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userlando · 11 months

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a different light — max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader [6.9k] summary: you weren’t just friends. friends didn’t touch you the way he did (or the one where max has an epiphany and realizes he's in love with his best friend) warnings: 18+ explicit smut, idiots in love, friends to lovers a/n: idk what it is with me and writing fics at work, but here i am again. i had SO much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy reading this ♡

Max hadn’t experienced many moments where he felt true and utter bliss, especially when he was growing up. His home life made it hard, and he’d rejected any type of positive feelings for a long time until you came along. You’d been a force to be reckoned with, matching Max’s energy so well that it wasn’t hard to build a solid friendship that would last for as long as it did.

He found comfort in your soft skin, in your reassuring smile. Even in the way your voice would get all high pitched when you told a white lie. You’d been his one true pillar when his career went from karting to racing, becoming a known household name in the chaos of it all. You’d kept his feet on the ground when he needed it most, and there was no amount of money to ever repay you for everything you’d done for him, and you vice versa.

So, he found comfort in a lot of things when it came to you. But you, sitting close to him when you had so many seats and chairs to choose from? That was everything.

You had claimed the two-seater for yourselves, but it didn’t stop you from snuggling right up to your best friend’s side with his arm around you and your head comfortably resting on his pectoral. It was a common occurence, you so deeply embedded in his arms that it might as well have been a permanent shape of you on his skin. Max had grown up with you, so he'd basically memorized the smell of your shampoo that you'd used since you were fifteen, the freckles and moles on your face and how goosebumps rose on your skin at the slightest cold breeze because that's who you were.

He'd naively thought it to be normal, to be so in tune with his best friend and it wasn't until he'd entered early adulthood and actually spent time with his friends on the grid that he realized that maybe it wasn't usual.

He still remembered the day he'd brought you along for the Baku Grand Prix and you'd mentioned being childhood friends in a passing conversation, registering the sheer looks of confusion coming from his friends. It had made him flush, a little embarrassed and a little confused until Daniel had hooked an arm around his shoulders and murmured I've been going around for three months thinking she was your girlfriend, man.

Max had shoved his friend and pulled a face, the usual ‘gross, she’s like a sister’ phrase on his tongue that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. But it had stuck with him for the rest of that day, and the more he thought about it, the more Daniel was probably right in thinking so.

Max couldn't pinpoint what exactly had shifted after that day, but he knew that something had changed. He became hyper aware of your touches and lingering looks, your ability to flirt but still toe the line of it being a little too inappropriate.

Sharing hotel rooms became weird, and it dawned on Max that maybe the two of you were acting a little too much like a couple when he found himself in bed with you snoring by his side, Daniel's words still haunting him like a ghost at the corner of the king sized bed.

He’d stared at your face in the dark for an hour, the street lights doing a good job of contouring your face in the dark and he’d felt a knot in his stomach when you’d shifted in your slumber and reached for something. He hadn’t realized what you looked for until you placed your hand on his arm.

Not grabbing. Just… setting it there like you needed his comfort even in your sleep. Such a simple gesture that had shook your best friend to the core.

The Aussie made it, along with Lando, his life's mission to send looks and make comments after that race weekend in Baku.

That was eight months ago, and they clearly had no intention of stopping as you sat in the backyard of Carlos' family vacation home in Palma de Mallorca, surrounded by drivers and their partners alike. You’d been there for two days, the relaxation already blanketing your group the more you spent time in the ocean and dozed in the loungers. The nights consisted of card games, drinking games and bonfires until someone had the stupid idea to go for a dip in the sea that just so happened to be in your backyard.

You'd been dozing tonight, finding it hard to stay awake with the way Max's fingers absentmindedly drew patterns up and down your drawn up legs.

The sun had clearly done its number on you during the day, draining every bit of energy you’d had. Heat and humidity always did that to you, so it wasn’t a surprise that you’d find the comfort of your best friend’s embrace the moment everyone sat down and curl up much like a cat.

The rhythm of his chest was enough to lull you into a sense of security, watching your group of friends across the table as they played Uno with the occassional accusation and shouts that came with playing the card game.

It had been Charles' idea to play it, clearly wanting to see the world burn as he put a group of competitive people into a game of Uno. It had been great entertainment though, your lips curled into a permanent amused smile as you watched on in silence.

Lando pulled a draw four card, setting it down with a grin and Carlos cursed in Spanish, clearly annoyed as he shoved the curly haired boy. A ripple of laughter tore through the group at the display, and you figured that it wasn't long before the game would dissolve into angry arguments.

"You can't beat the master of Uno." Lando said, clearly looking to agitate the Spaniard as the black haired man picked up an additional four cards to his already stacked hand.

"You've lost the last four games, mate." Charles muttered into his glass, taking a sip of his icy margarita for good measure.

"My luck is turning, mate.” Lando flipped him off, earning laughter from Pierre and George. “Get off my back."

You watched them bicker, thoughts stuttering to a halt when Max shifted beneath you. He drew the hand that had been on your legs up, ruffling your hair gently and you glanced up at him.

"Have you fallen asleep on me yet?" He asked quietly, for your ears only and you grinned sleepily, the perfect picture of comfortable.

“Not yet.” You muttered, covering your mouth as a yawn took you by surprise and Max smiled in amusement.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” He glanced up at the boys when their voices picked up volume. “Get out before this becomes massacre.”

You laughed, nodding your head in agreement and letting him pull you up. No one really noticed as you slipped away, or if they did, they didn’t question it.

The voices of your friends faded into the background the further you got away from the house, grass and gravel transformed into cobblestones leading up to the town and further from the ocean.

“It’s so pretty here.” You mused, looking down the cobbled path, lit up by street lamps. “I’d love to live some place like this, some day.”

Max’s brows furrowed, following your gaze before looking at you questioningly.

“You basically do.” He said, humourous lilt to his voice. “Mooching off of me, living it up in Monaco.”

It would’ve made you feel self-conscious and even a little embarrassed if those words had come from anyone else but Max, but you’d been friends for so long that you knew when he was joking and when he was being serious. And in this case, it was the former. It was evident in the teasing smile and his light voice, aside from the fact that he’d always find a way to rebook your flight and beg you to stay for a few more days. As if you hadn’t been with him for a week already, as if you didn’t attend nearly every race because he claimed that he didn’t want anyone else around but you.

You were aware that it wasn’t a normal friendship, what the two of you had. And you knew that people thought it to be unbelievable that you weren’t romantically involved, some days you questioned that yourself. But that was a whole can of worms that you weren’t ready to crack open just yet. It felt too dangerous.

“I’ll be out of your hair soon.” You said, voice airy as you tossed your hair over your shoulder and skipped a step forward before turning and walking backwards in front of Max. He arched a confused brow, almost disappearing under his cap and the sight was a little too funny. “As soon as I find another man to live off of. Preferably handsome and rich.”

You were kidding, obviously, but the thought still made something sour well up in Max’s throat and he struggled to not frown in annoyance. He looked away, making it seem as if he was admiring the ocean view that he could barely see in the dark, when he was in fact trying to shield his face from your attentive eyes.

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” He said, cursing himself when his voice shook. It was so minimal though and you thankfully didn’t call him out on it. ”I mean, look at you.”

There was an awkward silence seeping into the space between you and you tried to maintain the aloof expression on your face but it was hard when your stomach was doing weird flip flops. Look at you.

“And also,” Max continued, rushing to fill the silence and break the sudden and rare awkwardness. “You’ve got me as your wingman.”

That made you laugh, and something like relief flooded Max’s stomach.

“Wingman? Right.” You turned, walking ahead of him and the boy frowned at the disbelieving tone in your voice.

“What do you mean? I’m an excellent wingman.” He jogged up to catch up with you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in.

It always amused him how you stumbled into his embrace whenever he did that, always so caught off guard but never once doubting that he’d be there to keep you upright. It was his favourite thing to do, mainly because you’d grumble and peer up at him with your eyes and Max would grin like the close proximity didn’t make him want to vomit with how much he craved to press his lips to yours. Just to see what it’d be like.

“Max,” you rolled your eyes. “No one ever dares to approach me when you’re by my side. You’re like a guard dog.”

“What?” He pulled back a little to look at your face, still keeping his arm around you. “I’m not! What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You scare off every single man!” Your voice went high in amusement and something else that he couldn't put his finger on. At Max’s furrowed brows, you sucked your teeth in exasperation and continued, “Last weekend, we were out in Monaco, remember? Two guys approached me, and you just magically seemed to show up and stake your claim. You might as well have peed all over me.”

The furrow between Max’s eyebrows seemed to deepen, feeling a little lost all of a sudden because you sounded genuinely upset and he didn’t know what to do with that.

“That's disgusting. And I wasn’t staking anything.” Max grumbled when the silence stretched on. “They were idiots anyway. Who wears sunglasses inside a club? At night?"

The both of you stared at each other as you walked and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle that broke the sudden tension. Just the sound of it made Max relax a little from where he'd suddenly gone tense.

“He was kind of a loser, wasn’t he?” You agreed, because it was true. “But you still scare every guy off.”

Okay, so maybe he did. And he’d done so unintentionally until last year before his feelings for you started to enter dangerous territory. Whereas before, he’d genuinely think that the guys you dated were total idiots, now he’d find a way to glare and act standoffish until the men took that as a sign and bailed.

“Sorry.” He said, but he really wasn’t. And you clearly didn’t believe he was sincere, judging by the arched brows on your forehead. “What? I am.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because you weren’t really upset about the fact that Max managed to chase men off whenever they got close to you. It was just the fact that he ran them off and then continued to act as if his actions didn’t have any hidden motives.

There was clearly something between the two of you, and it scared you but it also made you want more. Max was just too much of a wuss to act out on it, and so were you, in a way.

You didn’t know how many hints you could dish out before it got borderline ridiculous. Max didn't need a push, he needed a shove.

The both of you took a walk around the small village before circling back home. A few had retired to bed already, and you found Daniel, Pierre and Lando lounging around by the outdoor fireplace. Lando clocked the both of you walking into the backyard, looking a little suspicious and you shot him a questioning glance.

“Welcome back, children.” The man himself greeted, earning a flick to the head by Max in passing. He yelped, making you laugh as you sat down by Pierre.

“We’re older than you, idiot.” You pointed out and Max made a hum in agreement, looking around with a small frown.

It was ridiculous how he all of a sudden felt a little lost when you didn’t immediately go for a seat that held two people. You always managed to find a seat right next to Max, even going as far as sitting in his lap when he was in a chair; neither of you pointing out the fact that there were other seats to choose from.

But now you’d sat next to Pierre, and he felt something ugly bloom in his chest when the man in question draped a friendly arm over the backrest. You were good friends with the Frenchman, and he had a girlfriend but it still made Max annoyed.

He reluctantly sat in a chair when he realised that he’d lingered for too long, trying to tune into the conversation that had gone on for the whole time he’d gotten lost in his head.

You’d noticed, of course you had, there was no one as in tune with Max Verstappen as you were. It made you feel a smidge of glee because it was just further confirmation that whatever was going on between the two of you wasn’t friends being friends.

And it only seemed to solidify when Max looked your way, a hundred emotions shining in his eyes as he glared daggers at Pierre and his harmless arm. You arched an eyebrow, silently and innocently asking him what was wrong.

You watched Max shift in his seat.

“So, where’s Kika, Pierre?” He asked, the question coming out of the blue and you almost rolled your eyes, trying not to react when Daniel and Lando’s conversation trailed off to look at the three of you.

Pierre touched your shoulder with a finger, a tap that conveyed so much and you hid a smile by biting your cheek. Leave it to Pierre to read a room and embody the innocent and clueless man perfectly in order to help you.

“She’s sleeping.” He replied easily, kindly. “Had a little too much to drink. Which reminds me…” He trailed off and turned his head to look at you. “She wanted me to remind you of your plans tomorrow.”

“What plans?” Max asked before you had a chance to reply.

“We’re just going to a boutique we came across. It looked cute,” you smiled. “It was closed when we walked by today. But they had these nice bikinis I wanted to get my hands on.”

Lando looked up at the mention of bikinis, a smarmy smile that told you exactly what he’d say before he even opened his mouth.

“Can I come?” He asked, making Daniel cackle.

You stretched your leg out to kick his shin, grinning at his cheekiness. Lando dodged your kick just barely, a smile of his own stretching his lips.

“You’re being weird.” Max said, giving the British boy a look that looked an awful lot like a warning. It didn’t deter Lando though, not like it’d make a grown man running if it were aimed at a stranger.

The curly haired boy only rolled his eyes, a playful air to him as he glanced between you and Max.

“I’m being weird, sure.” He said. “Not as weird as you two sharing a bed.”

A hot flush traveled up your spine and reached your cheeks when Pierre and Daniel laughed, like they were trying to hold it in but couldn’t. You had half a mind to reach over the table and strangle your friend who looked way too smug to have aired out the one thing everyone probably had thought at least once, but never said out loud.

You and Max shared a glance, expecting him to look embarrassed but he looked smug and you didn’t know why your stomach rolled at the sight. He looked… hot. Confidence had always looked good on Max.

“At least I have someone to share a bed with, dipshit.” He stretched out his hand to pinch Lando, making everyone laugh. “Can’t say the same for you.”

“Oh, ha!” Lando raised his voice in a fake laugh, face scrunched up adorably sarcastic. “Ha, ha, you’re so funny, Max. Maybe you should consider being a comedian instead of the insufferable driver that you are.”

“Maybe then you’d have a chance to get podium.” Max said around a laugh and it took exactly two seconds before everyone started hollering and cackling, Lando standing up to deliver half-assed punches and nips at the laughing Dutchman who tried to dodge the incoming attacks.

You watched with an amused smile as they scuffled, both red in the face from laughter and shouts. There was no way that they wouldn’t end up waking up everyone in the house, so you stood up and ushered Lando away from Max with a laugh.

“You’re both children.” You pointed your finger at Lando when he took a step back.

“Still more mature than you.” Lando said, not maturely at all and you smiled in amusement.

“That's a fucking lie, mate.” Daniel scoffed, laughter in his voice and Lando turned around to give him a piece of his mind.

You watched them dish out insults at each other that really sounded a lot like friendly love in disguise, startling a little when you suddenly felt arms circle your waist. A yelp left your lips when you were pulled into Max’s lap, twisting until you could look at him.

The closeness of his face caught you off guard, the blue in his eyes so striking with the fireplace reflecting in them. You draped both legs over his lap, making yourself comfortable with a shy smile.

“Hi.” He greeted you softly once you’d settled down.

“Hello.” Your breath stuttered a little when he brushed his fingers against your waist, skin against skin where your tank top had ridden up.

“I think that’s our cue to go to bed.” Daniel said quietly, but loud enough for you to hear and look at him.

Lando shot him a look, eyebrows raising when both Daniel and Pierre stood up.

“I’m not tired? You go —“ He halted his words when Daniel glared at him. “Right. Whatever.”

The boys stood up, bidding you goodnight and kisses to your head before disappearing inside. You watched them through the sliding doors as they shoved each other and laughed, vanishing around a corner. Max squeezed your side and you glanced at him.

“What?” You asked when you spotted the smile that so badly wanted to break out on his face, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“You were trying to make me jealous.” He said, not as a question but as a sure statement. You rolled your eyes and tried to steady your breathing when he leaned forward to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck, his hot puffs of breath making goosebumps rise on your skin.

You squirmed when his beard tickled you, shoving halfheartedly on his shoulder but he didn’t budge. He pressed his lips against your pulse point and you knew that was it; he could definitely feel your racing pulse, there was no way he couldn’t.

“Well, it worked.” You replied belatedly, voice a lot weaker and shakier than you would’ve liked it to be.

Max didn’t say anything of it, though you could feel his lips move as he smiled into your throat.

“It did.” He confessed quietly, feeling your pulse jump beneath his lips. “I wanted to break Pierre’s fingers.”

He touched your shoulder where the Frenchman had previously touched you, like he was wiping off evidence of any man but himself. It made something coil tightly in your stomach, and you struggled to not squirm in your best friend’s lap.

“That would be unwise.” You whispered, glancing over at the house where there was no sign of life.

You didn’t know how you’d explain it away, if someone were to walk back out and find the two of you in this position. You, in his lap with your arm wound around his shoulder and Max under you, pressed so close in every way. It would certainly be hard to convince anyone you were just friends after this.

But you weren’t just friends. Friends didn’t touch you the way he did, with his hand stroking the skin over your collarbone, trailing a path down the cup of your tank top and feeling the swell of your breast. Your heart was thundering in your chest, eyes locked on his hand as it mapped out every inch of your skin; fingers stroking down between your tits before he opened the palm of his hand to slide it over your ribs, almost cupping your heaving chest. You almost wished that he did, every inch of your body aching to be defiled by the very same man you’d called your best friend for years.

“Breathe.” He murmured against your throat and you realised that you’d been holding your breath, a rush of air escaping your mouth as you willed yourself to relax.

“Max.” Your brows furrowed, arching your back a little and pushing your chest closer to him.

He said your name, the sound of it so beautifully intimate and hot on his tongue that it almost made you whine. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess in your head, making it hard for you to think of anything other than his hand. The very same hand that caressed your ribs, fingers spanning out until he brushed your nipple. You inhaled sharply at the twinge of pain when he went over it again, making out the shape of it through the thin material of your top and circling it teasingly just so he could hear your stuttered and laboured breaths.

“You sound so pretty for me.” He spoke against your skin, welcoming the twinge of pain when you pulled at his hair slightly.

The whispered compliment lit your body on fire, made your hand tighten in his hair so you could push his face against your neck. He seemed to get the memo, opening his mouth to latch onto the sensitive skin there and suck. The combination of suction and the sharp pain of his thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple made you moan, the loudness of the sound catching you off guard.

“Fuck!” You cursed when he rolled the bud between his fingers, enjoying the way you squirmed; like you weren’t sure whether to push into or away from him.

You glanced up at the sky, trying to focus on the light of the stars but there was no stopping the way your eyes rolled when he bit into your skin where he’d been sucking a nasty mark into it, flattening his tongue out to lave over it. Almost like he wanted to soothe the sting.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” You asked breathlessly, even though you both knew the answer to that.

“Does it feel weird?” He countered, pulling away and you blinked down at him; struck by the absolute need in his face.

It was the first time you’d seen his face since you sat down, taking in the saliva on his lip and the blown out pupils. He looked good enough to eat and you couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss him, licking into his mouth the way you'd thought of doing for the last year.

He welcomed it with gusto, pulling away for a swift second to gauge your reaction. Max must’ve liked what he saw on your face because he dove right back, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss that had you moaning from your throat.

“Been thinking about this for a long time now.” Max confessed when you both let up for air, staring at each other through hooded lids and bruised lips.

“Me too.” You said, pushing his hair back softly. “So long.”

He kissed you again, like he couldn’t help it and you let him claim your lips however he pleased before he trailed down your jawline, sucking a few more hickeys down the side of your neck for good measure. You pushed your chest out when he neared the swell of them, watching how he pulled your top down just enough to get a better look at your tits.

Max stared at them, marvelling at the sight before the need to have his mouth on them became too great. A whimper tumbled from your lips when he sucked and licked until your skin turned raw, giving the other nipple the very same treatment.

“Oh, what the fuck?” A voice exclaimed and you jumped, turning to shield yourself from whoever had decided to turn up unannounced.

Max hurried to pull up your tank top, shooting you a glance before he leaned to the side and peered around you at the same time you looked over your shoulder. George had his back turned to you, one hand on his waist and face turned toward the sky. You couldn’t see his face, but the exasperation was clear as day in his body language.

“You guys are fucking gross.” He said and you bit your lips together to stop from laughing.

“What the fuck do you want, Russell?” Max asked, clearly annoyed that you’d been interrupted and you smoothed a thumb over the crease on his forehead.

“I forgot my phone, asshole.” He replied, agitated. “Are you guys decent?”

“Yes, you drama queen.” You rolled your eyes and watched him turn around.

There was a grimace etched on his face as he walked forward, sticking his hand down between the couch cushions until he fished out his phone. George stood upright, and there was a moment of awkwardness as you all looked at each other.

“Congratulations on finally coming to your senses.” He said finally, saluting you and walking backwards. “But please don’t shag on the patio furniture, we still have a week left and I don’t think Carlos would like an ass print on the cushions.”

“Why don’t you come over here and kiss my ass?” Max flipped him off with no real heat and you laughed.

“No thanks,” he grinned as he reached the sliding doors. “I’ll leave that to your girl.”

A silence filled the air after George made his exit and you slowly turned around, mentally preparing yourself for the onslaught of prodding questions that would surely come in the morning. George could never keep his mouth shut, enjoying chaos where it wasn’t necessary and you’d been friends with everyone long enough to know that it only took one person for word to spread like wildfire.

“It could’ve been worse.” Max said, who’d been sitting silently and regarding the faraway look in your eyes. It never ceased to amaze you how easily he could read you.

“Don’t remind me.” You widened your eyes at him, a smile overtaking your face when you saw the sparkle of humour in his eyes. “Maybe we should…”

You trailed off, hoping he’d take the hint because the sudden embarrassment kept you from finish the sentence. What would you even say? Maybe we should go to bed so we can finish what we started?

Max seemed to pick up what you were putting down, as he always did. He gave you a nod, face soft with reassurance as he cupped your face in his hand, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face.

“Are we good?” He asked, and you took a good look at him; noting the slight worry in his eyes and you realised that while he was reassuring you, he needed a little reassurance of his own.

You placed a hand over his, giving him a gentle nod with a smile. His eyes fluttered shut when you leaned over to peck his lips, placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek for good measure.

“We’re more than good.” You gave another nod, climbing out of his lap and reaching both your hands out so he could grab them. “Take me to bed, Max.”

He made a show of groaning loudly until you laughed, hauling him up and dragging him across the lawn. You preened under his wandering hands as he crowded your space from behind, plastering his front to your back and winding his arms around you.

“Stop that.” You hissed when he buried his face in the crook of your neck, making loud and lewd noises until it tickled you.

“But you’re so soft.” He complained, sliding both hands up your sides and under your top, fingers grazing your under boob.

You squirmed but made no real effort to push him away, opening the sliding doors and walking inside with a little difficulty. The both of you got as far as the living area before Max turned you around and kissed you, rendering you useless to stop him or protest. You could feel his mouth stretch into a smirk, like he knew what he was doing and you didn’t have the heart to make any effort to scold him even as he backed you into the sofa. A loud yelp left your lips when the backs of your knees hit the sofa, accompanied by his startled shout when you both went tumbling down on the furniture with him over you.

“That wasn’t nearly as sexy as they make it out to be in the movies.” You complained, watching Max smile down at you. He adjusted the both of you until you had your legs around him, testing the waters by grinding down on you and your mouth dropped open when you felt the hardness of his cock against your crotch. “Oh, hello.”

Max exhaled, like he was relieved to finally take some pressure off by grinding against you and you angled your hips to meet his thrusts, keeping your eyes on his to watch as his face went through a hundred of different emotions. You were struggling though, the rough denim of his shorts against your cotton ones felt deliciously nice and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep quiet.

“I’d sometimes lie awake and imagine what you’d sound like.” Max murmured quietly, teeth bearing down on his lower lip when you gripped his shoulders a little harder. He ground down, listening to you whine high in your throat. “I’d fantasise what you looked like when you came.”

You dug your heels into his ass, silently telling him to keep going because a few minutes more of his incessant thrusting and he’d have you coming. Max kissed down your jawline, sucking tiny little marks into the skin that he knew you’d give him shit for when your mind had cleared, but it was the thought of your friends seeing your bruised skin that worked him up into a frenzy. He wanted, needed to show everyone that you were his. Fuck Pierre and his wandering hands, and Daniel who’d smugly smiled at him from across the paddock all those times.

He’d show them.

“You gonna make that reality, my love?” He was getting close, voice losing its edge as he spoke the words into your clavicle. He bit the thin skin there until you keened, digging your blunt nails into his shoulders. “Gonna show me what you look like when you come?”

“Yes, yes, yes…” your words were becoming jumbled, making these high noises from your chest that seized Max by the throat.

He didn’t think you were even aware of how loud you were becoming, but he’d be damned to stop you. It reminded him of the same noises you’d make when you’d take a quick dip into a cold ocean and he’d splash you just for the sake of it. You’d make this high pitched, whiny noise like the chill of the water took your breath away. It was mesmerising and so fucking hot that Max couldn’t help but grind down one last time and shoot off into his shorts, a throaty moan in your ear that sent you over the edge as well.

He forced himself to watch your face as it scrunched up, mouth hanging open as you gasped for breath, body seized up beneath him as you both ground against each other in an effort to bring you back down from your highs.

“Fuck, this is gross.” Max scrunched his nose up as he looked down between you. You peered down with a breathless giggle, noting the spot in his shorts that had seeped onto yours.

He looked up at you at the sound of your laughter, face relaxing when he saw your smiling eyes and hot cheeks. The sun had been good to you, kissing your skin so beautifully that he hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from you for a second since you got here.

“I can’t believe we just humped like a couple of teens.” You said it with laughter in your voice, but Max could spot the shy tilt of your brows and there was something oddly endearing about it. "In Carlos's family home." You said the last part in a mortified whisper, like the reality of it was dawning on you.

“Should’ve done that sooner.” He joked and you laughed, slapping his shoulder.

Max dropped his weight on you as sudden exhaustion seeped into his body, and you grunted. You wound your arms around him though, ignoring the messes you’d made between you for the sake of a cuddle. Your fingers drew little patterns on his back, like you knew Max loved, and he almost purred at the feeling.

“We should probably go to bed.” You said quietly.

“Yeah.” He said, but neither of you made any effort to move.

The grandfather clock was ticking away in the corner, almost like background music, and you were almost lulled to sleep by Max’s steady breathing. Your eyes opened when he suddenly moved above you, having sensed that you were two seconds from falling asleep when your hands stopped moving on his back.

“Okay,” he sighed heavily and stood up with a grimace, wobbling a little. You smiled slowly when he offered you his hands, pulling you up. “Time for bed.”

“I’m getting déjà vu.” You referred to an hour ago when you’d declared bedtime, only to end up a few meters away on the couch instead.

Max laughed, pulling you along toward the stairs and guiding you down a narrow hallway.

The morning after went as well as you’d imagine, waking up with Max snoozing quietly on his stomach with his hands shoved underneath the pillow. You’d ghosted a kiss on his cheek before getting up to get ready for the day. Sharing a room with Max during all the years had made you stealthy enough to perform your routines without him waking up, but it could also be because he slept like a rock and not even pans and pots in the hands of Lando and Daniel could bring him out of his dead sleep.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Daniel greeted you when you stepped foot into the kitchen, pulling everyone’s eyes toward you and you smiled awkwardly.

“Hi? Hey.” You carefully avoided George’s eyes as you walked around the counter, patting Heidi on the back in a silent greeting.

The look she gave you had your hackles rising a bit, but you pushed the paranoia away because surely George hadn’t gone and blabbed already? It was only - you looked at the clock - nine in the morning. Christ.

Charlotte handed you a mug of steaming coffee and you wordlessly took it, taking a small sip. “Thank you.”

Conversation picked back up again as you went on the hunt for toast, popping them in the toaster and pouring another cup of coffee for Max who’d probably woken up by now. Francisca talked about the boutique you’d be going to, waving Pierre off with a playful hand when he tried to invite himself into your girls day.

There was a slight lull in the chaos of three conversations happening in the space of the kitchen, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that Max had finally joined the party. You turned your head and almost smiled at his hair, wet from a shower and sticking up in all directions. He looked sleepy still, a little bleary eyed but he still managed to find you in the gaggle of people.

It warmed your heart a lot more than you’d like to admit when you watched his eyes light up as they settled on you, murmuring good morning’s and patting backs as he made a beeline for you.

You smiled at him. “Morning.”

Max accepted the mug of coffee you handed him, kissing your cheek in thanks and you leaned into it automatically. It was scary how fast you’d gotten used to his affection, but it felt so natural that you couldn’t bring yourself to question it.

“You look beautiful.” He complimented you, hand finding the hem of your dress to pluck at it with his fingers.

It was a plain old summer dress in white, one you’d worn a couple of times but it was Max’s favourite piece. It made your legs look amazing, and he was slightly mourning the thought of having to let you go out with the girls and not being able to ogle you openly.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him.

“Is anyone gonna address the elephant in the room?” Lando spoke out, bringing the both of you out of your bubble you’d managed to create.

You turned around to look at the nosy group, rolling your eyes at your friend.

“Isn’t it clear?” Pierre balled up leftover bread from a loaf and chucked it at the Brit from across the table.

Charles frowned, glancing at you before looking over at his girlfriend who was smiling a little too brightly for your liking.

“Am I missing something?” Charles narrowed his eyes and looked at you. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“You’re not.” You said, playfully glaring at your friends. “They’re just being idiots.”

George coughed, dodging an incoming slap to the arm from Carmen. Just that one gesture let you know that Carmen was aware of what had happened last night.

“Tell that to Carlos’ furniture.” He muttered but it was enough for Carlos to look up, frown deep in his face as his round eyes looked between George, you and Max.

“What?” He asked, confusion lacing his voice. “What did you say?”

Max coughed, hiding a laugh as he turned around to pick up his mug of coffee. You shot Kika a look that screamed help me and she didn’t even hesitate to hop up from the barstool and nod at the girls.

“Everyone ready?” She asked, earning a few replies as they gathered up their things for a day in town. "Vamos."

You watched in amusement before turning to Max, not really in the mood to leave him and he seemed to share those feelings, judging by the look on his face. His eyes flickered across your face, like he was trying to memorise it and you leaned into him.

“I’ll see you later?” He asked, like it was ever a question, watching you nod. He handed you the toast you’d prepared, giving you a look. “Eat up before you go.”

You tried to act like that small gesture didn’t make your heart absolutely crumble into ashes, not having the strength to refrain yourself from standing on your toes to press a kiss to his mouth.

“What the fuck?” Came Charles’ voice from somewhere and you laughed into Max’s lips before pulling back.

