#awake and hunting (ic) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kiwisbell · 4 months

Text

let it snow [joel miller]

It's cold on the trail. Joel keeps you warm.

12 days of pedro masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: an early winter smattering of daddy kink, feel free to picture game!joel or show!joel here, post-outbreak, jackson!joel, christmastime fuzzies, soft old man!joel, self-indulgent age gap (20s/50s), protective!joel, christmas tree hunting, hiking, sex in an apocalypse, snowball play(?), fingering, frostbite does not exist in this universe, thigh fucking, dirty talk, ellie loving dinosaurs, snowball fights, a joel who enjoys what little peace life brings him

word count: ~ 5.3k

read on ao3!

a/n: hi, lovelies - this fic is my contribution to @hellishjoel's 12 days of pedro celebration! everyone please check out the masterlist linked above to check out the other works from all of these amazing authors!! thank you endlessly to my parents @northernbluess and @tieronecrush for beta'ing this fic and reassuring me every step of the way - i love you both to the moon and back. i hope you enjoy and as usual, please mind the tags and please tell me what you think!! ❄️

super cute dividers by @saradika-graphics!!

Fall comes on slow. The leaves begin to bleed orange from the arteries. The air crackles with bright, cold wind that bites and pokes. Debris crunches underfoot and the trees shed their lustrous coats. It’s nothing like the onset of winter in Jackson—the downward crash of an overnight snowstorm that crests too quickly for the residents to prepare.

It's a crystallised, overrefined flurry of soft flakes that gather on thatched rooftops and bury the barren, browning garden beds in the western corner of the village. It’s a nighttime assault of gnashing wind carrying fractals of ice and snow, and before most are awake, Jackson is snowed in.

The children are thrilled. All of them too small to have known anything but the walls of the town, they burst from their homes, half-zipped coats and bright-and-early tummy-rumblings and wondrous impatience, to stick out their tongue and catch the still-falling snowflakes. Parents and caretakers and teachers straggle, still pulling on their own boots and coats, in the effort to stay close to their charges. Snowballs are packed together and hurled from behind fortified walls of snow; passers-by are pulled unwittingly into the two-sided, relentless barrage; and the shrieks and cries crackling into the dead white air are born from the watery womb of promise, not terror.

There’s some joy yet to be found in this world.

He isn’t participating in the frozen-water war, but he’s watching from the margins, leaning against the wall of the schoolhouse with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes hawklike as he observes your every move.

A group of young girls has inducted you into the battle and now you’re hiding with one of them behind a wall, packing a tight ball of snow in your hands, barely protected by your threadbare gloves. He can see the grip of the cold on your body, the way your breath circles above your head, a silvery halo. He can see the slight shivers that start in your lower spine and tremble their way up to the back of your neck, and he can see the phantom imprint of his hand resting there, warming your nape, curling his callused fingers around your brain stem and guiding you the way he liked. He can see your gentle touch not only in your hands but in your smile, in the soft application of snow to the top of the wall as it begins to melt, in the sweet curl of your mouth as you help a child who has fallen to their feet.

Swiping an accumulation of snow from the child’s nose with your thumb, you mouth some words he cannot see. The child sniffs happily and wraps their arms around their mother’s leg.

You sneak away from the barrage of snowballs and blow some warm air into your cupped hands. He shifts off the wall and begins to prowl toward you.

When he’s close enough, when no one is around nor awake enough to notice, pulls you into the alley between the schoolhouse and the theatre.

His mouth captures your surprised exhale, stealing the visible puff of warm air for himself, swallowing it down as he pries you open for him. His hand rediscovers the slow, warm pleasure of its resting place on the back of your neck, gently steering you, unkindly pinning your body to the wall.

He feels the itch of your gloves as you cup his face, and his other hand lifts to circle around both of your wrists, idly pressing them beneath his heavy coat, against his heart. It thuds strongly, pouring its rhythm into the grooves of your palms.

He crowds you, making you small, his desire for this closeness prodding your inner thigh. You go oh-so easily, the gruff sounds he spills into your mouth tapping, chiselling, knocking down each vertebrae. Carefully, with the slide of his warm, wet tongue along yours and the greedy assault of his mouth, he shapes you for himself and turns you into the pliant little thing he needs you to be.

You moan softly into his mouth, and his answering groan is something rabid. Your spine curves to him, gravitational pull, wooden slats of the building at your back tugging the fabric of your coat. He will kiss you until you’re breathless and preening under his touch because it’s what he always does. He will inculcate you with the knowledge that you’re for his eyes only.

When he pulls away, he watches you chase his mouth with lidded eyes and kiss-bruised lips, and he smirks. His hand moves to your head, gently smoothing down your crown to your jaw, the way one tenderly pets a kitten.

“Got you somethin’.”

You raise your brows. “You did?”

