisting your body so you'd now be facing him fully on the couch, "Okay, fine. Go ahead."

He twisted too, now fully facing you. He took a deep breath and put down his drink, "Let me take you on a date? Please?", he pleaded with a shy smile.

"Can I say no?"

"I mean, you can, but I'll just keep insisting," he giggled, making you groan exaggeratedly.

With a fake sigh of defeat, you accepted, "Fine. You can take me out. But if you're as annoying as you were today, then I don't think it's going to work out."

"Yah! I'll be the perfect gentleman. Just you wait."

After a few more drinks, Jungkook insisted on walking you back to your room, – despite the fact that it was just next door – sheepishly asking if he could kiss your cheek goodnight, to which you responded with a kiss on his cheek of your own and a hug goodbye. Through your peephole you could see a very adorable Jungkook scrunch up his nose and smile to himself in contentment at the night's outcome.

Going to sleep with this insane sense of giddiness had been almost impossible. Your mind kept going back to the pretty boy who had insisted yet and yet again for the chance to simply go out with you. The back and forth this past few months had wore you down immensely, and last night had just thoroughly hammered you in.

You weren't entirely sure of the logistics of the date just yet. How were you to go out with Jungkook when he was so insanely popular? People were already aware of his current stay in Los Angeles, as he had been spotted a few times. They were also aware of your presence, though people already knew of your role and had grown accustomed to seeing you with Jungkook without questioning it.

Going to any usual dating spot with him alone would still prove catastrophic, however. Even if people knew you were nothing more than a manager, a one-on-one outing at a place usually meant for couples would be an instant giveaway, so it was entirely out of the question.

Surely the hopeless romantic that was Jungkook already had something planned, so you likely didn't have to worry your head over it. For now, you could simply wait for Jungkook's next unpredictable act of affection towards you with a racing heart.

The following day, you found yourself waking up earlier than usual, having been awoken by incessant knocking on your door that you had not expected. It was 9AM, so not too early, but today was meant to be a day off for everyone on Jungkook's team, including him. It was obvious to you who could be the culprit behind the knocking, but it didn't make it any less strange, especially considering Jungkook never had a tendency of waking up early unless it was for work.

Marching to your door in annoyance, you swung it open without any need to check who was on the other side, knowing you'd encounter the same doe-eyed boy you had kissed goodnight just a few hours ago.

"Jungkook, what the hell are you doing here so early?", were the first words out of your mouth.

He was already fully dressed, donning his usual black attire and carrying two drinks from what you knew was a local coffee shop – with one of them being your drink of choice, because of course Jungkook would have it memorized.

He grinned at you, placing your drink on your hand and smiling even harder when you sipped it.

"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't changed your mind about the date," he wasn't actually here for that reason, obviously, but it was still cute of him to use it as an excuse.

"And if I have?"

"Don't say that, I'll cry."

You laughed, leaning against your door as you sipped your drink once more, "So, have you decided what we're doing?"

He shook his head, "Nope, can't tell you. That's top secret. All you can know is that you should be ready tonight at 7 sharp and to wear something nice but comfortable," he blushed a little before continuing, "maybe that pretty sundress you wore the other day?", his eyes left you to shyly look at his shoes for a moment.

Fuck, he was far too cute.

You pretended to ponder for a bit before agreeing, "Okay. I think I can manage that."

Letting out a tiny little "yes!", he looked to you again, noticing your pajamas, "I'll let you sleep in since I kinda kept you up all night, but I'll be back, okay? You can keep your expectations as high as you want, I'll meet them all," he said confidently.

"Oh? Okay, let's see if you can swoon me then," you accepted the challenge before receiving a shy yet short hug goodbye and heading back into your room, aware you'd be unable to go back to sleep with all the anticipation you felt for your date.

Things had already changed drastically between you and Jungkook and it had only been a few hours since his official confession about his crush (along with your reciprocation). He was touchier and more open with his affections, even becoming a little sheepish now in contrast to how bold he used to be. Now that the cards were all on the table, it was harder to even look at each other without blushing. It felt like a giddy high school crush, and you were already enjoying it far too much.

"Fuck, you look gorgeous," Jungkook breathed out the second you opened your door, "Sorry, was that too much?," he chuckled sheepishly afterwards.

Ignoring the blush threatening your cheeks, you shook your head and smiled, "Thank you, Kook. You look ... you look really handsome," you went on a whim and placed your hands on his jacket, enjoying his own shy smile at your compliment.

You made small talk as you walked down to take Jungkook's private car, sitting side by side in the back as the driver took off.

"So, where are you taking me?", you asked again.

He tsk'd, "No patience in that head of yours, huh? Relax. It's private and comfortable. You'll have fun, I promise. Just let me surprise you."

"Fine," you sighed in feigned annoyance, leaning back into your seat. Jungkook followed and leaned back also, face turned to stare at you.

"Would it be too forward to say I already want to take you home?", he asked.

"Stop," you groaned, "Don't say that, you already wore me down into going on a date, give me time to breathe."

"Are you saying I could wear you down into letting me take you home?", he smiled.

"Anyways," you rolled your eyes, making him chuckle.

The rest of the ride was filled by your usual banter, making the date entirely too casual thus far. It felt like a regular outing with a friend, plus the added butterflies you felt any time his eyes would scrunch up whenever you made him laugh. How handsome he looked also did not help matters. He had changed out of the casual clothes he had on this morning, opting for a casual yet elegant look that consisted of his usual chunky boots and a black blazer. It was very much a usual look for him but he somehow looked extra good tonight.

Fastforward to the date itself and you found yourself in what was supposed to be a private restaurant A-listers in LA would frequent. It allowed for the utmost privacy and served the most famous of people. The atmosphere of the place was casual enough for you to be able to sit yourselves, but it was still packed with security and high-end waiters making the rounds. Being there as a mere manager felt almost illegal.

Jungkook held your hand as he guided you to a secluded booth in the back, opting to sit next to you rather than across you, something you found really cute of him.

"Do you like it?", he asked after a few moments of sitting.

You nodded, "Do I even wanna know how much this place costs?", you asked as you took in your surroundings.

"Yeah, no," he laughed, "Don't think about that. It's all on me. You being here is more than enough," he reassured, reaching over to take your menu before you could get to it, "I'll cover the prices, okay? I want you to order anything you want."

Cute, handsome, funny, into you, and also such a gentleman? You were not to survive even the first date.

"Order for me?", you suggested, knowing he was a foodie at heart and would likely order the perfect meal for you.

And he did. Unsurprisingly to everyone, he picked the perfect meal and side dishes and drinks and even desserts. The meal was amazing and completely relaxed. The conversation was never-ending, allowing for no awkward lulls or forced small talk. Jungkook had been right all those months ago, you did become very good friends. It made you wonder if he had liked you from all the way back then.

"What are you looking for in a relationship?", asked Jungkook after a few drinks, already cozied up with you in the booth.

"That's very forward for only two bottles of soju," you joked.

"C'mon, you can tell me. I won't tell," he whispered childishly, leaning closer to you with genuine interest in his eyes.

You straightened up before responding, "I guess I want something serious. No hookups or anything like that, just ... just someone nice to spend my time with."

"Hey, that's kind of what I am already, huh? I'm nice and we spend most of our time together."

You chuckled, taking a swing of your drink before returning the question, "What about you? What are you looking for in a relationship?"

"You," he deadpanned, giving you a dopey smile.

You couldn't help giggle at that, scrunching up your face at how much of a flirt he was.

He grabbed onto your chin and made you look at him, completely halting your laugher, "I'm serious," he started, "I've been wanting to ask you out since forever, but I knew I'd be putting you in an awkward position with your job. But I don't care about that anymore. I know you like me, and I like you – so fucking bad. Give it a chance? Please?", he pleaded as he stared down at you, eyes fleeting to your lips for one quick moment.

Your breath caught in your throat, making you freeze and gulp before being able to respond to the confession you'd been expecting, yet were not prepared for.

"Jungkook ... Take me home?"

"F-fuck," he groaned, "do you know how long I waited to have you?", his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake, "thought about this every day ... How pretty you'd look pressed up against me ... So fucking pretty," he panted.

Jungkook had dragged you off the booth the moment you suggested for a change of scenery, directing the driver to get the two of you to the hotel as soon as possible. Once at the hotel, Jungkook rushed you to your floor, having already had to hold back during the entirety of the drive back. Even in the elevator, your usually lighthearted Jungkook was missing and replaced by an agitated version of him.

The first thing he did upon unlocking the door to his room as push you against it, closing it back up in the process and liberally letting his lips trail down your neck.

"Kook ..."

"Have I ever told you how much I love the way you say my name? God, just everything about you," he trailed his way back up, hands still on your waist and fingers digging into your skin.

His lips leaned down into yours, almost kissing you but not yet, "I know it's kinda late to ask, but can I kiss you?", he whispered.

Your nod was nothing short of desperate, lips almost chasing his won before he finally connected them to yours.

His kiss was as soft as his hold on your waist, and the sigh he let out against your lips was only a ghost of the passion he felt for you. His lips guided your own, with his tongue licking your mouth open and invading it in a sensual entanglement between your tongues.

It was hard to think clearly with the pretty moans he let out against your lips, almost as if you were gifting him the utmost pleasure with the mere touch of your lips. Hands became braver and breaths became heavier, leading to a mess of ruffling clothes and gasps filling up the silence of the room. You melded into each other, refusing to let your lips separate nor prevent your hands from exploring one another. His hands made it under the skirt of your dress, liberal in the way he felt up your add and pressed you up against him. In the meantime your hands threw off his blazer and began unbuttoning his shirt, feeling up his strong chest in the process.

"Let me take you to my room? Fuck, I- I can't think. Just wanna have you so fucking bad," he mumbled into your lips, groaning when you refused to stop kissing him as he spoke.

You nodded, not trusting your voice and allowing him to guide you to his room by the hand.

Once in his room, he laid you down softly, letting you sit up as he took off his remaining clothes, eyes encouraging you to do the same. His eyes widened when he realized what you'd been wearing under the dress he'd requested, clearly caught off guard by the pretty set you had chosen for him.

It wasn't all that, simply a matching lacy bra and panties that you'd packed before coming to LA. Clearly Jungkook didn't care about the quality of the set, or at least that's the impression his eyes gave you as they stayed glued to your chest, halting his movements as he took his shoes off.

"Oh ...", he breathed before making his way to you on the bed, "For me?", he asked as his hand went down to lightly run his fingers across the strap.

"Mhm," you nodded, getting up from the bed and putting your hand on his shoulders, eyeing up his toned chest and tracing his tattoos, "Do you like it?", you looked up and made eyes at him.

"Fuck, don't do that. You can't look like that and then look at me like that and think I won't fucking burst," he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist once again, "Can I touch you, pretty? Hmm?"

Nodding again, you led his hands to your breasts, letting out a breath when his hands began feeling you up, going from your breasts to your hips to your ass while his mouth made its way back to yours. He freely moaned into your mouth at the feeling of your body under his hands, walking you back onto the bed and lying you down once more.

His hands were hesitant in reaching the clasp of your bra, to which you responded by humming a soft 'please' into his lips. The removal of your bra caused him to pull away for you as his eyes got a fill of you, groaning yet again at the sight. His hands went to your breasts again, feeling them up as his lips trailed down to your tits. Jungkook's groans of pleasure at the feeling of your bare skin against his lips were never-ending. You fed into it, arching against his lips and running your hands through his hair. It wasn't like he needed any encouragement; his eyes told you of every bit of lust he felt.

"I want you so fucking bad," he murmured against your tits, "I can't even think ... Just want you so bad. Haven't been able to stop thinking about you for months," his lips suckled at your nipple once more before reaching your ear, breathing heavily against it, "Tell me I can fuck you, please. Just need- need you so fucking bad."

Pulling him to your lips by the his hair, you moaned your desire for him into his mouth, pleading at him to get on with it.

"Fuck me. How do you want me? I'll- Fuck, just-"

"I know, pretty. I'll take care of it, okay? Just ... Want you just like this. Wanna see you while I fuck you, okay? Let me-", his hands reached to your panties, seemingly meaning to finger you before you stopped him.

"No, Jungkook, just fuck me. Please? I'm wet enough, I swear. Just need you. Now," you pleaded at him.

He shook his head, tutting at you, "Baby, at least let me eat you out? Gotta stretch you out a little. Swear I wanna fuck you so fucking bad, but shit ... Need to taste you," he rambled before getting on his knees, pulling your legs apart and towards the edge of the bed.

"Fuck ... Always wanted to kiss up these thighs," he breathed as he ran his nose up and down the sensitive skin, leaving a few airy kisses along the length of them, "So soft and pretty."

Slowly yet sensually, he made his way to your cunt, pressing his nose against your panty-covered pussy and taking a deep breath, shamelessly capturing your essence. Ignoring your scandalous whine, he pushed your panties aside and stuck his tongue inside, groaning at the taste of you.

"Baby ... Fuck, how am I ever gonna function without this pretty pussy ever again?", he murmured into you, tongue digging deep inside you as he took turns sucking and licking at you. His nose made an appearance eventually, rubbing deliciously against your clit while your hands pulled at his hair, pushing your hips up against his face.

"Yes, fuck, keep grinding on my face, baby. Use me," he pleaded, almost crying into your cunt.

Jungkook was already an expert in your pleasure, damning everything else in favor of optimizing your pleasure in every way. He let you pull at his hair and grind on his face, somehow never running out of breath as he ate you out with a desperation that had your nails digging far too harshly into his hair – something that had him moaning against you.

Once finished, he licked up every drop of your essence, humming in pleasure at the taste and even coming up to let you suck on his tongue, sharing your own honey with you.

"Kook ... Fuck me. God, I need- need you so bad. Please," you pleaded into his mouth despite not pulling away from his kiss.

"Fuck, okay, yeah. I- I'll fuck you," he finally pulled away and pulled down his boxers, reaching over to his pants on the floor to get a condom from his wallet.

"Oh? You were ready for this?" you grinned at him mockingly.

"Baby," he whined, letting his head fall to your chest in bashfulness, "Don't do this right now. Just let me make you feel good. You can make fun of me all you want after."

"Okay, Kookie. Now, hurry up!", you reached down to his ass, squeezing it jokingly as he let out a scandalized noise and lightly nibbled at your tit in retaliation.

Finally, he put on the condom as you slipped off your panties all the way and throwing them off. He was soft yet shy in his movements as he teased your slit with his cock, playing with the wetness and groaning at the warmth wrapping around the head of his cock. He checked in on you constantly throughout, kissing at your cheek every so often as he bottomed out.