Max gave your behind a small pat and you turned around to leave the kitchen, thinking that you couldn’t wait to be back home.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #max verstappen smut #f1 fics #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 imagine

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lunarluvbot · 3 months

Text

saturday sun

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

pairing : percy jackson x fem!reader

summary : a little surprise percy springs on you turns out to be one of the best afternoons at camp. or maybe that's just because you're with him?

requested : yes / no

willow's whispers : first pjo writing cause everything i see is for luke so if you want something done right you gotta do it yourself !! also im pretty sure this can be read for any godly parent. based on the song saturday sun by vance joy. I WROTE THIS IN ONE SITTING SO YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO JUDGE HOW BAD OR SHORT IT IS. I'm building up for my big fics.

warnings : literally nothing this is the most boring fic ever

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Where are we going?" You laughed, blindly following Percy as he helped you over a fallen log.

"Oh, just somewhere you'll love," He said, and winked. "At least I hope you do. Anyways, c'mon!"

The pair of you marched through the woods of the camp, laughing, talking, teasing, and enjoying moments of silence. The sun blinked lazily between branches of giant pine trees as if Apollo was comfortably stretching out on his throne.

"Here, stop here." Percy turned to you and gave you that smile that made you fall in love a little more every time you saw it. If that was even possible. "There's a pathway over here, be careful 'cause there's a lotta rocks over here."

You followed him once again, down a narrow sloping hill and arrived on a shoreline. A small oasis even. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years, moss grew over everything, the grass was bright and stood tall as if no one's footsteps had ever crushed them down yet. Waves gently lapped the rocks and few shells scattered across the ground.

"Wow," You breathed, almost as if your normal volume would disturb this angelic peace. "When did you find this, Perce?"

Percy, who was flattening the weeds to sit on, looked up. "Huh? Oh, two days ago. During capture the flag. Then I came back yesterday to make sure some monster didn't live here and now I'm showing it to you," He finished setting up his bed that would make any Demeter kid cringe. "C'mere," Percy motioned for you to lay next to him.

You smiled and made your way over to him, easing yourself down on his patch of grass. The two of you were on your stomachs, watching the water swirl into memorizing, glittering, patterns. A sweet silence filled the air.

But the water wasn't what Percy was interested in. He just kept his eyes on you, admiring the way your face lit up when you heard your favorite bird call. The way your eyes seemed to shine in the golden god's light. The smooth curve of your lips that twitched when you smiled.

You met his eyes, the sea-green hue a painting of where the sky and the sea meet.

"Do I have something on my face?" You asked, lightly teasing him to pretend you weren't about to do the same staring as he was doing now.

Percy's eyes glinted and the wisps of his hair caught the sunlight perfectly. "No, you're just the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Art's gotta be appreciated right?"

"I guess but shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Aw hey, quit stealing my line!" He said, poking your stomach. A giggle escaped you, one Percy knew he would fight any number of monsters to hear again.

"It's not your line! Where's your copyright claim?"

Instead of answering right away, Percy wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. He tucked a fly-away strand of hair out of your face and pressed his lips gently to yours. It felt like the first breath of spring, when the flowers peek from their earthly shield and remind the world that only precious things take time.

"It's right here."

And he kisses you again.

#i was half asleep writing this #i am so sleepy #anyway enjoy ig??#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo show #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians x reader

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neil-gaiman · 1 month

Note

hi dad,

ok i know ur not -really- my dad lmao just let me cope. i lost mine, so you're stuck with that title now. anyway. i just felt like telling you how great things seem to be going for me rn (fuck i hope i don't curse it). i've been a fan for a long ass time, but i got into the GO fandom only last year, and in just a few months i feel like i've gotten so much better, both mental health wise and creatively. i'm a neat little bundle of depression, anxiety, autiADHD, BPD, and cPTSD. isn't that lovely haha. but hey, i'm also a writer. a poet. an artist. and a helluva burned out musician. BUT. ever since i've been hanging out here, i've been writing SO much more, i've been doing fanfics, and so many cool poems, and improving my writing skills so much. i started drawing again after like 2 years of not touching a goddamn pencil, and i just bought some paint and a canvas bc i wanna get back into painting again like i used to when i was younger. and also through reading other GO fics, i've felt inspired to play piano again, which was a great deal to me a few years back. and it's awesome to feel that spark again.

Good Omens has meant a lot to me since i first read it around 2015. but now more than ever because there's a whole community i can share stuff about it with and it feels great. i recently lost a close group of friends, one of my best friends to suicide, and well. my irl dad. and i've been feeling hella lonely for a long time. but i feel like i've been gaining that sense of community again through good omens. and i can't tell you enough how much it means to me. so, idk. i guess i wanted to say thanks for that. and also for being so supportive of trans/queer people. it means the world to me. so. thanks dad. ily

I'm just glad I'm helping.

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auggieblogs · 7 months

Text

heartbreak girl | MV1 (pt.1)

part II

Summary: "I've loved you since we were kids, y/n, ever since I saw you at your 4th birthday party. I told my ma I was going to marry you someday."

Pairings: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warnings: language, mention of alcohol (and throwing up because of it)

Author's note: Heyyyy, hiii, lovelies. I hope you all are doing good!!! This fic is heavily inspired by "heartbreak girl" by 5sos, thank you to @navia3000 for requesting this (and thank you for LITERALLY breaking down the song for me😭🫶🏻). I know it's not completely based off the song but I tried my best. Anyways, happy reading, everyone<3

P.S.- This is definitely not my best work but I tried okay??? I really hope y'all like it and hopefully there will be a part 2.

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

One thing you should know about Max Verstappen is that he harboured an intense loathing for one person in the world: Connor Smith, your now-ex-boyfriend. Max despised Connor with every fibre of his being. Connor was, in Max's eyes, a complete fuckwit, a lousy boyfriend who had repeatedly let you down. He never made time for you, often left your texts unanswered for hours, and failed to treat you the way you deserved. To make matters worse, he disrespected you, and that ignited something in Max, a desire to punch Connor's face every time he laid eyes on him, perhaps?

On the other side of the emotional spectrum, Max was head over heels in love with you. He was a silent, lovesick puppy, adoring everything about you – your infectious smile, your contagious laughter, your passion for music, and all those little quirks that made you uniquely you. Yet, despite these profound feelings, Max was too much of a pussy to confess any of this to you. His fear held him back, and it was the reason he watched you date Connor, even when he knew you deserved so much better.

But life has a way of unravelling complicated emotions. Connor eventually broke your heart. The pain was excruciating, the emotions raw and overwhelming.

Devastated, you found yourself in a mess, sprawled on your bathroom floor with a bottle of vodka in your trembling hand. Your face was flushed, your eyes bloodshot, and you felt like your world had collapsed.

Max's heart shattered into pieces as he saw you in such a fragile state. Without hesitation, he sank to the floor beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his chest. You cried uncontrollably, sobs wracking your body, and your breathing was ragged. Max's heart ached as he cradled your head, whispering soothing words to calm you.

Eventually, when your sobs ebbed to quiet sniffles, you looked up at Max. His face was etched with concern, but you hated that. You didn't want to be a burden to him. "He left" you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes once more.

"I figured," Max replied softly.

"I'm not the type of person who cries over a boy," you said, tears pricking your eyes again.

Max gently brushed away your tears, his touch comforting. "No, you're not," he said, still holding you close. You felt like throwing up, physically ill from the pain of your breakup. You had loved Connor, despite his flaws, and he had occasionally made you feel loved which only made you feel more confused and lost.

Unable to hold back any longer, you threw up, and Max was right there to help. He rubbed your back and held your hair, comforting you as a best friend would.

"Okay, shh, that's it," he said gently as you emptied your stomach. Afterward, he helped you off the floor, guided you to the sink, helped you brush your teeth, and washed your face. Max even braided your hair and performed your skincare routine for you.

Going to your wardrobe, he selected the comfiest pair of pyjamas and helped you change into them. Max knew he couldn't take away your pain, but he was determined to provide you with some distraction. After cleaning up, the two of you settled in to watch a movie in your bedroom. Max sat on the floor, close to the TV, and you were cozily nestled in bed.

Max still hadn't asked you about Connor because he knew you well enough to know that you would eventually talk about it. And you did.

Hours passed, and you finally mustered the strength to crawl over to Max and rest your head on his thighs. He looked down at you, a warm smile on his face.

"I'm really sorry," you said, your voice still trembling.

"For what?" he asked, genuinely puzzled by your apology.

"For being such a mess," you admitted, tears glistening in your eyes. "I know you had better things to do today. You shouldn't have to take care of me."

Max leaned down, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. "I want to take care of you," he said softly. "You needed me, and I'll always be here for you. You'd do the same for me."

A brief smile graced your lips, but it quickly faded as you voiced your deepest insecurity, "Do you think the reason he left me is because I'm not pretty enough?"

Max's heart clenched at your words, the overwhelming urge to kiss you and hold your face in his hands almost unbearable. But he knew this wasn't the right time, not when you were so emotionally vulnerable. He had to be strong for you.

"He left because he's an idiot, and he doesn't deserve you, y/n," Max said, his tone firm and unwavering. "Looks have nothing to do with it. You're beautiful, inside and out."

Tears welled in your eyes as his words washed over you. "He's the only one who's ever loved me. I've never had a boy like me, Max."

Max's heart ached for you, and for a moment, he allowed himself to stroke your hair gently. "You've always been loved," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken emotion. "I've loved you since we were kids, y/n, ever since I saw you at your 4th birthday party. I told my ma I was going to marry you someday."

Max's confession hung in the air, a palpable tension that enveloped both of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared into his eyes, the weight of his words sinking in. The room seemed to close in around you, and the tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered, "Max..."

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thepixelelf · 1 year

Text

ah! love

genres: married life au, family au, fluff, [best friends to lovers?] relationship: husbands 95 line x reader (feat. baby doremi line) words: 2.0k warnings and notes: coarse language. suggestive. the most self indulgent thing I've ever written; tropey, cringey, lovey dovey, I literally fought this fic while writing it and lost, no one look at me. I wanna write more of this au but will I? only god knows

ah! love masterlist

Seungcheol conducts a very serious interrogation.

"Okay," Seungcheol says with a tinge of authority once you've all sat down in the living room.

The boys are asleep in bed — finally, (you had to read Goodnight Moon twice just for Chan to let go of your hand, and had to give Seungkwan six forehead kisses goodnight, which of course you had to give Vernon and Chan too) — and Jeonghan has already tugged you to his side of the couch, playing with your fingers while he pretends to listen to Seungcheol's Dad Mode engaging. Joshua scoots along the cushions to press himself against your other side, and he crosses his arms as if none of you know he did that on purpose for your attention.

Seungcheol, on an armchair across from you, furrows his brow ever so slightly and holds all of you down with a firm stare.

"Who did it?"

You tilt your head. "Did what?"

Joshua steals your other hand.

"Who's swearing in front of the boys?" Seungcheol finally reveals, sending a pointed look at the husband on your left. "Jeonghan?"

"Me?" An exaggerated gasp leaves Jeonghan's lips as he puts a hand over his chest, then silently takes the opportunity to pull you onto his lap (and subsequently further from Joshua). He wraps his arms around your middle and rests his chin on your shoulder to send a pout towards Seungcheol. "I don't swear around the babies."

You reach out to take back Joshua's sad, lonely, abandoned, totally casual and not bothered at all hand, and he rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

"You know how hard Jeonghan works to use his good words when he's with the kids, Cheol," you defend. "He used to swear like a sailor, remember?"

"Oh, I remember." Seungcheol nods, then directs his gaze towards the husband on your right. "Anything to say?"

Joshua frowns, thinking. "Why do you think one of us is swearing around the boys?"

"Vernon's block tower toppled this morning, and you know what he said?"

You smile. "I can make an educated guess."

"He said, 'Oh fuck,' like it was nothing!" Seungcheol bursts out. "He was like, 'Oh fuck. Shit,' and I was literally just standing there like— like—!"

Unable to help yourself, you giggle at the image of your middle child swearing in that monotone, relaxed, and yet remarkably toddler-esque voice of his.

Jeonghan lifts his chin off your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek. "Sounds like something you would say."

"Who, me?!" you ask through more giggles. "I don't swear."

Joshua scoffs. He brings your hand up to his lips and speaks upon your skin. "You absolutely do. Back then I thought curses made up half of your vocabulary."

Your mouth drops open. "Wait, actually?"

"Being a parent has made you soft," Jeonghan adds, squeezing a hand at your side to make you squirm. "You seriously don't remember your prolific ways?"

"...Was it bad?"

Humming against your neck, Jeonghan presses one, two, three more kisses there. "I thought it was cute."

Joshua resituates himself so he's facing you and grazes his fingers up and down your arm. "So did I."

"Yah," Seungcheol says. Forgotten. Ignored. Annoyed. He leans back in the armchair, and his leg bounces in irritation. "I'm trying to have an adult conversation over here."

Jeonghan chuckles in your ear. Then kisses right behind it. "Okay," he tells Seungcheol, lifting one hand to lazily wave him off. "You stay over there then."

A hand touches your chin and tilts your head. "Look at me," Joshua whispers.

Seungcheol huffs, crossing his arms and sinking further into the chair. "I thought it was cute too..."

⭒-⭒-⭒

"Fucking... motherfucker cunt-faced shit-eating bitch of a... fuck!"

After hearing your ex's automated "I can't get to the phone right now" voicemail message for the fifth time in a row, you angrily threw your phone down. (Onto your soft bed, of course. You weren't made of money.)

"God damn it," you muttered, utterly frustrated.

The boys, sitting on your bed while you paced around your room, all shared a look with each other before facing you.

"Why are you trying to call this douche again?" Seungcheol asked, his stance on the asshole you were semi-dating clear.

"Yeah, didn't he cheat on you?" Joshua added.

Jeonghan nodded with a frown. "Shouldn't he be the one calling you? Begging for forgiveness like the loser he is?"

Rubbing your hands over your face, you let out a long, tired sigh. "I honestly don't care about an apology or begging for forgiveness or whatever from him. It was probably going to end sooner or later anyway."

The boys looked at each other again. They knew they didn't like the guy you were seeing, but since they also knew why they didn't like him, they never said anything. The fact that you seemed to think it was going to end even before the dickhead cheated? That, they didn't know.

Even though there was barely enough room, you flopped onto your bed face first, then shifted so you were on your back with a groan. "I just wanna call him, tell him I'm coming over, grab my things, and cut him out of my life for good."

"Is your stuff even worth it at this point?" Seungcheol poked a finger into your forehead, making you scrunch your face and swat his hand away. "I mean, it's just like, clothes and a toothbrush, right?"

Suddenly, you seemed much more shy than angry. You pulled the sleeves of your sweater over your hands and picked at a loose thread. "I like my stuff..."

"Nuh uh." Jeonghan leaned over you, his head upside down with your ceiling as a background. "You don't get worked up like this over clothes and a toothbrush. What'd you leave there?"

You shrank into yourself. "Nothing..."

"Suspicious..." Jeonghan said, then looked at Joshua.

Who went, "Very suspicious..."

"Seungcheol," Jeonghan ordered.

Before you knew it, your unfairly built-like-a-brick-shithouse friend had both your arms pinned to the bed, and Joshua had thrown his entire body over your legs like a six year old attempting to wrestle.

Jeonghan, with his free reign, yanked your sweater sleeve up your arm to reveal your empty wrist. "Aha! I knew you weren't wearing your bracelet!"

Joshua gasped, affronted, looking absolutely ridiculous draped over your legs. "You left your friendship bracelet at his dingy ass apartment???"

Ashamed and a little bit fight or flight, you struggled against your friends. "Okay, first of all! You wouldn't know if his apartment is dingy!" (It was.) "And second of all: I didn't leave it there! I just so happened to take it off the night before I figured out he was a cheating piece of shit, so excuse me for being out of sorts when I stormed off in my PJs with tears in my eyes!"

Your words set off an awkward silence, and you groaned, shutting your eyes so you didn't have to see the pitying looks on your friends' faces.

But they knew you, and they knew apologizing for someone they weren't wouldn't make you feel better.

Instead, Seungcheol asked, "Why'd you take the bracelet off?"

You peeked an eye open, frowning in retaliation — they were still holding you down. "I'll give you one guess."

Seungcheol immediately let go of your arms and put his hands in the air like he was at gunpoint. Jeonghan just chuckled, shaking his head.

Joshua, dramatic as fuck, rolled over so his back was practically crushing your stomach. "Ewwwwwwwww," he whined. "I do not want to hear about how this guy fucks."

Your hands freed, you shoved him off, but he just went boneless and slipped to your side. "When did you get it in your head that I'd tell you how he fucks?" You crossed your arms and sat up. "It just... felt weird wearing our friendship bracelet while I... you know."

Joshua grimaced. "I'll make you a new one."

"No!" you protested, causing them to all give you a look you didn't bother to interpret. "It won't be the same. You made the original four at the same time. Together." Unable to meet their eyes, you looked down. "It's important to me..."

Another silence greeted you, and you scrambled to switch up the mood.

"If only that fucker would answer his bitchass phone."

Jeonghan and Joshua blinked at you, but Seungcheol just chuckled. You looked up at him as he stood from the bed, walking over to where he'd draped his jacket over your chair.

"Where are you going?" you asked.

"We're going to his dingy ass apartment," Seungcheol explained casually, tossing you your coat as well. "He's the one choosing to not answer his phone. He shouldn't be surprised when we show up."

The other two stood up, and Joshua dragged you by the hand to join them.

Seungcheol twirled his car keys around his pointer finger. "Let's go get that bracelet back."

You beamed.

"Fuck yeah!"

⭒-⭒-⭒

Seungcheol, after only so many seconds of enduring seeing you like that on Jeonghan's lap and with Joshua's stupid lips on yours, of course, relents. "Don't leave me out," he mutters through the poutiest pout he can manage. He gets up, strides two steps across the living room, and looms above you, though you don't see him with your eyes that have drifted shut.

The remedy for that, of course, is to grab your chin and kiss you like it's the first time all over again.

You giggle into the kiss, and he smiles too, both of his hands floating up to cup your cheeks.

Thud.

Your lips pause, and your brows furrow at the sound. Seungcheol hardly notices, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, but—

Thud thud thudthudthudthud.

You open your eyes to see Vernon lying supine, starfished at the bottom of the stairs he just tumbled down as he silently regards the ceiling, and you push Seungcheol off like he doesn't weigh anything.

"Oh my god, Vernon!"

Jeonghan's groin becomes the next victim of your haste, him groaning in pain when you launch yourself off the couch to run over to Vernon. You fall to your knees beside him, looking at his face with wide eyes.

He simply blinks up at you, face void of emotion.

Until you ask, frantically, "Are you okay?"

Vernon blinks again, and he suddenly realizes, oh, this is when a normal human five year old would cry. So his face scrunches up, and tears well in his eyes, and he looks at you with the most hold me right now or the world is gonna end expression on his face that you can do nothing but sweep him up into your arms and hug him to your chest.

"It's okay baby, it's okay."

Jeonghan's voice makes you look up. "What are you guys doing out of bed?"

At the top of the stairs, Seungkwan has one hand tightly gripped on the handrail — he's seen the consequences of not holding it now — and the other around Chan's tiny fist, which is really not that much smaller than his. Your youngest shifts on his feet, mumbling, "G'night kiss..."

Seungkwan, ever the all-knowing older brother, clarifies for him. "We didn't give the moon a good night kiss."

Your mouth drops open, and you can't stop the slight laugh that comes out. Vernon sniffles and buries his face in your shoulder, his hands scrunching up the material of your shirt.

"No good night kiss to the moon?" Joshua repeats. He begins up the stairs and scoops up a sleepy Chan into his arms, resting him on his hip. "That won't do, will it?"

Seungcheol's already hoisted Seungkwan up when he says, "Let's go kiss the moon goodnight and then go back to bed, alright?'

Seungkwan leans his head on Seungcheol's shoulder and nods slowly.

While you bring up Vernon (who you're pretty sure is already asleep in your arms and drooling on your clothes), Jeonghan keeps his hand on your back, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing back and forth.

The boys have their own rooms, but for now, they all prefer sleeping together in Seungkwan's. The room in which Seungcheol, as soon as he walks in without turning on the lights because it's late, knocks over an intricately built Lego city.

"Oh, fuck," he lets slip as he struggles to stay upright, then gasps when he realizes what he said and goes, "Shit."

Jeonghan snorts. Joshua muffles a laugh in Chan's hair.

You smile at Seungcheol with all the love in the world.

"Guess that answers that."

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sunshinesteviee · 1 year

Text

call it what you want - s.h.

summary: you find yourself on the edge of friendship and something more with steve at a halloween party. for @sparklingsin's spookinktober writing challenge with the prompt "quick, switch costumes with me!" wc: 8.1k wtf warnings: friends to lovers. alcohol consumption. smut!!! 18+!!! f!reader. a/n: this is the longest thing i've ever written and it killed me lol i hope y'all like it. feedback is much appreciated! love u sm. also huge shoutout to @sparklingsin and @familyvideostevie for reading this and helping me out and listening to me complain about this gd fic for weeks i love u so much thanks for putting up w me

Masterlist

Parties weren’t Steve’s thing. Not anymore, anyway. And Halloween parties in particular were definitely crossed off the list, especially after everything that had happened with Nancy a few years ago. He was over Nancy, they were even friends now, but something about the idea of going to another Halloween party stirred up a sick feeling in Steve’s stomach that he wanted to run from. Somehow, though, Robin had managed to convince him that it would be fun.

Really, it hadn’t taken much convincing on Robin’s part — all she had to do was mention you, and Steve was in, though he’d never admit that to her. It was stupid, she thought, the way the two of you were constantly pining for each other, but refusing to do anything about it. She’d heard enough lovesick complaints from her best friends, and decided she’d take it into her own hands. And Halloween seemed like the perfect opportunity. She wasn’t quite sure how yet, but she was sure the night would end at the very least with confessions. She’d make sure of it.

And so, Steve was two drinks deep in a crowded house, filled with more regret than beer. Robin had somehow disappeared after one drink, Eddie was nowhere in sight, and he still had yet to see you. Maybe you’d decided not to come. If so, the whole night would be a waste. He hadn’t missed parties one bit. The stuffy, crowded rooms filled with sweaty bodies pressed against each other as music pounded in his ears, pulsing lights making his head throb.

It didn’t used to be so bad. He used to be the keg king, down shot after shot, maybe get lucky, and still wake up the next day more or less fine. Now, two drinks usually did him in, and he didn’t always like the feeling of being drunk. Of being out of control. To be fair, he’d taken quite a few beatings that had definitely fucked with his head since he’d last been to a proper party. But parties just weren’t enjoyable anymore. Especially when all of his friends had disappeared, and he didn’t know anyone surrounding him.

Tipping the last of his drink into his mouth, Steve crushed the red plastic cup in his hand and tossed it into the trash can nearby that was already almost overflowing. A familiar laugh sounded behind him, a sweet sound above the loud bass, “Whoa there, champ. How many drinks have you had?!”

Steve already had a smile on his face as he turned around, and his jaw nearly hit the floor at the sight of you. You hadn’t ditched. And better yet, you looked fucking gorgeous. He let out an adoring laugh, eyebrows furrowing together, forehead wrinkling as he asked, “Champ?”

“Your costume, silly,” you nodded towards his outfit as you reached out, placing your warm palm against his bicep. Without thinking, Steve leaned into your touch, stepping in closer to you, his hand grazing your hip slightly.

Since it had been a last-minute decision, and since he wasn’t fond of Halloween anyways, Steve had decided to pull his baseball uniform from high school out of his closet. It fit a little tighter than it used to, but would work well enough for one night. The ugly green and orange baseball jersey was tucked into a pair of baseball pants, and he’d even tucked his wild hair underneath a Hawkins high baseball hat. Steve’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the soft pink obvious on his pale skin, even in the dim lighting of the house. “Oh, right. Yeah, I think I kinda… knocked it out of the park with this one.”

The snort that left your mouth had Steve smiling again as you clapped a hand over your mouth, “Oh my god. That was fucking awful, Steve. It does look good, though. Can’t believe you’d ruin all of your pretty hair under that hat.”

Steve flushed again, a common occurrence that he couldn’t help when he was around you, and shrugged, “What can I say? I’m dedicated to the costume. I like your costume, too, by the way; you look nice.”

Your eyes lit up at his compliment as you bounced on the balls of your feet nervously, “Yeah? Thanks, Stevie.” You were wearing a short shirt that had “Camp Crystal Lake” printed across the chest, with a picture of a lake underneath it, and a pair of red shorts that were also nearly too short; you were a counselor from one of your favorite horror movies, Friday the 13th. Quite frankly, the costume fit you perfectly, accentuating all of your best features, and you weren’t oblivious to the way his eyes had caught on you when he’d first turned around.

“Yeah! That’s a great movie.”

“I thought you didn’t like horror movies?” you questioned, a teasing tone lacing your words. You and Eddie had had to convince him more than once to watch a horror movie on one of your movie nights, and he usually hid underneath a blanket for more than half the movie.

“Well, no,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he narrowed his eyes at you, “But I’ve seen that one, and it wasn’t bad. Do you want a drink?"

When you quickly agreed, Steve’s hand left your back as he pulled back from you. Before you could mourn the warmth of his hand on your skin, though, his hand was reaching toward yours. “C’mon then, babe.”

Without a second thought, your hand slipped into his, fingers slotting together easily. Steve started pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies skillfully. The grip he had on your hand, though gentle, was firm, as if you’d be lost forever if he let go. As if the crowds of people would swallow you whole and carry you away from him. He glanced back a few times to make sure you were alright, flashing you a small smile every single time his eyes caught yours.

The alcohol was finally starting to hit Steve, making him feel a bit lighter, though maybe it was just from being near you. Your hand in his was enough to make him feel tipsy. To have him questioning if it was real. He definitely didn’t need to have another drink, not if you were going to be holding his hand like your life depended on it. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, to be close to you, but the alcohol had his senses dialed up. Steve knew that if he wasn’t careful, he might let his real feelings for you slip, and he didn’t want to risk the friendship you had.

Steve shook his head in an attempt to clear it, though the alcohol was making it a bit difficult, and refocused back on you. He gave you a lopsided smile, working to untangle his fingers from yours, “Whaddya want, cutie? Punch? I had two cups and it’s kinda strong because I’m definitely starting to feel it, and—”

“I’ll have punch!” You’d listen to him ramble for hours, but the kitchen was even more packed than the room you’d just been in. You didn’t see Steve drunk, or even tipsy, often, and you adored the way his face flushed red and he started rambling. He’d clearly had just enough to have him feeling good, not enough to tip him over the edge, and it was endearing the way he seemed to let go a little bit.

Not wanting to be away from your side for too long, Steve hurried across the kitchen to get a cup and fill it with punch for you. He pushed by a few people on his way back, trying to be gentler than the asshole who had pushed you, and frowned as some of the drink spilled over the edge of the cup and ran down his fingers. The pout was still on his lips as he approached you, holding the cup out, “Sorry, didn’t mean to spill it. Here you go, babe.”

Taking the cup from him carefully, you smiled gratefully, glad that you hadn’t been the one to cross the kitchen, “Thanks, Stevie. You didn’t get one for yourself?”

“Nah, if I have more I’ll be suffering tomorrow,” he replied. As he talked, Steve lifted his hand that was now covered in the sticky punch, and slipped one of his fingers into his mouth to clean it off. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you stared in disbelief as Steve did it again with another finger. This time, he caught the look on your face and his own eyes went wide as he stared at you in confusion, completely oblivious, “What?”

You nearly choked on your drink, and you quickly shook your head, turning away from Steve so he wouldn’t see the reaction you were having. There was no doubt you were attracted to Steve — how could you not be? He was kind and funny and brave, and treated you better than anyone else ever had. The problem was, he wasn’t your boyfriend, and you were fairly certain he had no intention of that. He was a nice guy to everyone. Just because he called you babe or cutie from time to time, and held your hand or shared blankets with you… that didn’t mean he was interested, and you’d done your best to shove those feelings down. You didn’t want to lose Steve’s friendship above all else, so if you had to pretend your feelings for him were strictly platonic, you could do that. But watching him lick his fingers clean sparked something in your stomach, and made your face feel hot. To be fair, you had already downed a shot with Nancy while the two of you were getting ready, so maybe you could just blame the way your thighs clenched on the alcohol.

Instead of responding, you downed half the cup of punch just in time for Steve to look back at you, a grin breaking out on his face as he chanted teasingly, “Chug, chug, chug!”

You nearly choked again, this time as you laughed, sputtering some of the red liquid out of your mouth, “Steve!” You wiped the back of your hand across your mouth to catch the drops sliding down your chin with a giggle, “Stop itttt.”

“Hey!” Steve’s pout matched yours, eyes narrowing at you, bottom lip pushing out, “How come you can tease me when I’m drinking but I can’t tease you?”

Your eyes may have lingered too long on Steve’s lips as he pouted, but he didn’t notice with the way he was unabashedly returning the favor as your tongue darted out to catch the last of the punch that had spilled past your lips. You wondered what his lips would feel like against yours. If they were as soft as they looked. If he was as good a kisser as the girls from high school claimed. You shook your head, desperately trying to focus so you could answer Steve’s question instead of gawk at him, “No, it’s not allowed.”

Steve laughed hysterically as his arms wrapped over your shoulders so he could pull you into him. He got even more affectionate than normal when he’d had some alcohol. Pressing his lips to your hair, he shook his head, but was totally sincere as he replied, “Okay, fine! I’ll never make fun of you again, cutie. Promise. Should we find Robin? Or maybe Nancy and Jonathan?”

His words had you feeling like you were on fire once more, but you quickly agreed, needing to find someone else to get your mind off of Steve. To think of something other than SteveSteveSteveSteve. Your cheek pressed into the rough fabric of the jersey he was wearing, and you nodded against his chest, “Yeah, let’s go find them.”

“Wait,” he paused, fingers wrapping around your arm as you tried to pull away from his grasp, “you still have…” His sentence trailed off as he licked the pad of his thumb before placing his free hand against your cheek, fingers slipping into the hair just behind your ear. His thumb pressed to your chin, rubbing across your skin carefully in an attempt to get rid of the last of the punch that you’d spilled. Steve’s hand slid down, fingers hooking underneath your chin as his thumb dragged down, pulling on your bottom lip slightly, and you thought for a moment that he was going to kiss you then and there, his eyes flashing with something you hadn’t seen in them before. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared, and Steve was back to his tipsy, bubbly self, “Got it!”