“Mhm.” He nudges his nose against yours and relishes the smile you give him—eyes crinkling at the corners, irises reflecting glistening sky. “Open your mouth for me first. Go on, now.”

You obey, letting your tongue loll out, more from habit than anything. Still, he’s pleased, unfurling the hastily-wrapped paper package in his pocket and placing the small square of chocolate on your tongue.

You close your mouth with the help of his hand on your jaw, and the gentle snap of the chocolate bleeds the melting centre down your throat, disseminating the oaky flavour on your tastebuds.

“Y’like it?”

His voice is a carving knife. You're split down the middle by his simple show of affection, spilling out into his arms, wrists still clasped in one of his big hands.

“It’s good,” you tell him. “I’ve never…”

His smile digs a thumb into your open wound. “I know. Took it from the kitchen.”

You lick your lips and swallow the rest of the melted chocolate. Joel watches the action from the moment your tongue darts out to the moment it retreats. “Maria will have your ass.”

“Hmm, Maria can tell me off much as she wants. Wanted to give you somethin' sweet.” He presses in closer, hands dropping to your hips, kneading the pad of his thumbs over your hips. You're wearing old jeans whose waistband is fraying. “What do you say?”

This is the fun part of the game you play. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, teasing, begging entrance even though he knows there isn't a world in which you would deny him. You part your lips and take his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue and cleaning off the taste of leather that still lingers on his skin.

“Thank you.”

He strokes your jaw with his thumb. “You wanna know what else?”

You're already leaning into his palm as he cradles your cheek, and he’s so proud of the volcanic thaw in your eyes. “What else?”

Joel reaches back into his coat pocket and places something small in your palms. It’s a smooth wooden figurine that smells faintly of sawdust and is carved in the perfect likeness of your home, which sits across the street from his.

“‘s almost Christmas,” he says, suddenly so unsure of himself as he watches you turn the little shack over in your hands. “Thought you might like—”

But you're leaping onto him like a little monkey, your mouth crashing against his. It’s all lips and teeth and tongue and he can taste the chocolate he placed there just moments ago. The chimney of your miniature home prods his chest as you hold the figure close, tucking it safely between your bodies.

“Easy, baby girl,” he says with a low laugh, not-quite pulling away, letting you lick into his mouth like a cat after milk. The scratch of his beard will leave patches on your chin and everyone will see them. He grins, tilting your head up and soothing the worried skin with soft kisses.

“I love it,” you tell him, sighing into his body, “so much. I love it, Joel.”

“Good.” He nudges his nose against your temple. “Take good care of it, now.”

You nod, scratching at the too-long hair curling slightly at the nape of his neck. “How do you know that it's almost Christmas?” you ask him after a moment.

“Took a guess,” he says, nipping your earlobe. “Y’know, the big tree they put up in the middle of town helps.”

You playfully tug his hair. “Asshole.”

“So goddamn mouthy. Gettin’ spoiled.”

“You're the one spoiling me,” you purr, mouthing wetly along his jaw.

Joel chuckles. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

“You know”—your voice takes on a musical lilt—“I don't have my Christmas tree yet.”

Joel lifts his brows. “You want a Christmas tree?”

You lift one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t really remember the holidays.”

The watery shimmer under your irises reminds Joel just how much more life he's lived. You were young when the outbreak started, both parents lost to the virus before the first week was out. You’d hid under your bed for three days straight before FEDRA found you.

They’d taken you, underfed and dehydrated, to the Colorado QZ, where you spend most of your adolescence until it was bombed by Fireflies. You'd managed to sneak away before they could round you up like FEDRA had. You’d travelled with one group to the next before Jackson welcomed you.

There's a scar on your throat, just below your jaw on the right side, and another at the nape of your neck. You've been held at knifepoint, you told him in the early days of knowing one another, by the very same people who'd taken you in as one of their own. They’d offered you up as trade for some deer meat. Joel traces the mark and feels his throat constrict.

The kind of life you’d led before Jackson… He’ll make sure you never have to run again.

“Let’s get you one,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

You pull away from him to meet his eye. “Joel…”

“Tommy’s got a saw behind the bar. I can take down a tree. We’ll bring it back ‘n’ put it up in your place.”

The grin creeps up at the corner of your mouth. “You're going soft, Miller.”

Joel just crowds you back against the wall and slants his mouth over yours. He has no problem going soft when he can feel the wooden edges of his gift to you prodding the flesh of his chest. Let it pierce him.

Joel has few rules he's willing to push back on. At his age, he's lost some of his jagged edges, compromising on more. When he's got you like this, tucked into his side, wearing only his shirt, he remembers exactly why he enforces these few rules.

The light is soft in the winter; it doesn't quite penetrate his eastern-facing window the way the summer sun does. He blinks awake, feeling you shift next to him, your nose buried in his throat. Your arms are wrapped tight around his middle, one leg hoisted over his torso.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunts, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Gotta get up.”