"Feels so good, pretty. Fuck ... gorgeous girl. Knew you were made for me," he groaned, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer as he began to thrust.

His words of encouragement didn't end there, letting out every emotion he felt towards you all while you whined his name and raked your nails down his back.

"Always wanted you ... You have no idea how much I like you,"

"Sweetest girl, and all for me ... Oh, fuck- feel so good wrapped around me,"

"You take it so good ... Feel so fucking good and look so fucking pretty. How could I ever resist you?"

"Need you so bad, fuck. Need you every day,"

His praise was never ending, rendering you a mess both physically and emotionally as your feelings for him burst in the form of cries of his name and mumbled reciprocations of his feelings.

"I need you to cum with me, gorgeous. Okay? Let me just- Yeah, right there, huh? That's the spot?", he murmured almost to himself as he lifted you by the legs and began hammering his hips against that one spot deep inside you that had your eyes rolling back. One of his hands eventually joined the mix, thumbing at your clit slowly yet harshly enough to make you gasp at the intensity of the sensation.

"Gonna cum, Kook. Cum with me? P-please?," you cried out for him.

"I'm right there, baby. Just cum with me. Like you so fucking much," he couldn't help but let out yet another expression of his feelings as his orgasm took over him, taking you right along with him.

"Like you t-too. S-so much!", you cried before practically blacking out.

Hips continued to grind against each other as your highs hit you, creating a symphony of skin slapping desperately and high-pitched whines coming from the two of you.

Jungkook almost fell limp against you when his high finally wore down, breathing heavily into your chest before rolling to your side, holding your trembling form against him.

"Was that a good first date?", he asked after catching his breath.

You laughed at the complete change of subject, "Maybe. I'm still expecting you to outdo it for the second one," you turned your body to his own, nuzzling against his chest.

You could feel the vibration of his chest as he chuckled a response, "Oh? I earned a second one?"

"Shut up before I change my mind."

"Yes, ma'am."

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to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, reunion sex, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 597 (teaser); 1877 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Kook! Stop being so touchy!," you whined when you finally found yourself alone with him.

He ignored you at first, opting to wrap his arms around you and nuzzle his head into your hair with a satisfied hum.

"But why, baby?", he huffed.

He thought he was so cute when he played dumb.

"No one in the staff can know we're dating. It's like you want me to lose my job," you groaned, reciprocating his gesture against your better judgment.

"Baby, I'm your boss, and I have no plans of firing you, so what's the problem?", he ran his nose up and down your neck, breathing you in softly.

"Still. Sleeping with my boss just gives off a bad image."

"Everyone already knows I have a crush on you anyway, what's the harm?", he whined.

"Kookie ...", you groaned.

"Hmm, love when you call me that, baby," he giggled against you, waddling from one side to the other as he walked you over to the wall, pressing you up against it in a surprisingly innocent manner.

After yet another 'subtle' public display of affection he had decided to engage in whilst recording for a new brand deal, you had dragged Jungkook over to an empty dressing room during a break, deciding to put a stop to his behavior before it went too far.

You had only been dating for a few months by now, becoming exclusive almost immediately after that first date. However, despite the exclusivity and the age of your relationship, you had demanded that Jungkook keep it under wraps when it came to work. The only people aware of your relationship could be counted on one hand (maybe two), including his members, family, a few close friends and your own loved ones. Other than that, not even the company was privy to your new relationship.

Unfortunately for you, it seemed like your boyfriend was on a mission to let everyone know about your relationship, always sending you suggestive looks or sticking to you in a manner usually reserved for couples.

Most people in Jungkook's team already knew of his touchy demeanor (and of his very obvious flirtatious tendencies when it came to you), but you knew that you'd be in trouble if you ever reciprocated. Having such a cute boy blatantly show interest in you proved hard, as you had to control yourself in front of everyone else any time he decided to cause trouble for you.

"C'mon, baby. We're alone now. There's no one to see what I wanna do to you," he smirked into your neck, beginning to trail kisses along its length.

His grabby hands stayed on your hips, occasionally sliding up your waist and under your shirt to feel the warmth of your back. Not-so-innocent touches were beginning to arise, making you conflicted since you were technically still in your company's premises at the moment.

Pressing your hands into his chest, you made a lame and effortless attempt at pushing him away, your heart not truly in it as you allowed him to keep his hands on you, "Kook, we're still at work!"

"We're practically done! I did my part, it's just the guys who need to get their shoots done. I could literally disappear right now and no one would notice. It's okay, baby," he reassured, wrapping your hands around his waist and pulling you even closer, lips beginning to ghost your own.

"Kook ..."

"Shhh, just let me kiss you. Been holding back on kissing you all day," and those were his last words before occupying his lips with your own.

...

find 1.8k word continuation on either kofi or patreon!

#bts imagine #bts x reader #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut

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ghostfacd · 9 months

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LIVE LAUGH, SCREAM! | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. where one comment could lead into an internet feud between tom blyth and yn avocot, resulting in them falling inlove ?!

author’s note. [ THIS TAKES PLACE BEFORE YN AND TOM STARTED DATING ] thank you to the nonnie that said yn gives off scream vibes bc they’re the reason i even made this post in the first place! 🤭

installment of this au | read for context

ynuser scream bts (you’re welcome!)

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jennaortega did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

➥ jackchampion no but it might’ve when she stabbed u in the movie

➥ ynuser JACK 😭😭

user1 jenna flirting, jack teasing, I LOVE THIS CAST YOUR HONOR

user2 okay but literally your performance was just chefs kiss 😭 PLEASE tell me you’re starting in other movies as well bae

➥ ynuser oh thank you!! im so honored you enjoyed it ❤️ I will get back to you on your question!! 👀

➥ user3 OMGG YN IN ANOTHER FILM WOULD BE KILLER

➥ user4 well actually 🤓☝️ she was one of the ghostface in the film which means she actually was a killer

user5 @/user4 bye

tomblyth amazing film

➥ ynuser thanks

➥ user6 THANKS?? THANKS?! girl that’s tom blyth

➥ ynuser @/user6 who?

user7 no way this girl just asked who tom blyth is

➥ user8 well can u blame her tho?? he’s in like what, billy the kid or whatever? it’s not that known..

➥ user9 nah girl stars in one film and thinks she’s all that 😭

rachelzegler YOU DID SO GOOD GIRL 💕

➥ ynuser rachel my love 😭😭❤️

tomblyth who am I? well now you know

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user10 oh he’s so fine

user11 LMFAOO is this a jab at yn not knowing who you are

user12 show that girl 🤭🤭 she thinks she’s all that after getting one acting gig

➥ user13 y’all are so obsessed with her hello..

ynuser sure. now i know

➥ user14 oh im having so much fun watching all this go down

ynuser more bts because i love scream 6 and so should you!

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tomblyth yeah the movie’s cool and all but how abt i treat you out for dinner?

➥ user15 HELLO???

user16 enemies to lovers era ?

user17 pls lord get these two together

jackchampion say yes to the dinner invite and bring me back steak

➥ ynuser 🤨🤨

➥ jackchampion and a vanilla soda too please

user18 i love jack n yn’s friendship

ynuser and tomblyth both posted a story!

ynuser eating sushi and then putting on some comfy pjs is a great way to spend a day

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user19 the way tom also posted sushi pics very similar to what she’s eating…

➥ user20 WHY IS NOBODY MENTIONING THE MATCHING HOTDOG STORY POSTS AS WELL 😭😭😭

user21 pjs TOGETHER?! im afraid we’ve lost her

user22 everybody knows.. everybody knows

jackchampion splendid way to spend the day

➥ user23 what if it’s jack?? tom and yn don’t even fw each other LOL

➥ user24 true. he did ask her for dinner tho

➥ user25 who wouldn’t? she’s yn.

Eclaté_Mode On this new episode of BTS With Your Favorites, Tom Blyth dishes on his skincare routine, how he keeps himself productive during breaks, and his internet rivalry with actress, Y/N Avocot. Full video linked in bio

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user26 THE WAY HE COMPLIMENTS YN this is definitely enemies to lovers

user27 “me and yn have exciting need to share soon” excuse me

user28 so they inlove or what

user29 yn fell inlove with a brit man it’s over for US

user30 WAIT WHAT DOES HE MEANNNN

tomblyth well surprise. enemies to lovers much?

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ynuser nice pic send me it

user31 WAITT RACHEL HIM AND YN IN A FILM?? did not expect this..

user32 hold awn..

user33 is this confirmation they’re dating

➥ ynuser we aren’t dating.

➥ rachelzegler yet.

➥ user34 RACHEL???

rachelzegler you’re welcome for this crossover, i encouraged both of them to audition for the role

➥ user35 WE LOVE RACHEL ZEGLER

jennaortega take care of my gf 😽

#Coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosbas #the hunger games x reader

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emchant3d · 1 year

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It’s the fourth time this week Eddie’s been late without a phone call.

Sure, his job has him working weird hours - Steve gets it. But he also knows his schedule and he knows the days Eddie works at the bar til close and he knows the days he’s supposed to be home before dark, and he hasn’t had a closing shift once this week.

Yet he came home near ten tonight, and Steve had been worried and nervous and yes, sure, a little - a lot - insecure about it, and maybe he’d lashed out first, or maybe Eddie had, Steve doesn’t know, but he knows they’re standing in the living room shouting at one another and it’s all coming to a head and he can’t stop himself, can’t keep from getting loud and angry and–

"Do you even want to fucking be here?" he yells.

"Not when you're acting like this!" Eddie says, and Steve's throat goes tight like there's a fist wrapped around it.

Not when he's acting like this, he thinks. Not when he's being too needy. Too pushy. Too demanding.

Something in his brain feels like it rewires. Their relationship flips on its head, and suddenly fear is coiling in Steve's stomach, not anger.

He'll lose Eddie if he keeps pushing like this. If he demands too much of his time, pulls him away from what he'd rather be doing, makes himself too much work, he'll lose him. Eddie always said he wasn't going anywhere. That he loves Steve, wants to be with him, will never get tired of him. Steve was a fucking idiot to take that at face value.

He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Eddie to forget all about what he said, wants to show how sorry he is, but between one moment and the next he's feeling like a guest in his own home, and he's very familiar with how it feels to be unwelcome.

So instead he shakes his head. Eddie wants to be left alone, probably. Doesn't want to see Steve when he's mad at him. Doesn't want to deal with him. He'll make himself scarce.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," he says stiffly, and turns away, only faltering a little when Eddie mumbles 'what the fuck ever' behind him. He flinches when Eddie slams the front door and closes the spare room so quietly it barely even clicks.

– Eddie gets home late.

Like, late-late. Steve hears the front door open as he's staring at the clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers burning into his vision. Why did they even put a fucking clock in here, he thinks. It's the guest room. Why did he insist on furnishing this room like someone might live in it? Like this was a home people would be in and out of, like their family would come and stay with them long enough to need an alarm clock on the bedside table?

Desperate, a voice in his head hisses at him, desperate and needy and full of wishful thinking that someone would want to stay around sad little Steve Harrington long enough to need anything--

Eddie's coming down the hallway. He's trying to be quiet, but he forgot to take his shoes off at the door and his Reeboks squeak a little against the hardwood. It's a familiar sound. Comforting, usually. It's how he knows his honey's made it home safe when he's out late, that tell-tale squeak and the little stumbles when he's tipsy and making his way through their home after a long gig.

There was no gig tonight, though, and Eddie's footsteps are steady and even despite the soft sound of rubber on wood. He isn't drunk, Steve doesn't think - and is that better or worse? That he left after a fight and didn't even go somewhere to drink it off. Where has he been, if not their usual bar to think about what they'd spat at one another, trying to think of solutions, of apologies?

And is Steve really owed an apology? He was overbearing. He was pushy. He was demanding and authoritative and too fucking much all over again, and Eddie lashed out in response, and does Steve deserve an apology after all that? He's been going around in circles with himself all evening about it, arguing in his own head, saying yes I deserve one because my feelings were hurt and no I don't deserve one because I lashed out first and how does he answer this for himself? He doesn't know.

He knows he'd do just about anything to make the empty feeling in his chest go away, though. Knows that he'd shove his hurt away and eat his words and apologize to Eddie and never, ever push again if it meant he knew where they stood. If it meant Eddie would forgive him and never storm out like that again, if it meant Steve knew he wouldn't be left alone like this to wonder if Eddie was coming back.

And he feels so dramatic - he can hear Robin's voice already, telling him it was just a fight, that there's no reason to get this worked up about it, but Steve can't help it. Slammed doors and loneliness are the soundtrack to his childhood and he can't help the panic he feels when someone he loves leaves.

"Do you want to be here?" he'd asked, like a fucking idiot, and Eddie hadn't said yes. Steve swallows around the lump that's taken up permanent residence in his throat. Reaches to swipe a hand over his face, rubbed raw, eyes burning with tears he won't let fall because what right does he have to cry? He brought this on himself. He always brings it on himself.

Eddie's feet are still squeaking their way slowly down the hallway, he's trying not to wake Steve - or is he just trying not to be noticed? Impossible, if Eddie Munson is in a room Steve is going to notice, how can he not? He's been yanked into that gravitational pull and there's no escape for him, not anymore, he's a moon circling around the solar system and Eddie is the sun, burning bright and pulling focus and what is Steve to do in the face of that?

He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock. Watches the display change when a minute's passed. Feels his heartbeat stutter when Eddie's shuffling, squeaking steps pause outside the guest room.

They keep a hall light on at night. It's on a dimmer, turned down way low, but neither of them do well with complete darkness. Too many nightmares, too many shadows haunting and hunting the both of them. Steve can see the muted glow of it from beneath the door.

He can also see when Eddie comes to a stop because his feet block that light. Two shadows in the doorframe, obscuring the soft haze of warm orange that creeps in a half-moon over the carpet, and Steve stops breathing. There's a soft shifting noise, fabric over wood, a gentle thunk when Eddie leans against the guest room door, and Steve almost calls out to him. Almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't leave again, please don't leave me, but the words stick in his throat. Ball's in Eddie's court, as it should be when Steve fucked up so bad, when he tried to ruin it all, when he made Eddie so mad that he left when he promised Steve he would never do that. Eddie's a good man. Keeps his word. Steve's the problem, Steve is always the goddamn problem, always will be, ruins and stains everything he fucking touches–

The shadow disappears. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees lights popping behind his lids. Those shuffling squeaking steps continue their way down the hall. Steve feels like he's going to throw up but he didn't have dinner so there's nothing in his belly but bile and nothing comes up even though his throat is tight and his stomach is fucking rolling.