You felt absolutely breathless, frozen in place as Steve pulled away searching the crowd for anyone he recognized. “You coming or what, babe?”

“I, uh–” you shook your head to clear it and moved towards Steve, “Yeah, ‘m coming.”

Finding Robin seemed to be a lost cause, but Nancy and Jonathan had been easy to find, talking to some of Nancy’s friends from high school, drinks in hand. And after talking for a bit, it didn’t take much to pull your friends away to dance with you. You immediately grabbed Steve, feeling bolder than you normally would be, and pulled him into you, chest to chest.

Steve’s heart thudded in his chest as his hands grabbed at your hips at the same time, fingers pressing lightly into the soft skin there as you swayed to the music. Had he been sober and more aware of what he was really doing, he probably would’ve been much more flustered with the way you were pressed up against him. And, had he been sober, he would’ve seen the look Nancy and Jonathan were exchanging knowingly, with Nancy in on Robin’s plan.

–

Robin found you a bit later, the sound of your name being called over the music was enough to get your attention, and you quickly stopped dancing next to Nancy to search the crowd of people surrounding you. It wasn’t hard to find Robin, who was already pretty tall and was wearing heels for her costume. You grinned at her, throwing your arms out to her for a hug as you shrieked her name, “Robin!”

“Hey, hot stuff!” she replied, wrapping you up in her arms, careful of the drink in her hand, “Where have you beeeen? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

You scoffed, “Stevie and I have been dancing. Thought maybe you weren’t here,” you said, pushing your bottom lip out into a pout.

“I am! I have been the whole time!” she laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world, “I’m glad I found you! We’re gonna play a game!” She paused and turned to point at Steve who had been watching the two of you, “You too, dingus! You’re gonna play, too.”

“What? No, Robin, I don’t—”

“Please, Stevie?” you asked, cutting him off with wide, pleading eyes, even though you had no idea what the game actually was, or who you’d be playing with.

The alcohol Steve had consumed was now starting to wear off, while it seemed like it was in full swing for you. Had Robin shown up half an hour ago while he was still feeling tipsy, and was actually dancing with you, he would’ve agreed no problem. Now, as he started to think a bit more clearly, he knew that Robin’s drunk ideas usually weren’t her best, and at the very least, he’d make sure you all didn’t get into too much trouble. And, as always, he couldn’t say no to the look you were giving him. “Okay, okay, fine! I’ll play.”

Reaching out to close the distance between the two of you, your fingers curled around Steve’s bicep to pull him closer. You were giving him the brightest smile he’d ever seen as you leaned into his side, “Yay! C’mon, Harrington.”

The smile that pulled at Steve’s lips was involuntary as your hand pushed down his arm and into his own hand, tugging him behind you as you followed Robin through the house, back to the other side where she’d been beforehand with a few other friends. They weren’t really people you knew – mostly Robin’s friends from band, and Eddie and a few of his friends – but you weren’t going to let that stop you from having fun.

“Okay!” Robin clapped her hands, drawing the attention of the small group, “Everyone stand up, get in a circle. We’re playing a new game!”

“What game is it?” Eddie grumbled, ever the contrarian, though he was getting to his feet to do as Robin said.

Steve had also reluctantly joined the circle, standing at one of Robin’s sides, arms crossed over his chest as he waited impatiently for her to explain what was going on. You couldn’t help but giggle at his sullen expression as you glanced at him from the other side of your friend standing between the two of you. Your laugh caught his attention, and he cracked a smile as he glanced over Robin to look at you, eyebrows furrowing together as if he was asking “What’s so funny?”

You shook your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth with a smile as you quickly glanced away, trying to focus on what Robin was saying. Only after you’d listen to half of the “rules” did you realize that this was some kind of speed costume changing game, and you groaned, feeling a bit too tipsy for trying to change quickly. Not only that, but this felt like a game that some boy in high school had come up with in hopes to see the girl he liked half naked.

“On the count of three, find someone that you want to change costumes with, and then we’ll time everyone! One… two… three!”

You’d been counting on switching with Robin, considering she was right next to you, and you could probably get into at least some of her clothes. Steve had a similar idea – who else was he going to switch with when he’d already shared clothes with her before? – and turned in her direction. Robin, on the other hand, had a different idea, pointing aggressively at Nancy who was across the circle from her, “Nance! You’re my partner!” She quickly stepped out from between you and Steve and darted over to Nancy without letting her respond.

At the same time, both you and Steve groaned in frustration, “Robin!” She all but cackled, an evil grin on her face that you knew meant this had been her plan all along. You’d told her about your feelings for Steve, but you never expected her to use that information against you.

Still, you turned to Steve with a grin, hooking your arm through his to pull him closer to you, “Guess you’re my partner, Harrington! No backing out now!”

As soon as he realized that partners were being shoved in one of the closets one at a time to change as fast as possible, Steve wished desperately that he could back out. His face burned at just the thought of being in a confined space with you while you took off your clothes. He didn’t have long to think about it, though, as after two other pairs were timed, Robin quickly pushed the two of you in, closing the door behind you and plunging you into complete darkness, except for the small sliver from under the door.

You and Steve weren’t strangers to being close to one another, but this felt like a new level of intimacy, and Steve didn’t know what to do. His heart was pounding in his ears, so loud he was worried you’d be able to hear it, too, considering how close you were. It didn’t seem to affect you as much, though maybe that was just the alcohol, and you giggled with an urgent whisper, “Quick! Switch costumes with me, Steve! I don’t wanna lose!” With that, you pulled your shirt over your head, nearly elbowing Steve in the face with how fast you were moving. Steve immediately averted his eyes to the dark ceiling, wanting to be a gentleman, though he’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about you shirtless.

Frustrated with how slow he was moving, you gave his shoulder a weak push, “C’mon, Stevie!”

Steve huffed, amused with how badly you wanted to win, even though he knew it wasn’t going to happen, “Okay, I’m going!” He started unbuttoning the baseball jersey as fast as he could as you started to shove your shorts down your legs, and suddenly his buttons became a lot more interesting, fingers fumbling with the small pieces of plastic. The closet felt scorching hot as he shrugged off the jersey and quickly pulled the plain white tee he was wearing underneath off as well, shoving it in your direction. “Jesus, babe. Here.”

The shirt you’d been wearing had been quickly dropped to the floor as you pulled Steve’s shirt over your head, immediately engulfed in his scent. He always smelled nice, and this shirt was no exception. As much as you wanted to hug yourself and breathe in Steve’s comforting scent, you also wanted to win, and slipped the jersey on, motioning for Steve to take his pants off next. Your voice was frantic when you spoke again, “Pants! Give ‘em to me!”

The giggling from his friends outside the door was distracting to Steve as he thought of ways he could get back at Robin for this. It was torture, really, being shoved into a small space with the girl he liked while they undressed, but in a situation where he couldn’t touch her without seeming like a perv. He was only snapped out of his thoughts when your hands reached out towards his waist, going for the button on his pants. There was no way he could let that happen, and pushed your hands away, all but shouting, “I got it!”

He quickly shimmied out of his pants and traded them with you for the tiny shorts you’d been wearing. Groaning internally, Steve pulled them up his legs and knew immediately that he looked ridiculous. They barely fit over his thighs, and his ass was nearly hanging out. It was bordering on completely inappropriate to be wearing in public; he might as well just be wearing his boxers with how little it left to the imagination. “These do not fit.”

Just then, you stumbled forward as you tried to get Steve’s baseball pants on, hand catching on his chest for the second time that evening. His hand shot out as if on instinct, grasping at the bare skin of your hip to steady you, even though there wasn’t really any place for you to go. You were giggling like a maniac, breathless as you murmured a thanks and pulled the pants up all the way. It was only as you buttoned the pants that you realized your shirt had dropped on the ground, and you grabbed it, shoving it into his hands, failing at your horrible attempt to avoid looking at his bare chest, “Last one!”

Steve stared at the fabric in his hands skeptically; the shirt was already short on you, there was no way this wasn’t going to be the most extreme crop top anyone had ever seen on him, “I don’t wanna rip it!”

“You won’t!” you reassured him, “‘s okay if you do, anyway. ‘M never gonna wear it again.”

Letting out what was possibly the most dramatic sigh you’d ever heard, Steve pulled your shirt over his head. The fabric stretched around his arms and chest, the hem falling just below his pecs. His entire stomach was exposed, and while it wasn’t exactly what he’d prepared for that night, the smile on your face in the dark made it worth it.

As your hand reached for the doorknob, Steve realized you were missing one last piece of his costume, “Wait! Can't forget this.” He lifted his hat off of his head and placed it on yours carefully, running his hand through his hair, “Okay, we’re good.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as he placed his hat on your head, and you nearly dropped everything to kiss him then and there, but the sound of someone laughing outside the door caught your attention. You gave Steve a grin and then pushed the door open, nearly falling over yourself as you shouted, “We’re done! Did we win?!”

Steve’s hand was at your hip again to steady you as he followed you out. He finally felt like he could breathe again. The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes, but it felt like he’d spent a lifetime in the closet with you. So close, but so far.

So wrapped up in his own thoughts, Steve missed everything you and Robin were discussing, until there was a loud wolf whistle from someone else in the group, “Damn, Harrington! Who knew you had all that ass!”

Without even glancing in the direction of the noise, Steve knew who it was. He flipped his middle finger up but grinned at his friend, “Fuck off, Munson!”

You let out a laugh as you turned to Steve to say something, but you felt like all of the air had been sucked out of your lungs when you finally properly saw Steve. It’d been too dark in the closet to really see what your clothes looked like on Steve, so you were surprised to see how little of your costume actually covered him. His biceps, stomach, and legs were on full display, and somehow, it still wasn’t enough. Your eyes caught on his arms, the small moles and freckles that covered his stomach, and then, the trail of dark hair that disappeared into the waistband of the much-too-short shorts.

Robin, who was standing next to you, nudged your shoulder, a smirk evident on her face. Her plan was working. You were short-circuiting. Even though your head was feeling less fuzzy due to the alcohol, you might as well have been drunk on Steve. You watched for a few seconds as he found space on the couch to sit down, his cheeks flushed a light pink, and then turned to your friend.

“Robin!” you hissed her name, grabbing at her elbow to pull her closer to you. You gave her the most menacing glare you could muster, but before you could say anything else, she let out a low giggle.

She looked quite pleased with herself, leaning in and whispering loudly, “Did anything happen in there?”

“No! How would that even be possible?” you asked, laughing a little yourself at her ridiculousness.

“Dunno, but a girl’s gotta try. Still have the rest of the night to make something happen.”

As much as you didn’t want to give in to Robin’s hand, you were starting to realize that if she was trying this hard to get something to happen between you and Steve, it probably meant that Steve felt something for you too. You narrowed your eyes at her and then huffed, all but stomping away in search of Steve. If something was going to happen, it had to happen before you lost the confidence.

He was still sitting on the couch, chatting with Eddie, but quickly looked up as you walked over, eyebrows furrowed in concern at your seriousness, “Are you okay?”

“Will you come with me?” you asked instead of answering his question, holding your hand out to him.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, still confused, but took your hand in his and stood up, allowing you to lead him away. You weaved in and out of people, trudging up the stairs to find a quieter place to talk.

When you finally found an empty bathroom, you flicked on the lights and pulled Steve inside, shutting and locking the door behind you so no one would bother you. The music from downstairs had quieted to a dull thud and suddenly the idea of confessing your feelings felt much more daunting in the harsh light of the bathroom. You quickly turned away from Steve to try to take a deep breath, wringing your hands. Steve watched in concern, reaching a hand out to rest on your forearm gently, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You were just going to have to go for it. Turning around quickly to face him again, you started rambling, “I don’t really know how to say this, so I think I just have to jump into the fucking deep end and say it. Especially since Robin’s getting on my nerves with all of the scheming and smug smiles, which I’m sure you’ve noticed, but if I’m reading this wrong, I’m really sorry, we can just pretend it never happened, and–”

“Say what, babe?” Steve interrupted, shaking his head which caused his hair to bounce slightly, “You’re worrying me.”

“I really like you, Steve. A lot.”

It was silent for a moment, and you couldn’t tell what Steve was thinking with the way he was staring at you so intently, nearly scrutinizing. Your heart began pounding in your chest, worried that you had read the entire situation wrong. His arms crossed over his chest and he let out a soft sigh, “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not!” you insisted quickly, shaking your head vehemently, “Maybe the tiniest bit tipsy, but mostly sober, I swear. I’m– I’m serious, Steve. I just… I thought maybe Robin had a point? And honestly, you look so fucking good in those shorts, and I–”

You were cut off as Steve surged forward, one hand moving to cup the back of your head, the other grabbing at your hip to pull your body into his. Before you could process what was happening, Steve’s lips were on yours and he was kissing you desperately. Your hands struggled to find purchase as they landed on his shoulders and you kissed him back, hardly able to believe that this was actually happening. That you were kissing Steve. But just as soon as you’d started to wrap your head around it, Steve pulled back, eyes wide, chest heaving.

“You don’t…” he stopped himself and shook his head as he looked down at the floor for a moment before looking up to you, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that. How long I’ve liked you.” His hand that had grabbed at your side flattened as he smoothed over the fabric of the baseball pants, his gaze dropping down to the floor again bashfully.

“Are you drunk?” you asked in disbelief.

Steve laughed, a soft and amused sound, as he shook his head and repeated your earlier sentiment, “No. Just barely tipsy, almost completely sober. I feel sober now.”

The kiss had sobered you up, too. Your hands slid down from his shoulders, palms resting flat against his chest as you tilted your head up so you could see him clearly. You could count each individual eyelash if you wanted. Count each and every freckle on his face. But all you really wanted was to kiss him.

Your lips met his again as you pushed your chin up, fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt as Steve sighed into your mouth. Both of his hands dropped to your waist, pressing against your body gently until the small of your back bumped into the counter behind you. He squeezed your waist again as he murmured against your lips, “Up.”

You jumped just enough as he helped to lift you onto the counter. His palms grasped at your thighs, fingers digging into the softness there as he stepped into the space between your legs. Once his lips were back on yours, his hands dropped down to your ass and pulled you forward on the counter easily. The feeling made you gasp; your shorts on him left little to the imagination with how you were pressed against him, “Steve.” Your own hands slid down from where they were resting against his chest and pushed against the soft lines of his abdomen, feeling up towards the tiny shirt on him.

“Mm?” he hummed, distracted by the feeling of your hands on his skin. His lips trailed along your jaw, nipping at your skin softly.

“Want you,” you breathed out, eyes fluttering shut momentarily at the feeling of his lips on your neck.

This caught Steve’s attention and his eyes lit up at your admission, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, cheeks filling with heat as you recalled the moment earlier in the evening when Steve had licked the spilled punch off of his fingers, “Want… want your fingers.”

“Shit, okay, babe. Just let me…” he trailed off as his fingers hooked into the waistband of the baseball pants. You lifted your hips to help, letting him drag the fabric down your legs and drop them to the floor. Steve’s eyes caught on the wet spot in the center of your underwear and he cursed softly as his hands slid back up your legs, thumbs sliding up the inside of your thighs. A smirk was growing on his lips, “Y’already so wet, baby.”

You let out a soft huff of embarrassment, cheek pressing into your shoulder to ease the burn as you looked up at Steve, “You’re… you just… you look really fucking hot in basically a crop top and short shorts and then you’re kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before, and–”

“Relax, cutie. I got you,” Steve’s eyes softened, the pads of his thumbs rubbing small circles up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the hem of your panties. At the same time, the tip of his nose brushed down the length of yours before gently nudging up against yours until he caught your lips with his own.

He kissed you a bit softer than he had before, murmuring as his fingers slipped under the hem of your panties, rubbing back and forth against the delicate skin, “Can I get rid of these?”

Instead of answering, you lifted your hips off of the counter again so Steve could pull the fabric off. It dangled off of your ankle for a moment before falling to the ground to join the pants. Steve’s hands were warm at your knees as he pushed your legs apart, but before he could properly touch you, you grabbed at his wrist, fingers circling around it carefully. He watched you in confusion, about to speak but quickly cut himself off when you finally did what you’d been wanting to do all evening.

You pulled his hand up to your mouth, kissing his palm once before your tongue darted out to circle his middle and ring fingers. Steve’s jaw dropped open slightly, eyes somehow growing even wider as you took his fingers into your mouth, his breath hitching, “Jesus fucking christ, babe, I—” Your hand still wrapped around his wrist gave it a small tug, releasing his fingers from your lips with a small pop. “Fuckin’ hell, baby.”

Steve kissed you like it was his last chance, tugging at your lips and licking into your mouth, distracting you enough to let his hand drift back down to your center. You jolted forward, whining into his mouth as his spit-slick fingers traced up your center until his fingertip nudged into your clit. “Please, Stevie.”

“I got you, baby,” he replied softly, emphasizing his words with another circle over your clit. Then, as if reading your mind, he slipped two fingers into you, drawing quiet moans from the both of you. “Shit, you’re so tight.”

His words had you clenching around his fingers as you leaned back, pressing your palms into the cool countertops beneath you. Finally, he started moving his fingers, thrusting them in and out of your cunt at a slow pace. “Steve, I need— oh, shit— I need more.”

Happy to oblige, Steve picked up the pace a bit, fingertips just grazing the spot that was going to make you see stars. Ever in tune with you and your body, he heard your soft whimper, and saw the way your fingers curled over the edge of the countertop, knuckles white with how tightly you were gripping it. He didn’t really have to ask, but did anyway, a knowing smirk settling over his lips, “Right there?”

“Ri-right there,” you repeated, voice breaking as you nodded frantically and rolled your hips against Steve’s hand. He curled his fingers inside of you and then he doubled down, fingertips repeatedly rubbing against the same spot that had you keening before. And when his thumb pressed to your clit, you nearly fell apart then and there.

“C’mon, baby, know you’re close,” Steve muttered, rubbing his thumb over your clit again and again and again until you were clenching around him and falling over the edge with a loud moan of his name.

Your head fell back, thudding against the mirror on the wall behind you as you gasped for air, knocking Steve’s hat on your head off, chest heaving, “Fuck, Steve, I–” The words died in your throat as your eyes fluttered open, only to find Steve with his fingers halfway to his mouth.

He paused for a moment but quickly took note of the way your breath hitched, eyes wide, and slipped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean for the second time that evening. You squirmed against the counter, trying to shuffle off of it as Steve hummed around his fingers and then pulled them from his lips, “Mm, y’taste so good, babe.”

“Holy shit, Stevie,” you gasped as you stumbled off of the counter.

Steve’s hands shot out, grabbing at your hips to steady you, “You okay?”

“More than okay,” you replied, nodding as your hands trailed down Steve’s chest. To prove your point, you leaned up on your toes and pressed your mouth to his. One of your hands curled into the tiny shirt as you kissed him, and the other slid down his chest and abdomen, brushing over the soft hair that disappeared under the waistband of the shorts. You paused, pulling your mouth from Steve’s to look up at him through your eyelashes, “Can I?”

“I— yeah,” Steve nodded hard, hair bouncing with the movement. He looked so pretty — prettier than normal — with his messy hair and wide hazel eyes, lips pink and shiny from your kissing. As he dipped back down to kiss you again, you slid your hand under the waistband of the shorts, but over his boxers. He groaned as you began palming him, and you nearly did as well.

The shorts left very little to the imagination — you knew Steve was big, but feeling him hard in your hand was something completely different. You wanted him, and you weren’t sure you could wait much longer. Your fingers tugged at the shorts and his boxers, discarding them into the pile of your clothes, and you pressed a kiss to his hipbone as you straightened up again, “What… what do you want, Stevie?”

His chest heaved as your hand wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly while you waited for an answer. Steve felt like he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t function. Not when you were finally, finally touching him. He wanted to do so many things with you, but most of all, he wanted you. “Need to be inside you, baby, fuck.”

Your breath hitched a little at his admission and you nodded quickly, wanting whatever he wanted, “Okay. ‘M yours, Stevie.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” he groaned, fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your hips again to help you back onto the counter and pull you towards the edge. “Do you— um, I don’t have a condom, I—”

“‘S okay,” you shook your head quickly, leaning back into your hands as one of your legs hooked around Steve’s waist and pulled him in closer to you, “‘m on the pill.”

“Are you sure?” he asked softly, eyes searching yours carefully.

“Positive, Steve. I want you. Have for a long time.”

That was enough for Steve, and he shuffled forward, one hand resting against your waist while the other reached down to line himself up at your entrance. You sucked in a sharp breath as Steve pushed in slowly, your hands sliding into his hair at the back of his head. It was more of a stretch than you were used to, and it must have shown on your face because Steve’s hand left your hip and came up to cradle your cheek carefully, lips pressing to the corner of your mouth, “Okay?”

“Mhm,” you breathed out heavily, eyes flicking open to find Steve’s face centimeters from yours. His thumb rubbed soothingly over your cheekbone, back and forth a few times, and you nodded, “More, Steve.”

Steve nodded, pressing another soft kiss to your lips as he pushed forward again slowly, searching your face for any sign that you wanted to stop. And when he found none, he continued until his hips were flush with yours. His jaw clenched, fingers digging into your thigh that was around his waist, and hitched it higher up his side to push a bit deeper. “Tell me when you’re ready,” he murmured, dropping kisses to your shoulder.

Your mind was racing, but with thoughts of only SteveSteveSteveSteve once again. Your senses were flooded with him; the smell of his cologne and sweat, the sound of his heavy breaths in your ear, the taste of his lips on yours, his hands on your body and his cock buried deep inside your cunt. With a gasping breath, you pulled Steve’s chest to yours, your other leg wrapping around his waist. “Ready. ‘M ready. You can move.”

His hands slid under your arms and wrapped around your back to hold you against him as he began to move his hips slowly, “God, baby, you— fuck— you feel so good around me. So good for me, huh? Been wanting you like this forever.”

You rolled your hips into his as you all but sobbed his name, pressing your heels into the small of his back. He took the hint quickly and picked up the pace, the filthy sound of his skin smacking yours filling the small bathroom. Your hands searched over his shoulders and back, slipping underneath the shirt of yours that he was somehow still wearing, nails digging into his skin.

Steve’s chin hooked over your shoulder, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind you. He looked just as fucked out as he felt; eyes and hair wild as he clung to you. What really got to him, though, was the sight of his last name sprawled across your back. Maybe, just maybe, you’d finally be his after all of this. Heart racing at the sight, he set a punishing pace, “Look so fuckin’ good in my clothes, sweetheart. You’re so… so fucking perfect.”

“Steve— oh fuck— you feel so good. Gonna come soon, ‘m so close—” you were mumbling incoherently into Steve’s neck, trying your best to meet his thrusts, which became harder as one of his hands snaked down between the two of you to rub over your clit. You clenched around him again at the feeling, pulling the best noise you’d ever heard from the back of Steve’s throat. Your moan echoed his, completely oblivious to the fact that you were still at a party and that someone could probably hear you.

“Gonna come for me, my pretty girl?”

My pretty girl. His and only his. It was enough for you to come undone, Steve’s name intertwined with the curses and filthy moans you couldn’t hold back. His thrusts faltered, hips stuttering against yours as he came, your name spilling from his lips in a way you wanted to hear again and again and again.

Your chest heaved against his as you both tried to catch your breaths, and you left soft, open-mouthed kisses to the crook of his neck where you’d buried your face as you’d come. His hands were gentle as they pushed up your thighs and hips, around your back to slip under the shirt of his you were wearing. They were exceptionally warm, tracing over the curve of your spine as he pressed your body into his, voice soft at your ear as he murmured, “Are you okay?”

You let out a soft laugh as you kissed up Steve’s jaw, fingers slipping into the slightly damp hair at the nape of his neck, twisting a strand around your index finger, “‘M perfect, Steve. Are you okay?”

“Fuck,” he laughed, shaking his head in amusement, popping up from your shoulder to look into your eyes, “I’ve never been better. Meant what I said… been wanting you forever.”

“Yeah?” you asked quietly, feeling bashful, like he wasn’t still inside of you.

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, dipping his head down to press a soft peck to your lips. At the same time, his hands moved back down to your hips, holding you tightly as he finally pulled out. You winced slightly at the feeling, causing a soft apology to tumble from Steve’s lips, followed by another soft peck.

It was quiet as you cleaned each other up as best as you could, stealing sweet kisses from the other more often than necessary. The sound of the music had finally come back into focus, and you realized that it wasn’t as loud as you’d remembered. Still, you’d do it all again, even though you weren't sure you could walk, and you knew your friends were going to give you shit for how long the two of you had disappeared.

As you redressed, you finally swapped your clothes back, but just as you were about to give Steve the last piece of his costume — the jersey — he shook his head, cupping your cheek in his hand, tilting your head up, “You wear it. Looks better on you. And besides, need everyone to know you’re mine now.”

You didn’t put up a fight, grinning and shrugging the jersey back over your shirt that Steve had definitely stretched out. Smoothing down your shirt, you held your hands out to your sides slightly, “Good?”

Steve laughed again, reaching out to swipe a thumb under your eye in an attempt to remove some of the mascara that had smudged, “As good as it’s gonna get. And still perfect. Ready?”

Before he could open the door, you grabbed his hat off of the counter and brushed his hair back before placing it on his head, “For the sex hair. Oh, and Steve?”

“Yeah, cutie?”

“Good game!” you giggled, slapping his ass before bolting out of the bathroom, leaving Steve to stare after you for a few moments with the biggest grin on his face.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #strangertober #best friend!steve #best friend!steve harrington #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #sunshinehollandd #sunshinehollandd writing

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somnambulic-thing · 5 months

Text

This fic is part IV of my come as you are universe but can be read as a standalone.

masterlist

messy Eddie Munson x gn!Reader with vagina&boobs, we're early/mid 20s, E 18+

Words: 6.4k

||contains: established relationship/former best friends, outdoor sex, piv, oral, teasing/edging, a little crying, light biting&scratching we're playing with: cum, slick, spit (no spitting tho) and blueberries in various consistencies; fluff, domestic, silly, food mention/eating: it's a picnic situation || you can always dm me and ask for more details

A/N: Oh my god, I finally did it. I've been working on this story since mid-June and it was actually where my ruminations about this universe started. I have no idea why this took me so damn long. I imagined the vision I had for this scenario would fit into something around 3k-ish. Look how that turned out. It's just a lot of sex and a lot of silly banter.

I have to thank @bettyfrommars and R for the help with that story. I probably would have deleted it without you a long time ago

soundtrack

Comments and reblogs are so appreciated you have no idea.

“You have cum in your hair, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s voice, deep and soft and a little raspy, is full of pride; his eyes full of bliss and adoration.

You smile down at him, stretched out on his back with his arms folded beneath his head, the only remnant of his live-wire-brain a slow bop of his feet which are crossed by the ankles.

He’s just as naked and sweaty as yourself and equally covered in the traces of your lust.

You reach out to tug on a sticky strand of wavy brown hair, twirling the end slightly between your fingertips.

“So have you, Munson.”

Eddie hums and nods like that’s good news and closes his eyes.

The wrath of the August sun can’t reach you in your little hiding spot, it only drips through the canopy of the poplar above your heads, heavy and thick like honey, leaving dancing specks of gold scattered all over his pale skin. You try to trace the ever-changing outlines with your fingertips the way you like to trace the ink, your feathery touch leaving goosebumps behind.

“We should venture to the lake,” he says with a lazy smile. “Go for a swim. Clean up this debauchery.”

You lower down to kiss the corner of his mouth as a starting point for the only journey you’re interested in right now; down the sharp edge of his jaw to his throat. Here you follow the string of purple bruises left by your greedy mouth and it leads you right to the dip of his collarbone. The hum swelling low in his throat turns into a sigh when you trace the shape of it with your tongue.

“Okay, yeah, maybe not yet,” he says and cups the back of your head, softly scratching your scalp. “Guess we basically just got here… we have time…”

…

It’s hard to tell the time on days like this. If not for the movement of the sun you wouldn’t be sure that it still existed.

There is a special place for the two of you where the laws of nature seem to bend around your togetherness. A space where it’s safe to strip off masks, armor and cloth, to let the other tend to those tender spots that ache from neglect or need and so often both.

It had always been there, created in the aftershock of your collision when you had become friends over night all those years ago. Eddie had been so easy to be around, so easy to trust with your dreams, quirks and secrets. In return, he’d given you pieces of himself too to keep safe, knowing you would treat them with more kindness than he often could. The presence of that space was always perceptible around you like a softly hummed melody wherever you went. One of you just had to pry it open with an inquisitive look or urgent touch and drag the other in behind them.

Today it had been Eddie.

You had followed the sound of tiny rocks against your windowpane and found him outside with a stuffed backpack over one shoulder and a dragon-slaying guitar clutched in one hand, wildflowers in the other.

“What’s the occasion?” you had asked, sensing something nervous in his smile when you flung yourself into his arms.

“It’s a Saturday and I love you.” He had scrunched up his nose in that silly way he always did when he tried to find the right words for important things. “And I want to fuck you where I picked those flowers.”

It had been a short drive and a short hike later when you saw the first spots of red and blue, sprinkles of white and yellow dance in the breeze and recognized them as the same flowers that now waited on your windowsill for your return.

“Almost there,” he’d said and you had felt the seconds slow and stutter as Eddie’s fingers intertwined with your own, tugging you towards the high grass and right through it, heading for the small clearing by the trunk of the tree and into its shadow.

“Nobody will see us here,” he’d said, arms tight around your waist. “Promise.”

You really hadn’t cared either way as Eddie nudged at your jaw with the bridge of his nose to gain access to your pulse.

There had been a moment - albeit brief - where you’d wondered if one could hear you from the path outside the field where time still existed when Eddie plunged his fingers into you, deep and urgent, his praises and your moans mingling, drowning out the birds and bugs lurking around as your back arched off the giant red plaid blanket he must have bought for this very occasion.

And then, finally, the rest of the world was erased from your mind when he chanted your name again and again, knuckles white from clutching the blanket in trembling fists as you swirled your tongue around the hot tip of his cock in slow dragging teasing circles for an eternity until he couldn’t take it any longer.

…

You smile against his skin, revelling in the soft noises he makes for you when you lap up salty sweat from his chest, when you flick the tip of your tongue against his nipple and in the way he squirms and begs for you to kiss him.