He can feel your sleepy pout against his neck. “Mph.”

“Yeah, I know.” Joel chuckles, slumping back into the mattress. You shift so you're on top of him, your thighs bracketing his hips. Sitting up, you explore his bare chest with your soft hands, migrating down the length of his torso and his softening belly. He grabs your hips and soothes himself awake by rubbing his hands up and down your sides. The fabric of his shirt draped over your body shifts under his palms.

“I’m patrolling with Tad,” you tell him, “so we’ll have to put up the tree when I get back.”

“No, you're not.”

You cock your head. “Tommy told me—”

“Tommy doesn't know what the hell he's talkin’ about,” says Joel. “You and I get the day off. And I”—he pulls you down toward him and secures his hand at the back of your neck—“know a spot.”

Your answering hum is playful. “You know a spot. I had a couple boyfriends back in the QZ who knew a spot, too, Miller.”

“I ain't your old boyfriends,” he says with a faint growl, landing a light smack on your ass. “There’s a good trail west of here. Some trees what would look nice all done up.”

You beam down at him. Your hair is somewhat tousled from sleep and the fuzzy light haloes your head. “You aren't worried about raiders?”

“Don't think I can keep you safe?” He caresses your bare thighs, his cock interested in the warmth of you on his lap.

Your mouth fits over his, fingers threading through his hair, and Joel settles into the steady rhythm of your heartbeat fluttering against his own chest.

“I think,” you whisper, “that we're already late. Let's go get a Christmas tree.”

Half an hour later, he’s still yawning on his way to the stables and wishing he was in the warmth of his bed instead of out here in the biting cold. Joel runs his gloved palms together and fixes his rifle over his shoulder.

You, of course, are fresh-faced and early, securing the saddle over your chestnut mare Princess. Joel pats her snout and inspects your pack where it hangs on the hook nearby.

“Forgot your bandages again.”

You hum and it's music. “You always have extra. Ready to go?”

“Sure you’re not waiting for Tad?”

You gently pat your horse’s back. “Tad is terrified of you, so he's terrified of me. You're ruining my reputation, Miller.”

“That so?” Joel sidles up next to you, pushing your pack into your arms. “You got a complaint you wanna file?”

“None so far,” you say, biting down on your grin, “but there's always time. Better be careful with me.”

“I’m always careful,” Joel says into your ear. “Now go on. We got ground to cover.”

There is a method to Joel Miller’s madness. Tommy knows damn well he needs to pick his battles. But Joel will always win when it comes to you. That is where he simply does not compromise.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, Tommy.”

His brother’s hands fly up, palms out, already pleading his case. “Joel, listen to me—”

Joel slaps the book against Tommy’s chest. “I don't need to hear your goddamn excuses. She doesn't go with anyone but me.”

“Listen,” says Tommy, tossing the worn leather agenda aside. “We've got people out sick, and they ain't about to go out in this cold. And you need to be with Flynn, ‘cause Christ knows he ain't trained up enough to handle anything up in those woods.”

Joel scoffs. “And Tad’s trained up enough to go with her? Don't give me that shit, Tommy. She goes with me.”

“Joel—”

“We clear?” He squares up to his brother, folding his arms over his chest.

Tommy rolls his eyes at Joel’s posturing but concedes nonetheless. “Fine. I’ll take Flynn.”

“Good.” Joel turns to leave for the stables. He’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s a strong girl,” says Tommy, “and you can't play guard dog forever.”

The snow has settled a bit in the week since the first fall. It's crystallised and hardened underfoot, packed tightly. Icicles dangle from the naked trees on the outskirts of the woods, and your breath mists. The cold penetrates your jeans and the slivers of exposed wrists where your gloves don't quite meet your coat sleeves. Hugging Joel around the middle, your body heat shudders through him.

“Snow like this is always a goddamn problem,” he mutters.

“Covers tracks,” you say.

“That's right. You do listen.”

“Well, when you give me chocolate…”

Joel veers Princess north and brings your gloved palms to his mouth so he can breathe warm air into them. You sigh your thanks, bumping your forehead into his back before returning to your vigilance as lookout. Once you're well out of the way of the city walls, it's easier to get wrapped up in the blistering wind. You bring your bandanna up over your nose and watch Joel do the same as you pass the river. It’s frozen over, not blue but a sheet of miserable white. You mourn the loss of colour as the wind nips at your skin.

“We’ll have more cover when we break through the trees,” says Joel. “Shuffle closer to me.”

You do, sliding your hips forward. Princess’s reins around one fist, he covers your hands with his other, squeezing you intermittently. His body heat helps you settle comfortably into him.

“What was your first Christmas like with Sarah?”