The bedroom door - their bedroom door - creaks on its hinges. Steve keeps meaning to put some WD-40 on it but he kind of likes that it makes a noise, that when he's asleep it's just loud enough to wake him halfway and tell him to anticipate the warm wash of tobacco and sandalwood that will cloud him when Eddie slips beneath the covers. Lets him know he's about to be grabbed and groped a little bit, sweet little kisses pressed to his shoulder and neck and jawline until he's got a face tucked into the curve of his throat, until he's giving a sleepy smile and winding his arms around a trim waist and dragging Eddie in close, sputtering and laughing tiredly as wild hair gets in his face and mouth before he falls asleep again, wrapped tight around the love of his life.

None of that tonight, apparently - and he doesn't blame him. No, he hears the bedroom door creak and it feels like a punishment that he deserves and his eyes burn and burn and burn and his face is wet now, he can't help it, and he wipes at it again angrily, takes the soft blanket to his face and why is it so soft why does Steve try so hard when he knows he won't get anything back why does he try to build a home when he's never had one and never will and is going to lose the one he's clawed onto so desperately and tried so hard to keep–

The door creaks again. Steve takes a stuttering breath. Eddie's steps are soft now as they come down the hallway, bare feet on the floor, almost silent as he creeps his way closer. Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, anything to hold back the sounds he wants to make - he can't let Eddie hear him. He can't let Eddie know he's crying. That's manipulative, isn't it? Crying in front of the person he hurt? He won't do it, won't be that selfish, but that shadow appears at the base of the door again. Steve can't help the shaky inhale he takes, and it sounds so fucking loud in the quiet of the guest room, choked and echoing.

"Baby?" Eddie says, voice low and quiet, rapping so gently against the door with one knuckle. "You in there, Stevie?"

Just the sound of him is enough to send his heart crashing around in his ribcage, fluttering and jumping and making Steve tense. He wants to answer but he can’t get the words to form, his throat feels sealed shut, and he wonders if he should answer even if he were able because what could Eddie possibly have to say right now? It can’t be anything good and Steve doesn’t know if he can take it right now, in this room that makes him feel like a guest in his own home - but isn’t he always a guest? Isn’t that what he’s made to be, a temporary stop in everyone else’s story?

But he’s not ready for Eddie to move past him yet. Not tonight. Let it happen in the morning if it has to happen, let him put this off just a little longer. Just please, not tonight. Not yet.

But Eddie’s never been known for his patience, and the click of the latch has Steve slamming his eyes closed. Too late to roll over and hide his face, but he’s got enough time to duck down and tuck most of his features into a pillow. He tries to let his body relax, to let the tense lines of his muscles uncoil and his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, but he can’t tell if he’s managed it and the ache in his palms from his blunt nails tells him maybe he did, but it won’t help much.

Eddie makes his way across the carpet in silent steps, and the mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge of it. Steve’s fingers twitch to reach for him, but he just curls them into the sheets instead and hopes the motion looks absent enough to have happened in his sleep.

He smells sandalwood and tobacco and feels the warmth from Eddie being so near but it feels like there’s a wall between them, one he can’t cross even if he tries, one he’s barred from so much as touching.

He works hard to keep his breathing even but it’s hitching now and then despite his best efforts, shaky and too loud in the silent room, but he keeps up the charade even though the end of it all is perched right in front of him. And it’s Eddie who puts an end to it. It was always Eddie who was going to put an end to it.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve squeezes his eyes tighter like that’ll make it untrue, like he can just drift off in a second if he wills it hard enough. Eddie shifts on the mattress, and Steve curls tighter into himself. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” Steve bites his tongue so hard he thinks he might taste blood. It’s that simple for Eddie - but it’s always simple, isn’t it? Cut and dry, plain as day, Steve is the only one who can never see it coming, it’s written on the goddamn walls for everyone else.

He risks peeking through his lashes but Eddie’s got his back to him so it doesn’t even matter, not really. Eddie isn’t looking at him and so Steve allows himself to look, takes in the hunch of Eddie’s shoulders, the curve of his spine beneath his thin pajama shirt - he’d changed, when he’d made his way through their creaky bedroom door, took off his clothes and put his pajamas on and kicked off those tennis shoes, they’re probably in a pile at the foot of the bed for Steve to trip over and he will miss tripping over them, he’ll miss it terribly.

He wonders if he’ll need to move. If he’ll have to find a new place and separate out all of their things into his things, if SteveAndEddie’sStuff will become Steve’s stuff and Eddie’s stuff. Or maybe he’ll just start staying in this guest room, maybe that’s why he furnished this room so completely, because somehow he knew he’d end up alone in it.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and Steve inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” he says, and somehow he keeps his voice steady.

“So you are awake,” Eddie says, and he tries to sound teasing, sound playful, but it drops like a stone in this space between them. No room for levity in the dark cloud Steve’s filled this room with. He wishes he could be easygoing and let go gently, but it’s Eddie - in what world could he take losing him graciously?

“Yeah,” he says, and he stares at Eddie’s back as the other raises his head, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Steve, and he wishes he could at least look him in the face when he rips his heart out of his chest.

part 2

#steddie #steve/eddie #stevexeddie #eddie/steve #eddiexsteve #steddie fic #my fic #listen i was in the mood for steve whump and i won't apologize for it #don't worry there's plenty of eddie whump coming in part 2 i promise

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twstowo · 4 months

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Kissing Their Foreheads [Rollo, Che'nya and Neige]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: You kiss their foreheads.

♡︎Reader is from Noble Bell College in Rollo’s part and from Royal Sword Academy in Neige's part

♡︎I feel that I wrote so much more for these guys than the rest…my bad?

[First Years]☆[Second Years]☆[Third Years]☆[One final forehead kiss]☆[Here]

⋆⋅☆Rollo:

You have no idea how you ended up in this situation, but here you are, stuck in the same room with Rollo Flamme while he is giving you the chills. To be fair, he always had those dead eyes, but surely he isn’t mad at you, right? He doesn't want to burn you or anything... That’s just how his face looks all the time.

Well, you're not so sure about that anymore because now he is approaching you! And he is getting way too close for your comfort. You can hear yourself gulping from the nervousness.

You don’t even know why you’re reacting this way. You and Rollo were somewhat close; you’d dare to call him a friend by now, though you’re not sure he sees you that way. The two of you always ended up studying together after classes. Whenever you had trouble understanding a subject, Rollo would always help you out. He wasn’t that bad of a person once you got to know him.

However, he still had those questionable morals of his, and right now, he didn’t seem very happy. He kept ranting about the students from Night Raven College and by the Seven! He seemed particularly mad at this Malleus Draconia, and he had kept on rumbling about him for the past hours.

At this point, you had just shaken off your feeling of unease. You knew that Rollo was probably just stressed about wanting everything to be perfect for the new students. Yes, that had to be it! In fact, you were starting to pity his state.

So, without thinking about your own actions, as Rollo sat down next to you to continue your study session, you took hold of his face and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. As you leaned back in your seat, realizing what you had done, you noticed that Rollo was as embarrassed by your actions as you were. Both of your cheeks had a pink tint as you stared at each other, and now you had no idea of how to get out of this situation.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Che’nya:

There you were, invited to an unbirthday party by Riddle himself. You were having lots of fun eating and drinking while talking with your friends when, out of nowhere, Che’nya decided to show up and scared the living daylights out of you with his floating head.

And that wasn’t all. He seemed to have enjoyed your reaction so much that it turned into a contest to see how high you could jump when he scared you. Not fun. Not fun at all.

The second time his head popped up, you spilled your tea all over your clothes. You had to excuse yourself from the party to wash your shirt.

The third time, you almost stumbled against one of the pink flamingos. You swore that if Che’nya hadn't vanished right away, you would have hit him with one of those.

By the fourth time, you were ready to just run away from the party. But you were having such a fun time with the rest of your friends that you didn’t want Che’nya’s antics to get to you. You really needed to find a way to get payback—something that would surprise him so much that he would no longer pester you.

So, by the fifth time he showed up, you didn’t think twice. You grabbed hold of his floating head, not wanting him to escape. Che’nya had a huge grin plastered on his face, and you were so annoyed by his attitude. You did the most unthinkable thing you could think of: you kissed his forehead.

For the rest of the day, Che’nya didn’t annoy you anymore.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Neige:

By now, you and Neige had become pretty close friends. Not that it was very difficult—the guy was a ball of sunshine. He was also such a hard worker, helping out the dwarfs, studying for exams, training for his acting gigs; overall, he was always filled with work. Yet he always made time for the two of you to be together.

You always tried helping him out, whether by summarizing some of the content from your classes to help him study better or by making his lunch so that he could fully focus on his own stuff.

Neige always appreciated your help, even when he kept on saying how much he didn’t want you to overwork yourself because of him. You never listened to him.

One day, you found Neige, the ball of sunshine always full of energy, knocking at your dorm room. Normally, he would send you a message when he had free time; he never showed up without warning. And by the uncharacteristic dark circles under his eyes and that quivering smile of his, you knew he was tired. So you let him in, and you let him rest in your bed as you cuddled him, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead to help him relax.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst reader #twst x reader #x reader #rollo flamme #rollo flamme x reader #che'nya #che'nya x reader #neige leblanche #neige leblanche x reader

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idlerin · 2 months

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love sick — 10. ur like an exorthermic reaction

romance 101; ideal partner #14 — someone who would be down to go to trips or do some fun activities with me!

suna observed the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks. the lights blazing colors in mixtures of red, blue, and purple. each of the hues seemingly highlights your features most excruciatingly. he couldn’t place exactly why it was so unbearable. perhaps it was because it was putting you in a light he’s resisted seeing you in for the past few days.

so far, he was winning.

“they’re next,” you absentmindedly tug on the sleeves of his shirt, gaze still focused on the stage where you waited for semi to show up, “they’re really good!” you hype them up more, a buzz in the tone of your voice.

“do they play originals?” suna asks, an arm slung around your shoulder. the both of you chose to stand close to the walls because it was easier for suna to prop himself to a more comfortable position. there were plenty of people in the crowd which caused the two of you to press closer against each other—he asked in the car ride if you went to these gigs often and you said yes, he wondered how you stayed cooped up in places like these alone considering the prissy princess idea he’s had of you for a long while now—in the process, you casually resumed a couple-like position. it wasn’t like there was anyone here you needed to put up an act with now.

suna didn’t want to dig into that thought deeper.

“ei likes to mix it up sometimes. they don’t always perform here, specifically, of course. i’ve noticed that his band usually starts with a cover song and then an original. he’s a really good songwriter, he’s been writing songs since high school,” you began to ramble, occasionally looking up at suna pointedly as if emphasizing your words. you had to lean in a bit closer in case he couldn’t hear you well with the noise surrounding you both.

“so you’ve been present and supporting him since the very beginning?” suna urges you to continue with his reply, yet his eyes were surveying over the place, trying not to make you the center of his attention.

“well, duh! i’ve known him before i could even form proper sentences,” you shift and cross your arms over your chest. causing your hair to brush against suna’s collar, making him fail in not having you his focus. his thoughts now went to your perfume and how it would linger in his car later on.

“that long, huh. i haven’t been close to anyone for years close to that, the closest would probably be the miya twins,” suna starts to share about himself, to your surprise.

“i find it hard to keep long-lasting friendships,” you confess, putting more of your weight on suna unintentionally, jutting out your lip in a subtle pout, “i’m lucky i have ei and the others.”

suna found himself focusing on your lips, they were tinged with a darker shade you usually wore. it contrasted the appearance you usually put yourself in around campus. it suited you even though it wasn’t anything he was used to, that made it more appealing. it was distracting, to say the least.

why did he even agree to go here?

he had no reason to. he was tired. and yet he chose to be here. he only needed you for one reason and that was to stop getting bothered. it was going fine, if only it could be kept up for more weeks. you guys didn’t have to be friends the whole time. you guys didn’t even have to be amicable as long as you acted like it. but you preferred having a more familiar relationship if you were ‘acting’, was it under method acting? suna thinks it’s a bit ridiculous that his thoughts made that conclusion just to rationalize. this. this problem.

he thought for the whole duration of this agreement he’d only have one problem, turns out he has two.

the first one was figuring out a way to get a particularly persistent one off his back, and the other was you.

because he was attracted to you.

“are you listening?” he snaps out of his slight daze at the sound of your voice. semi’s band has been playing for a minute or two, suna doesn’t know the specifics since he was only guessing, but you were here making sure he was paying attention. here you were, wide-eyed and raising a hand to tap his cheek.

atsumu was right, you were cute.

“yeah,” suna answered absentmindedly.

you squinted your eyes at him, “listen more,” you put a hand up to your lips to ‘shush’ and went back to watching semi.

suna listens for once and he admits semi was good. he hasn’t interacted much with the guy but he seemed nice enough, he was never interested in his musical endeavors though. suna’s life revolved mostly around volleyball, after all.

a few more minutes pass before suna couldn’t take it anymore.

he was being tortured by the sight of you, it was that cursed moment he saw you in the lobby. suna was taken aback by the way you presented yourself in a different style than usual, he didn’t really think it would have this kind of effect on him.

fuck it.

suna leaned down to whisper in your ear, “hey, you said i can kiss you, right?”

it takes a second before you turn to him, your features scrunched in curiosity, not in any way judgemental or doubting anything, your immediate assumption was, “is anyone you know watching?”

“no,” suna says, eyes dropping down as he watches you wet your lips, “but can i?”

you contemplate it, and in the middle of doing so your surroundings suddenly turn into silence. suddenly, there was only you and him. like they were described in books or movies, everything else turned into background noise.

your ears were ringing and you were a little dazed as you carefully stood on your tiptoes, your mind battling whether this was really a good idea.

it shouldn’t matter, it meant nothing in the end.

you were still clutched against suna and before you started regretting anything, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his.

it was a solid five seconds, and you stepped back with your stomach turning in knots.

suna’s grip on your shoulder tightens, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

the both of you were silent as you continued to listen to semi’s music.