“Please, please, please…” he whimpers as you take your time kissing up his sternum, ignoring the tug in your hair, making sure to worship every patch of damp skin on your way to his lips. Eddie groans, so impatient, so greedy and you want to swallow him whole so you do the next best thing; you bare your teeth against his neck and bite him.

“Holy fucking…” he breathes in sharply but tilts his head up further. “You beast.”

You lick the tender flesh above his collarbone before you blow cool air on it to soothe the bite.

“Too much?” you ask with worry, pushing up to find his dark eyes waiting. You see the flicker of his plan in them the second before he flips you over and pins you down.

“Never.” His nose presses into your cheek before he nips at your jaw. A pointy knee nudges at your thigh and you spread them willingly to let him back between them. “That’s why I’m done begging for more now…”

“Oh no, I’m in trouble…” you try to tease but your voice strings out thin as he moves down your neck and chest; kissing sucking biting. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours and the hunger in them pulls your insides into a tight knot you can’t wait for him to untangle again.

“Let’s earn that clean up at the lake,” he says, his tongue leaving wet glistening trails of spit on your skin all the way down to your hips. There he gifts you a set of pretty teeth marks to remember him by before he settles on his stomach between your thighs, wrapping his arms firmly around them. “Let’s make a mess.”

You prop up on your elbows for a better view. “How will this differ from the average Munson pussy-eating endeavour?”

“Oh, sweetheart… you challenging me?”

“I guess I am.”

He shakes his head like you’re a pitiful thing, grinning sharply; it’s obscene with the way his mouth hovers over your pelvis close enough for you to feel his breath in the sticky hair above your slit. Your hips twitch upwards in response, impatience flaring up between them and his grip on you tightens.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts and shakes his head.

There were days when he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on you, cursing each garment that stood between him and the taste of you. But Edward Munson could be unyielding once his mind was set on a particular thing. Painfully so.

“I have a vision here and I need you to hold still.”

“I am,” you grumble, knowing you are not. “As good as I can with you breathing on my pussy.”

“The sooner you comply, the sooner we both get our treat. C’mon. Be good.”

You finally obey and relax, voicing a low, soft “please, Eddie” aimed to break his determination. His lips part in a cunning smile before he sticks out his tongue as far as he can, long and wet and pointed. Hovering.

“I’m not moving,” you whine.

Eddie’s brows lift - demanding patience - and he looks like a demon that way; wide eyes, gaping mouth, teeth bared and spit slowly running down his tongue.

“Oh.”

It’s agony, watching a bead of spit collect at the tip, hypnotizing how it grows and grows and the seconds stretch, just as much as the viscous liquid, before it finally drips down onto your clit and runs down to one side. There’s no controlling it; your hips try to buckle and the pretty pink tongue disappears behind a smile that’s all teeth and tender cruelty and still connected to you by a string of spit.

“Please…”

Eddie chuckles deeply, sticks out his demon tongue again and you force your body into stillness instantly. This is what possession feels like, you think.

“Please, Eddie, please, please, plea—“

The first gentle lick feels like little more than a breeze over your clit, barely nudging it, but it makes your jaw drop and your arms shake. A long stretched whine spills from your mouth as he repeats it again and again and again, adding slightly more and more pressure each time. His eyes are fixed on yours, intense, almost unblinking, and so very dark. It’s adding heat to the electric shocks his teasing sends up your spine. You channel the urge to move, to grind your cunt against his mouth into a pitiful hitching moan.

“Christ, your face…” Eddie groans, stopping his sweet sweet torture, fingers kneading your thighs short of painful. “Could come just looking at you like that.”

“I know,” you breathe out. “Love when that happens.”

He loosens his grip on your tighs, and brings one hand around between them. “I aim to please,” he says with a wink and points a finger gun at you, blowing imaginary smoke away before he shoves the barrel of it inside you.

And then he’s devouring you.

You fall back, your arms finally giving in as the sensation pulls you under, overwhelms you after all the soft teasing. He’s moaning against your cunt and it doesn’t take long for him to undo you again, knowing all the motions by heart that take you out of this world.

Your fist stirs up fine dust as it thumps the ground when he stops seconds before you can fall over the edge.

“No, nonono, why?—“

But Eddie is not listening. “Fucking dripping for me,” he marvels at his hand covered in your slick. He spreads his fingers and watches how your arousal forms shiny strings between his knuckles.

“You’re evil—“

“But my evil methods always get you off so much harder,” he says casually sliding two fingers back inside you while wiping the other hand on your stomach and his glistening mouth on your thigh.

“Fuck—“

A soft smile is curling his lip while he curls his fingers inside you. Your hips twitch up and Eddie uses the moment to press a soft kiss to your throbbing clit.

“Messy, messy pussy,” he sighs dreamily.

You can’t but laugh.

“You’re suuuch a weirdo,” you say softly and run a hand through his hair. You can see the praise lighting little fires in his eyes.

“Well, thank you,” he chuckles darkly. “It’s really inspiring that it gets you wet like that.”

You lose count of how many times he gets you close to the edge again just to pull back and cover you in sticky kisses to your thighs and hips and belly, to run his soaked fingers over your breasts and up your neck over and over.

Every inch of your skin feels sticky, every fibre of your body thrums like vicious reverb when he crawls up to you, eyes wild, lips and chin drenched and glistening with your wetness and kisses you.

“You good?” he sighs, sucks your lower lip between his teeth and pulls until it stings just so before he lets you answer.

“M’ on fire is what I am…”

“Good.”

“You’ve won. I’m such a mess, please, please fuck me.”

The desperate scratch of your nails on his back, makes his head drop to your shoulder and turns his low deep laugh into a moan. It’s contagious, spreads to you as he rolls his hips against you, his hard length sliding through your swollen lips, dragging over your clit.

“You smell like home,” he whispers against your skin as he pushes in, slowly, softly until he’s fully nestled inside of you. Your breath is unsteady, hitches as the pleasure of being so full of him pushes everything else out of your mind.

“Do you feel that?” he brings his forehead to yours, pulling out almost all the way, giving you that full sweet stretch again as he sinks back in. “How perfectly I fit inside you?”

“Feels like home,” you say and feel him smile as he kisses you. It’s slow and dragging at first and he stays close, burying you under his weight and his face in your neck as he buries his cock inside you again and again and over and over with growing speed and urgency.

“C’mon, fall apart for me,” he grits through his teeth, “I got you, always got you.” He peels himself away from you and sits back up on his shins. With his hair forming a wild dark halo around his head and your purple marks scattered over his skin the sight alone of his thrumming, sweat-glistening body straining to bring you to the peak of pleasure is pure ecstasy. His thumb finds your clit, slow dragging circles contrast hard fast thrusts and if you’ve been on fire before, you’re blazing now, hot enough to forge steel.

“Don’t stop…”

“Won’t…”

“So close…”

“I know. Me too…”

“So good…”

“So fucking good… come on… come for me…”

Your heels dig into the ground lifting your twitching hips off the blanket as the searing heat spreads through your pelvis like wildfire. Eddie moves up with you, melts into you, is one with you, fingers digging hard into your flesh to hold you where he wants you to fuck you through it. The world is not a place but a raging pulse and all you can do is surrender your body to him. It’s easy.

He’s your heart anyway.

He carefully lowers your hips back to the ground, smoothing his palms up and down your sticky thighs while you come down from your high.

“Look at me!”

Your lids are heavy as you blink to clear your view from a few stray tears.

Eddie tilts his head, searching your face with curious eyes, tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he backs away slowly, leaving you empty. There’s not much time to mourn the feeling as he swiftly straightens your legs and straddles your thighs.

“What—“

“Shhh, just watch,” he rasps out, licking his lips as he wraps his fingers around his slick, throbbing cock. His voice breaks, strings out thinly—

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck—“

— as his fist works his flushed tip with precision and a rapid pace. The hair around the base is slick with your ecstasy and as your gaze wanders up his body in search of his face you find it a beautiful display of his own with his jaw slack and brows knit tightly.

His thighs tremble, then twitch and the blur of his hand regains its shape when with a few last long strokes and wide, teary eyes, he spills himself over you again and again in hot thick bursts of white.

The impact of his pleasure brings him off balance and he slumps forward. Your praises are hoarse, insignificant sounds lost between Eddie’s sobbing moans and you run a hand up your body to aid him spread his mess all over your skin while the other hand finds his face to caress a bright red cheek, to brush sweaty hair off his forehead.

“I love you so much,” you tell him.

Eddie sighs softly and turns his face into your hand, presses a long soft kiss into your palm before he sits up and throws his head back to take a deep breath. Above him, sun and wind are engaged in a play, turning the canopy of the tree into a writing, shimmering mass and for a moment, this feels like a dream. Then he sways like the branches, a goofy grin the last thing you see before he lets himself slump down next to you with a thump that makes you wince. He just hums contently, pressing his face to your sweaty neck.

“That was nice,” he mumbles, peppering your jaw with kisses.

“Yeah, uh-hn, really, really nice.”

“Dare say the nicest one yet.”

“Hmm, think I just saw your soul leave your body for a moment.”

“Hmm,” he hums and slings an arm around your waist. “My soul looks great on your tits.”

There is a beat of silence before you both break out in silly giggles, turning into laughter, turning into exhausted kisses and sweet words while Eddie’s soul dries on your skin in the warm summer air.

...

You make him drink some water first because he always forgets and while you have some yourself, Eddie conjures up a meal from his magical backpack.

“I made your favourite,” he says, opening a stainless steel container to reveal a pair of thick sandwiches. “Got some other stuff too.” He hands another container to you. “Just in case… could probably feed us for the next twenty-four hours.”

You remove the lid and find it filled to the brim with blueberries. You lift it to your face to draw in air laced with the sweet, earthy smell of the berries.

You hum with anticipation, mouth watering as you pick one large plump berry and pop it into your mouth, the rich, wild sweetness of the forest exploding on your tongue. “So good,” you sigh and a soft smile curls up the corners of Eddie’s lips. “I take it Wayne was lost in the woods again for a week?”

“Aye,” Eddie chuckles, eyes darting between your eyes and your mouth where two more berries just found their demise. “Must have been a good year. That madman collected enough berries to fill a bathtub with.”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

He holds up his thumb and forefinger just enough so that a berry could fit between them. “I would call it embellishment.”

You huff and put the container down. Leaning forward, stretching out long over your waiting meal, you place a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “Thank you,” you say close to his ear. “This is wonderful. You’re wonderful.”

A hand comes up to the side of your head, holding you in place. Eddie turns his face to you, nudging your noses clumsily together. His tongue glides along your bottom lip before his mouth finds yours; a kiss so gentle it feels almost timid.

He releases you with a peck to the corner of your mouth. You watch him lick his lips as you sit back, his eyes are turned down and there’s that wrinkled nose again. You’re about to ask him if there’s something on his mind when he snaps out of it in the blink of an eye, grinning from cheek to cheek and the thought fades from your mind.

“Bon appétit,” he announces with a flourish of his hands.

You mostly eat in silence, leaving the stage to the quiet sounds of nature, recharging while the shadows slowly creep further and further away as the sun makes its journey towards the horizon. There is the occasional protest when you’re stealing bites from each other’s food as well as sighs of appreciation over a simple meal that equates to a feast without even trying.

“Open,” he says, a berry between his fingertips and you pull up your brows.

“You don’t have a good enough aim for that game.”

“And I won’t get any better without practice,” he says with a grin oh so sharp, a voice oh so seductive. “So, love of my life, open. Please?”

It’s hard to stay still like that for long when Eddie is huffing and puffing as he’s missing your mouth over and over. Berries keep hitting your cheeks, your forehead and a few bounce off your lips before he finally lands one in your mouth. He pumps his fist and you applaud him; for effort and perseverence.

“My turn. Open,” you say and he obeys eagerly.

The first one is a miss, the next four find their target with precision.

“You’re cheating.” Chewing much more than one berry requires, Eddie eyes you with his trademark up to no good-expression.

“How would I even do that?”

“Sorcery,” he says, and flicks a berry at you that’s hitting you right between the eyes.

Eddie clasps a hand over his mouth as you wince, eyes comically wide in his shock, breath stuck in his lungs. Before you know you’re doing it, you reach for the berries, feeling some pop between your fingers as you load them up and fling a handful of the sticky ammunition at his chest.

There’s a hollow thud upon impact, followed seamlessly by the smacking of skin on skin as Eddie clasps his hands over his heart, face a mask of anguish and disbelief displayed with such sincerity you’re almost tricked into feeling bad over your attack.

“Crit… hit…” he croaks out before his eyes roll back into his head as he collapses.

You’re on your knees, crawling over to where he lies motionless with eyes closed and mouth ajar. He doesn’t move, makes no sound when you mount his hips right beyond his soft cock that lies now snug against your inner thigh.

There’s dark pulp sticking to his chest; unlucky stray berries squashed in his throes of death. The smudge connects two hickeys, forming one large nebula in a galaxy of bruises. It’s beautiful, the complex hues of blue reacting with his smooth pale skin, turning the mess purple around the edges.

You just sit and stare.

“Wanna have a taste?” he says, one eye cracked open in curiosity before he opens them both. “Clean me up?”

A blush appears high on his cheeks, giving away his anticipation, just like the glint in his eyes and the hands kneading your hips.

“Don’t think I will.” You run your fingertips over his skin, from navel to neck and back again; slowly, softly. “Only fair that you’re a little filthy too.”

“Come on,” he purrs, “have a treat.”

“Nu-uh.”

His nostrils flare, his ribs expand to greedily suck in air and with it, all the mirth and silliness. Suddenly the air feels thick and crackling like in the wake of a storm.

“Alright, alright, I hear you,” he says calmly and reaches for the berries across the blanket.

“There,” he says, his clenched fist oozing purple juice and bits of skin. Dark drops run down his arm as he squeezes the berries to a sticky pulp before he coats himself with the mess from chest to throat. “You can leave some behind.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” you say with the calm of a preying beast and lace your hands with Eddie’s dripping fingers.

“Oh nooo,” he mimics you from earlier and grins like a blade. “I’m in trouble.”

Leaning down slowly, you pin his hands to the ground next to his shoulders. “There will be teeth.”

“W-was coun-ting on it.”

The stutter in his breath is delicious, a first taste of what’s to come. You want to make him whine and writhe under your hands and teeth, you need him crying and shaking and out of his mind.

His nipple is already hard when you flick your tongue against it and sweetness fills your mouth as you lick and suck and tug on the sensitive thing while your fingers find the other hard nub and pinch. Eddie barely breathes. He sucks in all the air he can get, then holds it holds it holds it before he lets it out as soft groans and moans. His fingers flex hard against the back of your hands, nails biting your skin every time you take your teeth to him.

You reach between your bodies and follow the trail of hair down with a featherlight touch to find his cock hot and hard and waiting. You slide your fingertips along the soft skin like a breeze, barely even touching. Eddie’s hips buckle up—

“Shit— hnng…”

— and you take the sensation away. Eddie’s face is flushed, his voice pressed through his teeth.

“Please…”

You lap at his skin, bit by bit uncovering a deep blush that’s more of a crimson compared to the bright red where his skin isn’t stained. He tries to grind against you but you lift your hips—

“Please…”

— and sink your teeth into his shoulder, over and over, inching torturously slow towards his neck. Some bites you kiss better, some you leave to sting a little longer. Desperate hands scurry over your arms, your back, your hips trying to pull you against him. Strands of hair stick to your face that must be stained up to your nose by now. You pull back for a moment and Eddie’s hands find your cheeks—

“Pleaaase…”

— to pull you into a kiss. You press a quick peck to the side of his mouth, then marvel over the shape of your lips printed there like a blue shadow.

“Fuuuck, you’re so gorgeous,“ he rasps with dazed eyes and chases your lips again. You press your foreheads together before he can succeed and his frustration is a cool draft on your wet skin as a long groan spills out of his mouth. “Please, please, lemme taste you, I really want to—“

His pleas are sweet and thick, just like his neck that taunts you with taut tendons and the slide of his Adam’s apple when he swallows hard around his desperation. You’re all over it, raking your nails down the sides while your tongue slides up right under his chin and—

“Fuck, no, wait, fuck—“

— everything moves as Eddie sits up and pushes you with him.

“Are you oka— hng—“ He stops your inquiry; fingers digging into your chin, keeping your mouth from closing, freezing it mid-vowel.

There’s this look again. His gaze flicks between your eyes and mouth until he’s just staring at your berry-coated tongue.

So you open up a little wider.

He moves slowly; it’s almost timid when his tongue finds yours and steals a little sweetness from you.

“Weird?” he asks, softly nudging your nose with his while holding you in place to keep you from swallowing. You barely shake your head before he’s back for more with a bruising kiss that’s full of nipping teeth and greedy tongues. Most of the remaining berries find a sticky end between your bodies before they are lapped up from various body parts and shared through devouring kisses.

You’re grinding your hips against his lap enough to make him shiver and moan but not enough to get him close to the edge and you’re determined to keep it that way until he’s losing it with desire. Which doesn’t take too long.

“You trying to kill me?” he whines with his head dropped to your shoulder.

“Just a little… as the French say.”

He groans. “I’d like to go out soon then, if you please.”

“No.”

He groans again and bites your shoulder. “M’ so fucking hard.”

It’s just a subtle shift of your hips but the next three, four times you move them, Eddie jolts and curses enough to damn whole bloodlines. You reach into his hair to pull his head back so he has to look into your eyes and you take a moment to admire the mess that he is; blue and purple and flushed red in between, jaw slack and breath stuttering under your gaze.

“On your knees. Palms to the tree.”

You lift off and Eddie scrambles to all fours to get into position, knees placed wide apart. There are stains on his back in the shape of your hands, layered over a pattern of slightly raised lines left by your nails.

Eddie’s shoulder blades ripple under your gentle kisses as you embrace him from behind. You run your hands down his belly to the V-shape between his hip bones and a little further to cup his balls with one hand while the other traces a thick vein on the underside of his cock.

You chuckle into his shoulder when he sighs with relief as you wrap your fingers firmly around him and start to stroke him oh so slowly. You don’t keep it slow for long, couldn’t keep it slow without stopping him from thrusting into your fist but you don’t want him to be still; you want him twitching and trembling.

Eddie takes care of the pace and your fingers do all the things that drive him crazy, your wrist twists just the right way and he’s holding his breath again, every muscle in his lower body ready to snap and so you loosen your grip before he can.

His head drops, a fist hits the bark of the poor old tree—

“Godfuckingdamnyou—“

“Shhh,” you whisper close to his ear. “Good things come in threes—“

“M’ not— can’t— hm-m, please—“

You wait another moment for him to calm down, or to hear the agreed-upon words that tell you he really can’t take any more teasing but they don’t come. He just breathes hard and shallow. You swipe your thumb over the hot tip of his cock, rub soft circles over the sensitive slit that dribbles under your touch.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you say and tighten your grip again.

The next time he’s about to burst, you just let go of him—

“Fuck— fuckfuck, fuck you—“ he whines, hips thrusting into nothing and he sinks against the tree, resting his forehead against its roughness.

You caress his back, smother him in soft kisses and hold him close with gentle hands.

“Regret being cocky?” you ask, watching a bead of sweat run down his spine.

“Fuck you—“ he chuckles groggily. You think it sounds a little wet. “Never regretted a second spent with you, demon.”

“That’s just the impending orgasm talking,” you tease, a beaming smile pressed against his skin where he can feel it.

“I dare you to fucking make me come and I’ll tell you again— ah— Christ…“

“God, I barely touched you,” you say slowly wrapping your fingers around his aching cock. “You’re really sensitive now, hm?”

This time, the wetness in his laugh is unmistakable. “Oh, you think?— Hmmng, that’s gooood, please, please don’t stop!”

There’s no more frantic thrusting into your hand; Eddie finds just enough strength to push himself back from the tree to make it easier for you to reach where he needs you.

You work him slowly, no need for fast strokes when he’s crumbling like this and you know exactly where to rub and squeeze and circle to take him apart. High-pitched whines and groans mix with something that sounds like pieces of bark chipping from the trunk of the three. You drink in every noise, every twitch, every oh-so-small sensation; it’s all intoxicating.

Eddie is vibrating. Every atom in his body tuned to a frequency only you can receive. He’s begging you for a kind of mercy that one must be ready to receive.

“If your eyes are closed, I need you to open them now, Eddie. I need you to watch.”

“Oh g-god…”

“Good boy.”

You shift your stance slightly to one side and reach through his spread legs from behind to find that firm, plump patch of skin right behind his balls. Circling your fingers without any pressure, you let him adjust to the sensation first—

“Oh shit—“

— meanwhile, you press his cock flat against his belly, your palm stroking the underside, your thumb placed to grace his frenulum with every slide and—

“Shitshitshit—“

— it doesn’t take much; one two three circles against the tender spot and his breathing stops, four five six and Eddie turns to stone in your hands—

“Come on, Ed, make a mess—“

— and then he comes and comes and comes all over himself.

...

The setting sun sets the sky ablaze.

No pinks, purples or blues; everything is swallowed by a deep, burning orange that turns the surface of the lake into a raging inferno and in the middle of it all, floating on his back, is Eddie.

You’ve been watching him drift along for a while now - long enough for your skin to be as good as dry again - and if it wasn’t for the opposite shore that separates the sky from the water, you would worry he could just drift off into the sky and vanish between the few stray clouds that dare enter the flames.

It’s a fitting scene, you think, as you rewind your memories from the day over and over, matching the heat spreading from your chest into every last corner of your being.

Out in the water, the arsonist turns over and disappears, feet kicking up a small splash of water. You wait and watch until he emerges again a good distance away from where he dove in before you get up from your spot on the lakeside and cross the small distance to the van that’s parked right behind the treeline.

The back doors are wide open, left that way in your hurry to get into the water and you climb in to grab your Polaroid in an attempt to capture some of the colours before they turn into endless blue.

You cover the flash with your palm, listen to the motor eject the picture and tuck it out quickly to let it develop safely in the darkness of a worn copy of The Hobbit that lives in the back of the van. You leaf through the pages that shelter the pictures you made earlier that afternoon.

Two are a little blurry, one is overexposed because you left it face-up in the sun after the noise from the camera woke your subject from his slumber. He’d been curled up against your chest and upon waking demanded instant attention in the form of head scratches. All the pictures are full of colour - blues and purples, mostly - and blissful faces. Even the teary ones.

Looking at Eddie’s bright, sleeping profile makes you aware that the tiredness started to slowly creep into your limbs. You put the book down and get busy shifting stuff around to make room for the fold-up mattress and prepare a bed for the night.

You’re sitting at the foot of the mattress with your back to the lake, unrolling a sleeping bag you probably won’t need when cool wet fingers sneak under the hem of your tank top and damp lips find the side of your neck.

"Sorry,” he says softly when you flinch with surprise. “Didn’t think I was so quiet… Hi.”

“I was engrossed in nest-building and you’re like a cat,” you say and turn around. The soft light from the lantern inside the car renders his smile almost unbearably soft. He’s dripping wet from head to toe and strands of hair stick to his cheek and chin. You brush them away. “A wet, sneaky cat.”

There’s still a blue tint faintly staining big patches of his skin; you suppose you soaked a little too long in berry juice. You trace the outlines with your fingers. “You had a good swim?”

Eddie hums affirmatively, snatches your hand from his chest and presses a soft kiss to the tips of your fingers. “The fucking sky was on fire,” he says in an almost pensive way, eyes fixed on a spot somewhere behind your shoulder.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?” He quickly blinks a few times before his eyes focus on you again. It’s like he’s coming back from far away.

“Where did you just go?”

“Uh, just… I’m… just a bit tired I guess…” he wrinkles his nose and scratches the back of his head as if another thought is stuck there. “You know…” he pauses again and then the expression melts into a smile. ”Someone interrupted my well-deserved nap after an almost deadly handjob.”

You huff a laugh, but the thought that there is something on his mind that just won’t make it over his lips starts gnawing on you.

“And I kinda wish I had a fucking towel. Don’t feel like waiting out here until I’m dry.”

“Have you tried shaking yourself very quickly, like a good boy?”

Eddie’s brows vanish under his wet bangs and then a wicked grin that can only be the harbinger of mayhem spreads over his face. You regret running your mouth even before he widens his stance and starts to bang his head like he’s at a Metallica show with his dick out.

Drops of cold water fly everywhere, too cool on your skin now that nightfall takes the heat away and you scramble back over the mattress to get away from him. “You animal!”

“As you have suggested,” he laughs, coming back up while trying to get the wet hair out of his face. “Hey, where did you g— hmpf.”

You’d thrown a blanket at him, hitting him right in the face. “Oh shit,” you laugh and crawl back to the edge. “Sorry—“

“Can’t quite take your apology seriously when you cackle like that,” he grumbles unconvincingly, peeling the blanket off his face.

“Dry your wet cat ass with that thing, throw it over a branch or something and then come in here.”

He does just that.

You’re already drowsy when he finally settles in behind you and wraps an arm around your waist, a soft low melody deep in his throat that seems to rest heavy on your eyelids. Eddie turns off the light, mumbles something about mosquitos and nestles his face into the back of your neck. You can hear him sniff.

“This is what you’d smell like if you were a lake monster.”

“S' that good?”

“Very sexy,” he sighs and holds his wrist under your nose. “Verdict?”

You sniff; it’s Eddie but more tart. “Highly erotic,” you say truthfully but half-yawning. “We could be lake monsters together. Share a lake. Just you and I and—” another yawn, “—and the algae.”

Eddie doesn’t reply and you think he must have fallen asleep.

“G’d night, love of my life,” you drawl just as your consciousness slips away.

people who asked to be tagged about a century ago:

@mrsjellymunson @streamafterlaughter @bebe07011 @dr-aculaaa @whenshelanded @spenciesprincess @spiderman-stilinski @nailbatanddungeon @toomanyacorns

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson fic #my fic

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theharrowing · 1 year

Text

What, now?

For as long as you and Jungkook have been friends, your feelings for him have been unrequited. Or have they?

☁ Jungkook x Female Reader ☁ word count: 13.6k ☁ friends to lovers, requited unrequited, pwp, fluff, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+ ☁ warnings: switch jungkook & switch reader, smoking weed, playful swatting and hitting (idk i'm an aries venus and i tend to playfully hit the people i love), tension and confessions, shot-gunning smoke, making out, light teasing and begging, anxiety, use of "baby" and "good girl/good boy", oral sex (f & m), fingering, a bit of squirting, dick piercingsssss, deepthroating, a hint of humiliation and cum play and spit, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, jungkook changes positions like he changes karaoke songs, booty eating and fingering, a bit of cockwarming, soft feelings. ☁ note: the time has come. i have written my first ever jungkook fic! i am very excited to be taking this important step, and i hope that you enjoy it. please blame/thank @jjkeverlast for putting this idea into my head and brainstorming with me! this contains literally the barest plot! ☁ beta read by @neoneunnajimin and @blog-name-idk 🥰 i love you both very much! ☁ posted march 2023 | read on ao3

"What, now?" Jeongguk asks, blinking heavily from staring at some fixed point on your comforter.

Frustrated, you sigh out a puff of smoke and set the joint onto a clear glass ashtray on your bedside table. Then you grab a pillow, gripping tightly to its soft, floral covering, and you chuck it at him.

"Oh, for the love of—" you complain as the pillow hits his shoulder, and he lets out a deep oof. "—you are impossible, Jeongguk!"

Jeongguk clutches his heart, feigning dramatically to be wounded, and leans back. Then, fear paints his face, and you realize he might actually be tipping over the edge of your bed as his arms flail out to the sides.

With an exasperated huff, you get onto your knees and lean forward, grabbing one of his flailing arms and yanking him to safety. As Jeongguk slouches toward you, your balance slips, and you crash headfirst into his knee, then roll onto your back in defeat as a throbbing ache blooms in the center of your forehead.

Jeongguk bends—brows knit with concern and wide, deep brown eyes accentuated by his browline glasses—staring straight into your soul. As he reaches to touch you, his dark brown curls fall forward, framing his beautiful face, causing you to panic-gasp and swat at his hand.

"Get away from me, you demon!"

"I'm sorry! Your bed is tall; I could have died!" he whines as you roll to safety by your headboard and scramble back into a seated position. You reach for the joint to take another deep inhale, letting the smoke settle before breathing it out, then you lean forward and hand it over.

"You go so far away when you're high," you grumble as you sit back, snatching another pillow to hug close.

"Sorry," Jeongguk mutters as he takes a slow, deep hit, hissing as he inhales and sighing on the exhale. "I get lost in my thoughts."

With a scoff, you roll your eyes.

"What were you thinking of, hmm?"

Jeongguk flits his gaze to you, which appears a bit sad, stirring something inside your tummy. For as long as you have known Jeongguk, he has been lighthearted and relaxed, finding levity in any situation. But lately, when you hang out, there is a heaviness—a tension, almost. Something hangs in the air—something he always seems on the edge of voicing but never does.

Jeongguk leans forward and hands you the joint, but rather than straightening out after you reach for it, he stays anchored on his palm, slouched in front of you. With a sigh, he cocks his head and says, "I don't know. What if I—" his eyes search around and past you, then return, "—what if you don't like what I've been thinking about?"

Ridiculous. The only thing Jeongguk could ever do to upset you is move to a new city or find some other way to pull the two of you apart. As long as your best friend is in your orbit, nothing can hurt you.

And, sure, the fact that you have a huge, overwhelming, insurmountable, absolutely dizzying fucking crush on him is frustrating—bordering infuriating, at times—but you suffer out of love. At least, that is what you tell yourself. You can yearn until the end of time as long as your best friend never leaves you.

Jeongguk clears his throat and settles back on his knees. You could swear his gaze falls past your eyes—lower, to your mouth—but he seems once again lost in thought, making him hard to read.

"I want to kiss you," he finally blurts out.

You choke on air, inhaling too sharply and coughing, squeezing your pillow tight. Jeongguk's shoulders slump forward, and he hangs his head and shakes it, letting out a soft, somewhat humorless laugh as he sits back up and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Forget it," he mutters.

Absolutely not.

"Jeon Jeongguk," you wheeze, gripping the corner of the pillow and swatting him with it, hitting his knees. He glances at you with a sad, somewhat distant expression, and your head fucking spins as you try to make sense of this situation.