Joel chuckles. “She was one hell of a rowdy kid. Had to fish her out of the tree one time—only turned my back for a goddamn second.”

You smile fondly. “Thought you were gonna have to drag Ellie kicking and screaming out of that snowball fight the other day. She was a minute away from nailing your brother in the face.”

“Hmph. Asshole probably deserved it,” says Joel. “Sarah’d never hurt a fly. She saved spiders; threw ‘em outside instead of killin’ ‘em. But she’d get along with Ellie. Sometimes I look at her and see Sarah.” Joel’s quiet for a moment, guiding Princess past the tree line where the wind begins to penetrate in bursts rather than a constant stream of cold. “Do you think that's wrong?”

You frown. “No. I don't think so. Sometimes, I talk to kids in town that remind me of you. They’ll have a nose or eyes that make me think of you, and I’ll think it’s so nice that we’re all still here, still kicking. You know? There are parts of Sarah in Ellie and there are parts of that tree over there in me. When we love someone, we see them everywhere.”

Joel brings Princess to a halt about a half-mile into the woods; a trail veers off to the east next to you. He loops her reins around the branch of a tree and helps you off the horse. “Y’know,” he says, “you're too damn smart for your own good.”

“You’ll do well to remember that, Miller.” You shove your bandanna back down so it lies limp around your neck. “Now show me this spot.”

Joel failed to warn you that it involved a hike. An honest-to-fuck hike. You and your boots are used to traversing long distances, but you hadn't particularly prepared to trek through the frozen woods in December on a few hours’ sleep, a couple hours’ orgasm, and a hastily-chugged cup of coffee. Not had you prepared for an uphill hike in the brutal cold just to find a fucking Christmas tree.

If you didn't like him so damn much, you know for a fact you'd happily throttle your Joel.

Your Joel, who can't seem to find a tree that's good enough for you. Too tall, he'll say about one, won't fit inside your place. Too skinny, he’ll say about another, you could barely string lights on that.

Your lungs are burning cold. Every breath you inhale feels like swallowing needles. Your chest heaves and your cheeks are numb and you’re drawing up what's left of your resolve to give him a piece of your mind.

“Nah, not this one,” he’s saying, knocking his fist against the trunk of another tree. “It’s practically hollow. Would crumble the second we—”

“Joel, if you could find a tree you do like so we can head back and I can stop freezing to death, that would be so, so appreciated.”

Your teeth chatter the whole time, but you get your message across. Joel stops, his hand splayed against another tree, a smaller one with a decent-sized middle, and turns to face you.

“You cold, baby?”

It's not an innocent question. Around you, the wind whips at the branches of the tallest trees and crackles through the air. But Joel’s voice, slow and gravel-thick, permeates the breeze. It bites deeper, to the gums, latched in your skin. It’s warm.

No—it's hot.

Joel’s hand drops from the tree. His foot crunches the snow under his boot as he takes a step toward you.

Wordlessly, you nod.

“You had lots to say before, baby girl. Thought you wanted your Christmas tree.”

You do. Fuck, you want to go home. You want to curl up in his bed with another cup of coffee and warm yourself up with his body. But Joel is staring at you, eyes hard, rubbing his gloved hand over his mouth, and the alternative now feels much more tempting. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you should see for yourself,” he says, “whether or not you want this one. Go on.”

He's playing some game. He’s ringed with silvery light, a soft and hazy glow backlighting his longer hair, threaded with grey, his body so broad, solid, strong—

There’s none of your Joel in the way he stands. This is the Joel who’s used to following orders. This is the Joel he never lets you truly see: the man who has seen so many more years, seen so much more of the world.

You pass him, hiking farther up the trail, to inspect the tree. It is decent; just taller than you, but thick enough to stay upright, plush with needles. A gentle tug at your scalp, a puff of warm air on your cheek, the dizzying weight of him at your back. He’s twirling a lock of your hair between two gloved fingers.

“You like it?” he says gruffly, his mouth mere inches from your ear. The telltale tingling begins in your core and you swallow hard.

“Joel, I didn’t mean to—”

“Shhh. None of that. I wasn’t thinkin’, sweetheart.” He nips at your earlobe, hands trailing down your body, underneath your heavy coat, sitting warmly on your hips. “Gotta keep my girl nice ‘n’ warm. Got all caught up in my own head, thinkin’ like a carpenter. Let me make it up?”

He loves so selflessly that it can feel bizarrely like greed.

Sometimes, you forget that he’s so much older. That he lived his own way of living for a long time before you came along, that he knows this planet like that back of his hand, that you can’t even begin to name a country or a food or a song that FEDRA didn’t teach you. That you’ve only just begun to experience the terror and the pain that’s engulfed this world for so long.