“i hope that made whoever you were trying to trick go away,” you suddenly say, looking up at him with a smile on your face.

suna was left dumbstruck, he clearly told you there wasn’t anyone he was trying to stray away from here… unless you were doing it on purpose, playing another act on purpose. suna observes your features once more, notices that your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, the blank determined look set in your gaze and deduces that he was spot on.

he splayed a small grin, deciding to play along, “yeah, thanks.”

masterlist — previous | next

❥ fun facts !

kageyama has the healthiest screen time in the fg.

kiyoko has a whole list in her notes app abt reasons why she (personally) would never get pregnant.

suna is the type who needs time to warm up and joke around in texting.

love sick ! a suna rintarou social media au

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

a/n — i listened to sabik by deny n arthur nery the whole time reading this so i suggest listening to that if you feel like you wanna reread this PLSSS. also END OF ACT 1 YAY! look at how self destructive these two are 💖. also will prolly close the taglist before i start posting act 2 wlxnsnx. omg my head is throbbing.

taglist is CLOSED ! + (1/3) @yas-mjm @agirlwholovesalot @yenqa @fairywriter-oracle @noideawhothatis @alienvarmint @renardiererin @cheezitwh0re @yaboiithewreck @zephestia @nicerthanu @wolffmaiden @2baddies-1porsche @bluegrey02 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @lylovw @fo-love @cloudsvna @haruskatana @apinu @coyloves @rockleeisbaeeee @geombyu @girlkissersco @reveusecherie @mwhahahalasagna @megumiif @erenjvegerrr @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ris-krispie @kamikokii @complexivelovely @justabreadslice @hearts4faey @yuzurins @eleanorheartschishiya @hearts4itoshi @justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @rijhi @sleepystrwbrryy @snail-squasher @seiamor @wave2love @le000xxgrd @iuspired @theidontknowmehn @linmabbe @rntrsuna @tenaciouswritersheep

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rebelliousstories · 4 months

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My Baby Shot Me Down

Relationship: Cooper Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Age Gap

Word Count: 1,163

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Part Two of: Ex Lover’s Lover

Summary: After a stint on set, Cooper has to call into question whether or not being a relationship is beneficial for her.

“What is he doing here?” Walking onto the set of the newest western film, that was not what she had expected to hear as Cooper was by her side. Looking over at the side of the set, she noticed that there were two women right next to one another.

“Why else? That’s his sugar baby. Don’t know if I even want to be in a film with a man selling the end of the world.” She tried to tune the two women out, and focus on their director, but it was difficult. Of course not everyone was going to happy with his previous gigs, but a check was a check at the end of the day. Cooper was trying to do better now that he was divorced and moving on with his life.

“Darlin’, you listening?” Howard shook the women slightly, which brought her back to the present.

“Yes, sorry. A bit distracted today. My apologies.” She said with a bashful look on her face as she was caught slipping away mentally.

“All good,” the director reassured, “well, if we have no questions, shall we get started?”

And with that, the film was underway. There was a lot of fun on that set for her; being able to act alongside her lover was always a joy. But there was one dark cloud that hung over them. The two women from earlier. They were playing the local ladies of the night in the film, which she found laughable given her current stance on them. Every so often, when they thought they could get away with it, their snide comments slipped through.

“You’re way too young for him.” One of them whispered, sliding a tray of fake drinks over to her to “serve.” She knew that the dialogue would not be heard in the final film, but that did not mean that she did not hear it in the moment.

“You’re just a trophy to him.” Another snide comment as one of the woman passed in front of her on the corner of the little town the had created.

“He deserves someone better.” Yet another chink in her armor.

“He’ll get bored with you soon.”

“Cut!” The director called. She barely had a chance to react when they walked away. Calling it a day for the set, she could feel the tears of frustration boil up in her, but she refused to let them fall. Shoving them down, she felt the eyes of those women on her as she bid the director and staff goodnight, and walked alone to her trailer.

A frustrated sigh left her body the second the door was shut. She leaned against the door and slid down. The feelings from the day welled up inside of her; all the stress, anxiety, sadness, just everything. As she stood from the floor, tears started falling from her eyes as she moved to the pull out couch on the opposite wall. She was thankful that she had the forethought to change from her costume before coming back to her trailer all together.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door, which prompted the woman to stand back up. All she wanted right now was a good cry and maybe some chocolate covered treats, and to finish her evening with a nice cuddle with her lover; but all that would have to wait. She was pleasantly surprised that when she opened the door Cooper was on the other side. He smiled up at her from the bottom of her trailer steps, but it immediately dropped when he saw the look on her face.

“Oh darlin’. What’s wrong?” Cooper pushed his way inside and shut the door behind him. Scooping her up in his arms, he maneuvered them over to the couch where she had once sat.

“Nothing’s wrong. What makes you say that?” She asked in between sniffles. Her lover, on the other hand, was not looking like he was convinced.

“Now you might do well on the stage and screen, but you can’t act your way out of a wet paper bag when it comes to me. Tell me what’s wrong. It’ll make you feel better.” His hands rubbed soothing circles in her shoulders and back, while his voice remained soft.

“Just something someone said today. It’s nothing, Coop.” Trying to brush it off, she settled herself into his arms. This was just what she needed after today.

“I need to know what was said, honey. Otherwise, it’ll fester in that pretty little head of yours.” He replied, pressing a kiss to said head. With her head in his chest, she shook it, causing Cooper to sigh deeply.

“I’ll use tactics to get the information out of you.” His hand was poised and ready to go over her ribs.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Tell me.”

“No. it’s nothing.”

“Alright. You asked for it.” Before she could move out of the way, his hand had descended upon her stomach and began to tickle her. She giggled at first, and soon it turned into full bore laughter as she tried to squirm away from the offending hand. Howard let up for just a moment while staring down at his lover who was panting slightly.

“Tell me, or it’s round two.” He warned, keeping his hand ready to go.

“It’s just, some of the women on set were saying how I was too young for you. That you’d get bored of me sooner rather than later. I don’t know, it just bothered me to think about all day.” She finally admitted, fiddling with a spot on Cooper’s shirt. His hand dropped, and it, instead, brought her chin up to look at him.

“That’s why you forgot your lines today?” He asked ridiculously. She rolled her eyes at him, yet chose not to answer.

“Baby, you are young for me.” That just felt like a stab to the heart. This was it. This was when he finally got bored of her like everyone said.

“But I love that about you.” Looking up into his eyes, she was surprised to hear that come out from him.

“I don’t care if people see us and think to themselves that you’re in it for the money. I’m not going to get bored of you. You pulled me from my darkest point, sweetheart, and for that I thank you.” The longer he spoke, the more she saw love swell in his eyes.

“Let them talk. They’re just jealous that they ain’t us. We can’t control what other people say about us, but we can control how we react. Don’t worry about them anymore. They aren’t worth it.” Cooper concluded his little speech with a sweet little kiss to his girlfriend’s lips. When he pulled away, he chuckled as he was pulled back down.

“Thank you, Coop. I really needed that.” She said, stroking a hand over his face.

“Anytime, any place darlin’.” He replied, leaning back in for another kiss with his love.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul

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whimsicalpolitical · 1 month

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Empty gold - Matty Healy

fwb x matty

continuation of this

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, alcohol, vomit, handjob, smoking,

The hum of the hotel air conditioner drones in the background, a constant reminder of the sterile luxury surrounding you. Matty Healy lounges on the king-sized bed, intently focused on his Nintendo Switch. The soft glow from the screen illuminates his features, casting shadows that dance across his face with every flick of his fingers.

You lie beside him, propped up on one elbow, watching him play. Your thoughts are miles away, oscillating between the upcoming gig and the knot of unease in your stomach. The ticking clock on the nightstand tells you that you have just under two hours before you need to leave.

"Matty," you begin, your voice hesitant. He doesn't look up, but you know he's listening. "What will the other boys think if I always come to the gigs?"

He pauses the game and turns to face you, an eyebrow arched in amusement. "You think they don’t already know we’re shagging?"

You bite your lip, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "I mean, we’ve been pretty discreet..."

"Discreet? Love, they’re not daft. They’ve known from the start."

Your heart skips a beat. You always assumed you had kept things under wraps. But of course, they would know. They are like family, and families have a way of sensing things.

"And they don’t mind?" you ask, your voice softer now, vulnerability peeking through.

Matty shifts closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Love. Why would they mind? We’ve all been friends before and just because we’re havin‘ a bit of fun doesn’t mean they don’t like you anymore.“

He continues, “they really could not care less. And I’m sure they’ve got their own girl problems to deal with.”

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. His reassurance, the warmth in his eyes, makes you believe it. The boys have always been important to you and you sure as hell don’t want to fuck it up.

"So," he says, a mischievous glint in his eye, “you excited for the gig, then?"

“Yeah of course, but it’s not my first, remember.”

At his first gig you came to be there for him, being Matty’s best friend for years you wanted to support him and the boys.

"I remember," he says, picking up his Switch again, but not before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Now let me finish this level and then we can get into anything you would like to do.”

“Oh?” You ask with a grin, obviously not having pure thoughts.

“Can’t you multitask?” You ask, resting your hand on his lower leg which is sliding upwards but in a torturously slow pace.

“I have to get this level, babe, have to win against George.” You roll your eyes, your hand on his upper thigh rubbing circles against his jeans.

“So you better concentrate and don’t get distracted.”

Matty laughs and glances at you quickly before his eyes drop to the little screen. “And your what? Gonna jerk me off?”

You giggle and nod before moving your hand to his crotch. “Yeah, you want that?”

“Fuck f’course.”

You’re shoving one hand down the front of Matty’s jeans. “Jesus. Doesn’t take much to get you going, does it?” You tease and begin to move more deliberately.

Matty sucks in a quick breath and exhales, “don’t act like you’re not drenching your underwear right now.”

“Fuck off.”

You observe Matty, a smile tugging on his lips but his breathing going a bit faster than a couple of minutes ago.

“Lift your hips.” You demand and he obliges.

“Good boy.” You tease, laughing when Matty stares at you like he’s going to kill you. You don’t fail to notice the blush creeping up his neck though.

“Piss off with that.”

You pull his jeans and boxers off, sliding the fabric down his legs but not completely off. You continue by settling down onto his thigh.

He’s not fully hard yet but when your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, pumping your fist a few times, he’s letting out the groan that had settled in his throat.

"Shit." his voice quivering, "keep goin.”

You tut, “be nice, matty.”

“Sorry, love.” he groans, “please keep going.”

You hum and of course you do as he says, loving his breaths and groans too much to just wait. Your fingers move to his tip trying to collect as much pre-cum as possible to get him wetter.

When you’ve spread his cum around you start to move your fist again, up and down his shaft. Too slow. Matty bucks his hips to gain more but you hold his hips down.

“Why so impatient?”

“Babe, you’re joking,” his breath is jagged, on the edge of exploding and splattering all over your fist. “Fuck, just go faster.”

“Are you winning?”

“What?”

“Your game, Matty. Are you winning?”

Your fist starts to move faster and he looks so divine that the pressure of his thigh is starting to get you soaked.

“S-second place.”

You lean forward against his ear, “keep going then, don’t lose now.”

Your lips trace against his neck, lingering against the skin. He can’t keep the device straight, he won’t win like this and you both know it. Not that it matters. Not while you're touching him.

"Is this good?" you ask, breath tickling against his ear.

Matty nods rapidly, "good.. so good," fingers twisting around the switch as his eyes flutter closed. "fuck," he gasps, the switch slipping from his hand onto the bed when your thumb circles the tip of his dick again. An otherworldly feeling he feels just with you.

"Yeah?" you grit, continuing to stroke him.

One hand of Matty holds onto your while the other finds your cheek, lazily trying to connect your lips. Your knee slides between his legs, spreading them just enough for your other hand to creep between and grab his balls.

"Oh- christ ," matty wails, kissing at your bottom lip, sucking at the skin.

Your expert fingers fondle his balls while the other fists his dick, pre-cum making your fingers glisten and move with ease.

His throat squeaks, the most pitiful noise a grown man could've made, his bottom lip still latched onto yours.

Matty’s going crazy for the sweet taste of your lips and the friction of your palm rubbing against his cock.

"i'm gonna cum," he babbles, stomach flipping, waves of pleasure crashing through his tingling limbs.

You don't respond to his whining, your nose brushes over his as his breaths become shallow and staggered. An iron clad grip on your shirt as he teeters over the edge, hips stuttering into your palm.

"Fuckin’ hell," Matty mewls, bursting all over your hand,

"Shit, darling," your eyes darken, gazing down at your hand still wrapped around him, somewhat proud of what you've achieved.

You smile and lower your head to his wet chest and thighs. You begin to lick his skin, changing from soft licks to soft bites as matty squirms over you.

“Taste good?” He asks and you nod, cleaning him up completely.

You kiss him again when you’re done, slipping him your tongue to show him how he tastes and he groans. The both of you grin into the kiss.

“M’ so glad I’ve brought you with me.” His hand finds your ass to playfully hit it one time. “Was fuckin’ worth losing against George.”

“I would hope so.”

“Course, babe.” He smiles, “let’s get dressed then.”

The hallway is dimly lit, a quiet hum of activity vibrating through the walls as the crowd outside buzzes with anticipation. You lean against the cool, textured surface, trying to catch your breath. The distant thrum of bass seeps through the floor, a steady reminder that Matty’s concert is about to start.

But then he's there, a flash of dark curls and an easy smirk as he strides down the hall. He spots you immediately, his eyes lighting up with something between mischief and desire. Without a word, he grabs your hand, pulling you toward him with that familiar urgency.

Your back hits the wall as his lips crash onto yours, and suddenly, nothing else matters. His hands are everywhere—one tangling in your hair, the other pressing into the small of your back, drawing you closer. You respond in kind, gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him as close as you can. The kiss is hungry, heated, a collision of need and want that you've both been holding back since this morning.

His breath is hot against your skin as he breaks away, just enough to murmur your name, low and rough, before capturing your lips again. The world narrows down to just this—the taste of him, the way he moves against you, the faint tremble in his touch that tells you he’s as affected as you are.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know the show will start soon, that someone could walk by any second. But right now, with Matty’s hands on your waist and his mouth devouring yours, the thought seems distant, almost irrelevant.

He pulls back, just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. His eyes search yours, dark and intense, as if he’s trying to memorize this moment before it slips away. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring the frantic pace of your own.

“When are you on?” you start, but he cuts you off with another kiss, softer this time, but no less demanding. When he pulls away again, his thumb brushes across your cheek, and he gives you that lopsided grin that always makes your heart skip.

“We have 15 minutes,” he murmurs. His gaze lingers on you for just a second longer before he steps back, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“Don’t wanna wait,” you admit, “just fuck me.”

“Romantic.” He jokes.