"Is this just like...high talk?" you ask, suddenly feeling panicked that your very attractive best friend is talking about kissing you. "Like, I don't know, is the weed making you say silly shit?"

A frown tugs on Jeongguk's pretty lips.

"Silly shit? Wow, yeah, forget I said anything."

"That's not—" you feel guilty, sighing, "—Jeongguk—"

"No, no," he interrupts, waving a limp defeated hand. "Never mind."

You remember the joint in your grasp and take a useless puff, having to grab for the baby blue lighter sitting beside the ashtray and flick your thumb over the wheel a few times until a flame greets you. Gently, you inhale as fire engulfs the tip, bringing it back to life, and then, with a lungful, you pass it to your best friend, who gives a sad half-smile and says, "Thanks."

As you settle back against your headboard, clenching the lighter in your fist and hugging your pillow tight, your mind races. You struggle to grab onto any one thought long enough to really comprehend it; all you can seem to focus on is when? When could this feeling of his have started?

Jeongguk chuckles, but it lacks any mirth. And then he mutters, "Here, I thought I was being super obvious," causing your mouth to drop open.

"Okay, but...since when?"

"I've had feelings for you since the day we met," Jeongguk states, looking into your eyes, causing your stomach to do a backflip.

"Since wh—what? You what?"

Jeongguk opens his mouth to speak, but you wave your hands in the air, lighter wedged under your pinky and ring finger, to cut him off.

"No! Because, I have had feelings for you since the day we met! Which means—oh, god, what have we been doing?"

"I was a dork when we first met," Jeongguk grumbles, though he seems to have lightened up, smiling through his words.

Laughter quakes through you, and you nod your head cartoonishly, still absolutely dumbfounded by all of this.

"You were! You were smart, and funny, and kind, and even when your nose was still too big for your face, you were still the cutest dork I knew!"

The Jeongguk you met all those years ago, when he was tiny and shy, was already the love of your life. And as you aged and he began to bulk up, covering himself in tattoos and piercings, it only made your heart ache all the more.

Jeongguk's gaze falls, and a shy smile creeps across his face. He plays with the little metal ring in his lip, passing his teeth gently over it, then he looks back up, making firm eye contact.

With his voice dropping an octave lower, he asks, "You really have feelings for me?"

The shift in his tone and demeanor makes your heart pound, and you attempt to take a drag from the joint, realizing after two dazed inhales that it has gone out, once again. Sheepishly, you hold up the lighter and flick your thumb over the wheel once, then twice, watching as sparks fly and wondering if it is in any way symbolic or if that is the weed taking over your cloudy little brain and making you too hopeful for your own good.

With a deep inhale, you reignite the joint—hoping you have done a better job than last time—then you hold in the smoke and hand it back, feeling yourself become antsy under Jeongguk's intense gaze. He brushes his fingers against your knuckles as he slowly takes the dwindling offering and pulls it to his mouth, and you barely part your lips to let the smoke leave your lungs, watch intently as he sucks in and then smiles, licking his lips before slowly exhaling.

A chuckle breaks you from your trance, and you blink heavily while sitting up straight, gripping the life out of the pillow with your forearms. The weed, Jeongguk's confession, and his shift in mood all have you feeling lightheaded. You clear your throat and toss your lighter to the bedside table, which clatters on impact.

"Of course I do," you mutter, finally returning to the conversation that had hung as thick and heavy as the cloud of smoke between you. "Have you seen yourself, Jeongguk? Everybody has feelings for you."

Jeongguk smiles—still looks a bit shy, but with an air of confidence that makes your head spin. Although you know that there are no hallucinogenic properties to the weed you smoke—or, at least, very little—you struggle to grasp that this is reality.

"I don't care what everybody feels," he utters softly, leaning forward with his palms on the bed, joint sticking straight up between two fingers. "Just you."

Jeongguk crawls—fucking crawls—toward you, and you feel your brain begin to short-circuit. The air in the room is thick and warm, and you swallow a large lump in your throat. But it is his chuckle that really does you in—soft and light, and a little too deep for comfort, causing your heart to pound loudly in your ears and heavily in your chest.

"Tell me," Jeongguk utters, entering your personal space.

It takes you a few seconds to catch up to what he is saying; all you can focus on is his looming, beautiful presence.

"What, now?"

Jeongguk's head falls forward, and he laughs—shoulders gently bouncing. He shakes his head and looks back up at you, and god, he is devastating with his hair grown out in waves and his glasses slid down his nose. Absolutely breathtaking.

"Tell me how you feel," he urges softly, sitting up on his knees in front of you and lifting the joint to his lips.

Your eyes once again follow every movement, and all you can mutter is, "I feel...very high."

Jeongguk laughs again, puffing smoke into your face and making you grimace—not that you mind entirely; your brain is already so hazy, thanks, in part, to him. What harm will a little smoke do?

"How you feel about me," he says, leaning in just a little too close.

"Uh—I," you swallow, despite your throat feeling dreadfully dry. "I li—I like you. O-obviously."

The last word is barely a whisper, and you could swear Jeongguk's eyes sparkle when you say it. Every fight or flight instinct blares at full volume as Jeongguk leans and presses his palm into the headboard just beside your head. Tan, tattooed skin fills your periphery, and you turn slightly to glance at his arm beside you before returning your focus to him.

"Come here," Jeongguk says, lifting what is left of the joint to his lips and sucking in, then holding in the smoke as he pulls it away. He raises his eyebrows and gently grabs your arm to tug you forward, and you lean just enough for him to take your invitation and close the gap, pressing your lips together.

Your eyes widen, and your first instinct is to take a sharp inhale because, holy fuck, Jeongguk's mouth is against yours, and he feels so perfectly soft and inviting. Instead, you part your lips slowly, and as you do, Jeongguk exhales, passing the smoke from his mouth to yours in a dizzying exchange. You hold it in, then swallow it back, exhaling through your nose as Jeongguk smiles against you and begins to back up.

But you do not want Jeongguk to back up. You have felt his mouth on yours, and you need more than just a taste. Frantically, you reach up and grip onto his shirt, tugging him close.

With a soft, "Oing?" he falls forward, pliant.

Jeongguk smells musky and sweet, and you gently drag his lip between your teeth, tasting metal and smoke. With a sigh that sounds awfully close to a whimper, Jeongguk opens his mouth and drags his tongue over your lips and teeth, causing you to let out something between a moan and a sob, feeling Jeongguk smile as he deepens the kiss, willing your mouth further open.

There is a sweetness to Jeongguk's tongue hidden beneath the stinky taste of weed, and you lick into his mouth, chasing hints of him, gasping as he lets out faint noises. Despite all of this being very real—every sense filled with Jeongguk��you struggle to accept that this is actually happening. Finally, after all this time.

Jeongguk lifts his hand to touch you, grazing his fingertips over your cheek, and sending sparks through you. Then he pulls from the kiss, and swears under his breath, sighing with annoyance. You open your eyes to find him still cradling a dead joint between his fingers, which he drops onto the ashtray, only to begin wiping fallen ash off your comforter.

"Jeon," you grumble, despite hardly caring about the ash; you just like to give him a hard time.

"I'm sorry for my fault," Jeongguk mutters as he returns to your lips.

Your hand still clenches onto his shirt, and you chuckle into his kiss, keeping your face turned only enough to slot your noses side by side, slowly licking and sucking and savoring one another. Gradually, your brain and heart stop operating in panic mode, and you begin to notice the arousal that swirls through you—hot and eager for more.

To your dismay, Jeongguk breaks from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

"Is this alright?" he asks, and you open your eyes to find him appearing concerned.

"I like it," you respond, fuzzy and warm.

"You have no idea—well, actually you probably do have some idea how long I have wanted to do that."

You nod and hum, "Mmhmm."

"So..." Jeongguk trails off, playing with his lip ring between his teeth, sitting so close, everything appears blurred. "What, now?"

Your tummy does a backflip, and you cannot help but chuckle softly. What, now, indeed.

With a hum, you mutter, "We could keep kissing."

"We could..."

Jeongguk slots his lips against yours as he trails off, and you wonder if there is something more to his tone, so you hum—a question, or, perhaps, encouragement to continue.

Rather than elaborate, Jeongguk sucks your bottom lip gently between his teeth. Your mouth falls open as you gasp, and he deepens the kiss, wrapping an arm around your back while he cradles your cheek softly as you slide your hands to his neck, eager to keep him close. The back and forth of your tongues is an addicting dance, and you find yourself moaning and gasping a little louder, pulling him a little closer.

Jeongguk makes soft, inviting sounds of his own, and you fight the urge to claw at his clothing and beg him for more. You are certain that he must want it too—that this kiss must be affecting him the way it affects you—but you are unsure how to initiate more; what if this really is all he wants?

With a deep, needy groan, Jeongguk pulls from the kiss, and he appears timid when he sits back enough to look you in the eyes. Taking in the sight of him this close, with his pretty, dark curls framing his face—this close that you can count each mole and scar that graces his skin—you feel warmth rise to your cheeks. Jeongguk seems to be searching for something to say, then he drops his gaze.

"Hey," you mutter as you lean in and place a soft peck on the apple of his cheek. "Where did you go?"

Jeongguk softly laughs, tugging his lips into a smile.

"I just...I can't believe this is finally happening...I'm finally kissing you."

A smile creeps over your lips.

"Me too."

Jeongguk backs away further, and you stick your bottom lip out to pout. You are in the midst of a solid high, with everything feeling simultaneously too light and too heavy, and you want to keep making out with your super hot best friend.

"My legs are falling asleep," he complains as he crawls beside you and rotates, sitting against the headboard.

Beside you, his hand rests palm facing up, and you place your hand into his, slotting your fingers together. Holding Jeongguk's hand is nothing new, but now it feels different—now there is an electric current that buzzes lively between your palms.

"Way to ruin the vibe," you tease, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I was getting into it."

Jeongguk tugs on your hand, and you glance up, meeting his gaze.

"Come here, then."

And perhaps you should hesitate before swinging your leg over your best friend's thighs to straddle his lap. Perhaps this—whatever the fuck this is—that is happening between you deserves a conversation before it moves too much further. But you do not want to dwell on anything for too long. All you want to do is sink into this moment until you are too far below the surface to breathe, succumbing to the chaos and letting it swallow you whole.

You climb onto Jeongguk's lap, still holding onto his hand, and you settle down on his thighs, gently touching your fingertips to the underside of his chin and slotting his lips against yours. Jeongguk smiles and holds his mouth pliant for you to explore, then he wraps his arms around you, sliding one hand up to your neck as he deepens the kiss.

Making out with Jeongguk is a dream you never want to wake from. His scent is soft and welcoming and smells like home—hints of fresh cologne on top of the natural sweet musk that you have come to identify as him. And his voice is low and grumbly, with a pitchy lilt whenever you nip at his lip, and it stirs something deep inside you to pull more of those pretty sounds from his throat.

He feels incredible beneath you. Firm but soft, gentle but insistent in his touch—eager but not pushy or too rough. His lips are sweet, spit-slicked heaven, and the more you kiss and suck and nibble, the more enamored you become.

Jeongguk groans and mutters, "You feel so good," and it sparks something in you to lean into him, chest flush against his. He holds you tighter, gently squeezing the back of your neck, then he breaks from your lips to kiss your chin and trail down to your throat.

The new sensation sends arousal flooding through you, and you whimper as you somewhat mindlessly roll your hips. Jeongguk groans against your skin, his grip on you tightens, and if you are not mistaken, it feels like a tremble quakes through him.

“Easy, tiger,” Jeongguk warns as his hand squeezes the back of your neck.

You let out a playful, "Hmm?" before rolling yourself against him once more, and Jeongguk gasps as he slides his hands down to your hips, holding you firmly in place as he returns his mouth to yours.

"You're entering dangerous territory by doing that," he grumbles against you.

You draw lazy shapes with your tongues between each sentence, swallowing one another's words whole.

"Dangerous how?"

"You're grinding yourself against my dick," he whines through a helpless chuckle.

"I know."

You open your eyes to find his wide, and he grins, shaking his head in disbelief before his gaze darkens.

"You know, huh?"

Another hum—a deep, enticing, "Mmhmm"—as you attempt to roll your hips again, finding yourself stuck hovering over his crotch instead.

"Are you trying to get me hard?" he asks, tilting his head back so you can look at him fully.

Jeongguk already appears somewhat wrecked. With a hint of dew on his forehead, rosy-flush on his cheeks, and hair a little disheveled, he is so fucking pretty.

And maybe it is the weed talking—making you bold enough to say shit like this to your best friend in the whole entire world—but you ask, "And what if I am?" while holding brazen, unwavering eye contact.

Jeongguk stares at you for several quiet seconds with his pretty lips parted, eyes roving as if studying you. Then, in an eager motion, he whips his glasses off, tossing them to your bedside table in a clatter as he gently but firmly takes your face in both hands and kisses you like a man desperate to never breathe anything but the oxygen from your lungs.

You moan into Jeongguk's mouth and roll your hips, this time angling forward to graze denim against denim with purpose. Jeongguk whimpers into your mouth and slides one arm down, past your shoulder, to your hip, holding tight while he thrusts upward. You are unsure if you actually feel him—only really noticing rough fabric scrape over rough fabric—but the intensity of his kiss and eagerness of his hips have arousal coursing through you, steadily building.

"Are you sure?" Jeongguk groans into your lips, and you nod.

"I've wanted you for at least a million years; of course I am sure."

A soft chuckle flits from his mouth to yours.

"A million years? How many lives is that?"

Impatience courses through you—why is he so determined to be chatty now, of all times?

You grumble, "I don't know, Jeon, twelve or thirteen thousand, give or take?" and Jeongguk smiles against you.

“I guess I should hurry up and fuck you then, since you’ve waited so many lifetimes for it.”

The nonchalance of his statement sends a chill up your back. He must feel it, because he giggles and continues to suck and nip at your neck, pushing you to the brink of complete mental collapse.

"What is your problem?" you whine, lolling your head to the side to give him more access to you. "How can you just say that?"

"Do you not want me to fuck you?" Jeongguk asks between nips at your skin.

You shove at his chest, feeling petulant, grumbling, "I am going to fucking kill you."

With a chuckle, Jeongguk wraps his arms around your back, lifts you, and then lies you down against the mattress. It happens so fast, you gasp and throw your arms over your head as you fall gently against the soft comforter, and Jeongguk grins as he leans forward, hovering over you.

"Tell me what you want," he says with wide eyes—blown out and bloodshot.

"I w—I want you," you stammer, suddenly too shy to voice what has been on your mind for so many years.

Jeongguk leans close—so close his crotch grazes yours, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his thighs to keep him in place.

"Want me how?" he asks with a devilish grin.

"Fuck—" you mutter quietly before swallowing your nervousness, wrapping your arms around his neck, and saying, "Fuck me, Jeongguk."

Jeongguk's smile widens, and you could swear his eyes shimmer as he gazes down at you. He almost seems taken aback—unable to process that this is his reality. Not that you can blame him; you feel equally stunned.

"You sure?" he asks, gazing becoming so soft, affection blooms behind your ribs.

Feeling impatient, you smack Jeongguk softly on the shoulder with your fingertips. You are way too high to be repeating yourself, although you do appreciate his insistence on making sure you are comfortable.

But the pace at which he is dragging everything out has you practically begging, "Yes, god, please, Jeongguk."

The benefit of initiating a sexual encounter with your best friend in the entire world is that you are both aware of one another's health checks and sexual histories. You have bragged and complained to one another about every single sexual encounter over the years, and have sent selfies from every doctor's office visit.

But Jeongguk is Jeongguk, so, of course, he asks, "Still on the pill?" and he does not question it when you nod in response.

Jeongguk reaches for the back of his shirt and swiftly pulls it over his head. As he tosses it to the side, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. You have seen Jeongguk shirtless before—have swam with him countless times, and have gone along to all of his tattoo appointments. But watching him undress with the intent of being intimate with you feels different. Having front-row access to gawk openly at his beautifully sculpted muscles is new.

Gently, Jeongguk grabs at the hem of your shirt and tugs, and you comply, pulling it over your head with a weak lift of your torso before crashing back onto the comforter once it is off. You lay in a sheer, mesh black bra, and when you begin to anchor yourself onto your elbows to unclip the back, Jeongguk shakes his head, leaning forward as he mutters, "I like it. Keep it on."

Another benefit to initiating a sexual encounter with your best friend in the entire world is that you have shared some details about what you are into with one another, over the years. Nothing too graphic because you would always shy away from serious sexual conversation, worrying about becoming too obviously flustered by him. But you know that Jeongguk tends to like things to have a bit of a power-play dynamic. He has, on several occasions, bragged openly about his sexual prowess to male mutual friends while in your presence, discussing past partners in terms of submissiveness.

So, for that reason, you stretch your hands up, over your head. Nothing too wild, but a clear sign of surrender. Jeongguk follows the movement with his eyes, then slides down your body, hovering his lips over one of your clothed breasts.

"Keep your hands above your head," he sighs in command, ghosting warmth over your skin and giving you goosebumps.

You let out a shaky exhale in response and nod, placing one of your hands into the other and slightly gripping, determined to be good for him. Jeongguk nudges the tip of his nose against a nipple, causing you to gasp as the touch—faint as it is—sends a spark of arousal through you.

"I always knew your tits would be amazing," Jeongguk grumbles, dragging his lips over your sensitive bud.

If you were not trying to keep your hands firmly in place, you would have delivered another smack to his shoulder for being so unserious. You even gasp and begin to complain about Jeongguk's choice of words, but he flicks his tongue against your clothed nipple, and you sigh into the feeling, already distracted.

Jeongguk chuckles and mutters, "I'm surprised you didn't try to hit me," with his lips grazing the mesh over your skin, because of course he knows you too well.

You let out a soft laugh of your own.

"I wanted to, but you told me to keep my hands above my head."

"So good for me," Jeongguk responds deeply, sending a shiver through you. "I'm a little surprised."

"Hmm?" you ask, watching as Jeongguk glances up, making eye contact.

He smiles wide and shrugs, saying, "I expected you to be more of a brat."

The urge to smack strengthens, but you do your best to keep your hands firmly in place. Jeongguk is definitely not incorrect that you tend to be more of a brat in bed, but you were hoping to behave at least a little since this is something you have wanted for so long.

"Keep talking shit and I'll show you a brat," you respond as you watch Jeongguk gaze up once more with a dark, pointed stare.

"Is that so?" he asks as he crawls up your body, caging your head between his hands.

You tilt your chin upward and nod, giving him a cheeky grin.

"It is."

Jeongguk reaches down with one hand between your legs, which you let fall open the moment his knuckles brush against your thigh. With his fingertips, he grazes over the denim crotch of your pants, following the seam up to your zipper. It is so light you can barely feel it as he passes over your heat, but it is enough to make you whimper and plead with your eyes for more.

"I thought you wanted me to fuck you?" Jeongguk asks playfully as his head cocks to the side and pretty, dark waves fall past his face.

"I do."

"Hmm, but you're already misbehaving. So maybe I should just tease you a little and leave."

For a split second, you lift your hands from the bed with the intent of wrapping your arms around his neck, earning a raise of Jeongguk's eyebrows. Then you drop them back onto the comforter and squeeze your hands closed.

"Please, Jeongguk," you attempt, batting your eyelashes and smiling oh, so sweetly.

Jeongguk studies you, letting his wide eyes fall to your lips and back up, then he says, "I guess I could make you beg for it."

"You are so evil," you whine, voice breathy as Jeongguk leans down and nips at your chin, down your neck. "Please don't make me beg."

"Hmm, but you already are," Jeongguk teases as his lips, teeth, and tongue travel lower.

God, Jeongguk is as insufferable as he is irresistible, and you allow your eyes to flutter closed as his lips curve toward your breast, pinching and tugging at fabric, touching you so softly, you want to burst. His warm, moist breath fans over your skin, causing you to open your eyes, and you sigh heavily, watching as your chest rises and falls beneath his teasing.

You have fantasized about this moment many times before, imagining the heated way in which Jeongguk might take you—a little forcefully maybe, or even a bit clumsy—desperate, and eager in his movements. You have even allowed yourself to imagine overtaking him—holding him down until he is pliant and whimpering while you tease, grazing your fingertips against his prostate until he screams, using your toys while you ride him.

But this—slow and measured, light in touch and heavy in implication—never in a million years had anything quite like this crossed your mind.

Jeongguk flicks his tongue against your nipple, grazing the semi-rough mesh across the sensitive skin. A gasp puffs between your lips, then you let out a soft, enticing whimper, hoping for the sound to encourage him to do more than taunt you.

"Fuck, you sound so good," Jeongguk groans, lapping his tongue over you, wetting the material.

Satisfied with your successful encouragement, you let out a louder sound, trembling under his firm touch. Fighting the urge to reach for his hair and give it a light tug, or bunch it behind his head so you can better see his face, has you opening and clenching your fists uselessly above your head.

Jeongguk moves lower, nipping at the underside of your breast and making you whine. The pinching feeling of soft skin between blunt teeth barely hurts at all—hardly feels like much of anything—but it takes you by surprise, and you are jumpy enough for every little sensation to be just a bit too much.

As he settles between your legs, Jeongguk's butt hits the headboard of your bed with a thunk, causing him to laugh, which, in turn, makes you laugh.

"Scoot up," Jeongguk complains, and you begin to wiggle yourself toward the end of the bed, careful to keep your hands in place, over your head, committing fully to the good girl bit.

At the foot of your bed is a bench that sits several inches lower than the mattress, and you continue to scoot until your hands slide over the edge and rest on its cushioned top. You straighten out your legs, and Jeongguk settles onto his knees between them, then reaches to undo your jeans.

The realization hits you once more, and quite suddenly, that this is really happening. Your best friend—Jeon Jeongguk, babe extraordinaire and light of your absolute fucking life—is undressing you in broad daylight with the intent to see and to feel you.

A small wave of anxiety washes over you, and you close your eyes as he begins to wiggle your pants past your hips and yank them lower. The underwear you have on beneath is not terribly exciting—plain black, soft material, nothing too fancy. But they are cute, and you bite your lip as you smile, hoping he finds them cute, too.

A chuckle pulls you from your thoughts, and you crack open your eyes to find Jeongguk frozen with your jeans tugged half way past your thighs, while he is staring at your face.

"Why do you look so worried?"

With a sigh, you groan, "Stop always being so intuitive."

Jeongguk's smile drops, and he lets go of your pants.

"Is something wrong?"

He is too kind for his own good. Because, of course, he is; you are not head over heels for him without good reason.

"No," you insist, shaking your head. Above your head, you fiddle with some unknown, thin material between your fingers. "I'm just, you know...it's a lot, letting your best friend see you naked. I definitely want you to! But it still makes me nervous."

"Oh," Jeongguk says, sitting up on his knees while he begins to unbuckle his belt and yank it from its loops. "I don't think it's a lot."

"Well, of course you don't," you respond through a bit of a nervous grin as Jeongguk sets his black leather belt aside and undoes his pants. You mutter a little more softly, "You're fucking hot."

Jeongguk shrugs and pushes his jeans down past his thighs, then sits back on his butt and begins to wiggle out of them with his legs angled to the side, past your body.

"You are also fucking hot," he responds matter-of-factly.

You scoff.

"Yeah, but, compared to you—"

Before you can finish your sentence, you feel ridiculous for even beginning it, and you bite your tongue. With the way Jeongguk frowns at you as he tosses his pants aside, the point is driven home.

"Don't—" he begins, and you nod.

"I know."

"Then why—"

You feel impatient to continue what had been previously started, but you cannot deny Jeongguk's softness is very touching. You extend your right leg out, feeling the denim awkwardly stretch around your thighs where Jeongguk left it, and use your foot to attempt to pull him close.

"I get self-conscious," you admit, smiling as Jeongguk gets back on his knees and crawls between your legs. "I can be a hot bitch and feel shy, okay? I contain multitudes. Now keep undressing me."

The familiar playful, shit-eating grin that tugs at Jeongguk's lips makes your heart pound, and he leans forward, continuing his task of tugging off your pants. You twist and squeeze bits of fabric between your fingers while he leans back against the headboard and lifts your legs straight into the air, and once the denim is pulled free from around your ankles, you let your legs settle with a nice, deep, fortifying breath.

Jeongguk stops your right leg from lowering and rests your ankle on his shoulder. He kisses and nips at the skin, tickling and taunting, with his eyes on you.

"Still nervous?" he asks.

And although your heart beats wildly behind your ribcage, you let out a shaky breath and mutter, "Only a little."

Jeongguk leans forward more, giving your leg a nice little stretch as it presses toward your body. His lips and teeth trail along the side of your knee, sending sparks shooting through you as he nibbles at the sensitive skin and inches closer.

You have hardly had a chance to comprehend the fact that Jeongguk is practically naked, sitting only in his tight, small briefs, and you let your gaze drink in everything before you. His body is muscular, with cute rolls of skin bunched as he slouches forward, slowly working his way to settle between your legs, and you cannot take your eyes off him.

And you wonder if perhaps he was so eager to get undressed when you said it made you nervous to be getting naked in front of your best friend as a way to ease your mind. Because that is the thing about Jeongguk, he is always looking for little ways to make you feel comfortable.

"Where did you go?" Jeongguk asks.

You blink and realize you have been staring at the top of his curly mop of hair while his mouth comes dangerously close to your pussy, and suddenly, you feel an overwhelming surge of arousal and anticipation on top of still being pretty fucking high.

"S-sorry," you mutter. "Drifted off thinking about you."

"But I'm right here," he pouts, giving you big, pretty doe eyes.

"You are," you respond through a heavy breath, acutely aware of the fact that he is right here, hovering between your thighs.

"Keep your eyes on me," Jeongguk commands softly. "Don't space out."

A hint of a chuckle rocks through you, though it is more of a nervous laugh than a humorous one. Despite hardly doing anything, he has you so worked up, and the fact that the high is causing the arousal to ebb and flow, dulling and becoming intense, has you feeling quite flustered.

Jeongguk lets out a deep, slow breath, wafting warmth between your legs. A small shiver works through you from the knowledge that he is so close; the number of years you have wanted him just like this are many, and the affection you feel for him is insurmountable. You hold eye contact as best as you can while Jeongguk sucks hard against your thigh, and the spark of ticklish pleasure-pain forces a huff of a small whimper to fall from your mouth while you do your best not to jerk your leg too much.

"Such a tease," you complain.

"You know what I want you to do, baby," Jeongguk responds, bringing the world to a screeching halt.

Baby. Oh, that definitely has a bigger effect on you than it should. This is bad for you.

"Please," you whine, because you do know what he wants you to do. He wants you to beg. "Please, Jeongguk."

"Please, what, baby?"

Your exhale is shattered around the edges, bursting heavily from your lungs.

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you."

"Jeongguk," you whimper in a last-ditch effort. Is he really going to make you say it?

Jeongguk simply raises his eyebrows. Of course he is going to make you say it. He is absolutely reveling in this moment—with sharp, intent eyes and his lips slightly parted, it is written all over his face.

Fuck it; you can do this. You can tell the person you love more than anything in the world precisely what you want. You will not die of embarrassment.

"Please touch my pussy, Jeongguk."

And god, it is so worth it to say those words when the result is Jeongguk's gaze simultaneously darkening and melting. He is holding it together rather well, but there are cracks in his foundation; you can tell that he wants to absolutely destroy you.

"That's my good girl," Jeongguk groans as he leans forward and nudges the tip of his nose over your clothed clit.

The pressure against you, mixed with his enticing words, playful voice, and all of the heavy, aching feelings you have—everything culminates and sends a wave of pleasure through you, melting you into the bed like hot wax. You squeeze your hands tightly, letting out a shattered whimper and angling your pelvis upward for more friction.

Jeongguk drags the tip of his nose and his lips over you, teasing your labia and clit through soft cotton. The movements are so faint and so agonizingly slow, and you fight the urge to be a brat and demand more. You also try your best not to beg. Yes, Jeongguk wants you to, but why should he get the satisfaction of knowing just how affected you are, so soon? Someone as competitive and confident as Jeongguk would only use it against you if you became a mess this easily.

But you are a mess. Jeongguk settles between your legs and blows warm air across your clothed cunt, and you sink further into bliss, letting out more sounds of approval and frustration. With a sigh, you cave in—you never truly had a passing chance at holding any sort of resolve.

"Please."

Jeongguk uses his nose to tease once more.

"Hmm?"

"Jeongguk," you groan.

"You smell nice," he mutters, wafting more warm air over you with a soft graze of his lips. "I bet you taste really sweet."

"Find out," you whine.

Jeongguk sits up, grabs your panties in both hands, and cocks an eyebrow with a devious smile as he has the audacity to ask, "Can I rip these?"

"Wh—no! These are my coziest pair!"

Sure, you could buy a whole pack of them at a bargain price, but this particular pair is the best of the best. Jeongguk must have lost his mind.

"But it would be fun," he whines, making you roll your eyes.

"Pull them over my hips like a civilized man."

Jeongguk grumbles, "No fun," and begins to tug the material over your hips. You lift and bend your legs, and he sits back, bumping into the headboard once more to give you room. Then he flings the garment off to the side and leans forward.

The look in Jeongguk's eye as your legs slowly drop and spread for him has warmth covering your chest, sneaking up your neck and cheeks. He looks intent and hungry, and he licks his lips.

"Look at you," he says, staring directly at your cunt as he settles on his elbows and gently uses his fingertips to spread your lips, making you squirm.

"You're so weird," you complain, antsy under his gaze.

Jeongguk ignores your groans and leans close, dragging his lips over your spread folds. With a soft flick of the tongue, he tastes you—sending a wave of pleasure coursing to your fingers and toes—then he closes his eyes and groans.

"Shit, you are sweet."

You wish more than anything that Jeongguk would stop talking. One more word of praise from his mouth, and you might actually go supernova and take the entire solar system with you. Luckily, Jeongguk seems eager to use his tongue for better tasks as he dives in for more, swirling and sucking over your clit in a pattern that makes you grip onto the edge of the mattress and let out a deep, pleased moan.

"Feels good," you whimper as arousal builds at a nearly embarrassing pace.

Everything about this situation is too much, and you let a shudder rock through you as your legs relax, spread further while your heels slide and dig across the blanket. Jeongguk also drops further and wraps his arms under your thighs, gripping your hips tightly.