Joel Miller’s lived a long life. He’s choosing to spend these moments with you, in the cold, dead woods, picking out a Christmas tree. For as long as he’s been waking up with you, his girl, he’s wanted you longer. He’s tired. He’s old. But he’s finally getting to choose.

He’d like to think he deserves a bit of choice after all this time. So, again, he comes back to you, like the last time and the last, spreading his fingers over your body and cupping you, molten gold, in his hands.

Settle down, his brother told him a few years back. You deserve this, Joel. To just… settle down, if you can ever find a way.

You’re his way. He intends to make it clear.

“Need to hear you say yes, baby,” he says, shifting your hair aside, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck where it’s warm and quiet and smells of the coffee he always makes you.

“Yes,” you whisper, reaching back to fix your hand at the nape of his neck and glue him to you. “Please. Please, Joel.”

He grins, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat, the fluttering veins below your jaw. He steals every one of your heartbeats for himself.

“All right,” he says. “We’ll get this one.”

Eyes lidded, you watch over your shoulder as Joel fiddles with the button of your jeans and yanks down your panties with them, now hanging limply off your knees.

“Joel!” you gasp. The cold air bites your thighs, your ass, your poor, slick pussy, as he unwraps his present. Playfully squeezing your ass, he grinds his clothed front against you.

“Yeah, baby?” he mumbles, the smug bastard, pinning you to the tree by his strong hips, your fingers splayed on the trunk. Above you, pine needles flutter down to the ground around you, but the trunk doesn't budge.

It is a good tree.

“‘m cold,” you manage, putty in his hands, under the sweet, slow kisses he's pressing to your jaw.

Your petulant whine rivals the pitch of the wind off the mountain trail. The whistling air shrieks. The hard weight at your back absconds with the warmth it brought you, and he's bending to one knee, packing a not-quite spherical ball of snow in his gloves.

“You’re cold?” It doesn't sound like a question and you're nodding anyway, your cheek scraping the bark of the fir tree. It smells of terpenes and the shingles of bark bleed resin.

“I’m so cold, Daddy.”

He stands, and a huge glove is caging your ribs, a bearded cheek nuzzling your temple. “Let’s see, baby girl. Open wide.”

He brings his other hand between your exposed thighs and, lips prying at the corner of your mouth, cups the feebly-formed snowball against your pussy.

“Daddy,” you gasp, writhing away and grinding into his hand all the same, your mouth open in a long, pitiful cry. Your silvery breath ascends in a long-limbed dance with his own.

The snow melts in moments, rubbed firm into the scorching heat of your body, but you feel the biting cold against your clit as if it were pulled between a set of pearly teeth.

“See?” There’s a cruel tone of mocking in it and you preen like it’s a sweet lullaby. “Nice ‘n’ warm.”

He mouths at the crook of your neck, hot and wet, tongue dipping into the junction between your ear and your jaw, where it’s soft and does not hurt when he bites down.

The once-packed snow, now tepid and formless, drips down your thighs, and the air is so cold it begins to freeze again. Joel hears your helpless moan and takes pity, unbuckling his own jeans just enough to pull out his cock.

But he doesn't slot himself at your needy hole and push slowly inside you the way he did last night. No—he guides the leaking head between your thighs and closes your legs around him, the length of him flush to your cunt.

“Ohhhh, fuck.” You shiver, dropping your forehead against the tree, as Joel lubricates his cock with the melted water of the snowball and begins to fuck himself between the cushions of your thighs. “Joel… oh my God, Daddy—”

He grunts, taking it slow, the wet slide of his cock electrifying, cold and warm all at once, his body caging yours against the tree. With every thrust, the head of his cock catches on your clit, and he gasps in your ear, nibbling your exposed skin. You grasp at his hair, the hand that presses down on your belly, fixing him to you.

“That's it, baby. Goddamn, you feel so good. So fuckin’ soft, just for me, all for Daddy, right, baby girl?”

“Yes, yes! I’m yours, all yours, please…” Your thighs twitch when his cock drags along your clit once more, and it's so good—but it's not enough.

“I know,” groans Joel, lowering your joined hands to your clit and rubbing slow, aching circles over your slick pearl. A strained moan rumbles in your chest and your head grows heavy, falling back on his shoulder. The pleasure, white-hot and insistent, makes you forget all about the cold air savagely biting off chunks of your skin. It's all Joel. “I know, baby girl. That feel good?”

“Mmmm,” you manage, breathless and panting, your exhales swirling up into the air and disappearing in the trees. He keeps your hands joined, working in tandem to pleasure your needy clit. “Mhm, so good. Just like that.”

Joel nods into the crook of your neck, keeping the pressure steady on your clit as he continues to get himself off between your legs. “My pretty girl, so cold,” he rasps, “so needy. Y’know I’d get you anything you wanted.”