“Like we should be,” you hiss, “we’re fuck buddies.”

It’s not like you don’t want to change that. It feels like you’ve been falling down like autumn leaves but you want to beg him to not let winter come and let your hearts freeze.

“Right.” Something shifted in him, he sounds hurt. But this can’t be.

His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you drop your jaw, allowing your tongues to lazily reunite. One of his hands delicately traces your spine while the other cups your cheek, cradling it harder then usual. You lean your face into the palm of his hand, letting him hold you close.

His hand leave their place to go under your skirt and pull your panties just down your thighs. Then he grips your hand and pulls it to your dripping center.

“Do it yourself then,” he orders, “c’mon, get yourself drenched for me.”

You of course obey and start to slowly rub circles onto your clit.

He opens his belt and pulls his pants and boxers down to his knees only to end up fisting his hard cock.

Ironically he pulls a condom out of your cleavage and rips it open with his teeth.

You’re lost in your own pleasure, already thrusting a finger into yourself, you betrayed yourself by letting out a too loud moan.

“Didn’t say you could do that,” Matty shakes his head, “bad girl.”

He’s angling his cock so it lines up with your entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, he pushes inside. You watch through heavy lidded eyes as his face goes slack and his brow furrow.

"Yeah, fuck, that's it," he growls when you start to lift your hips as well. He lets his head fall back and groans but tries to pull himself together to watch as the evidence of your arousal smear between you both with each rock of your hips. His hands hold onto your legs.

His mouth reaches your breasts. He starts licking and biting the hardening bud and making you whine. He grins against it, changing the breast to the other one, achieving the same reaction.

"Feel so good," you practically slurr, your mind growing numb as your pleasure builds. He releases your breast with a smack to his lips and his eyes look black when he meets your gaze.

He clenches his jaw before he mutters lowly, "fuckin' take it. C'mon, let me see you work for it."

You take a deep breath and stabilize your palms against his chest before tilting your hips up and dropping them down quickly, over and over in a steady, fast rhythm that had your skin slapping together obscenely in the dingy hallway.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck, what a good girl," he murmurs. You can see the shift in his face now and it fucking thrills you. Gone are the sweet, loving looks and chaste, gentle kisses. Now that his own pleasure is mounting low in his stomach, his cock throbbing and begging for release deep within you, he is growing impatient. He bares his teeth while you keep up your fast, tight pace, eyes flashing up at you hungrily, heat flushing his chest and neck.

"Keep fuckin' yourself on my cock, love," he grits out.

"You think anyone else can ever make you feel like this? Fucks sake," he adds, his voice dropping to a whisper with his last words. It has you tipping your head with a deep moan, your gaze locking onto the ceiling while you continue to ride him as best you can with trembling legs, ignoring the ache everywhere else in your body.

“Matty,” you moan.

And he can feel it. He can feel your legs shake, he can hear your breath stutter and he knows you are growing weak but fuck if you don’t try to push through it just to please him. The mere thought practically short circuits his brain, his senses dulling at the idea of someone as perfect as you. But you’re just fuck buddies as you said.

Everything hurts now and it gets harder to move.

So he decides to help. His hands find their place on your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease of your thighs, and he bucks up into you, each movement paired with a deep grunt that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingernails digging into his chest.

You drop one leg, relieve washing over you, the discomfort washing off immediately.

When your body shuddered and your jaw hangs open, a sharp gasp the only sound to leave your lips, he smirked because he knew what would happen next.

Your perfect fucking pussy clenches around him so deliciously, squeezing and relaxing over and over again while each wave of your orgasm rips through you. The sight and feel is unlike anything else, the experience simply incomparable.

He groans loudly and falls forward as he spills inside the condom.

“Christ,” he gasps pulling out of you.

He’s nice and pulls your panties on, kissing your cheek, “have to go on stage now, we’ll see each other later, yeah?”

“Sure.”

He leans down one more time to capture your lips in a kiss before he’s off to fulfill his duties as a rockstar.

The whole show you had to watch matty get drunk as fuck, smoke one joint after another, touching his dick on stage and kissing a fan during robbers. Proper kissing. Gripping her hips, pulling her closer and licking her lips as if he didn’t just fuck you an hour ago.

You’re pissed and you don’t even know if you have the right to be.

You thought about your ‘relationship’ a lot these past months and maybe it’s for the better to end it. As fast as possible.

So you wait for him to walk backstage but it’s not walking, he stumbles backstage, holding on to the walls.

“Jesus Matty,” you roll your eyes and grips his arms.

“Hi, darling, don’t you look pretty.”

“Stop. We have to talk, okay?”

“Hmm, talk dirty?”

He tries to touch your waist and pull you on top of him but you push his hands away and walk to the door a few steps away from him.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?”

“Us. Just sex, we have to stop.”

He looks baffled and he stands up almost falling over in the process, “shit,” he mumbles. “If this is about the girl, love, it’s part of our show and-“

“It’s not about the girl, Matty. It was a huge mistake. All of it.”

“But-“ matty tumbles forward and takes your face into his hands, “we were so good. Admit it.”

“Matty-“

“Admit it.”

“Obviously but that doesn’t mean it feels right anymore.”

“Course,” he huffs, “you’re sick of me?”

His hands fall down and he turns his back on you facing the abandoned black couch.

“Fuck,” he half screams making you jump a little.

Matty searches around for something, you don’t know what but it gets clear when he half runs towards a bin. He crouches down and throws up inside, falling to his knees.

“For fucks sake, Matty. How old are you?”

You sit down next to him, your hand instinctively reaching out to rub his back. Matty’s breathing is ragged, and he groans softly between each heave, his face pale and twisted with discomfort. For a moment, you’re unsure of what to say, so you just keep rubbing his back in small circles, hoping it brings him some comfort.

“You’re fine, Matty. Just breathe, okay? You’ll be fine,” you murmur softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite how furious you are.

He retches again, and your hand pauses for a brief moment before resuming its soothing rhythm. Matty’s body shakes with the effort, and then finally, it seems like it’s over. He leans back against the wall, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are glassy, and he looks at you with a mixture of regret and shame.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse and broken.

You shake your head quickly, cutting him off before he can spiral further. “It’s fine.”

You can see the guilt weighing on him, though, and it tugs at your heart. For all his bravado, for all the times he’s seemed invincible, moments like this remind you how human he really is, how fragile.

“You shouldn’t… shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he mutters, slurring slightly.

You let out a small sigh and shake your head again. “Stop that. We’ve been friends for too long, Matty. Just let me help you.”

He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall, as if trying to escape the reality of the situation. But you don’t let him withdraw completely. You reach out, gently turning his face toward you. He resists at first, but eventually, his eyes meet yours.

“I’m taking you home,” you say firmly.

Matty looks at you for a long moment, his expression conflicted, but then he nods weakly. He’s too tired, too drained to argue. You help him up, and he stumbles a bit, leaning heavily on you for support.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” you say softly, guiding him towards the door.

The drive is quiet. Matty’s head lolls against the window, and every now and then, you glance over to check on him. He’s half-asleep, his breathing slow and even, but his hand occasionally twitches as if reaching for something just out of reach. You keep one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the console, close enough to his hand that he could grab it if he wanted to.

When you finally reach his place, you park the car and gently shake him awake. He groans, opening his eyes blearily.

“We’re here,” you say softly. “Can you make it inside?”

He nods but doesn’t move at first. You watch him struggle to find the energy, and after a few seconds, you unbuckle your seatbelt and step out of the car. You walk over to his side and open the door, offering your hand. He takes it, and you help him out, steadying him as he stumbles slightly.

The walk to his door feels longer than it actually is, but eventually, you’re inside. Matty collapses onto the couch, his body sinking into the cushions as if he’s finally allowing himself to let go.

You kneel beside him, pulling off his shoes and tossing them to the side. Then, you grab a blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over him.

“Do you need to throw up again?”

“Nah, don’t think so.”

Matty’s eyes flutter open, and he looks at you with a vulnerability that you’re not used to seeing. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

You give him thumbs up, “now sleep, we can talk when you’re sober.”

You turn around to leave but he grips your wrist.

“Please don’t leave me.”

You’re met with a boy whose eyes are tearing up, his lip wobbling.

“What?”

“I’m sorry- fuck,” he groans, one hand rubbing his forehead, “I didn’t want to kiss her. It felt wrong and it wasn’t you and I was mad because you said we’re fuck buddies and we are but I want more.”

“Matty don’t-“

“No, I don’t even know why I didn’t ask you out properly, yeah. I just thought that if I could shag you I already have you. M’ so sorry.”

He takes your hand and leads it to his lips to press his lips to your skin. “Please don’t leave me. Let’s do this right. I’ve always-“

“Don’t, okay?“

Your heart aches at the sight of him like this, so vulnerable, so raw. You’ve seen him put on so many faces—confident, aloof, charming—but this is different. This is Matty stripped down to his core, no defenses, no games. And yet, the doubt still lingers in the back of your mind. What if this is just a drunken confession, something he’ll regret in the morning?

“Matty…” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I want to believe you, I really do. But… what if this isn’t real? What if you don’t feel the same way when you wake up?”

He looks up at you, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s real. I swear to you, it’s real. I’ve always felt this way, I was just too much of a coward to admit it.”

You want to believe him, but the pain of uncertainty gnaws at you. You’ve been through so much together, and the thought of losing him completely if things go wrong terrifies you.

He sits up, his hand still holding yours as he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours with a desperation that breaks your heart.

“I know I’ve messed up. I know I don’t deserve you, but please… just give me a chance to prove it to you. I’ll do anything.”

“Matty, you’re drunk. I need you to understand that this isn’t something we can just brush off if you change your mind.“

He shakes his head frantically. “I won’t change my mind. I can’t… I’ve been running from this for so long, and I’m done. I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

He leans up and you’re so close to breathing each other’s air but you pull away. “I can’t, not now.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Alright, then let’s talk in the morning, darling. But please don’t leave me?”

You reach out, brushing a tear from his cheek, and give him a small, sad smile. “I won’t.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch, and for a moment, you both just sit there in the silence, the weight of what’s unspoken hanging heavy between you. Finally, you settle down next to him and rest your head on his chest. It’s not like you haben cuddled Million times.

“Get some sleep,” you murmur. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

#matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy fluff #matty healy angst #matty healy imagine #matty healy blurb #matty healy x you #matty healy x reader #matty healy oneshot #the 1975 #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic

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noxturnalpascal · 10 months

Text

Dancing is a Dangerous Game

(FrankieMorales x F!Stripper!Reader)

A/N & Warnings: Sexual Content below - 18+ only, Frankie doing what he do (iykyk), unspecified age gap (anywhere from 10-15 yrs), talk of stripping/dancing as a job that pays the bills. The photos on the Moodboard are just for fun, the female Reader is not specifically physically described so you can imagine her however you want. Thank you to @saradika for the divider.

Did I make this prompt up myself for me and some fellow writers? Yes. Did I set the word count limit? Also Yes. Did I stick anywhere even close to that limit? *laughs hysterically.

PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW)

*1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum

WC: 4749 (I have a problem)

Frankie’s mouth was hanging open. He knew he should close it. He knew he looked like a weirdo. He knew he was about to get a “Catfish, lookin’ like a fish” joke from his friends. But for the life of him he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, or close his gaping jaw.

Not since his babysitter walked on stage and started taking her clothes off.

To be fair, you're not his babysitter anymore. Not since he called you three weeks ago asking if you could babysit for him tonight and you broke the news to him that you'd gotten a new job and couldn't babysit anymore. At least now he understands why you left the not-so-lucrative world of babysitting for an arguably better-paying gig.

You've only been dancing for two minutes and he already sees more money on the stage than he would've paid you to sit his kid tonight. He’s been watching as you undulate your body across the stage, bending and dipping, stripping down to your underwear. Even though part of him thinks he should, he definitely doesn’t look away when you divest yourself of your lacy little bra.

He always thought you were hot. He was a newly-single dad, interviewing you for a semi-regular babysitting gig. He tried to focus on your resume and your qualifications. He tried to breathe through his mouth so he couldn’t smell your delicate perfume. He tried to ignore the dewy pink lipgloss you had spread across your mouth, which is in stark contrast to the bright red lipstick you are currently sporting.

He was very motivated by the fact that you, as a graduate student in your mid-20’s, seemed more responsible to leave his kid with than the other applicants to his babysitting ad, all of whom were literal teenagers. But truth be told - you were also really fucking hot. Horny dad and the hot babysitter, what a fucking cliche he was.

However, in the eleven months you babysat for him, he never acted on his inappropriate attraction to you. He never treated you as anything other than an employee. You’d show up to his house, hair in a messy bun, wearing comfy clothes, ready to sit on the living room floor all evening playing with his kid. He was polite, and respectful, and was almost positive you never caught him staring at your tits.

Your tits that he’s most definitely staring at right now. Holy shit you have great tits.

“Fuckin’ A Fish, if you’re gonna keep your mouth open, you could at least pour some beer into it.”

“Huh?” Frankie snaps his head back to the table he’s sat at, surrounded by his friends. They all chuckle.

“We’re about to order the next round and you didn’t even drink any of that one yet,” Benny says as he points to the dripping bottle in Frankie’s hand.

Oh, sorry, Frankie mumbles as he pushes the now-warm bottle to his lips and begins to drink the beer down, his eyes moving back to the stage. The entire club is lit only by colored lights that coordinate with the twirling lights and lasers pointed at the stage, pulsating to the tempo of the music you’ve picked. Fog rolls across the floor of the stage, cascading over the edge.

There’s a single golden pole at an outcropping of the stage that you’re now gripping with both hands, sticking your ass out towards the audience and giving it a wiggle. You let go of the pole and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties. You slowly begin to push them down and just as the crack of your ass comes into view Frankie momentarily forgets that he can’t swallow liquid and breathe at the same time.

He begins to sputter and cough, choking on the bubbly liquid and spurting it across the table onto the faces of half of his friends. He’s met with groans, curses, and several swats to the back of his head as he attempts to get his wheezing under control, and the fluid out of his trachea.

Santi, who somehow managed to avoid Frankie’s beer-foam projectile, slaps a palm on Frankie’s shoulder and says,

“Guys, Frankie’s real sorry, he’s just never seen a naked woman before.”

The laughter at Frankie’s expense serves as some form of forgiveness, and everyone slowly goes back to flirting with the wandering dancers and ordering their second round. Santi keeps his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and leans into Frankie’s personal space.

“You alright?” Santi asks, squeezing his friend’s shoulder firmly.