Being held in place and devoured by Jeongguk feels too good to be true, and you tilt your head up to have a look at the mess of wavy dark brown hair between your thighs. Jeongguk groans as he licks and sucks, with brows knit ever so slightly, the way he does when he is savoring his food. The mere thought of Jeongguk savoring you sends you hurtling to new heights of bliss, and you squeeze your hands closed, gripping tightly to your wrist while the other hand holds onto the soft comforter.

Jeongguk glances up, meeting your eyes as he slowly licks a firm, slow stripe across your clit, causing your head to fall back into the bed with a moan that borders pornographic. You might be mortified by the sounds—by how quickly and easily Jeongguk has you unraveling for him—but the feeling is too good not to respond loudly in praise.

You climb close to orgasm—but not quite close enough. Your high still holds you in its clutches, and despite everything feeling intense and incredible, it is also a bit dull and hazed over.

"Ggukie," you whimper, smiling as Jeongguk growls in response. "Finger me, please."

One of Jeongguk's hands slides away from your hip, and you take in a deep, eager inhale. His fingertip teases your entrance, and when you glance between your legs, you find him slowly spinning his tongue over your sensitive bud while watching you with a smile.

"This what you want, baby?" Jeongguk asks as he presses forward, sliding his finger easily into your slick warmth.

"Fuck," you gasp.

It is what you want, albeit not yet quite enough. Still, the way he crooks his finger upward and drags it across your sweet spot has you clawing at the blanket beneath you—has your back arching slightly off the mattress.

Jeongguk pumps his finger in and out fast enough to have your hips trembling, and when he adds another, stretching you just enough to cause a hint of pain, your mouth falls open into a desperate moan. This is what you need.

"Yes," you whimper as Jeongguk's lips and tongue return to their eager ministrations and his fingers set a dizzying pace. "That's it, Ggukie; don't stop!"

With pleased groans, Jeongguk pulls you to the edge of mental collapse, and it takes absolutely no time at all to plummet into bliss. As you cum, your entire body quakes, and you attempt to keep your thighs from clamping shut, pushing your head into the mattress as your back lifts and your heels drag.

Jeongguk does not slow. The sensation borders overwhelming and too much, but you do your best to hold on and ride out this new type of high. At this pace, with the focused, steady rhythm of licking and sucking on your clit, you know that it will take no time at all to cum again, and you want it so badly.

Luckily, Jeongguk is on the same page.

"Once more, baby," he groans against you, and you squeeze your eyes closed as the high builds at breakneck speeds, never fully coming down from your first orgasm.

Rather than pressing in and out, Jeongguk changes his motion and thrusts his fingertips up into your erogenous zone. The sensation is engulfing—threatening to eat you alive—and you practically scream as the pressure sends you shooting into a new dimension of bliss.

"Fuck," you sob between moans, feeling as if you might absolutely burst. "Fuck, fuck, oh god."

This time, as you cum, you can hear Jeongguk's fingers squelch—loud and wet—punctuating each upward thrust as you sob and tremble against the bed.

"That's it, baby, coat my fingers," Jeongguk praises, leaving featherlight kisses against your clit and labia as he continues to finger you.

"What the fuck," you pant, feeling dizzy and overstimulated. Your body is covered in a sheen of sweat and goosebumps, cold yet burning hot, and you struggle to reconcile all the myriad feelings.

"Didn't know you could do that?" Jeongguk asks, still fingering you to oblivion as his lips, teeth, and tongue move to your inner thigh—tickling and making you squirm.

"Do what?"

"You soaked me. Can't you feel it? It was like...a baby squirt."

"A baby squirt?" you pant in disbelief.

Jeongguk takes a firm bite into your thigh, making you nearly kick him in the ribs, then he chuckles as his lips return to hover over your pussy.

"What's the matter, baby squirt?"

Petulance rises—nearly overtakes the steady flood of pleasure—and you open your mouth to warn Jeongguk to never call you that again, but all you can manage to say is, "Don't you fucking da—ahhhh—" as his tongue laps over you as hungrily as before.

You have no idea where one high ends and the next begins, and you fight the urge to grab him by the hair and pull him away, feeling so completely swallowed whole by overstimulation that you nearly scream. How the fuck is he capable of making you feel this way, this easily?

"It's too much," you whimper, heaving each breath from your lungs as you tremble from head to toe.

"You sure you can't cum once more for me?" Jeongguk whines, gazing at you with wide, pretty eyes.

You want to say yes—want to give him absolutely anything in this world that he may wish for—but you are far too sensitive, and you bite your bottom lip as you sheepishly shake your head no.

"Awe, does baby squirt need a break?"

Despite being too fucked out to fight with your best friend who just made you cum at least twice—though you are unsure what you were experiencing toward the end—you sit up and land an open-palmed smack across his chest. Jeongguk grabs you by the wrist and yanks, falling back against your headboard with a wide, satisfied smile and sparkling eyes, and you allow yourself to be pulled onto your knees before toppling forward against his warm body, straddling his thighs.

"Don't call me that," you pout, feeling your own release drip from you, proving the nickname to be truer than you would like to admit.

"It's fucking hot that I can make you so wet," Jeongguk groans as his hands find your jaw and gently pull you into a kiss.

Is this what the two of you are, now? Best friends who kiss? Unabashedly and without preamble or explanation? You love being able to nibble on his bottom lip and fondle his metal jewelry between your teeth, pulling out all the sweet little sounds that you never imagined would come from him. Never like this.

"It felt good," you groan when Jeongguk's lips move to your jaw and neck. "It felt really fucking good."

"Yeah?" Jeongguk responds, sucking his lips against your neck until you attempt to wiggle out of his grasp.

Jeongguk pulls you close and kisses lower, to your shoulder. This time, when he latches on, finding a far less sensitive spot, you allow it.

"Yeah," you respond as your eyes lose focus on the brown wood of the headboard. "Fuck, I knew you'd be good, but that was..."

Your words die in your throat as Jeongguk's hands grab you by the ass and pull you onto his lap. Beneath you, a very firm erection sits nestled between your thighs, and you roll your hips downward to tease. Despite the way Jeongguk made you feel with his mouth and fingers, you are far from satiated. The moment you get your bearings, you need more.

The whimper Jeongguk lets out makes you groan, and you take him by the face and pull him into a deep, needy kiss, detecting your own heady release on his tongue. Jeongguk relaxes, loosening his grip and holding his mouth agape for you to taste as you please.

"I need to fuck you," he whines against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Is that so?" you respond before sucking his lip between your teeth, tasting a hint of metal.

"Been wanting you for so fucking long. You have no idea."

You smile as you say, "I'm the one who waited thousands of lifetimes, remember?"

Jeongguk squeezes your ass with both hands while rutting his hips up enough to tempt you with his erection.

"Lay back down," he groans, and you shake your head, reveling in how quickly his pretty lips tug into a frown.

"Not so fast," you purr as you begin to slide back, out of Jeongguk's eager grasp, leaving wet, lazy kisses on his jaw, neck, and clavicle. "It's my turn to taste you."

Jeongguk's hands fall to his sides, and as you begin to wedge your knees between his, he spreads his legs, giving you space to settle. Your lips skim over his nipple, pulling sweet gasps and sighs from his mouth, and the lower you kiss, past his abdomen, to one of his hips, his breath comes out in harsh gusts.

Just knowing that you affect him like this makes you all the more eager to completely unravel him, and you waste no more time, slipping your fingertips beneath the waistband of his briefs while fanning warm breath over his clothed cock. You tug the material gently down and drag your lips over him, teasing him just a little as he had teased you before. And when your lips touch something small and hard, you freeze and lift your head.

"Jeongguk..." you begin, surveying his bulge, which has many small, hard, circular bulges along its length. "...what is this?"

"I never told you about those?" Jeongguk asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

In all your years of friendship, you were positive that Jeongguk—your Jeon Jeongguk—has never kept anything from you. And yet, here you are, staring straight at a very big secret. When the fuck did your best friend get his dick pierced?

"N-no," you stammer as you pull the band of Jeongguk's briefs down, exposing quite the surprise, indeed.

Not only does Jeongguk have an impressive cock—long and thick with precum beading at its pretty, reddened-brown tip—but you gently pull back his foreskin to reveal a row of four barbells along his shaft, as evidenced by the eight little metal balls that hold them in place.

"Wh—when did you—"

"Surprised?"

A scoff rocks through your chest, and you look up at your best friend. The bewilderment must be evident, and he chuckles as he gently rubs his knuckles over your cheek.

"Felt like a weird thing to tell you when I did it," he confesses with a soft smile.

You feel affronted, and your mouth falls open.

"Why?"

Jeongguk shrugs.

"I was dating someone at the time, so bringing up my dick felt...weird. Especially since I got these because you..."

As Jeongguk trails off, his cheeks flush, and you watch as his life flashes before his eyes.

"Because what? I what?" you ask, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks, certain that you know where this is going.

You are into this sort of thing. Jeongguk had to listen to you drunkenly rant far too many times about the ex who did you wrong but had a dick piercing that was hard to part ways with. The thought of Jeongguk taking that information and getting his own piercings...and multiple, at that...that does things to you.

"Jeon Jeongguk," you groan with a smile, focusing your attention back to his very hard, pierced cock, which rests neglected and leaking against his tummy. "You are full of surprises."

Before Jeongguk can respond, you lean in close and lick a firm path from the band of his briefs, along his shaft, teasing the jewelry with your tongue before lapping at the precum that has spilled over onto his tip. Jeongguk lets out the softest, neediest moan, causing you to involuntarily clench every muscle between your legs.

"Damn, Ggukie, you sound so pretty," you praise before sucking the head of his cock between your lips, feeling the muscles of his thighs tense beneath you.

Just a taste of his salty release on your tongue spurs you to take him as far into your mouth as you can, and you lay your tongue flat, snaking it side to side when you finally settle with his tip buried close to your throat, nearly cutting off your oxygen. Jeongguk moans and trembles as you drag your tongue over velvety skin and metal. Absolute perfection.

You waste no time and set a steady pace, sucking your cheeks in once he is deep in your mouth, and swirling your tongue along his shaft as you pull out. Jeongguk moans incoherently, letting consonants and vowels fall at random as he grips gently to the side of your head, clearly doing his best not to rut his hips too hard or touch you too firmly.

And perhaps now, with your best friend's cock between your lips, is a strange time to think about how fun it is to learn this side of Jeongguk and wonder just what the dynamics between you two could be—what whatever this fuck this is could blossom into. But the idea that the two of you have crossed this line, and that he is so good at making you cum, has affection bursting and blooming behind your ribs, and arousal pooling deep in your guts. You are also still pretty fucking high, which is no wonder that your mind keeps wandering.

Realization hits—your gag reflex is dulled when you smoke—and you open your mouth just a little bit wider and take Jeongguk's thick, pierced length a little bit deeper. This time, Jeongguk's grip ends up tugging some of your hair, which only spurs you to keep his cock firmly in your throat, pressed deep until you have no choice but to come up for air.

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, "baby this is—"

Needing to breathe, you concede to lifting your head, holding your tongue out flat as thick strings of drool connect your lips to his tip.

"Huh?" you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes, watching as the last remaining thread of Jeongguk's sanity slips away.

"Can I fuck your mouth?" he asks, kiss-swollen lips agape and eyes eager-wide.

"Sure," you reply with a shrug as if it is nothing, holding your mouth open as Jeongguk settles high onto his knees and positions himself. "Just don't hold my head too tight...in case I need to breathe."

Frantically, Jeongguk nods as he slides his hand to the back of your head, pulling you close. "Of course, yeah," he mutters, already adorably fucked out and blushing before he has had a chance to cum.

You rest your palms flat on the bed, back arched and breasts spilling from the small mesh bralette as one strap slides past your shoulder. Jeongguk places a hand under your chin and cups your cheek with the other—almost comically gentle considering he plans to fuck your mouth.

With your tongue hung flat and wide, pooling drool at the tip, you stare up through your eyelashes. Jeongguk has a look on his face that screams affection—warm and wanting. Desire drips from your pores as saliva dribbles to your chin, and when Jeongguk lifts his thick, heavy cock to set gently on your tongue, your fingertips dig into the comforter beside your knees.

"You look amazing," Jeongguk groans as he slowly thrusts forward, pressing in, in, in, dragging metal over your tongue. His jaw trembles as the tip slides into your throat, and you swallow around him, pleased with the lack of gag reflex, if only for the sweet satisfaction of watching him crumble above you. "Shit, baby, you look so fucking good."

Jeongguk holds himself in place and stares down at you with a reverence that makes warmth flood to your cheeks. He pulls back slowly, groaning as his eyes intently watch the movement, then thrusts forward a little harder, gasping as his cock tickles the soft skin in the back of your throat, and whimpering when you swallow around him.

"Tap me or something if you need me to stop," he mutters, already sounding completely lost.

You attempt to nod and flutter your eyelashes, which are already beginning to bead with tiny tears. Jeongguk curses under his breath, pulls out, then thrusts back in. His piercings are surprisingly pleasant as they slide—big enough to be noticeable but not enough to snag, though you keep your bottom teeth guarded, just in case.

The hold on your face and chin become firmer but never rough, and Jeongguk works up to a steady pace, always pushing just far enough to pull lewd sounds from your throat—coating himself in thick saliva—but never so far that it causes discomfort.

Watching Jeongguk's abs flex and bead with sweat as he ruts and swears and gasps causes arousal to pool between your legs and flood your system. You want him to pin you down and fuck this delicious, pierced cock into your cunt until you are cross-eyed and speaking in tongues.

Thankfully, his composure already seems to be crumbling. The grips of his fingertips are alternating too firm and slipping away, and his hips are losing their rhythm. To help him along, you attempt to tighten your throat, and you moan with each thrust, sending your praises vibrating over him.

Jeongguk's head lolls back and to the side, then he fixes you with a desperate stare. Panting and sweating, with reddened cheeks and a crazed look in his eyes, he gives a frantic, affirming nod and groans, "So fucking close, baby. Can I cum in your mouth?"

You attempt to nod and mutter something that somewhat resembles, "Uh-huh," and Jeongguk's lips break into a pretty smile as he tightens his hold on you and ruts his hips forward a little harder.

"Fuck," Jeongguk moans, dropping his head back. His voice sounds like heaven, and you moan in response, eager to hear more.

Although his movements are too rushed, too out of rhythm, and even slightly too rough, you hold your mouth open and stare up, attempting to let oxygen through your nose while your fingertips dig into the comforter.

Jeongguk moans as his length twitches and pulsates in your mouth, whimpering your name like a prayer and pulling out just enough to cover your tongue in his release and lend you some airflow. And for the first time, you nearly gag. The first spurt of the viscous fluid hits the back of your throat and trickles thickly down, and you fight the urge to cough, doing your best to swallow around it. When he finally pulls out and sits back, you breathe in through your nose but hold your tongue flat to show him the mess he has made, all for you.

"Fuck, you are perfect," Jeongguk groans while placing two fingers against your cum-covered tongue.

Jeongguk gazing at you as if you are a treasure to behold with tear-streaked cheeks and a drool-covered chin, juxtaposed with his fingers playing with the mess on your tongue, sends a flurry of emotions through you. And despite how soft he is with you, this entire scene feels somewhat humiliating. The grin breaking on Jeongguk's face suggests that he knows what you may be thinking, confirmed by him pulling your jaw open just a little wider and spitting into your mouth.

A gasp works its way through your chest, and you stare at your best friend with wide eyes. He has the temerity to chuckle.

"Swallow my load like a good girl," he coos sweetly as he removes his fingers from your mouth and sucks them between his own lips.

This entire scenario is so debauched it makes you feel dizzy, and you close your mouth and swallow the mess on your tongue, feeling trapped somewhat in slow-motion.

As your high begins to dissipate enough to lift what fog had been draped heavily over your mind, you feel a new sense of eagerness take its place. The attitude of, I need to have him in any way I can is slowly melting into something akin to, I need to make him a whimpering mess of a man.

"Sit back," you command, getting high on your knees and reaching to gently shove Jeongguk toward the headboard.

He chuckles and fumbles onto his butt, then slowly inches back until he has nowhere left to go. You crawl forward, straddling his legs with your hands and knees, one breast hanging from the mesh bra, then settle onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and slotting fingers into his pretty, wavy hair.

"I'm not hard yet, baby," Jeongguk whines, as if you couldn't tell.

With a devious smile, you lift your hips until his soft cock is situated just below your pussy, and you slowly rub yourself over his pierced length.

"I know," you groan, nipping at his bottom lip. "I'll make you hard."

Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, then pulls you close—splayed hands gripping at your back, desperate, as if you might disappear.

"I got you, Ggukie," you mutter against his lips, warm breath hitting your smile in a soft sigh, "I'm right here."

Kissing Jeongguk with remnants of his and your cum on your tongues feels like savoring the aftermath of a hurricane. And with storm clouds looming overhead, threatening to flood you completely, you can only accept your fate and gladly welcome what is to come; the two of you are far from finished with one another.

Slowly, Jeongguk becomes erect beneath you, and you make your soft, gentle movements a bit more measured and forceful. Jeongguk whimpers into your mouth, tangles his tongue against yours much more eagerly than before, and you swallow each little sound whole, licking and sucking against his tongue and lips until he is dropping his head back, out of breath.

"I can't wait to fuck you," Jeongguk groans as you trail your lips to his neck and suck faint, dark marks into his skin.

"Not until I get to fuck you first," you respond—a promise and a threat.

Jeongguk groans as he asks, "Oh, yeah?" and you chuckle as you say, "Yes."

"Alright," Jeongguk concedes, gently rubbing his hands down your sides before his touch disappears entirely. "I'm all yours, baby."

Curiously, you trail your palms down the length of his arms, finding them both wedged behind his back. With a grin, you rock your hips against him a little harder, feeling his cock part your pussy lips and cover itself in your wetness.

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you fuck me however you want."

All Jeongguk can say in response is a deep, needy groan. You roll your hips back slowly, dragging yourself over his hardening length, then reach with one hand between your legs while anchoring with the other on his shoulder. Jeongguk shudders as you gently grip the head of his cock and angle him upwards enough to find your entrance.

Although you have done absolutely nothing, each breath heaves from your lungs, and you hover a moment gazing at Jeongguk—sweat-slicked and blush-pink, staring back at you so sweetly.

"Ready?" you ask in a hushed tone, feeling your dominance slip away briefly.

Jeongguk nods, gives a soft smile, and groans, "Please fuck me," and you lower yourself, giving in to his request.

The stretch of Jeongguk's pierced cock is just painful enough that your back bows, and you shiver through the sensation. Moans fall from both your lips as you take him, stopping only when you are fully seated in his lap with him buried deep inside you.

"So fucking tight," Jeongguk groans at the same time you whine, "Fuck, you're so big," and you chuckle in tandem, leaning forward enough to rest your foreheads against one another.

Without allowing either of you to adjust or catch your breath, you lift your hips and drop them down, spearing yourself on his thick, delicious length. Your voice is pitchy and broken, moans practically tumbling out as screams as you set a pace that is dizzying and rough.

Jeongguk's head falls against the headboard with a loud thunk, and you take the opportunity to wrap one hand around his throat while gripping his shoulder tightly in the other. With a gentle squeeze, Jeongguk's eyes widen before rolling back, and you slide your fingers up to hook into his mouth and force him to look at you.

"Louder," you moan through pitchy sounds of your own. "I want to hear you."

Perhaps it should come as no surprise that Jeongguk is so obedient; you have always wondered if there is a submissive side to him, as well. He lets you tug on his jaw and begins to moan deep, pretty sounds, and it sends a flurry of arousal through you—determination to push him to give you more.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," Jeongguk groans, slightly slurred around your fingers.

Eager to cum, you grind yourself down, pressing the tip of his cock right where you need him. The hand you have anchored on his shoulder drops between your legs, and you dance your fingers in circles over your clit, pushing yourself over the edge.

With a desperate moan, Jeongguk's head nearly falls back once more, and you hold him firmly in place, feeling drool slide from his mouth to your palm and wrist. You continue to grind and roll your hips, feeling yourself teetering just on the edge of collapse, rutting roughly against him.

"Such a good boy," you praise teasingly through gasps and moans. "Letting me use your cock to get myself off."

Jeongguk appears to begin saying something—wrapping his lips around consonants as well as your fingertips—but all he can manage is a broken, "Mmmnaaahh—" incoherent and useless, and pretty enough to inch you closer to the precipice of pleasure.

"That's it," you groan, slamming your hips up and down as you chase your high, "fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Pleasure grips you, white-hot and intense, and you quake as you ride him, struggling to force your legs to continue moving. The sight, sound, and feeling of Jeongguk have you absolutely reeling, and everything settles in your chest and gut, heavy and big and ready to explode.

"Fucking squeezing me, shit, so tight, baby," he groans as your fingers slip from his mouth and fall to the side.

Your hips still as your pussy continues to flutter and squeeze through orgasm, and you lose your strength, crashing forward against his shoulder. Jeongguk wraps his arms around yours, pinning them to your sides, then adjusts his legs and begins thrusting upward, hard and fast, making your head spin.

A cacophony of moans punctuated by screams fall from your mouth as you are pushed past overstimulation and quickly chasing a new high. Jeongguk lifts you and leans forward, attempting to place you on your back, though you scramble and more or less fall, spreading yourself wide while he shimmies onto his knees and takes his place between your legs, pressing warm palms gently against your thighs.

"Good?" Jeongguk asks—too big yet too small of a question for you to fully comprehend, so all you do is blink up and nod your head. He chuckles. "Do you need a break?"

"No," you croak, shaking your head almost frantically. "Fuck me, Jeon. Need you."

With a deep, eager groan, Jeongguk leans forward and fills you in one swift motion, thrusting while adjusting on his knees, tugging and lifting at your legs until one is draped over his shoulder and the other is wrapped around his hip. Jeongguk leans forward and brushes his fingertips over the apple of your cheek, gazing soft and reverent; so gentle compared to the brutal pace at which he fucks you, making your head absolutely spin.

"You feel so good," Jeongguk whimpers sweetly, squeezing his eyes closed before widening them, gaze fixed down on you. "So fucking good."

Words fail you, but you make an attempt, huffing a string of vowels, with some consonants mixed in, stuttering around, "Good," and, "Big," and attempts at his name. You bury your face in his soft, warm hand, huffing warmth into his palm while your eyes flutter closed and you sink into pleasure.

Fingertips graze over your clit, tentative at first, then direct. Your back arches and you gasp as arousal breaks and bursts throughout, coursing through your blood, filling every inch of you. Still not fully down from your last high, overstimulation vibrates through you, but you do your best to take it; you want him to make a mess of you.

When Jeongguk pulls out, it takes you by surprise, and you open your eyes wide, jutting your lip out in a pout. Jeongguk chuckles and begins to scoot toward the edge of your bed, standing and yanking on your ankle to reposition.

"Your bed is the perfect height," he says as you scoot and rotate, spreading your legs for him once more.

Your hips hang off the very edge at a slight downward angle, spearing you on his length, and you squeal as he thrusts straight up into your sweet spot. The pace Jeongguk sets is merciless and intoxicating, and you claw at the edge of the bed as your eyes flit between Jeongguk's sweaty, ripped body, his pretty, fucked out face, and your off-white ceiling.

Every vein and ripple and piece of metal drags along your walls, spilling nonsense from between your lips. You grasp at the comforter, attempting to hold on, feeling as if you could turn to goo and sink to the floor if you are not careful, but the material slides uselessly between your fingers.

A strong pressure builds, threatening to burst, which you recognize as the feeling you had before the baby squirt. Every inch of your sweat-slicked skin burns red hot, your eyes roll back, and you begin to heave through heavy lungs.

"Gonna—" you gasp, voice raspy and broken. "Fuck, Jeongguk, I'm—"

"That's it, baby, let me feel you cum," Jeongguk commands, leaning forward and driving his cock impossibly deeper. Sweat drips from his forehead to your tummy, tickling as it falls along your side, and you shudder, feeling all the more overwhelmed by the faintest sensation.

Although you do not need the encouragement, you place a hand between your legs and slowly drag your fingertips over your clit, up and down, pulling the intense wave of pleasure through you. You squirm and squeal, mouth held open in a silent scream, and Jeongguk's hips tremble and quake before he pulls out and drops to his knees, burying his face between your thighs and pulling the last of your orgasm with his lips and tongue.

Your legs fall without him there to hold them up—they may as well have turned to overcooked noodles. Jeongguk grips your ass, attempting to keep you from slipping off the mattress, but you are at too odd of an angle to do anything but crumple to the floor.

With a chuckle huffed between his lips as he stops you in time for your feet to hit the floor, Jeongguk firmly presses your hips into the side of the mattress as he stands, lips and chin slick with your release. You chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, and he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth before leaning for a kiss.

"I almost came," he confesses against your smiling lips.

"Figured," you tease, nipping at his little metal ring.

"Not done with you, yet," Jeongguk mutters, licking and sucking at your mouth in a way that is far too comical, making you push against his firm, sweaty chest.

"How do you have so much energy?" you groan, although you have no desire to stop. His silly nature is whiplash, however, and you feel shy standing in the nude beside your bed, still coming down from your last orgasm.

Jeongguk's smile softens, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. The sweat on your skin is beginning to turn cold, and you shiver in his hold, hugging him tighter.

"I could fuck you all day and night, baby," Jeongguk mutters.

He absolutely could not, but the thought brings goosebumps to your skin, especially with his voice dropped so low. You like that he wants to fuck you endlessly—that he feels for you the way you feel for him.

You hum against his neck, tasting salt on your lips, and mutter, "Do it, then," as you nip at his skin.

Jeongguk groans, lolling his head back for you to drag your lips and teeth over him. Then he grabs you by the hips and lifts you back onto the bed, using enough force that you actually bounce, gasping as you anchor yourself onto your elbows and instinctively open your legs.

"Want you on your knees," Jeongguk commands as he prowls forward, caging your hips with his muscular arms.

You scurry backward, then twist somewhat haphazardly, limbs still noodle soft, though you have gained a bit of your energy. The mattress dips behind you as you get onto your hands and knees. You hear a groan as two palms spread you, and as his tongue laves over your sensitive cunt, and your arms begin to tremble while a choked sob falls from your lips.

"Can I eat your ass?" Jeongguk asks as his thumbs gently brush the skin around your rim.

"Yes," you mutter, desperate to feel his tongue everywhere, "please."

Jeongguk squeezes at your soft flesh as his tongue dances over your puckered hole, and you tremble forward, falling onto your elbows with your face buried into the comforter, adjusting to a new, incredible sensation. He devours you, gently pressing his tongue into your hole and groaning as he licks and slurps and drools.

His mouth leaves you, then his hands, and you attempt to anchor yourself higher onto your hands once more, but the press of his cock entering your cunt from behind makes you quake, and you collapse forward, face turned with your cheek squished into the comforter. Try as you might to get your bearings, all you can do is scramble as Jeongguk rubs one palm along your back while he begins to fuck you fast and deep.

Cold saliva hits your ass as you hear the unmistakable sound of Jeongguk spitting, and you gasp, arching your back as the liquid slides over your rim, teasing you with the faintest touch. Then the press of a fingertip breaching your hole makes you squeal, and you grip tightly to the blanket, overwhelmed in the best way.

"Is this okay?" Jeongguk asks, and you nod frantically, desperate.

"Yes, please."

More spit dribbles down, sinking you further forward, and Jeongguk slowly prods his finger into you, twisting at the same tempo his cock pounds into your cunt. With one hand, you reach between your legs and graze your fingertips over your clit, and the wave that crashes over you is sudden, causing you to nearly scream.

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, undoubtedly feeling you squeezing around him as you plummet toward total physical collapse.

Jeongguk breaches your hole deep, probably past the knuckle, stinging so perfectly. You sob through it, hot and thick, drowning in lava. His piercings drag over your sweet spot, and you feel pressure build much like it had before, only more intense and dizzying.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, suddenly rushing and snapping through you like a wire pulled tautly. Your hand drops from your clit, and you scratch blunt fingernails against the bed as your high continues to build and rush, build and rush, gushing from you in waves.

Jeongguk's finger slides from your ass, then he uses both hands to grab you by the arms and lift you, sitting you high on your knees. From this angle, his piercings drag deeper and harder, grazing along your walls and blinding you with more pleasure, squelching from how wet he makes you.

"That's it, baby squirt," Jeongguk has the audacity to say at a time like this, "don't hold back. Fucking cover me in it."

And you would find the nickname a lot more annoying if you were not gushing cum around his cock, splashing your inner thighs and undoubtedly, the bed. Your mouth hangs agape, but you only manage to squeak and sob, tears filling your vision and clouding the room, which is covered in a thick, blissful haze.

Jeongguk's hips quake, losing their rhythm, and he grips tighter, pulling you until your back is pressed against his chest, head gently hitting his shoulder with each thrust.

"Gonna fill that tight, messy cunt," Jeongguk growls into your ear, covering you in goosebumps. "Gonna make you all mine. Is that what you want? To be mine?"

Reeling and struggling to move your lips, you manage to stammer a weak, "Please," that is broken around the edges.

"Good girl," Jeongguk praises, teeth dragging across your shoulder. "So good for me."

Jeongguk thrusts hard, knocking the wind from you as you jolt forward, thankful to be held in his tight grasp. When his hips still, the sweetest, pitchiest sob falls from his lips, which clamp onto your shoulder, sucking and whimpering against your skin as he empties himself into you.

The room spins, and you feel yourself slipping forward, helped down by strong, warm arms until you are lying against the soft refuge of your bed, drifting slowly away. Lips gently press into your shoulder, and you attempt to turn and face him, but Jeongguk is still buried deep inside you, and he wraps his leg over yours, pulling your back flush with his chest, holding you close.

"Wow," you gasp, unable to stop the soft chuckle that works through your body as the room begins to return to focus and the sheen of sweat covering you turns cold.

"Yeah," Jeongguk responds, lips dragging over your skin, lazily pressing affectionately along their quest.

"So...that just happened," you find yourself blurting, suddenly feeling shy, shivering in his grasp.

Jeongguk's limbs wrap tighter as he buries his face into your neck, muttering, "Yes, it did."

And now that you have fucked your best friend and poured every ounce of yourself into the task, you are acutely aware of the fact there is no turning back. Whatever line the two of you have crossed, you are stuck on this side of it for good.