You nod vigorously, wetting his cock with your arousal, gloved fingers slick on your pussy. The rough grind of the leather closes an electrical circuit up and down your body. Joel Miller has always known how to make you feel safe, cared-for—sensations you'd never known before Jackson. With him, you're glutted, satiated. With you, he’s begun his long winter’s task of settling down.

“Let go for me, baby,” he says, taking your jaw between his teeth as he feels his stomach tighten, his balls pulling up. “C’mon, baby girl, let me feel it. Get yourself all warm with me.”

He rubs your clit faster until you're seizing, core tensing, your mouth open in a long, low cry that echoes down the trail. Joel talks you through it, good girl, that’s it, I know it’s a lot, honey, just let go, and your fingers flex, trapped in his, as you come until your legs are trembling.

Joel hums like he's satisfied, his hips pummeling into your backside in stuttering thrusts that indicate he's coming, too. “You gonna let me come, baby girl?” he says, baring his teeth against your cheek. “Gonna forgive me?”

“Yesyesyes! Fuck, you’re so good. Please come for me, Daddy, please!”

“Fuck, baby, I will. I will.” And he does—stuffing his cock between your thighs, it begins to pulse beneath your cunt, spilling hot cum all over your legs, your pussy, the tree he’s pinned you against. All the while, he holds you tight, his mouth greedy on you, words coaxed into your ears that aren't meant for another soul.

“You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine.” He's rambling as he comes down, spurts of cum still dribbling from his cock down your thighs. “Goddamn perfect.”

You shiver as the cold begins to seep back in through your skin, even as Joel helps pull your jeans back up over your ass. It's a bit uncomfortable, feeling the slide of his cum on your legs underneath the denim, but you smile anyway, letting him guide you to face him, your foreheads pressing together.

“I like this one,” you tell him. Joel laughs, bringing your mouth to his for another kiss.

“Dude, where the fuck did you get this?”

You look over your shoulder at Ellie, who inspects your miniature figurine, now with a home just inside your foyer.

“Joel gave it to me,” you tell her.

“Whooooa. You think he could make me a dinosaur?”

You turn to Joel, who's nursing some bourbon and hiding a smile in the rim of the glass. “That's a great question, Ellie. What do you think, Joel?”

“C’mon, man, when do I ever ask you for anything?”

Joel chokes into his glass. “Every goddamn day of your life, Ellie.”

“Okay, well, just think about how cool it would be to have a dinosaur. It’s basically the real thing.”

Joel shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. Maybe next year.”

“Ugh. Fine. But don't think I’m not gonna remember.”

Idly rubbing his back, you lean into him and turn your head toward the tree. It sits tall and proud in the corner, strung with a couple coloured lights Maria had found for you, hung with baubles that some of the schoolchildren had been thrilled to make. It's a bit bare in spots, haphazardly decorated, prickly to the touch.

“You like it?” asks Joel, nudging his nose against your temple.

“It's perfect.”

He grins into your cheek. “You think she’ll like the dinosaur?”

Your eyes fall to the smattering of gifts under the tree, tossed into spare crates and bags.

“Ellie, why don't you open first?”

follow @kiwisbellupdates and turn on notifs to be updated when i post a fic!

#kiwisbell's fics #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #12 days of pedro #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fic #tw daddy kink

1K notes · View notes

tragedybunny · 8 months

Text

A Little More Than a Nibble - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion wakes you up at camp looking for a late night snack. You both end up with something a little more. (Fluff, Angst)

Yes I'm on the Astarion train. How can you not love him?

This short is set before Astarion's act 2 confession

Something called to you from the dark, stirring you out of sleep. Fragments of the waking world brushed against your consciousness; a dying fire, a far off owl calling, a presence hovering over you. The cold influx of terror lasts only a moment as you realize the presence is not only familiar but expected at this point. “Are you awake darling?” Astarion’s voice exudes the beguiling charm that’s become so familiar to you, familiar enough you’ve started to catch the hint of artifice that lays behind it.

Sleep-heavy eyes drift open to find him kneeling down next to you, red eyes fixed on you. The deep slumber is hard to shake off and your answer is no more than a drowsy whisper. “I am now.”

“Oh apologies my sweet but I was just wondering if…” He lets the words hang for a moment, waiting for your mind to catch up, to finish the implication. Really though it could only be about one of two things since you’re the one in camp that’s been both fucking and feeding him. And with the ungodly hour, you can easily conclude which it is.

“No luck hunting?” He deserves at least a little teasing for waking you like this.

“Actually I was thinking about you and couldn’t get the taste of you off my tongue. Would you mind terribly if I had just a little taste, just a slight nibble?” Perhaps you’ve been too indulgent with him and he’s grown used to getting his way with you, a habit you really should put to an end. If only the mere suggestion of those teeth at your neck didn’t make you quiver with excitement.