Frankie manages to mutter a strangled yeah before several rounds of trying to clear his throat. The lights have dimmed, sinking the club temporarily into a hazy darkness. He briefly registers that the song you were dancing to has ended, so you’ve most likely left the stage.

Santi laughs, shaking his head. He moves his mouth right to Frankie’s ear, almost whispering.

“When I convinced Will to have his bachelor party at this club I thought you’d be the one making your hot babysitter choke, not the other way around,” and he claps Frankie on the back hard, “if you know what I mean.”

Frankie’s eyes go wide as he meets Santi’s crooked grin, but his friend offers nothing more as he moves to the other side of the table, turning his devilish smile on the waitress. He orders two beers and three shots for each man, dismissing the groans of protest from the table. Bachelor Down!, he shouts at Will as everyone does their shots and chases them with cheap beer.

You approach the table full of men with seven other dancers, each of you assigned by the club to give a 20-minute private dance to one of the members of the bachelor party. You’re each in various states of dress, but most are only half-dressed. You’re back in your lacy underwear set - panties and bra - but the sheer nature of the fabric leaves little to the imagination.

Your previous job as a part-time nanny worked while you were an undergrad. When you started law school it became too much and you had to switch to more infrequent evening babysitting gigs so you had your days free for school and studying. Unable to keep up with school payments you recently had to find something new. Something that only required night and weekend availability, but paid really well.

Enter: Stripping.

You’ve only been doing this job for a little over a month but you’d quickly gotten very comfortable with being naked in front of strangers. You had your little dance routine and could easily make flirty banter with the club’s customers. Your boss was impressed enough that he’d started assigning you party gigs with some of the other girls, like this bachelor group.

You walk up to the group of strangers, the rest of the girls fan around the table as you’re left standing just behind a broad-shouldered man with a baseball cap on, curls sticking out from under the back strap. You turn to the man with a big smile on your face.

Holy Fuck.

Not a Stranger.

It’s Francisco Morales. The hot dad you until-recently babysat for.

He looks at you sheepishly. Your hands immediately fly to cover your breasts, suddenly mortified that your nipples are showing through your nearly-transparent choice of outfit.

“Mr. Morales!”

“Oh I- I already,” he begins to stutter. Is he telling you that he’s already seen your tits?

You look around at the collection of empty beer bottles and shot glasses on the table and figure that they’ve all been here for much longer than just your dance. So covering your nipples does nothing for your modesty as hot dad has probably already seen everything. You drop your arms to your side, attempting to look relaxed and casual.

“So I-uh. I guess you found a babysitter for tonight.”

He laughs. He actually laughs at your awkward attempt at diffusing the tension. Thank god. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say anything one of his friends is speaking to the group. He explains that “everyone gets a private dance” and no one can object - and he looks right at Mr. Morales when he says this - because “it’s all been paid for already.”

Following the lead of the other girls you gently grab Mr. Morales’ hand, missing the looks back and forth between him and his friend. You do your best to confidently lead him back to the private rooms with the rest of his group. There are a dozen rooms in the hallway and eight of them have been held in reserve for this bachelor party group. Pulling him inside the last room on the right, you close the door behind you.

The room is dim, save for the red glow of the lights. The ceiling and floor are both painted black and the three walls without the door are mirrored. Towards the left is a single high-backed black leather chair facing a brass pole that sits in the exact center of the room. On the far side of the room is a curved loveseat against the wall.

This should be easy. Not just because this is your job but because unlike any other man you’ve ever led back here, this is a man you are extremely attracted to.

This is a man you have fantasized about.

You’ve imagined his curls between your fingers when you’ve grabbed a fistful of a customer's hair, imagined that it’s his stubble scratching between your breasts when you’ve pressed them close. You’ve envisioned his wide chest as you ran your hands down their front, his massive paws in your hands as you’ve taken their sweaty palms and placed them on your rolling hips.

You’ve wished they were his thighs that you were grinding your ass onto and his erection that you all-too-frequently felt pressing into you. That should make this easy. But instead you’re super fucking nervous. Even more nervous than your first night here, when you dragged your panties down your legs and bent over, exposing your pussy lips to a packed room of strangers.

What makes you most nervous is probably that the fantasies didn’t stop in the club. It would be one thing if they were just here, serving as a comfort, self-soothing by putting a familiar face in place of a groping stranger’s face. But that’s not the truth. You’ve imagined him at home too.

In the shower, pretending your hands were his hands as you pinched and plucked at your wet nipples. Daydreaming about his weight on top of you, fucking into you, as you drove one of your toys in and out of your wet cunt.

And if you’re being perfectly honest, you can admit that it’s been going on for almost a year, since shortly after he hired you to be his babysitter. Remembering the times you’d made yourself come on his couch, hours after his kid had fallen asleep, waiting for him to return home from a night out with his friends. Your hand stuffed down the front of your pants, petting your clit to the thought of him on his knees in front of you.

You never thought you’d actually be naked in front of your fantasy-DILF. This is like being slapped in the face with your own wet dreams. This is kind of a nightmare.

“Listen, you don’t have to-” he begins just as you start to speak as well.

“Mr. Morales I know-” and you both stop and let out breathy, nervous laughs.

“C-Can you please stop calling me Mr. Morales?”

“Oh sorry! Is that weird?”

“It sounds like the start of a bad porno,” he groans, laughing again. “Please just call me Frankie.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry Mist- Frankie. Sorry. Frankie.”

You both break out in laughter again, loudly this time, hoping to finally diffuse some of the tension. A knock sounds at the door and a deep voice - security - asks if everything is alright. You shout back that everything is fine and the room quiets down.

“I should start the music and get going,” you say quietly, motioning for him to sit on the curved red velvet seat against the far wall.

You press a button above his head and music starts up, the first of three songs forming a 10-minute loop that will repeat for this booking. You look into the mirrored wall to your left and notice how nervous you look. Then you meet his eyes in the mirror. Why does he look just as nervous?

You straddle one of his legs and shakily reach back to undo the clasp on your bra. You meet his eyes again. Fuck he can see how your hands are shaking. You look like such a fucking kid. A goddamn amateur. This is going to be the least-sexy lapdance he’s ever been given.

You can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips when you suddenly feel his hot hands covering yours at your back.

“You can leave this on if you’d be more comfortable,” he says softly, barely heard over the pumping bass of the music.

“No I’m fine, I’m just…” you don’t know how to explain to him without embarrassing yourself but suddenly you’re making an admission and the word-vomit has left your mouth before you can even do anything to stop it. “I just always thought you were hot.”

There it is. It’s out there now.

He opens his mouth to say something and your nerves bubble up and come out as more words and why the fuck are you talking more?

“I know, I know,” you spit out before he can get a word in, “the babysitter thirsting after the hot dad, how prosaic, right? Talk about a bad porno.”

His warm hands still touching you, he slowly moves his fingers around yours, deftly undoing the clasp of your bra for you.

“It’s okay, I kinda… thought you were hot too,” his admission slips out in a whisper.

You really want to kiss him right now. But that would be a very bad idea. Security patrols the hallway and the door has a small window towards the top of it. It allows security to peek inside and see from the shoulders up. Usually if they can see your shoulders, all is good. If they can’t see your shoulders, it gives them an idea if rules are being broken or if the girls need help.

Kissing - among other things - is against the rules.

You barely turn to look at the windowed door but you’re embarrassed to think that Frankie must know what you’re thinking because it’s like he can read your mind. Or maybe he’s just thinking about kissing you too? Either way he puts his hands back down to his sides and lets you lean into him, allowing your bra to slowly shift down your shoulders until it falls into his lap.

Your tits are right in his face. You’re half naked in front of the hot dad whose child you used to babysit. The hot dad who you’ve pictured doing this exact thing with - and more. But he’s not even looking at your tits. He’s looking you right in your eyes and making you feel more naked than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

He shouldn’t be here, not doing this, not with you. He should ask for a different girl. He should tell the security guy to kick him out. He’s making you so uncomfortable, he can tell by your twitching movements and halting breaths. He can’t stop staring at you like he’s some kind of lonely creep, what a fucking weirdo he’s being.

You position your legs on the outside of his, keeping his legs slightly open and his hands obediently face-down on the couch next to him. You’re straddling him but hovering above his lap, seemingly careful not to touch him. When you put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself you begin to stiffly roll your body towards and then away from him.

He doesn’t know where to look. He can’t keep looking at your face, he knows the eye-contact is getting very disturbing. Why the hell did he tell you he kinda thought you were hot too? At least he didn’t admit the truth, that he thought you were fucking supernova-hot. He’s had to bite his tongue countless times to stop from asking you out.

He focuses his eyes at the hollow dip that lies at the base of your throat. It has a dance of its own, moving slightly with your pulse and rolling with your shallow breaths, the rise and fall of your chest a baseline rhythm. He tries not to think about your bare breasts just below, breasts that he’s thought about putting his hands on every single time you’ve walked into his house for the last year.

He can see your deep red lips in his peripheral vision, and immediately the image of those lips on his skin is conjured. He pictures a chaste kiss planted on his cheek followed by a less-chaste thought of his thumb pressed into your mouth, your eyes looking up at him while your lips leave a red ring on his hand. He needs to fucking calm down. This is just a dance. You’re at work doing your literal job.

He suddenly notices you’ve almost completely stopped moving. He looks up at your face and you’re wearing a tight, pained expression. His brows furrow. Oh no. What’s wrong? Is his erection noticable? Is he creeping you out too badly? Do you want him to leave? He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but you silence him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders.

“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t touch me,” you squeak out in a strained whisper.

In the back of his head a part of him thinks that he shouldn’t immediately cave. It shouldn’t be this easy. Part of him thinks he should need more than just you saying that.

But he doesn’t. At all.

He slowly slides his body down the sofa, pushing his frame between your legs. You move your feet apart to accommodate his wide shoulders once you realize he won’t fit otherwise. He stops when his ass is sitting on the floor and his head is just above the seat of the sofa, you towering over him. He reaches down and begins to take off your platform heels one at a time.

As your bare feet hit the floor you run your hands up your neck, over your face, and through your hair, your knees knocking at his shoulders. Touching you gently with only two fingers on each hand, he pushes on the backs of your thighs, guiding you even closer to his face. He grabs your feet and holds them in his hands, forcing your legs to fold and pushing your knees past his ears as his head rests back on the seat.

You’re kneeling at the edge of the sofa, shins on the cushion, feet dangling over his shoulders, your toes curled in his massive hands on his chest, and his head between your thighs. Your face still looks uneasy, and he can just make out whining noises over the music. High-pitched and breathy, the way a dog would beg for scraps at the dinner table.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna touch you now,” he growls.

You grab the brim of his hat and twist it off his head, immediately diving your fingers into his locks. He squeezes your toes and you take his cue, lifting your hips and canting them towards his waiting mouth. Latching his mouth onto your underwear, he runs his tongue up and down your covered seam.

He feels you begin to rock your hips into his face, rolling your body above him. Any security who looked in the window would see your shoulders moving to the beat and assume you were kneeling on the couch and giving a lap dance. He can only barely see you from his angle, sees the lace of your panties, sees your wrists grabbing at his hair.

Letting go of one of your feet, he grabs at your wrist, dragging your hand from his head to the front of your own underwear. You run your fingers down yourself, parting them around his mouth, letting his tongue tangle in them. Then you grab the edge of the gusset and pull it to the side.

Wasting no time, he immediately begins to lick at your folds, tasting the wetness that has gathered there. A lot of wetness. Christ, you’re so fucking wet. His nose touches just below your clit and a string of your arousal attaches him to you when he pulls back slightly.

A slight pause in the music has his heart stop and his stomach in his throat. After a couple seconds - that seem to stretch on forever - the first song begins playing again, restarting what must be a looped set of music.

That must mean this private dance-time is halfway over. Ten minutes left but since you two probably started after everyone else you might not have the full ten minutes of privacy if his friends decide to burst in the door. Which, if they’re led by Santi, is a real possibility.

Less than ten minutes. No problem.

You must also feel the sense of urgency because you adjust your hand that is holding your panties to the side. You take your thumb and pointer finger and move them over yourself, parting your lips to open yourself more to him and pulling up slightly, exposing your nub. He flattens his tongue in response and drags it over your sensitive bundle, noting the way your body trembles when he does so.

He knows he doesn’t have the time to edge you as he’d like to, but he can’t help himself when he moves his head lower and twists his tongue into your hole, thrusting it into you. You are bouncing yourself slightly up and down, helping him fuck yourself on his tongue. He feels your wetness pouring over his lips and dripping down through his whiskers.

He feels your hand leave your own body and tangle back in his curls along with your other one, grabbing two fistfuls of hair tightly in your grip. Having had enough of his teasing you’re apparently deciding to take matters into your own hands.

Frankie loves eating pussy but this? This might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

He angles his head perfectly, opens his mouth, and sticks his tongue out stiffly as you begin to grind your pussy against his face. You’re using his nose, his tongue, his chin, even the bristles of his facial hair. You’re using whatever you can to get yourself off as you ride his face. It takes everything in his power not to break out in a giant smile.

He doesn’t hear you, you’re still being the quietest you’ve been since you got in this room, but he feels it. Shit, does he ever feel it. He feels your body tense, then your legs quiver, feels the pulsing in your cunt as you press yourself firm into his still-open mouth. He gently laps up your gushing orgasm as you release the grip on his hair and whimper softly above him.

Knowing you’re short on time, he has you climb off him much sooner than he’d like you to. Your heavy-lidded eyes meet his and then yours go wide. You bend down and grab his hat, plopping it back on his head and attempting to tame his just-fucked-hair back underneath it. You run to the corner of the room and grab a small robe hanging on a hook, skipping back over and roughly wiping his face off with it the way you would a toddler after a meal.

He quickly adjusts himself, tucking his protruding hardness under his belt in an attempt to conceal it as he watches you adjust your askew panties. Still topless, you throw the robe back towards the corner in a panic just as there is a quick knock at the door. Without a signal to enter the door flies open anyways, no less than three of his friends bursting through the doorway drunkenly, shots in hand for Frankie to partake in.

They make Frankie drink the shots before he even leaves the room and then they drag him away from you, hollering obnoxiously. All he can manage is an apologetic look over his shoulder as he hears the final song finally come to an end. Time’s up. Luckily you’re laughing at their antics and don’t seem to be upset. Maybe you were just flirting with him because that’s your job. Maybe you just wanted a good tip.

A tip! Shit.