Jeongguk clears his throat, huffing what you think may be a quiet laugh against your shoulder before dragging his lips over your skin, making you shudder.

"So, uh..." he begins, dancing his fingertips delicately over your hip as his soft cock slips from your cunt, bringing with it a combination of both your fluids, "...what, now?"

i know i mentioned glasses jk but there weren't photos that fit the color scheme for the banner, so here's a reminder.....bc even in potato quality he is still 🔥🥵😩

thank you for reading!

i do have a part 2 in the works but it may be a little bit before i get to it. let me know what you think! feedback and reblogs are the lifeblood of this hellsite. and likes are nice, too! 🥰

tags: @beautifulcloudfestival @btsiguess-kpop @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @jihopesjoint @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @pamzn @spookyminyunki @thelilbutifulthings @yoongiofmine ☁ want to be tagged in the things i write? dm me!

#thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x y/n #bts smut #bts fluff #fic: what now?

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kentosbabes · 1 year

Note

Hey!! I've been binge-reading your works bc they're all so good, and I especially loved the ex-bf Gojo fic💖Since you're taking requests, I was wondering if you could do something like that with Eren? Thank you in advance if you do end up accepting this!

Heyy tysm I'm glad you like them! Here are some Ex-Bf Eren headcannons <33

lil bit smutty

Ex-Bf Eren who still thinks about you non stop. No one he has met since compares to you so he doesn't even entertain anyone as he's so confident your the one for him. He even brought the same shampoo and conditioner you use just so he can feel close to you.

Ex-Bf Eren who messages you once a week making sure your okay. He knows you wont answer his message but the little seen under his message is enough for him.

Ex-Bf Eren who kept your recipe to your homemade cookies and spends his weekends trying to replicate yours. But no matter how many attempts they are never as good.

Ex-Bf Eren who stalks all of your socials and finds out what your doing and where you are. He's too nervous to go up to you knowing you didn't end on the best terms but he's content with watching you laugh with your friends at the bar, but he cant help but feel jealous and protective of you as he sees other men in the club eye you up.

Ex-Bf Eren who goes to the same club you go to every Friday night so he can see you, and one night when one of the men get too close to you and he can see the uncomfortable expression on your face he's there Infront of you shielding you before punching the guy right in the face and pulling you out of the club.

Ex-Bf Eren who just stare's at you as you shout at him about what just happened. He couldn't care less, he knows you see him every week, he knows you stare at him when he's not looking and he knows you haven't even touched anyone else since you broke up.

Ex-Bf Eren who's now pulling you in by your waist and putting his lips to yours in a slow passionate kiss. You dont protest and kiss him back melting in his grasp and he's smirking at how easy you give into him.

Ex-Bf Eren who has you moaning as his fingers rub on your clothed clit as he drives to his place. The cocky smirk plastered all over his face as he listens to your pleas 'ren please I c-cant' you moan. 'ma you've been ignoring me for months and now you want me to stop? you take what I give you okay?' you can only nod in response as he pulls up into the driveway of his mansion. 'that's my good girl.'

Ex-Bf Eren who happily wakes up in the morning with you cuddling into his side in only one of his hoodies. He moves you so your onto of him and traces shapes into your back listening to your breathes as you sleep.

Ex-Bf Eren who's making breakfast when you walk in rubbing your tired eyes. He rushes over kissing all over your face as you giggle in his arms. 'you still love me baby?' he questions. You know his possessive nature can take over but how could you ever move on from him? His green eyes filled with love as you place his hair in a bun before replying 'always'.

*I hope this was okay :) I made a part 2 here!!

masterlist

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niki-phoria · 3 days

Text

EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU, I LIKE IT, I LOVE IT

pairing: fushiguro megumi x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 505

notes: sorry for the late post, i've been too busy reading zb1 fanfics to write anything lmao, possibly ooc megumi, not proofread, title from soulja boy - kiss me thru the phone

it wasn’t often that FUSHIGURO MEGUMI allowed himself to be vulnerable. even with the people he trusted the most, it always felt as if there was a wall separating him from others - a barrier preventing him from fully allowing himself to feel any love or comfort in fear of it being ripped away again.

it was hard - even if he pretended like it wasn’t.

you had come to see many different sides of megumi over your time at jujutsu high. you had watched his glares become softer and long silences shorten until he would freely share his ideas with you. somehow, when it came to you, all of his defenses had failed, one after another. he found himself looking out for you - watching over your training sessions; following after you during missions; waiting at your bedside when you got hurt.

something about megumi was different. something about you was different.

falling for you was fast. it happened before megumi had realized what was happening. brief glances had become nervous touches, and nervous touches had become long conversations that lasted far into the early hours of the morning until megumi found himself lying beside you in your bed, falling into a deep sleep almost as quickly as you did.

the morning had come quickly and quietly. sunlight seeps into your dorm room through your open blinds, casting your sleeping figure in golden light. megumi watches intently as your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm; stray strands of hair frame your relaxed features.

despite himself, megumi smiles softly at the sight. he reaches up before gingerly resting his hand against your cheek, stroking his thumb against your skin. “y/n,” megumi whispers. you stir in response; your face twitches as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. the feeling causes heat to spread across his face and goosebumps to rise along his skin. “come on. we have a mission.”

you lazily wrap your arms around his waist, tugging your body closer until your head rests against his chest. megumi does his best to ignore the butterflies swarming throughout his stomach to little avail. “not yet,” you rasp out, nuzzling yourself even closer to him.

he purses his lips. your body is warm beneath the covers as you nuzzle yourself even closer to him. as much as he hates to admit it, megumi would much rather lay in bed with you then watch you risk your life to kill a curse yet again.

“gojo-sensei will be upset if we’re late,” he sighs. cool hands slip underneath the fabric of your shirt, tracing shapes into your bare skin. you startle momentarily at the feeling, but don’t move much otherwise. “y/n…”

you simply frown in response, tightening your grip around his waist. “five more minutes,” you murmur. megumi freezes when you blink up at him with flushed cheeks and tired eyes. “please?”

it wasn’t often that megumi allowed himself to be vulnerable. but with a request like that, how could he ever say no?

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jen-with-a-pen · 3 months

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Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold.

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed.

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius.

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you.

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–”

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop.

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.”

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for.

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family.

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked.

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him.

It was then, everything came crashing down.

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip.

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home.

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?”

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone.

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake.

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind.

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him.

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve.

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able.

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him.

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him.

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin.

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners.

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs.

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend.

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room.

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it.

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee.

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards.

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve.

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach.

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind.

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs.

“Fuck.”

You opened the door.

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you.

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.”

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed.

He was what you needed.

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again.

“Thank you, Stevie.”

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock.

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down.

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?”

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety.

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–”

You felt tears again.

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!”

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat.

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you.

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there.

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years.

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn.

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over.

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision.

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.”

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you.

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding.

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed.

You crashed together.

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild.

280 notes · View notes

bakugoushotwife · 7 months

Text

kinktober day six: dacryphilia kink

>>> i dunno what it is about dabi that scream dacryphilia to me, i genuinely believe every fic i've done for him involves it lmfao please! big thanks to @keigotakamiz for helping me thru some of the rough patches on this one, i luv u so bad bby!! this one contains dark content so please read the content warnings.

>>> starring: touya todoroki x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: dacryphilia clearly, power play, age gap of three years, both are adults as always, keigo's little sister!reader, protective big brother keigo, pervy touya, coercion, dubcon, blood (just a tiny bit), size kink, corruption kink, fingering and oral (fem receiving), pierced dabi, degradation, pet names, temperature play. >>> wc: 4k >>> event masterlist

touya has always been obsessive, selfish, and determined to get his hands on whatever he deemed as his. ever since he was a little boy, he had his own cunning ways of getting what he wants; but you keep slipping out of his grasp. he’s been watching and waiting for the perfect time to make his next move on keigo’s adorable and clueless little sister, so sweet and stupid with your sultry little bats of your eyelashes and cute little smiles with no idea of what he’s plotting behind his turquoise stare.

it’s definitely your fault. you’re far too bright and kind for his liking. touya had to humble you, he had to take a little bit of your light for his own. it’ll be all too easy to make you his. you didn’t have any self-respect, that was clear from the way you walked around your house in skimpy dresses and slutty crop tops that reveal the delicious figure you keep beneath. but he had to be careful. keigo was oh so protective of his baby sister, so every intimidating stare your way had to be calculated. it took months for keigo to even leave the two of you alone with one another long enough for him to use the bathroom. but even in those brief two to three minutes that keigo walks away, touya’s got you blushing from his comments about your outfit. he just can’t help but grow addicted to the flushing of your cheeks and the squeal in your voice when you beg him to stop, you’re just so cute and malleable. he’ll continue to bide his time. just for you.

the teasing and taunting only got worse from there. you would never tell keigo about it, if only to spare your own embarrassment from the inevitable blush and rubbing of your thighs as you tell your big brother all the naughty things touya whispers in your ear and how he touches you when he’s not around. he seems not to notice all your squirming away from and quiet responses around the white-headed man, chalking it up to your easily flustered nature. no, he doesn’t suspect a thing, not even leaving behind plumes of his fierce wings to spy on you.

this has to be because touya is so good at throwing him off. he dotes on you just like keigo does, patting your head so sweetly and letting you borrow his coat when you’re cold. so, to your surprise or horror, keigo trusts his morally questionable friend to keep his quirkless baby sister safe during every meeting with the hpsc or his dates with his new girlfriend. so now touya gets to corner you on the couch and tug at the the flimsy fabric clinging to your plush chest—that despite his unrelenting jests, you still wear—only telling the deranged man that you enjoyed his attention. but to be fair, you’re not sure that he’s wrong.

“you cold, dollface?” he coos, icy breath fanning against your neck as he leans in closer to get a better view of your hardening nipples. you’re precious, so easy to file up. “or do ya just like it when i get this close?”

you squirm, but there’s nowhere for you to go. one of your hips already bumps up against the arm of the couch and his fingertips practically sear into the flesh of the other one. there was something undeniably alluring about touya, he was scary and dangerous—and he looked the part too—but he is keigo’s best friend, so he couldn’t be too bad, right? and you knew your big brother would be disappointed in you, even if you could admit it to yourself that touya’s teasing wasn’t all that bad, no matter how naked it made you feel. what does it say about you that you enjoy it? his mocking laughter and hand grabbing your jaw brings you back to the situation at hand.

“hm? it’s rude not to answer your elders, brat.” he clicks his tongue, admiring the way your eyes widen and cheeks darken a few shades. keigo and touya were only three years older than you, but the latter enjoyed making that feel like decades when it came to respect from you.

“i’m–cold, yes.” you reply in a barely audible squeak, not able to meet his gaze despite the harsh grip he has on your face. he pouts at your response, of course it’s a sadistic mock of your shyness. he leans back and removes his coat, sighing at the loss of warmth before tossing it over you like a throw blanket. he has an interesting scent, the musk of smoke and ash combined with something more woodsy, like maple or pine. you inadvertently snuggle into the fabric, cutting your eyes over to him remaining in his thin white shirt, where his own hardened nipples peek through. he catches your gaze on him, tossing his head back with laughter at the idea of you checking him out.

“like what you see, doll?” he arches his brow, letting his greedy hands feel your squishy thighs, a treat for his frazzling patience. he hears the sharp intake of breath, and you keep squirming away like you want him to stop, but touya sees the truth in your face, the way your sweet little eyes ask for more while you bite down on your lip–you’re confirming everything he needs to know.

“keigo–” he places a rough finger over your lips to keep you from furthering the sentence. you sink further into the couch, his predatory smile making you feel like shrinking into nothing.

“-won’t be back for a while, he’s with his new girlfriend.” he hums cheerfully, as if it was the best news in the world. to him, it was. keigo’s new girlfriend might just be touya’s favorite person alive right after you, keeping the man busy enough that he was no longer concerned with his little sister’s schedule, no longer watching her so closely that claiming her for himself was impossible. nah, this new chick gave touya the window he needs. “don’t worry a hair on your pretty little head. he trusts me, you should too, right?”

he’s petting the top of your head to soothe you, sending you mixed signals. you weren’t sure what he was trying to do: was he making a move on you or was he going to continue babying you like your brother does? you suppose he has a point, your big brother loves you more than anything, and not even love could blind him into leaving you with a bad person, right?

you nod. his smile grows. and he toys with you like that for a few more hours, leaning too close, touching your thighs and hips to watch you wiggle, fanning his minty breath over your face. he even taunts you about your clothes again, pulling his coat off you and scrunching his nose in the enjoyment that follows from watching you pout at the loss of warmth. he knows he has time, keigo planned to make a move on his woman, even told him not to wait up for him and everything.

“your brother think you’re a virgin?” he asks, watching the goosebumps spring up along your skin, your clothes doing nothing to keep you warm or protected from his view. he thinks it’s naive of keigo to think another man hasn’t seen you for what you are, a little slut waiting to be used. “sure he thinks you are…but lookin’ at the way you dress, i bet you ain’t.”

you shake your head violently, sitting against the arm of the couch, facing him. “i am! swear it touya, really!”

he chuffs at your exclaimations, wondering if you could be telling the truth. he clicks his tongue, deciding to push you a bit to see. you just look so cute all panicked and pleading. “i think i should check! seein’ i’m his best friend and all, it’s only fair.” his grin is wicked now as his hands land on your knees, forcibly spreading them. you squeal a little, your hands reaching out to push him away, albeit a feeble attempt.

he laughs again, truly amused by the way you pretend to fight him, but it only makes the blood rush towards his cock faster. “what? Not the virgin you swear to be, takami-chan?” he taunts, pinning your arms to your sides. you shake your head.

“no–no, i am! i–” you cry at him, the commandingly tight and tingling grip he has on your wrists making you realize just what he was capable of. he was far stronger than he looked, and fighting would get you nowhere. his touch causes a new sensation, a fluttering deep in your stomach that makes you wonder why you fight him at all.

“then quit your squirmin’ and let me see f’r myself.” he huffs, incinerating the tiny pajama bottoms you had the nerve to put on. your hips lift up off the couch as you try to shift away from him yet again, cold air blowing against that flame flickering in your pussy. he growls as you keep trying to escape even though your body so clearly wants him. he can see the way your nipples harden under your shirt again, so he’s reaching up to burn that away too. he has delicate control over his quirk after all his practice, and he knows exactly how to maneuver his flames to not hurt you. you still squall and scream at the sight of the blue embers turning your favorite crop top into nothing but black ash as if he could even afford to hurt you. he was sure his treatment would keep you quiet about this anyway, but he certainly couldn’t leave any visible evidence of his playtime with you, so he would settle for claiming your cunt until you had no choice but to grow the next generation of todoroki in your womb—and watch you have fun explaining that to your precious older brother.

he almost thinks you’re stupid for not realizing it, that he’d never seriously hurt you, but the way tears gather at the corners of your eyes, glossy and threatening to spill over has him considering that fear might make you easier to deal with. and it sure would be nice to see you cry.

“aw, i forget you’re just a quirkless little thing. might wanna listen to me then, yeah? i promise i’ll make ya feel real nice.” his voice nearly sings as he watches fat tears start to roll down your cheeks in embarrassment. you can’t hide your tits and pussy from him, not even as hard as you try to hold your arms around the areas. “let me make you feel good, pretty. been wanting to for so long…”

he pries your legs apart again, getting into the floor to give himself room. when he lands on his knees, he slides his grip to your thighs, rotating the way you sit. your back rests against the cushions now, like how a normal person would sit on the couch, other than the fact that your legs dangle off touya todoroki’s shoulders and he’s leaning between your legs, smiling up at you like the cheshire cat. he takes a sinewy finger to separate your lips, humming as he moves through you with little resistance, you’re already wet, way wetter than someone crying and squirming should be. he chuckles when your body jolts a bit from the warm pressure he applies.

“looks like you’re a little slut to me.” he hums, circling the wetness around your hole. his fingers feel so interesting slipping inside you, so different from the little ones of your own. you were telling him the truth, you were untouched—by anyone else, of course. you squeeze down on his digit as he slides it in, the tight grip has him biting his lip immediately. of course you’re a virgin, that much is clear just from the way you act, even clearer from the way keigo acts. no way he’s let any dude near you—and for good reason, look what happens the first time he leaves you alone…

he can hardly even move his fingers from the way you squeeze, and he knows just how to loosen you up. he leans in to suck your hard clit in his mouth, not hesitating to run his teeth across the nerve-riddled bud. the feeling is so electric and delicious, you have no control over your hips as they push into his face; your walls finally relaxe enough for him to pump his finger through. he leans back to watch your face now that his finger is searching for your mushy spot, curling and stroking your insides. your nose is scrunched in pleasure, eyes closed and mouth dropped open. he snickers. if you were this fucked out from one finger he couldn’t wait to see how you would handle his cock.

“yeahhh, you’re definitely a little whore. how’s keigo gonna take this?” he pouts, adding his second digit as he sees your eyes snap open to protest. they drag against you so deliciously, all the worry and guilt melts in your mind. his smell becomes overwhelming, his warmth is consuming. maybe you are a little whore, but maybe that’s fine if you get to be his. you are apart of the decision this time when your hips rock against his fingers, and he grins at your acceptance. it excuses him of any wrongdoings, any villainous behavior. you’re basically asking for what comes next. if everything goes to plan, he’ll have plenty of time to give you the full treatment of that a brat like you deserves, but for now he has to see the face you make when that untainted pussy stretches around his cock.

“feel good?” he asks, to which you babble and nod. it did, he fills you up way better than your own fingers, only barely curling into your pleasure spot with every thrust of his digits, a little squelching noise paired with your breathy whispers make that very last thread of rationality snap. touya can’t hold himself back anymore. he stands up and takes your legs with him, pushing your knees to your ears. you gasp at the change, looking up at him with those beautiful bleary eyes. he mocks your pout, laying his cock over your pussy and up your stomach, nose crinkling at how cute your belly folds like this, how scared you look when you glance down and see his pierced length laying over your belly button. he’s massive and veiny, the tip almost purple with need. you can’t begin to imagine how all of that was going to fit inside you. like he was reading your mind, touya’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “it’ll fit. gonna hurt for a second, but then you’ll feel real good.”

your anxious eyes flutter back down to his length, tears forming at the idea of that sharp metal along his shaft tearing through you. he grasps your jaw in one big hand again.

“what’s a matter, babe? i thought you were a cockhungry slut?” he taunts, shaking his head at you. he can see the panic on your features while you look at his length. it’s adorable, the way your chin wobbles and your hips continue to squirm.

“not gonna fit, touy.” you sniffle and shake your head, letting your eyes drift back to the fiery blue ones towering over you. they flicker with amusement. “i don–don’ think i can do it.”

“you’ll do it, and you’ll love it, and this’ll be our little secret, mkay?” he enthuses, sliding his hips along your soaked pussy. just his fingers had you dripping, and he thought it may not feel so bad for you after all–but the cruel voice inside him hopes it does. he makes you nod with his hand, but arches his brow. he wants to hear you say it.

“our secret, i promise…” you nod, and he rewards you by patting your cheek with some amount of touya tenderness.

“and…?”

“and i’ll take you…and i’ll–l-l–” he starts prodding his tip into your tight opening, biting his teeth to quell the moan that bubbles up at the way you clamp and he can hardly even get himself in there. he just knows it’s reflex, your face scrunched up in pain, tears sliding out of your eyes just at the first quarter of his cock. it’s too good, he has no choice but to sink the rest of the way in, eyes glowing at the way you paw and scratch at him, crying out loud and shaking your head at the feeling of being split wide open. it’s white hot and searing, feels foreign and like a huge rod sticking through your body, though that’s not too far off from the truth. he doesn’t give you much time to adjust, brutally shoving himself in and out of your buttery walls, your grip still choking. you wail and scream, clawing at the skin on his shoulders as your eyes fly open in shock. it hurts, it burns, it’s like that piercing was shoving your internal organs aside just to make more room. the tears trickling down your cheeks are almost as hot as the branding feeling in your gut, and he eats it all up.

“whatcha cryin’ for, doll? fits in you jus’ fine, told ya.” he grunts, every thought that crossed his mind about you so so justified. he knew keigo’s little sister would have the best fuckin’ pussy hiding under those tight pajama shorts and slutty miniskirts. he knew your body would take him like no one else, and he just knew you would look your prettiest crying over him.

you sniffle, blinking through your cloudy vision to gaze up at the man plowing into you, his mouth was stretched into an almost evil giddy grin, the look in his eyes reminded you of the blue flames that licked up your skin earlier, making you shiver with something not even close to fear. the pain gives way to pleasure, or maybe you just start to enjoy the way he drives into you. it’s all so good; the bony smacks of his pelvis against the back of your thighs, and how he drapes his fingers over your clit to keep your hips jolting into his, his wild gaze flickering from your bouncing tits and the fat droplets rolling down your stained cheeks. he notices how your face melts into one of pleasure, causing him to snicker and lean in, that icy breath across your wet face. then it’s replaced by his wet tongue licking up the streaks with a loud moan that makes you tighten around him.

of course your tears are salty, but they are oh so sweet to him. it’s way better than anything even his perverse imagination had provided him, you’ve got him completely sucked in, your hands now squeezing at his biceps, your little voice chanting out. he’s absolutely destroying you, and you’re loving it. even as his tongue drags up your face and over your lips, even when his kisses were rough and sloppy, you mewled at the feeling of it. you ran your hands along his face to plead for more of his mouth. his rutting is merciless, even coupled with the slight softness he shows in kissing you. his hands leave the backs of your thighs to slide under your ass, pulling your back down the couch to put you against the cushion instead of the correct posture you held previously, even with your legs by your ears.

it lets him abuse your walls impossibly deeper, the sounds of his balls clapping into your ass alongside your wails had him twitching near the edge. he was so glad keigo was busy tonight, because you were going to be out of it for a while. his cock jumps again as you squeal and tighten, cumming all over him without any warning. he didn’t even know if you knew what you were experiencing to even tell him about it, and just that thought delights him again. tears pool in your pretty doe eyes once again. he grins, lifting your hips into his cock at a rate that will have him tired, but it’s worth it to hear those sounds, the way you moan his name and squeal while you blink your gorgeous tears away.

“knew you was a slut the whole time, what did i say?” he grunts, trying to regain some composure against your magical cunt. to his surprise, you nod, and he thinks you must be so gone that he could do whatever he wanted to you—not that he couldn’t already.

“mhm, your slut! jus’ for you though touya—never lied!” you squeal, feeling the tightening in your gut rapidly approaching again, this angle was far too intense, you couldn’t help it. so what you liked getting folded in half by your big brother’s best friend? if that makes you a whore, then you’d own it.

your reply is so perfect he could shed tears of his own. you’re perfect, he just knew you were made to be his little toy. a girl like you had to be defiled by a guy like him, it was only right. and maybe this was his own kind of payback, the universe apologizing for the shitty life he’s had with a gorgeous teary-eyed doll wrapped around him like molded clay.

“goddamn darlin’, you’re so fuckin’ sexy, wanna shoot my load in ya. you want that, yeah?” he groans, his lips quivering in a smirk at the sight of your vigorous nodding. who cares if you’re fucked out of your skull, he’s angry he can’t leave you bruised and branded beyond his cum oozing out of your newly ruined pussy.

“yes! please, touy, it feels so good—wan’ more!” your legs are jelly, they’d be flopping all over the place if they didn’t rest on either one of his shoulders. well, who is he to deny a lady? with one more punishing slam, you feel the veins that endow him throb before the heat fuzzies your senses. he tastes that familiar tinge of iron, knowing he’s bit his lip so hard while emptying his balls that it’s started to bleed. his tongue soothes over it as he moves his hips a few more times, gentler, but still shoving his deposit deeper and deeper, intent to make sure you keep some of it. his heart was pounding in his ears, chest heaving as he tried to get everything under control. he smirks, leaning back over you to reward your performance with another harsh kiss, his hand smooshing your cheeks together to make you pucker. he laughs at you little tired whimpers, standing back up with a sigh. he had every intention of taking good care of you, wanting to take you to the shower and take you again in there, but help clean you up. you had to be presentable for keigo’s return, after all. he would even risk staying in your room, maybe sitting with you until you fell asleep, reminding you one last time that you this stayed between the two of you.

the sharp scarlet feather aimed at his throat tells him he doesn’t have to worry about getting caught later. he feels several more sharp edges against his back, and then keigo comes into view. you’re shrieking and lunging for touya’s coat, shaking your head at your brother. you knew he would be disappointed but you definitely didn’t expect your elder to hurt him.

touya chuckles deeply, pouting at his friend. “aw, keigs! better me th’n anyone else, yeah? and she just loved it, ask her!” he juts his chin out towards you, not missing the murderous intent in his friend’s glare. keigo’s eyes flicker over to you, and he makes sure to keep his eyes on your face.

“am i killing him or just mild torture?” he asks you, raising a brow.

“d-don’t hurt him, i..wanted to!” you defend, starting to tear up at all the drama, at the prospect of your brother hurting the man that just rocked your world. and damn if you didn’t look so adorable, all pouty and teary, pleading for touya to be spared. he giggles as his cock starts to harden again at the sight of your bleary eyes, his hand flying up to hold the ache. now that keigo was here, nothing would get past him. his eyes narrow at his friend and he points to his room.

“go sit. we need to talk.” you could almost see flames of his own surrounding him as he spits out the threat, but touya still winks at you and slinks off to endure his punishment.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kyleewritesmha #dabi smut #dabi #mha dabi #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #keigo takami #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki smut #touya todoroki x you #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no academia

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mxmmyprentiss · 12 days

Text

she cared (she was just scared)

Summary: You and Emily have known each other since you were fifteen. Back in Rome, she had a hard time fitting in and you were one of her friends, along with John Cooley and Matthew Benton. She was closer friends to you first but she and Matthew spent more time together months before he died. When Matthew passed away, him being a mutual friend of yours, it somehow felt that your connection with her died too. Genre: Angst (with happy ending) Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: mentions of abortion, homophobia, catholic/religious guilt, implied suicide of minor character Word count: 7.4K

A/N:

This is basically inspired by Criminal Minds S4E17 Demonology and Kat Victoria's song called "Scared". Sorry for any and all grammar, spelling and other writing mistakes. I've been dealing with writer's block recently and I finished this fic just to keep my gears going. I'm not really satisfied how this fic turned out but I hope it's okay enough to read lol.

All likes, comments and reblogs are welcome. Thank you :)

AO3

You and Emily have known each other since you were fifteen. Back in Rome, she had a hard time fitting in and you were one of her friends, along with John Cooley and Matthew Benton. She was closer friends to you first but she and Matthew spent more time together months before he died. When Matthew passed away, him being a mutual friend of yours, it somehow felt that your connection with her died too.

You haven’t seen Emily since Matthew’s funeral. You saw her sitting in the last row during the funeral mass. You tried to find her after but she was already gone. You and John stayed a bit longer when everyone had gone home, reminiscing about your friend who had gone too soon.

Since that day, it wasn’t just Matthew who left you. Your friends drifted away one by one. First came Emily. Then, eventually, John became too busy to hangout. Matthew took a part of you and your friends with him.

So you learned to be on your own.

Your friends didn’t keep in touch with you and you are with them. But you wish they had. It was a short-lived friendship but it was the best year you ever had.

It was a month later that you found out through one of your teachers that Emily and her mother flew back to America. She didn’t say goodbye; not to you or John. But the next day, you found an envelope with a picture of you, Matthew, Emily and John posing just outside of the church during the first fall of snow. It was taken five months before Matthew passed. There wasn’t a note or anything at the back of the photograph but it’s safe to say it was from Emily. It was her camera that you used.

It was during the first year of college that you saw Emily again. She looked different now. She had thick eyeliner, black lipstick and a leather choker on her neck. Her dark hair was all over the place and you’re absolutely sure, her fashion choices would send her mother into a coma (if she wasn’t already in one yet). Emily looked different but you’re sure it was her.

Your eyes met for a brief moment until she looked away and asked two muscular men behind her to help her carry her suitcases. You looked the other way too.

You finally reached the women’s dormitory after being lost on campus for fifteen minutes. It wasn’t that far from the university apparently. You just sucked at following people’s directions.

Once everything was settled at the lobby, you hiked to your room. Just your luck, the elevator was under maintenance and you had to drag two suitcases and a duffle bag all the way to the third floor using the stairs.

When you reached the third floor - second room to the left, you kept mumbling to yourself - the door was already open. Your roommate probably already beat you there. You just hope she would be friendly and not hoard all the living room space.

You stopped at the door upon seeing a familiar figure. Emily was already setting up her desk in the first room. Her suitcases were open in her bed. She must have sensed you standing at the door. Emily glanced at you. She didn’t smile so you didn’t either.

“Do you need help?” Emily asked. “I hope you don’t mind that I already took this room. I don’t like the sunrise.”

“It’s fine.” You replied, lifting your bags to your room. You started unpacking your things.

Both of your doors remained open. There was unsettling silence in the air as the two of you finished unpacking. You didn’t know why. You two were friends - good old friends - and you should be catching up after not seeing each other for a long time. Instead there’s this.

You wanted to ask Emily a lot of things. You wanted to start at her interesting goth phase; although no amount of make up could mask her big brown eyes. You also wanted to ask her how she’d been; tell her you tried to write to her but you didn’t know where to send it, so the letters piled up and hidden in the pockets of your suitcase.

You felt a poke on your shoulder. “Do you mind if I put up a curtain?” Emily pointed at the big window in the middle of the living room. “My migraine can get bad if there’s too much light.”

“Go ahead. It’s fine.”

“Can you help me?”

“Sure.”

You stepped on the table to reach for the rod. Emily’s hand landed on your leg, supporting you. You put up the curtain. The room went dim but definitely much better for the eyes now. Emily guided you down.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Emily smiled.

“Emily,” You called her. You leaned against her doorframe. She glanced at you. “H-how have you been?”

Emily sat on her bed and continued folding her clothes. When she didn’t speak for two minutes, you gave up on waiting for her reply. You were about to leave when she spoke again.

“I’m sorry,” Emily blurted out. “For not saying goodbye in Rome.”