Still, it won’t do to placidly let him have his way every time. “You say slight nibble, and I wake up woozy the next morning. I fail to see what I get out of this little arrangement.”

For a moment, you think you see the slightest hint of hurt at your refusal, before he swiftly resumes his flirtatious persona. “Why, you get my gratitude and affection. Both of which are undying, I might remind you.”

It’s not the honeyed words that convince you, it’s the ghost of an emotion, the possibility of vulnerability, that there’s something beneath the mask he shows everyone, even you. Not that you would really refuse, you’re too far gone for that. Life as the daughter of a noble house of Baldur’s Gate primed you for this, to fall for a man so wrong, and dangerous, and not at all anything you should want. Rebellion after years of complicity, years of forced perfection and crafted smiles, of doing everything expected of you. The Illithid ship had given you a terrible burden, but it had also been more freedom than you’d ever known in your life. Freedom that didn’t necessarily come with inbuilt wisdom. Silently, you throw back the covers, beckoning him into the bed roll beside you. With a satisfied smile, he gracefully slides in, body pressed against yours.

The first time you’d let him do this it had been awkward, sloppy almost, a fact explained by the later revelation you were his first. Now familiarity has led to comfort, intimacy of its own sort. Different than just sex, but no less thrilling. An arm around your waist, he buries his head into the crook of your neck, lips brushing up against it in a gentle kiss first that makes you shiver before the bite.

The sharp ice of those teeth piece your skin and drive into the blood flowing in your veins. Then you feel it, the echo of your blood flowing into his veins. It had frightened you the first time but now it sends a wave of bliss through you. An involuntary sigh escapes you and you know if his mouth wasn’t full, he’d be tormenting you for how much you enjoy it. Arms loop around his shoulders, pulling him tighter against you, as though you are begging for more. You are though aren’t you? You can’t get enough of this, of him.

Drifting away, you lose yourself in him, a sweet surrender to an inexorable pull. As promised though, he’s only taken a taste when he lets up, pulling away, and licking any drops from your skin. The control he’s starting to show is impressive, even if it leaves you yearning for the strange connection of his feeding. Knowing that he never lingers after any encounter between the two of you, you unwrap your arms which feel so much heavier now, letting him go. Unexpectedly, he remains, head now resting on your chest, forehead pressed to your cheek. “Not going to eat and run?”

“In such a hurry to be rid of me?” He murmurs, his face hidden so you don’t even have a chance of reading his expression.

You’re not naive, despite what the others might believe. There’s nothing more you expect beyond what already passes between the two of you. Even if you believe you could care for him, he’s not open to you that way. Still, even if the tone is nonchalant, you feel there’s a loneliness behind it he's not quite hiding all the way. “I didn’t say that.” He doesn’t ask directly to stay and you know he won’t, so you pull the covers over the two of you and put your arms back around him and without saying another word.

With a subtle shift, you feel him get near your throat once again before stopping himself. “Perhaps I should go.”

“You don’t have to, I trust you.” Tentatively, you reach a hand up and softly stroke it through his silver hair. First he tenses, and you wait for a reproach for being too tender with him, but none comes. A moment later and you feel the tension release and he relaxes again. Your eyes are heavy, your body desperately craving sleep, but you're afraid there will never be another moment like this, with him so close, and not pushing you away. So you fight to stay conscious, and keep your fingers moving gently as long as he allows it. Sleep comes to claim you again though, and just as the world fades around you, lips brush your collarbone and the arm around your waist holds a little tighter.

The dawn comes, and the camp stirs. When you find the empty space in your bed roll, you tell yourself your heart doesn’t break a little and get ready to get on with your day.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

minty364 · 2 months

Text

DPXDC Prompt #43 Part 1

Everything had been going well on their trip. Danny was going to tell his parents all about his past, and about being the half dead ghost king. Unfortunately, Danny’s life had a reputation for how terribly unlucky he was. He and his family were caught off guard, and even Danny couldn’t prevent himself from fainting when hit in the back of the head with what he assumed must have been something metal.

When he came too he could tell his arms were bound together behind his back and there were two others adjacent to him. He didn’t shift or open his eyes to avoid letting their abductors know he was awake. He could hear some soft tapping that almost sounded like chalk. There were hushed whispers but they were too muffled to hear. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed but he was starting to get a little bored. He knew his family was probably with him, they were right next to him and would have noticed him getting kidnapped.

Eventually he heard a rustling sound next to him, they must be waking up too, “Maddie? Danny?” Their soft voice spoke.

There wasn’t a reply but that meant Danny was correct, well at least about his dad. He wasn’t 100% sure if mom and Jazz were here but he needed to figure out a way to get out of this without letting their kidnappers know he had powers.

Another shift this time in the opposite direction. “Mom? Danny?”

“Jazzie-Pants!! Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you did they?” His words were a bit panicked and almost made Danny reveal his awareness.