Being dragged down the hallway Frankie grabs Santi by the arm and asks in his ear how much he should tip you. Santi says he usually tips $200. Frankie is shocked that a 20 minute dance would garner that big of a tip, but then again it’s been a long time since he’s been at a place like this. And to be fair, you - albeit unknowingly - let him fulfill a long-time fantasy of his.

$200 is more than he would have paid you to watch his kid tonight. No wonder you’re not his babysitter anymore. He fishes around in his wallet and takes out all the cash he has, $236. He manages to break off from the group of guys after they do another couple shots and he looks around for you.

Unable to find you he spots one of the girls you came to the table with and she lets him know you’re on a break but she can get the tip to you. He hands her the folded bills and she thanks him by leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. When she pulls back from him she widens her eyes at him and flashes him a knowing smile.

“I’m sure she’s very appreciative… of the tip,” she winks.

Frankie tries not to blush and resists the urge to high-tail it to the bathroom and wash his face off, opting instead to keep the scent of you on him. He returns to the table of his too-drunk-to-notice friends and finishes out the night of revelry.

3:03am

Hey

3:06am

Sorry

3:09am

You’re probably asleep

3:10am

I’m just getting home actually

3:11am

Oh cool me too

Sorry to bother

I just wanted to make sure you got your tip

I left it with your friend

3:14am

I did, yes. Thank you so much.

3:14am

Cool 👍

3:16am

Don’t take this the wrong way…

But how drunk were you tonight?

3:18am

Idk

Why?

What did I do?

I’m so sorry

3:19am

No, don’t be sorry!

I’m not trying to be rude.

I just….

Did you mean to tip me that amount?

3:25am

Oh my god

Was it not enough?

I can give you more

I’m really sorry

Do you have Venmo?

3:27am

No! OMG. It was plenty!

Literally the most I’ve ever been tipped is like 40%

You tipped me 118%

3:30am

3:31am

Yeah so I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get too drunk

And accidentally just give me everything in your wallet

3:35am

Is that what happened?

3:37am

Because I can Venmo some money back to you

It’s really not a problem

3:40am

Sorry no

I just tipped what my friend told me to

3:41am

Well I checked with the other girls….

NONE of your friends tipped that much

And they were all very generous!

3:44am

But none as generous as you

3:45am

He’s such an asshole

I’m sorry

I didn’t know

I feel like an idiot

3:46am

Again, please don’t be sorry

It was VERY generous of you

And I’m very grateful

3:50am

I was in a giving mood tonight I suppose

3:51am

Mr. Morales, is that you being flirty?

3:53am

Oh we’re back to Mr. Morales now?

3:55am

Can you get a babysitter on Wednesday night?

3:55am

I don’t have custody this week so no babysitter needed

Why?

3:56am

We should go out to dinner

3:57am

Oh we should?

3:59am

Yeah we should

Frankie

4:01am

MY treat

4:01am

LOL I should hope so!

4:02am

Pick me up at 7 😉

4:02am

I will

See you Wednesday

#frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #writing prompt

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saerins · 7 months

Note

HeyYy I’m a little slow but how did eita and yn realize that they were into each other in that way or desired each other like that? (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN 😜) Like did eita just hit yn with “dtf? 😈” on a random Thursday orrrr 😭

extra chapter: blurred

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — part of priceless. eita doesn’t understand why it irks him seeing other guys hit on you. after one night together with you, he at least knows he’s fucked.

content: otoya eita x female reader. smut. takes place in university, before “friendship”. eita calls reader princess, alcohol, profanity, mentions of death, penetration, spanking, cunnilingus, virgin!reader, eita makes reader cum multiple times. word count: 3.3k

༝༚༝༚ hahahaha i am so normal about university!yn & otoya guys … so completely normal </3 side to nonnie: yn and eita have always found each other attractive ! they just never thought they’d go that far at first :)

you’ve always been like this, so why does it bother him more than ever?

two months. that’s how long it’s been since you two talked. for two people who always talk shit all day long everyday, that’s a long time. it’s eita’s fault. he knows. maybe he shouldn’t have been so vocal about how you should act. it’s not his place.

he knows that.

he hasn’t apologised.

it’s a saturday night, and you’re just out having fun with your course mates—it’s not illegal. and eita’s with his bandmates, and a date to top it off—some girl who came up to him after a performance and said she was a fan; in hindsight it was probably just to get into his pants and yet she’s still here, two dates later.

she’s here, and he knows she’s probably beside him wondering why the fuck he’s staring at some other girl when she’s grinding against him but he can’t help himself. no matter how loud the music, no matter how crowded the club, no matter how miss bombshell here rubs her ass against him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

you don’t like to club. you barely like those people you’re with. eita knows why you’re acting like this.

so unserious. so smiley. so forced.

“oi, takuya,” eita calls out to one of his bandmates, setting his whiskey, neat on their table. “she’s all yours,” he says, shoving the poor miss bombshell to his bandmate, her cries of objection going unheard because he’s making his way to you.

there’s a guy trying to feel you up, your course mate. what the fuck is his name again?

“yes, shiro?” eita hears you coo once he’s close enough.

right, shiro takanori. notorious playboy, almost as notorious as eita. born rich, heir to one of the most exclusive resort clubs in japan, already in a couple of big modelling gigs thanks to his naturally good looks. silver spoon, trust fund idiot who has his hands on your hips and such lustful eyes and that smirk that says he knows he’s going to get exactly what he wants.

unluckily for him, eita’s here. and like hell is he ever going to be so lucky to bring you back home to his mansion.

with a firm grip around your bare waist—because of course you had to wear something so sexy tonight, that black single shoulder strap crop top of yours—eita cuts in, only shooting shiro a warning glare before pulling you aside, dragging you behind him.

“hey, what the fuck?” you protest once he stops at the empty booth near the side. you sound frustrated, and upset, and somehow eita knows what the fuck is going on inside that little still-twisted mind of yours. “i was talking to him, you know?”

eita scowls, the most judgemental look on his face as he listens to you. “yeah? were you trying to seduce him too or what?”

there’s a defiant look in your eyes. you’re only a little tipsy, so you still have the better part of your common sense with you. “so what if i was? how’s that any of your business?”

what a way to have your first big disagreement since you became friends. this is the part where both of you are thankful that the music’s too loud for anyone else to hear you.

eita scoffs, tongue poking against his inner cheek as he looks at you in disbelief. he’s not an infinitely patient person. especially not when he’s looking at you not behaving like yourself. he takes a step back, leaning against the wall, hands in his pants pocket as he looks from the bigger picture.

your father just died not long ago. you have to deal with your mother and the inhumane way she treats you. you have to make sure you score well for everything lest they take your scholarship away.

you’re losing it.

probably.

so much so that you’re willing to look for someone like shiro takanori to relieve your pain. eita doesn’t get it—he’s right here. is he worse than shiro?

“you know what? forget it,” you sigh, your eyes glazing over, the potential tears betraying your spiteful exterior. you don’t say anything else before you’re storming out of the club, with eita struggling to catch up behind you.

he’s calling out your name but you ignore him. he’s sure. your hearing isn't that bad. and fuck because it’s raining and you’re too stubborn to stop and so is he so he ends up running after you, both of you soaked to the bone because it’s quite heavy and he thinks you find solace in it since it can mask your tears.

the intersection where the both of you meet before school starts because the diner you like is just around the corner—that’s where he catches up to you. eita’s fingers connect around your wrist and you try to yank it away but it’s no use.

“let go of me.”

the rain’s pouring all around you and your voice isn’t even clear but eita can’t let you go. not when he knows he’s guilty of leaving you alone when he shouldn’t have. all because of his stupid pride.

maybe he should’ve listened to you.

is that what you need? distraction?

it’s simple and complicated both at the same time. eita doesn’t care about your small crushes and fleeting flings, but why does he care so much back there, when he saw you with shiro like that?

before he knows it, his hand is pulling you in by the back of your neck, his lips on yours and it’s so much better than he imagined. yeah, he’s imagined what it’d be like to kiss you recently, for some reason. and you must really need the distraction, because you’re kissing him back.

“what was that for?” you ask, breathily, foreheads pressing together as your fingers fist at his shirt.

it takes everything in eita to pull away, not that it’s because he has any form of self control when it comes to these things, but partly because of the rain and partly because of the conscious fact that you’re one of his best friends and that until tonight, he never thought he’d actually ever cross a line with you.

eita ignores your question because it’s too tempting not to. “let’s get out of this rain, it’s all your fucking fault,” eita murmurs, though his strong words are cancelled out by his hands around yours as he walks with you in the direction back to the dorms.

“here.” eita tosses you one of his clean jerseys, the one he wears for the national team. you once told him that’s your favourite one. you always steal his shit. “i need that for my next game though, so don’t stash that away.”

you snort, “didn’t know you realised.”

eita looks at you from over his shoulder, white hair matted against his face, a squinted stare as he deadpans at you. “of course i did, you stole three jerseys and one windbreaker.”

just like you are when you’re around him, eita realises you’re so shameless, your grin lighting up your face. “and you let me.” because you of all people know he always asks for his jerseys back, especially after all his random dates try to wear it and never return it. (he’s already gotten in trouble for that with his coach once.)

do you even know what you’re doing? eita thinks you don’t. it’s just the way you are, it’s how you act—this is all natural to you, not forced.

his gaze falls to your bare skin not concealed by your crop top, to your legs under that pleated skirt. thank fuck he didn’t let you get too carried away with shiro.

“change and then get out,” eita tells you, pulling his shirt over his head. he doesn’t think he can stand another minute with you here looking like that; hair a mess, soaked top to bottom, makeup slightly smudged and yet still looking like a fucking vision.

it’s very annoying, actually.

why’d he have to insist on making friends with you that day?

“mean,” you mumble, and eita ignores you. because you need to get out of here, and fast, before he regresses to fifteen minutes ago when he couldn’t control himself. and you’re like a spoiled brat, purposefully saying shit that you know will get under his skin. “hm, maybe i’ll ask shiro if he’s still at the club.”

shit like that.

“are you—” but the moment eita turns around, you’re suppressing a grin. stupid, just trying to rile him up. but it’s not like you won’t go looking for it—distractions. you will. you’ll look for bad news because that’s what you need right now.

he gives up. he gives up on trying to play the role of a good friend. you’re testing his limits and it turns out they’re not really that high. and lucky for you, he’s always found you pretty. you’re so fucking pretty and you’re interesting, even with the way you’re inching closer to him right now.

“fuck, you’re too much,” eita murmurs under his breath, the last of his will being stripped away. he’s already letting his hands pull you closer.

“i can always find someone else,” you whisper, both of you avoiding each other’s gaze.

“don’t you dare.” no, eita doesn’t want that. fuck, why doesn’t he want to share? he uses his fingers to tip your chin up, searching your eyes for the answers he already knows. “you wanna forget, y/n?”

you nod, the recollection of everything that’s happened within the past few months already threatening to make the tears fall. but eita catches you before they do, because he knows you’re so stubborn that you’d rather hold everything back than let them out, even if it’s him.

“just physical, ‘kay?”

eita nearly scoffs, but his tongue is too busy to let him. “yeah yeah, if you end up falling for real i’ll kill you,” he says, in between kisses, both of you ending up on the bed, eita hovering over your body as he marks your neck.

“don’t worry, you won’t have to.”

maybe it’s the fact that he never thought that he’d ever touch you like this, make out with you in his room, that he’s already hard as a rock even without doing anything yet. his mouth travels downward—neck, collarbone, chest—and your moans only get louder.

there’s a way that your voice makes him excited more than he usually is, the way your chest is heaving that urges him to devour you right then and there. his hands travel down to your thighs, pulling them apart, and the way your head pops up to look at him when his lips press kisses on your thigh—those sweet, innocent eyes—makes him pause.

“you’ve never done it before?” eita asks, softer in comparison to the loudness of the rainstorm outside.

and the moment you hesitantly shake your head, eita feels his heart beating faster in his chest. yeah, definitely a good idea to have taken you away from shiro. he swallows the lump in his throat, the idea that he’ll be your first seems strangely enticing.

it’s not surprising to him though, considering you’ve never had a boyfriend since he’s known you, and with the way you’re so stiff, anyone can tell.

eita’s hands smoothly caress your skin as he gets up, looking over your body once. “tell me if you ever want me to stop,” he tells you, hands travelling underneath your top, slowly lifting it up and off of you, your face tilted to the side, too awkward to look at him. you know he’s been with multiple girls—most of which you know are models and the like. it makes you a little self conscious of your own body, but eita doesn’t care. “look at me.”

you do, your eyes travelling to his face first, looking at the barely contained lust from behind his green irises. he’s already half naked, so you can see again now, just how toned he is, eyes shamelessly dragging over his form. but so is his, his hand now snaking up your thighs, pulling your skirt up over your stomach, the way you wear that bold lace lingerie driving him crazy.

wordlessly, you sit up on the edge of the bed, your boldness taking centre stage, fingers unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, the cunning in your eyes looking so, so attractive to him. you even know to pull a condom out of his pocket.

“i know you, otoya eita,” you whisper, and eita doesn’t doubt it. if anything, you’re probably the only person who knows him as well as you do. nobody else comes close.

he takes the condom from you, opening it with his teeth while you get rid of his boxers before handing it to you, a smirk on his face. “first lesson, innocent girl,” he says, a thumb caressing your cheek. “put it on for me.”

with a sneaky grin, you stick your tongue out, giving his tip a little kitten lick before anything else—what are you trying to do, give him a heart attack? eita can barely contain himself just looking at you like this; slightly wet and looking sexy as hell. fuck, he’s so fucked, he wants to know what it feels like to be inside of you so bad. a muffled groan rumbles in his throat, and you take that as a sign to lick a stripe up his length some more, making him throw his head back, taking the chance to roll the condom over his dick. his hand comes up to your hair and tugs on it, pulling you away.