“It’s alright,” You lied. Of course, it wasn’t alright. She was your friend and she left you. “Your mom travels a lot so…”

Your eyes met Emily’s. She was always hard to read and until now, it’s true.

“It wasn’t just that.” Emily sighed, running her hands through her hair but caught up in the knots. You suppressed your chuckle with a bite of your lower lip. “When Matthew died, I was all over the place. He was my friend and I had a hard time accepting he was gone.”

“So did I.” You mumbled. “And I was your friend too.”

“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything. You sat on your bed and continued unpacking. And as you do so, the silence lingered in the air again.

—

Surprisingly, Emily’s goth phase in college only lasted the day she moved in your dorm. You bet yourself it would last longer but the next day happened. You saw the ambassador’s car in the parking lot and recognized the two armed men in black waiting outside your dorm room; the same ones that helped Emily with her baggage when she moved in. It was Emily’s mother. You never met her in person before but Emily had one family picture of her in her wallet during her stay in Rome.

One of the bodyguards requested that you wait in the lobby and you did. They were too intimidating for you to do otherwise.

Emily didn’t speak to you about it but after the surprise visit from her mother, everything changed. She didn’t wear short skirts with fishnets again. Instead, Emily either wore light-colored blouses or plain long sleeves polos and jeans. She no longer wore makeup except for the lip gloss. Not that Emily needed it anyway. She was always beautiful in a way that makes you wonder why God has favorites.

The sullen look on her face was consistent for almost a week. You wanted to ask if she’s okay. Few attempts were made but Emily had walls higher than the Great Wall.

You have known Emily for only a year during your stay in Rome. It wasn’t a long time but at least, she was more open then, more trusting and carefree. You wonder what happened to that girl you used to know.

—

You met Jennifer Jareau in one of your classes. She was kind and bubbly and lets you borrow her notes when you’re late in class. You two clicked so fast and became inseparable. She insisted you call her “JJ” instead of “Jennifer”.

JJ sat next to you in the cafeteria. She laid her tray down; mac and cheese, sliced apples, orange juice and a small bag of Cheetos.

“Do you want to go to a party tonight?” JJ asked, munching on the Cheetos first. “Derek invited me and he said I could bring a plus one.”

“Derek Morgan? You’re friends with him?”

JJ nodded. “We have two classes together.”

“Don’t tell me you’re crushing on the freshman manwhore.”

JJ rolled her eyes. “He’s actually a good guy. Just very flirty.”

“Where’s the party?”

“Palm Paradise. It’s not that far from your dorm.”

“I don’t know where that is. Is it a bar?”

“Yeah, a big one.”

“Oh, I don’t like big scenes.”

“Come on, I’ll be with you the whole time.” JJ tugged your arm, pleading, “Please.”

JJ was looking at you with her best puppy eyes with a matching pout and you couldn’t say no. “Fine. Just stop looking at me like that.”

“God, you’re so easy.” JJ smirked. “I’ll pick you up at 7.”

—

You and JJ arrived at Palm Paradise together. The place was already filled with college students, most of whom were freshmen. The loud music and smell of booze filled the air. You tugged JJ’s arm and pointed at Derek Morgan dancing with a blonde. JJ called for him and immediately ran to greet JJ and then you. Derek introduced his best friend, Penelope. You doubted they’re just best friends though because for the five minutes that you’ve known them, they already flirted at least four times.

You were sitting on the couch with a cold beer in hand. JJ was sitting beside you and gossiping with Penelope.

The floor was crowded with drunk dancing and grinding college students. You got startled when the crowd roared when a girl with a long red wig and thick glasses stood on the table and lifted her shirt up, revealing a crimson bra.

“Damn, she’s hot.” JJ whispered in your ear.

“And drunk.” You chuckled.

When the girl clumsily alighted from the table, her wig and glasses fell. Then, you met her gaze. You know who those eyes belong to. You couldn’t be wrong.

Emily.

“Hey!” Emily stumbled towards you, clearly intoxicated. “You are here too!”

“S-so are you.” You took her arm and guided her to sit on the couch. “You are so drunk.”

“‘m not.” Emily slurred. She tried to stand up but quickly fell back to her seat. She laughed. “It’s spinny.”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, she’s …” You glanced at Emily whose eyes were closed and head was thrown back at the couch. “She’s my roommate.”

Emily reached for your hand, giggling. “You are so pretty! Why do you always frown?”

“I don’t frown.”

JJ took a quick look at you. “You’re frowning now.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, take her side.”

Emily suddenly pulled your hand causing you to trip over and fall on her lap. JJ and Penelope pursed their lips to suppress a grin.

“What are you doing?” You asked Emily who only smiled drunkenly. Despite being roommates, this was the closest you and Emily have been for the past few weeks and you’re suddenly aware of the pounding in your chest. “Do you need to go home?”

Emily shook her head, still with a tipsy smile on her face. She fiddled the collar of your shirt. “Only if you -” She leaned in, bumping your noses together. “- are coming with me.”

“Y/N, I think she’s drunk. You should take her home.” JJ said.

“But -”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll hang out with Penelope.”

“She’ll be safe with me. I won’t leave her, I promise.” Penelope assured you.

“Okay, leave me a message when you guys get home.” You stood up and put Emily’s arm on your shoulder, guiding her as she stood up. “Let’s go, drunkie.”

Dragging an intoxicated Emily home was harder than you thought. She threw up twice on the sidewalk before even getting in the cab. You had to keep supporting her as she walked too because she kept tripping. But the worst part of it all was that Emily was a flirty and touchy drunk. During the short cab ride, Emily couldn’t keep her hands off your neck, running her fingers up and down your collar, and squeezing your bicep. She kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear and the fluttery feeling in your chest was getting out of hand.

When you reached the dorm, Emily was already passed out so you carried her on your back, praying over and over that she won’t throw up on you. The elevator ride was quick but the walk to your room wasn’t. Emily’s head kept sliding on your shoulder and she’s falling so you had to make a few stops.

You laid Emily down on the sofa when you finally arrived at your dorm room. Her bedroom was locked and you contemplated on whether to just leave her passed out in the living room or not.

“Emily,” you whispered, tucking a hair behind her ear. “Emily, do you have your key?” Her only answer was an annoyed groan. You sighed. How many drinks did she actually have?

You carried Emily on your back again and transported her to your bed. You figured that tomorrow would be a hell of a hangover and she would be more comfortable here than the sofa. You tucked her into your bed and you left her a glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside for when she wakes up.

You settled on the couch tonight.

—

Emily woke up to a throbbing migraine. The sunlight didn’t make it any better.

Sunlight?

Emily scanned the room. There were movie posters hanging on the wall, a stack of books on the desk and a pile of mixtapes neatly arranged on the shelf. This was definitely not her room.

She drank a glass of water and ibuprofen on the bedside table.

Emily breathed out loud when she realized she’s in her dorm and didn’t end up somewhere unsafe. She found you sleeping soundly on the sofa. Emily accidentally hit her knee on a table beside the sofa. The curse that came from her lips jolted you awake.

“Hey, you’re up.” You said groggily, sitting up. “How are you feeling?”

“Like there’s a rammer inside my head and it’s moving on its own.”

You laughed at her creativity. “Yes, well, alcohol does that.”

“I don’t remember most of what happened. Did you bring me home?”

You nodded. “I had to carry you on my back. You passed out.”

Emily grimaced. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” You assured her.

“Did I - did I do something embarrassing last night?”

You smirked. “You bet.”

Emily groaned, head on her hands. “I’m never drinking again.”

“You flashed the entire bar.”

“I did?!”

“You did.” You laughed. “You got up on the table and pulled your shirt up. The red bra looks nice, by the way.”

Emily checked the bra underneath her shirt. “Oh, fuck.” She sighed, disappointed and embarrassed about her actions.

“Everyone was drunk, anyway. They probably won’t remember.”

“You weren’t.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t. And JJ and Penelope.”

“Who?”

“My friends.”

“Oh.” Emily’s face turned red. “I-I’m sorry.”

You took Emily’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Emily. It’s not bad to have fun.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. You haven’t seen her smile in a while.

—

Everything changed between you and Emily since the party. She talked to you more. She smiled more. She no longer avoided your presence despite living in the same apartment. It felt like you were friends again just like before when there were four of you. Except now it’s just two.

Emily was pulling an all-nighter at the living room. She was walking back and forth, reading passages and repeating it back to herself to memorize. You tried not to distract her by tiptoeing quietly to the kitchen to make some midnight snacks.

You made two sandwiches; one for you and one for Emily. You left hers on the center table and she mouthed a thank you and you nodded in return.

You left your bedroom door open just enough so you could peer at Emily. You watched her walk back and forth. The bags under her eyes were visible. She’s been pulling all nighters three times a week for a month now. She's obviously exhausted. Midterms were coming and Emily Prentiss was nothing but an overachiever.

After an hour, Emily finally rested on the sofa. She stretched her legs, placing her feet on the center table. Her breaths were loud and erratic.

“You should take a break. Get some rest.” You told her worriedly.

“I’m okay, Y/N. I only have one more chapter to read.” She replied, eyes closed. “Why are you not sleeping yet?”

Because you weren’t.

“Not yet sleepy. I had coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee,” she snorted.

There was that fuzzy feeling in your stomach again because Emily remembered. She remembered that you didn’t like coffee. It’s silly to feel pleased about that.

Emily eventually fell asleep on the couch around 3 a.m. You found her textbook snuggled to her chest and she was clutching her notes in her hand. You snatched a blanket from your room and tucked her in.

You were going back to your room to sleep when you heard Emily talking in her sleep. It’s hard to make out what she was saying. It went on for a minute until Emily started frantically shaking her head and the mumbles grew louder. Emily was calling for your name, then Matthew, then John.

“Emily,” You tapped her shoulder. Nothing. “Emily, wake up.” You stroked her face gently as you tapped her leg. “Emily, wake up.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, face now covered in cold sweat. She looked around, suspicious that whatever it was in her nightmare followed her here.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, Em.” You promised her, squeezing her arm. “Do you need anything?”

Emily took a couple of deep breaths. “Can you … can you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” You cleared your throat. “I mean, sleep in my bed with me. Sleep sleep, not sleep sleep.”

If she didn’t just have a bad dream, Emily would have laughed. She only nodded.

You woke up the next morning with your head on Emily’s chest and her arms wrapped around you. Her breaths were synchronized with your own like a lovely duet. Her scent filled your head.

—

Emily sleeping with you in your room had become a routine. Sometimes you slept in hers too but she insisted that your mattress was far more comfortable.

“I thought you hated sunlight.” You murmured one night, your backs facing each other. “But you liked sleeping here.”

“I don’t hate you.” She murmured back.

I don’t hate you.

You wanted to ask Emily what it meant because when it came to her, things were rarely black and white. Did it mean she liked you? Love is the opposite of hate, after all, so did that mean that she loved you? Or is it just something she said without thinking and didn’t mean anything by it at all?

You wanted to ask her but there’s something caught up in your throat and you decided not to.

Emily was the one to fall asleep first. You lied in bed unmoving, staring at the window, crescent moon peeking into view.

You felt Emily’s arm wound around your stomach. She pulled you closer to her, hugging you. You could feel her breathing on your neck. She was still sleeping soundly.

You decided you can worry about this some other time. Because right now, it felt right.

—

“Hey, angel.” JJ was standing outside your door, holding takeouts and a notebook. “I thought I’d drop by and let you borrow my notes. Also I bought you chicken soup.”

“You didn’t have to, JJ.” You smiled and let her in. “Can I get you anything? Water? Juice?”

“No, I’m okay.” JJ placed a hand on your forehead. “You’re still burning up. Have you taken your meds yet?”

“I just did. Waiting for it to kick in.”

JJ was telling you about something funny that happened in Professor Rossi’s class when Emily came in with the biggest smile on her face but it was suddenly gone when she spotted you and JJ sitting on the couch.

“Hi,” JJ waved at her and Emily waved back with an awkward smile. “I just dropped by to bring my notes to Y/N and give her soup.”

“That’s … thoughtful?” Emily raised her eyebrow, confused as to why was your friend telling her that.

“Yeah, she told me she was sick -”

“You’re sick? You said you didn’t have classes.” Emily quickly placed a hand on your forehead then to your neck. “You’re hot.” She glared at you when you wiggled your eyebrows. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got my meds and my soup.” You grinned. “Thanks, Jay.”

“You’re welcome.” JJ stood up. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow? Leave me a message, okay?”

“I will.”

JJ hugged you and kissed your cheek. You glanced at Emily, clenching her jaw, one eyebrow raised. “Get better fast.” JJ ruffled your hair before leaving.

When you turned around, Emily was glaring at you, arms crossed. You stared blankly. She didn’t say anything and marched to her bedroom. Before you could ask what’s wrong, she already slammed the door.

Emily didn’t crawl to your bed that night nor did she talk to you the next morning. But she left you cooked meals in the kitchen until you felt better.

—

It was five days later when Emily started speaking with you again. Truthfully, you were getting tired of the quick, sidelong glances she was throwing at you the past few days. You tried to make conversation but she quickly hid in her room every time. She didn’t even ask to sleep in your room when you heard her kicking and crying during another nightmare and you were there to wake her up.

Emily was cooking breakfast in the kitchen and asked if you wanted to have some. You nodded, smiling. You didn’t know what you did wrong but at least she’s not ignoring you anymore.

She prepared a plate for you; pancakes, bacon and hash brown. She poured orange juice on your glass. “Here you go,” she said, sliding the plate towards you. “I couldn’t make the pancakes round so you’re gonna have to forgive me.” You both chuckled.

You and Emily ate in silence. It was so quiet that you could hear her every time she chewed on the pancakes and sipped her coffee.

“Emily?” You finally broke the hush. Emily hummed. “Are you mad at me?”

She glanced at you and huffed. “No. Why would I be?”

You shrugged. “Then, do you like me?”

“Of course,” Emily answered without hesitation. “Of course, I like you. You’re my friend.”

You felt a pang of disappointment. “Not just as a friend, Emily.”

There was no reply.

“Emily?” You tried again.

“Why’d you ask?”

“Just answer me.”

You weren’t angry at her. You just wanted answers. You were tired of thinking and wondering why everything felt different one day like you were friends again, and different the next day like you don’t know each other.

She let out a loud exhale. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You … you're someone I want in my life for a long time. I don’t want to lose you.”

You knitted your brows. “Why would you lose me?”

“I - I don’t know. It’s what always happens to me. I can’t risk having stupid feelings for my best friend, for you.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Having feelings for me is stupid?” You asked, obviously offended by Emily’s choice of words.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Do you need to look up synonyms for stupid?”

“Y/N, please -”

“I never should have asked. Let’s just forget this happened.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I mean. You know that.”

“No, I don’t!” You couldn’t control the frustration in your voice anymore. “I don’t understand why you keep pushing and pulling me around. You already did this to me when we were in Rome. When anyone came near me, you drove them away. You called me amore mio for months but got awkward the minute I called you mine. You almost kissed me once when we sneaked out for John’s birthday. You told me then that if I was a boy, I’d be the love of your life. Did you know it was killing me, Emily?” Your voice was already trembling and your lips quivering. You blinked a few times to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. Emily’s eyes remained on you. “It was killing me because I would have loved you so much if you had let me.”

Emily reached out for your hand but you were quick to retract it. You wiped your cheeks of the wet proof of the agonizing pain you were feeling.

“I won’t bother you with my stupid feelings anymore.” You muttered before storming back to your room.

—

The days passed by excruciatingly fast. You only had two weeks to study for your upcoming finals and the lack of sleep every night and the intense headaches weren’t helping your cause.

Your dorm room has been quiet since your fall out with Emily. You did your best to avoid her at all costs. When she’s in the kitchen, you’d stay in the living room until she’s done and when she’s in the living room, you’d sprint to the kitchen. You caught her glancing at you a few times but you quickly averted your eyes each time.

JJ came over to study with you two nights before your finals. She was running on coffee and you on energy drinks. Penelope was supposed to go study with you too but sleep seduced her early.

“Where’s Emily?” JJ asked.

You only shrugged in reply.

“Are you in a lovers' quarrel or something?”

“No, we’re not lovers.”

“Ah, but you guys fought?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it, JJ.”

“You like her, don’t you?”

Aside from being a good people reader, JJ has this crazy instinct. You hate it sometimes.

“Still don’t wanna talk about it.” You said. JJ respected that but you knew she would ask again one of these days.

JJ concentrated on one subject and made an outline to share with you once she’d finished. You did the same on a different subject that you shared. You exchanged notes and bounced different ideas and knowledge with each other. Eventually, the caffeine wore off. JJ drifted off, curled in a fetal position on the floor. You followed her five minutes later.

—

Emily had been spending more time at the library and coffee shop to study. She couldn’t concentrate at the dorm and being in close proximity with you. Every time Emily sees you, the gnawing ache in her chest grows. And no matter how many times she had gone over head about what’s the right thing to say, she couldn’t trust herself to not fuck it up and mess things up even more.

She came home around midnight. She unlocked the door and opened it as quietly as possible, as she was afraid she might wake you. She knew you liked studying in the living room because your room felt small.

Tonight you weren’t alone though. Emily saw a friendly blonde lying on the floor with you. You weren’t cuddling, Emily was somehow relieved of that. But there was a tightness in her chest that she couldn't get rid of. Her jaw clenched at the sight. She’s not mad at you or her. There was a part of her that wanted to come in between the both of you just so there will be space. It was too close and Emily envied that. It wasn’t long ago that she was the one lying beside you. In your bed. With her arms wrapped around you.

Emily missed you.

When Emily lied in bed, she tried to redirect her thoughts on the topics she memorized in hopes of reciting them again but the thought of you occupied her mind. Every toss and turn in her bed, there was you; in Rome, in your bed, in her bed, in the kitchen, in the living room, at the campus.

For the first time in a long time, Emily allowed her mind to travel back to the Catholic international school in Rome where she first met you.

The uniform was ridiculously prude; skirt too long, vest too thick, socks too high. You stood out to Emily on the first day back in class after a week break in November. The pink streaks underneath your hair caught the headmistress’ attention and lectured you in front of the class. She asked you to dye it back to your natural hair color. You argued that your hair can’t affect your studies but the headmistress was firm and asserted that it was a matter of discipline, that if you couldn’t obey authority then you’d grow up to be a badly behaved person and bad people do not go to heaven.

After the first period, Emily saw you in the hallway. You were talking to two boys and judging by their uniforms, Emily guessed they were a year older. You were too busy ranting to the boys and rolling your eyes to notice that you were leaning against Emily’s locker.

“Excuse me. I just need to get to my locker,” she spoke. You glanced at her and apologized. The three of you moved aside and got back to your conversation. After Emily dropped her books to her locker, she spoke again, “It’s not true, you know.”

Your eyes met Emily’s, bringing your conversation to a halt. “What is?” You asked.

“You’re not gonna be a bad person just because you have pink streaks on your hair.” She pursed her lips. “Or that you’re not gonna go to heaven.”

“Exactly!” The taller boy tapped Emily’s shoulder in agreement. “I told you, Y/N.” He turned to Emily. “What’s your name?”

“Emily. Emily Prentiss.”

“John Cooley.” He and Emily shook hands then he pointed to the other boy, “This is Matthew Benton.” Matthew waved his hand. “And you two have been acquainted, I suppose?”

Emily nodded.

“Thanks, Emily.” You uttered. “Do you want to join us for lunch?”

Emily smiled. “I’d love that.”

Emily learned that you’re neighbors with Matthew and John. She didn’t like hanging out with boys but they eventually grew on her and so did you. Due to being raised by her mother, Emily has always been a strict rule follower, no matter how ridiculous the rules are. But Emily found freedom in you, Matthew and John. Emily wasn’t afraid of herself, of being herself.

You were on vacation with your family during the Easter break. John was on a trip with his father. Matthew’s family devoted their time to church and stayed home. She only had Matthew to spend time with during the break.

“Matthew,” Emily gripped his arm. “Matthew, I need your help.”

“What is it?”

“I … there are two things I want to tell you but promise me, you won’t tell anybody else. Not even Y/N or John.”

Matthew looked at her with deep concern in his eyes. “You’re scaring me. What is it?”

“I think I’m in love with her.”

Matthew huffed a laugh. Even without mentioning your name, Matthew knew. It was obvious. “You think?”

“I… I don’t know. Isn’t it wrong to feel this way?”

Matthew sighed. “You know what I think? I think love is only wrong if it’s not true.”

“But … we’re both girls. That’s forbidden.”

“Emily, the world is big. You won’t be confined in that school forever.”

Emily knew that. It probably won’t be long before she has to transfer again. But if she accepted this now, if she accepted this part of herself, everything would change. And although change was the only constant thing in her life, she wasn’t ready for this one yet.

“What’s the second thing?”

“I’m pregnant.” Tears welled up in Emily’s eyes, hands shaking both from the snow and the panic coursing her veins. “I… I don’t want it. I just … I tried because I wanted to know if it was possible that I’d be attracted to a boy but I’m not.” Emily buried her face on her palms. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, Emily. Nothing.” Matthew hugged her tight, telling her everything’s going to be okay and promised that he will help her.

He accompanied Emily to the church for some advice. The priest told her she wouldn’t be welcomed back to the congregation if she got an abortion.

Matthew had always found reason through his faith in God. His family was devoted Catholics and so was he. But there’s only much faith he can put in God if his own people wouldn’t even at least try to understand his friend. If God’s love is unconditional, shouldn’t it manifest in his church and its people?

Four weeks into the pregnancy, Matthew found an abortion clinic. He held Emily’s hand, promising he would be waiting for her, that everything will be fine.

Everything was fine now but Matthew was gone.

Emily wondered if she told you everything, would you still accept her? Would everything be different? Would you hate her?

—

The semester ended yesterday. You were packing your things to go back home and take a well-deserved break. JJ had already gone home last night and Penelope went home with Derek, leaving you the last to go.

Well, except Emily.

Her bedroom door was open. She wasn’t packed yet and it looked like she wasn’t planning to. She had Chinese takeout boxes laying on her bed. You could hear the movie she was watching but couldn’t make out what language it was. Most probably French. Emily loved watching French movies.

It’s been weeks since you last spoke to each other. You avoided each other long enough for it to be a routine. It felt like you’ve been living with a ghost.

You took a deep breath and softly knocked on the door. Emily looked up to you and paused her eating. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m going home.”

“Oh. Uh, take care.”

“Thanks.” You forced a smile. “When are you leaving?”

“For what?”

“For the semester break.”

“Uh, I have no plans. My mother’s in Ukraine.”

“So you’re staying here?” Emily nodded. “The dorms will close next week though.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

You didn’t know what came on to you when you blurted out, “You can come home with me if you want. My parents just moved to our farmhouse.”

Emily stared at you for a minute, contemplating whether you’re joking or not. “Are you sure?” She asked. She was skeptical knowing what happened the last time you talked.

“I’m still mad,” You reminded her. “But I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I can give you an hour to pack.”

Emily felt the tightness in her chest loosen out of the blue. Now that you’re talking to her again, she can finally breathe. “Okay.”

—

You and Emily arrived at your parents’ house just in time to watch the sunset. The view was magnificent from the driveway.

“It’s beautiful,” Emily breathed, looking up at the heavenly hues of the sky. “Was it always like this?”

“Yes,” you answered. “It’s more beautiful after the rain. Sometimes a rainbow appears.”

Emily’s eyes glistened as the sun set. For a moment, you forgot that you’re not exactly on great terms with her yet.

Your father was the first one to greet you the moment you entered the living room. He ran and lifted you in a tight hug. “I missed you, kid!”

“I missed you too, pa.”

“Who’s this?”

“Pa, this is Emily. She’s my friend.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Your father and Emily shook hands. “The view outside is just gorgeous.”

“Well, I hope the inside won’t disappoint you.”

Emily chuckled. “Your home is lovely, sir.”

“Well, look who it is!” Your mom quickly descended the stairs.

“Ma!” You ran to your mother and she welcomed you in a tight embrace. “I missed you.”

“Always a mama’s girl that one,” your father whispered to Emily and she grinned.

—

It only took ten minutes for your mom to figure it out.

“I know that look.” Your mother told you when you were alone in the kitchen. She was cooking your favorite stew while you were preparing the ingredients for your mother’s cookie recipe.

“What look?”

“The look.”

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

“I saw the way you were looking at her through the window. It’s the same look your father and I give each other.”

“You mean cheesy and disgusting?” You smirked. To your surprise, your mother smacked the back of your head. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Tell her you like her before I smack you again.”

“Stop saying nonsense, Ma. I don’t like her.”

“Keep telling yourself that and you’ll lose your chance.”

“I already told her,” you confessed defeatedly. “She doesn’t like me that way.”

“Are you sure? Or was she just scared?”

You shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. If she doesn't want to be with me, it’s fine.”

“She’s here with you now.”

“It’s different, Ma. She’s got nowhere to go. We’re not together together.”

“Ah, you kids.” She shook her head in disappointment. “Making everything complicated.”

“And it’s not like homophobia has gone extinct, Ma.”

Your mother sighed and pulled you for a hug. “We will love who you love, honey. I don’t fucking care about what the world says.”

You smiled against her chest. “Fucking thanks, Ma.” That earned you another smack. “You said it first!”

—

It’s been seven days at your farmhouse. Your mother and father taught you and Emily all about gardening. You were impressed by their growing orchard on the back of the house. To think that they had just retired from being federal agents four months ago and started this whole thing a month after retirement.

Emily had an easy time adjusting and getting along with your family. Aside from your parents, she also met your parents' orange cat, Denver. Denver didn’t like to cuddle with you but would snuggle with Emily. You didn’t take it personally. Emily was simply a cat person. She used to feed the stray cats outside your school when you were in Rome.

“Emily’s nice.” Your father said abruptly one night when you were on the couch with him and your mother. Emily called it a night and headed to the guest room. She was tired from all the gardening with your parents.

“She is,” your mother agreed.

“Stop it. Both of you.”

“So when did you start dating, honey?”

“Pa, we��re not dating.”

“You’re not?” Your father looked at you unbelievably. Then he turned to your mother. “They’re not?”

“You know kids these days. It’s never simple.”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not sitting right here.”

“Our daughter is hopeless.” Your mother sighed.

—

A knock on the door startled you awake. You opened the door and Emily was standing there with bloodshot eyes. She obviously had another nightmare and from the looks of it, it was worse than what you witnessed before.

“Are you okay?” You ran your hand up and down her arm. “Do you need anything?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Sure,” you replied unhesitatingly.

You took the left side of the bed and Emily on the right. You put a long pillow in between.

“Y/N.” It was weak and soft but you heard her call.

“Yeah?”

Emily swallowed hard. “Can I … can I talk to you about it?”

You turned the night lamp back on and set it to dim light then you turned around to face Emily. She was picking on her nails, a bad habit she had since you’ve known her. You gently stroke her wrist to get her to stop. She did. She intertwined your hands together instead.

“You can tell me anything and everything, Em.” You squeezed her hand. “Even if it didn’t feel like it recently, I’m still your friend.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I had a dream about Matthew.” Emily let out a shaky breath. “He blamed me for what happened to him.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Matthew was a troubled boy.”

“And that’s because he met me.”

“Emily, you can’t think that.”

“But it’s true.” She insisted. “I want to tell you for so long. It’s eating me up.”

“So, tell me. I’m right here. No matter what.”

Her grip on your hand tightened as if pleading you not to run, not to leave.

“I got pregnant in Rome.” Emily confessed, almost in one breath but you caught it. Your hand still hadn’t left hers. “It was with a boy I experimented with so I could forget about the way I felt about you. I wanted to know if I could still be attracted to a boy and I tried. It happened but I felt so bad about it the next day and I never saw him again.”

“Did he force you? Did he do something you’re not comfortable with?” Emily shook her head and you sighed deeply in relief.

“I told Matthew about it during the Easter break. I asked for advice at church and the priest told me that getting abortion was a wrong thing and I won’t be welcome to come back to the congregation. But Matthew … he was angry. He started questioning his beliefs. He said that if God’s love is unconditional, why is it not manifested in the church and its people?”

“And he was right, Emily. Religious people are the most hypocritical of them all.”

“Matthew found an abortion clinic. He stayed with me until the procedure was done. He cared for me and I killed him.” Emily sobbed on the pillow separating you.

“You didn’t kill Matthew, Emily.” You reassured her, stroking her face. “Look at me. You didn’t kill Matthew. He was ill. His family was overly strict and religious. When he started questioning the congregation, his family was embarrassed. They didn’t like Matthew asking questions and having his own opinions. They didn’t listen to him. All that family cared about was worshiping the Lord and guilt tripping everyone else that didn’t align with their so-called beliefs. Matthew was different from them. He was a much better person than both his parents combined.”

“You - you’re not angry?”

You shook your head. “I just wish you had told me back then. I could’ve been there for you. Just like Matthew was.” You removed the pillow in between. You wrapped your arms around Emily and pulled her in, taking her in as close as possible to you. Whatever you felt during your fight had vanished completely. There was just Emily.

Emily, who had a hard time fitting in when she was fifteen.

Emily, who told you you’re not going to hell just because of the pink streak in your hair.

Emily, who became your best friend..

Emily, who you adored wholeheartedly and loved intensely.

Emily. Emily. Emily.

Her name was your lifeline.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It wasn’t said casually nor carelessly. It was anything but those things.

It wasn’t spur of the moment. It was the moment.

It was deliberate, careful. It was a confession, a promise.

Most of all, it was the truth. And the truth was liberating.

“I tried to stop myself from feeling this way but I can’t. I don’t want to fight it anymore. Amore mio, my heart is yours,” Emily took your hand to her chest, where her heart is caged and beating just as fast as yours were. “It’s yours to keep; yours to break; yours to make whatever of it.”

“And mine has always been yours, Emily.”

You can’t really tell since when. Loving Emily was the most natural thing. You couldn’t even remember a day that you didn’t love her since you started loving her. You just do.

Emily was tired of overthinking it. She leaned forward and closed the gap between your lips. Her hands gently cupped your cheeks. Your hand rested on her shoulder.

Emily was kissing you.

She was finally kissing you.

Passionately.

Tenderly.

Slowly.

Desperate I love you’s exchanged between both of your lips.

This couldn’t be wrong, Emily thought. Not when it was the most right Emily ever felt in her life.

#jaye writes #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst

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