“be a good girl and lie the fuck down, now,” he tells you, though it doesn’t matter since he pushes you down, immediately pulling your panties aside and relishing in how wet you are. soaking, and not from the rain. “nobody’s ever touched you there before, huh, y/n?” he wraps his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed.

eita’s breath is hot against your pussy, partially covered by the lace before he tugs it to the side again, kissing the area around it, watching as you clench around nothing. “e-eita, please—”

he snorts—you don’t even know what you want, do you? you just know that you can’t get rid of the frustration by yourself. no, because no matter how you’ve ever helped yourself in the past, if you ever did, eita’s going to make you feel a lot better. good enough to make you forget everything.

he’ll just give you a taste of your own medicine, giving your clit a quick little lick, watching as you squirm just from that alone. resigning, he pushes a finger inside you—just one, he doesn’t want to break you just yet—watching your face as your back arches, the pleasured moan that rolls off your tongue threatening to make him addicted. you’re so wet and so hot and you’re his best friend but fuck that, he wants you. physically. every. single. part of you.

you’re already wet enough, but his mouth lingers longer on your pussy, licking your folds and tasting every bit of you. he likes the way you moan his name, and the way your fingers grasp at the sheets and his hair. you’re a lot more addictive than any other girl he’s ever met and fuck if he’s going to let this be the one and only time he gets to have you.

eita pulls his finger out of you, lining his dick in front of your entrance, moving the hair away from your face. you’re all hot and bothered and he really wants to know what you look like when you’re getting fucked. probably better than anything he’s ever seen—in person or on video.

he leans down, hands on either side of you, silently begging you to just tell him to stop but you don’t. your hands only trace a trail down his chest and he can’t keep still anymore.

“fuck, can’t take it anymore,” he groans into your ear, body pressed on top of yours as he gently nibs on your lobe. “i’ll try to go slow, okay? but you’re so fucking hot like this i can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

“just do it, i don’t care, i need you,” you tell him, all rushed and muffled because both of you are at your wit’s end.

that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s slowly pushing himself into you, groaning out your name as he feels your tight, gummy walls through the latex, your nails already digging into his back.

“you okay?” he asks, stilling for a moment.

“i’ll get used to it,” you tell him, feeling the burn from the stretch of your first time. “just fuck me already, please.”

shit-eating smirk on his face, he mocks you, white hair falling all over you, the messiness of it only making him look even more like bad news. he moves his hips achingly slow, watching every minor change in your expression, from the way your brows arch to the way you bite your lip.

“we’re alone in here, princess, don’t hide your sounds,” he tells you, a hint of condescension in his tone.

until tonight, you didn’t think you’d ever let him touch you like this, feel you this intimately. yet here he is, pushing your bra up and putting your nipple in his mouth while he fucks into you, tongue flicking at your perky bud, making you feel all sorts of things you’ve never experienced before.

and you listen to him, his name falling out your mouth more times tonight than it has since the time you’ve known him—his lips moving from your chest to your neck to your lips, hungry as if he absolutely needs to claim his territory on every part of you.

eita shifts so that he can look at all of you, watch as your breasts bounce as he thrusts in and out of you, watch as your slick coats the base of his dick as you beg him not to stop, as if he could. fuck, he could cum just like this but he doesn’t want it to end so soon. you’ve already creamed around him what, twice now? you’re sensitive, oh so sensitive, squirming at every slight movement, mewling uncontrollably as he pinches your clit, threatening to cum again when he turns you around, gets you on your knees, slapping your ass.

how the fuck is he supposed to fuck anybody else now when you’re the most perfect girl he’s ever seen?

you arch your back, propped up on your palms as you look over your shoulder at him, his hips still moving, controlling himself as he makes absolutely sure to savour this moment tonight.

but, like always, you always find a way to surprise him, mischief behind those eyes as you smirk at him; you smirk at him like you know how much he loves this.

“eita.” the way you say his name is so dangerous—like he’s caught in your web with no way out. “cum inside me?”

and just like that, he obeys, unintentionally, his body toppling on top of you, the weakest, guttural moan coming out of him ever as he feels you cumming at the same time too, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit, riding you through it.

fuck, he thinks as he looks at you under him, both of you wet from the rain or sweating, he can’t even tell, but what he knows is that he’s so, so fucked after what happened tonight.

shit, he wants more of you.

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #otoya x reader #otoya eita x reader #bllk smut #otoya eita smut #eita x reader #blue lock smut #otoya x you #otoya x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #otoya eita #૪ aeri’s fics !

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wh0re43van · 8 months

Text

Maneater- (Jimmy Darling X Reader)

Summary: it’s your first week at the freakshow as a sword swallower and fire eater. Almost everyone has taken an immediate liking to you, especially Jimmy. (Literally only wrote this because I want to deep throat Jimmy)

Warnings: smut, blowjob, kinda public

Word count: 2.3k

I sit on the edge of the wooden stage in the main tent as I clean my swords. the small amount of afternoon sun leaks in through the openings of the red and white canopy, bringing the blistering Florida heat with it. I absentmindedly wipe the sweat on my brow with the same rag I’m sanitizing the sleek metal with, then immediately break into a fit of coughs as the fumes from the rubbing alcohol choke me out.

‘This heat is melting my brain’ I think to myself as I catch my breath as best I can in the hot sticky air. You’d think as a fire breather I’d be used to it, but this August haze is brutal.

Being from New England originally, this suffocating humidity is a far cry from what I consider comfortable, but a gig is a gig. Elsa was more than pleased to hire me when I pulled up with a unique act and my own caravan last week. I’ve worked with a lot of carnies in my day, but the group here is truly one of a kind. Almost everyone took an immediate liking to me. Ethel did her best to make me my favorite dessert as a welcome gift, Desiree insisted on taking me shopping, and Eve has let me sleep in her caravan with her for the week since mine isn’t yet hooked up to electric or water.

“Not even a dog should have to sleep in this heat without a fan,” Eve insisted. All the women have quickly become my closest friends, except for-

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Maggie’s shrill voice cuts through the thick air with ease as she stomps into the tent.

“What are you on about now?” I roll my eyes as I set my swords to the side, walking down the rickety wooden steps that creak under my weight.

Maggie has given me shit since the first time she saw Jimmy flirting with me, which was about 30 seconds after my arrival. Her and Jimmy seemed to have some sort of relationship which he assured was “purely casual”, but Maggie doesn’t seem to agree.

“You have Jimmy out there in this heat wave crawling around messing with your stupid trailer! He could have a heat stroke,” the ‘psychic’ scolds me. I step up to the mousy bitch, adjusting my bathing suit top and brushing the dust off my denim shorts.

“He volunteered to do that for me, so mind your own fucking business… Ya know, in all the carnivals I’ve worked at, I never met a medium that couldn’t take a fuckin hint,” I say lowly, glaring at her. Her face goes red with anger.

“I don’t see how Elsa could hire such an ill-mannered hussy. You surely aren’t doing any favors for the reputation of the show,” I can tell that she’s trying to remain composed, but her voice comes out a shrill whine.

“This hussy earned over 500 bucks in the first four days I was here,” I remind her, laughing at how stupid her attempt at a come back was. Maggie tilts her head and narrows her eyes.

“I’m surprised you even charge money for your act since you prance around here with your tits out shoving shit down your throat for free,” she small lady growls, motioning to my bathing suit top for emphasis.

‘Damn’ I’m a bit shocked by this statement and it shows on my face, but I scoff before pulling the corner of my mouth into a smirk.

“Why don’t we ask Jimmy-“ I begin, but I’m cut off by Jimmy himself.

“Ask me what?” he smiles as he takes a gulp of water out of the glass in his hand. The energy in the room immediately shift as both of us turn to look at him, plastering fake smiles on our faces as we adjust our outfits and hair.

“Ask you, uhm, how you always manage to get such a crowd when you work the carousel. It must be all the girls wanting a ride with you,” I let out a nervous giggle, nudging the bitch to my side. She nods and laughs unconvincingly. At least we can agree on how embarrassing it would for Jimmy to hear us bickering over him like schoolgirls. Luckily, he seems none the wiser to the cat fight that he just accidentally broke up.

Jimmy chuckles as he walks up to us, leaning against the base of the stage. I don’t make any effort to hide my lingering scan of his body. His worn-out blue jeans and white tank top that’s clinging to his toned chest with sweat is covered in the orange dust of Florida’s crust. The veins in his arms are prominent on his slick sun kissed skin that’s dotted with smears of what appear to be grease.

“You’d see me blushing if my face wasn’t sunburnt as all hell,” Jimmy flashes his dimples as he runs his conjoined fingers through his sweat drenched curls. “I’m glad you’re here Maggie, Elsa’s lookin’ for ya,” he informs the blonde. She seems to be happy just to get the smallest bit of attention from the boy.

“Oh, okay. Why don’t you come to my caravan in a little bit. I have a surprise for you,” she says to Jimmy, but her eyes are locked on me, unfortunately for her, Jimmy’s eyes are also locked on me.

“Uh sure Doll, go on now. Don’t leave Elsa waitin’,” the boy says, eyeing me up and down with a grin as he motions his head towards the exit. Maggie smirks at me as if this is some kind of feat before walking out of the tent.

“So,” I smile as I boost myself up on the stage, dangling my feet over the side. “What can I do for you?” I bat my lashes at the sweaty boy.

“I need your pretty hands for one last thing and then you should have electricity,” Jimmy hums, then motions to my swords on the stage. “But if you’re trying to rehearse,” he walks over to the first row of collapsible wooden chairs, taking a seat. “I’ll take my payment in the form of a private show” he leans back, wiping a bit of sweat off his brow. I smile mischievously, standing up and grabbing the three dull swords.

“Well That’s not fair to you,” I tisk as the metal clanks in my hands in. “I’m not even in costume,” I smirk as I pace to the center of the stage.

“Oh trust me doll, this little number you have on right here compliments you just as well as that corset and stockings you dance around in,” he smirks as his drift from my legs to my face, earning a grin from me.

“Well I’m not gonna argue with that,” I laugh before clearing my throat, starting my monologue.

I tun through the first half of my 15 minute routine, Jimmys attention glued to me the entire time. He watches intently as I easily drop two swords down my esophagus, and twist them around before pulling them out one by one. My epiglottis burns as the metal slides through the small opening. I wipe the spit from my mouth, taking a bow as Jimmys applause bounces off the canvas walls.

“Thank You,” I giggle, my voice comes out a bit hoarse as I kneel down by my torches and lamp oil, then I notice I don’t have water to wet my rag. “Gentleman in the front row, could I borrow that glass of water,” I grin, using my ‘show voice’. He happily hops up, bring the glass to the stage. I crawl over to the edge, then sit up on my knees so that my face is even with his. “Thank you, sir,” I grin, holding Jimmys gaze as I take the cup from his hands, brushing my fingers over his.

“I’m honored to be involved in the act,” he breaths as he reaches out, running a thumb over my lip. I grin before licking a strip up the digit, making his eyes go wide.

“If You really want to be a special guest, come join me back stage,” I hum, leaning forward as I take his other hand in mine, tugging him a bit. Without a moments hesitation Jimmy hoists himself up on the stage and pulls me just behind the curtain before he crashes his lips into mine, pinning me to the wall

“You don’t know the things ya do to me, baby,” Jimmy pants against my lips as his hands grab at my body desperately. I giggle into the rough kiss and wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” I hum as I reach between us, running my hand over his obvious errciton. Jimmy moans, bucking his hips towards the contact.

“Can ya blame me?” He chuckles lowly before moving his mouth to my neck, leaving wet kisses over my sweaty skin. “It ain’t often that I get attention from a dime like you,” he chuckles lowly against my skin as his large hands grab my ass.

“I guess todays your lucky day then,” I giggle as I turn Jimmy around, pushing his back into the wall. “I just want to thank you for working on my caravan for me,” I purr as I slowly drop down to my knees. His eyes watch intently as I pop open his belt buckle. Jimmy swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his mouth hangs agape.

“It’s my pleasure, honestly doll. You don’t have to do this-” Jimmy protests weakly as he wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. His breath hitches when I abruptly yank his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, his heavy cock springing out of its confines.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I smile before licking a strip from base to tip, Jimmy sighs at the contact. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” I bat my lashes at him as he looks down at me, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. “Plus id rather practice on you then those other swords anyway,” I smirk before taking him into my mouth.

He throws his head back, a low growl bubbling from his throat in satisfaction. Jimmy looks down at me with a slack jaw as he watches me take all of him in my throat until my nose is flush with the small patch of hair around his base. His hand finds its way to the back of my head as I begin bobbing up and down on him.

“Just like that, Doll… holy shit,” Jimmy hisses as his face contorts in pleasure. I giggle to myself as I wrap my arms around his legs, allowing him thrust into my face.

My knees dig into the unfinished wood of the stage- sure to leave splinters- as Jimmy violates my throat. His chest starts to heave as he finds his rhythm, filling the tent with low moans and my gagging.

I look at Jimmy through blurry, tear stained vision and I swear I could cum right now. His eyes are screwed shut as his mouth hangs open, letting out the unholiest of sounds I’ve ever heard. His strong arms, shiny with sweat, are flexed so hard that I can see veins popping out of them as he holds onto my hair like his life depends on it.

As Jimmy is lost in pleasure, completely oblivious to anything else around him, I hear shuffling in the side entrance of the tent. I’m about to pull away when I hear Maggie’s whiny voice.

“Jimmy are you still-“ she asks before she freezes, her face goes pale as her jaw drops. The boy doesn’t doesn’t even realize that he’s cutting her off when he moans,

“Jesus Christ baby, I’ve never seen someone look so pretty while gagging on cock,” his voice is breathy and low, but Maggie definitely heard because seconds later she shrieks before running out of the tent. “What was that?” Jimmy asks, slowing his hips, he looks down at me with glazed eyes, as if he’s in another dimension. I pull Away, gasping for breath as I take his slick cock into my hand, breaking the thick strings of spit.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” I giggle, still trying to catch my breath as I slide my hand over his length. “I just want you to cum in my mouth, okay? Can you do that for me?” I hum as I place his tip between my lips, licking lightly. Jimmys eyes flutter as he groans, watching me rub him over my lips.

“Jesus Christ,” is all he manages to groan before he’s thrusting back into my mouth. It doesn’t take long for him to reach his climax. Jimmy is a cursing, sweaty mess as his cock twitches on my tongue before shooting his sticky release down my throat. I moan at the sensation as he pulls out, falling limp against the wall. “Come here,” he pants out, barely audible as he grabs me up off the floor, pulling me into a wet sloppy kiss. I grin against his lips as hands move to the buttons on my shorts.

“Uh uh,” i tisk as i slap his hands away. He looks at me confused. “This was my payment to you,” I smile as I fix my outfit.

“And Im more than grateful,” he chuckles as he pulls his pants back up. “But id like to return the favor, doll,” he smirks as he reaches out to try to pull my into his arm. I step the side before turning to leave.

“Oh you don’t have time Jimmy. I think Maggie’s looking for you,” I smirk before giving him a peck on the cheek. I can feel his gaze burning into my back I was down the rickety steps and out of the tent.

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