“No. I’m fine, Dad? Where are we?” Jazz sounded more annoyed than worried.

A voice interrupted them before their dad could respond, “Quiet hunter scum,” the bags were removed from all of their heads and then ice water was thrown out of a bucket at them. Everyone else groaned as they were shocked awake by how cold it was.

Danny figured there was no use pretending to sleep now so he opened his eyes. They had been captured by cultists and were tied next to each other with a large circle drawn out in chalk. The circle, from some of the runes Danny could make out, looked like a summoning one. Upon further examination they looked more closely to the ones that would summon him, too bad it won’t work since he’s already here… They don’t know that though, and he could use this opportunity to mess with them.

One of the cultists, probably the leader, stepped forward and started speaking toward his followers and started a really long winded speech but a couple things caught Danny’s attention. One they were sacrificing him and his family because his parents hunted ghosts so the Ghost King would of course seek revenge. Two there were five of them there, that meant an extra person was tied up as a sacrifice as well. Who that was Danny didn’t know but he had to save them, he’d get them all out of here.

“That’s all quite fascinating but what does this have to do with me?” A familiar voice said. Danny knew exactly who the voice belonged too and it wasn’t his Mom, Dad, or sister. The fifth person happened to be his twin brother whom he hadn’t spoken to since before he faked his death.

Damian, from the sound of his voice, was behind Danny probably on the other side of his Dad. Danny hadn’t said anything yet so Damian was unaware Danny was there. The dark cavern like room didn’t allow a lot of room for light but there were quite a few candles and torches illuminating the space.

Before anyone could say anything else a loud crash was heard, Danny couldn’t see as the noise was behind him and the room descended into chaos.

Master Post:

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny and damian are twins #they got kidnapped by cultists #They get rescued in the next one #shenanigans #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use #im glad tags that you use often pop up for you to use #I feel like I’m forgetting something though

576 notes · View notes

fabric-shower-curtain · 1 month

Text

By complete accident I somehow have the autopsy scar mod on top of the bhaalist tattoo mod, don’t ask me how they’re both on my durge I have no idea how it happened. But it got me thinking how would the origin characters (+halsin) react/barely react to a lover that is heavily scarred and tattooed? (Set in Act 1)

Read more for the full brainrot

Astarion: The first time Astarion saw your body for himself was when he walked past your tent late at night, through the flaps in the entrance he saw all those scars, he couldn’t tell what had you awake this late in the night, especially mostly naked with your back turned. The vampire simply continued on his way to hunt for the night. He dropped it there, until that is, the second night in the clearing you two spent together. He was lying down leaning his head against his arms as his red eyes stared at your naked body. His eyes flowed down every scar that littered your body, he barely seemed to look at the tattoos but that’s what he asked about first “So, can you translate that one?” - he points to the tattoo across your left arm, lifting up the limb you pull your skin to take a proper look at it. It’s been a while since you properly saw it, because just out of sight enough to make it annoying to stare at. When you tell him Astarion seems content with the information. His fingers drift across the tattoo. It’s a tender moment until the elf’s hand floats toward your neck. His ice cold fingers dancing across the lingering puncture wounds on your neck - “But these are by far my favorite mark on you,” You lean into Astarion’s touch releasing a chuckling sigh before calling him the weirdest flirt you have ever seen.

Gale: He really didn’t mean to go to the river at the same time he truly meant to go two hours early when he said he would, but that tome was particularly interesting - the effects of adrenaline on libido, certainly important for a man so restricted by his netherese orb. But now it was two hours past and he definitely had a musk going on. Taking an extra robe and rag Gale went to the nearby river, only you were there too. Illuminated in moonlight you were bare in front of him. Gale cleared his throat loudly, trying to let you know he was there. What he did not expect was for you to whip around and get out of the water to say hello. He tried his best to only look at your face, he did not succeed. Your skin was glowing with a vei of water cascading down in droplets. Gale’s eyes followed one droplet from your hair, down your neck, across your chest until a certain tattoo caught his eye, infernal script. Trying to keep his focus on the tattoo rather than the flesh its on he asked you if it meant what he thought it did. He was right in fact, and you told him the story behind why you got it, quite the nice tale. The wizard relaxed enough to notice another scar across your soldier “Is that from a magic missile?” He asked without thinking. Nodding in confirmation you turned to show your shoulder blade where the other two missiles struck. As you turned around the coldness of the night hit you like a thunder wave, a massive shiver shook your entire body spraying tiny water droplets around. “Gosh you must be freezing,” - Gale wrapped you in his towel-rag before stressfully ushering you back towards the camp. Once you got back to your tent you realized you left your towel and clothes on a nearby rock, you could return the peeping Tom favor.

Halsin: Halsin adores you long before he ever saw your birthday suit, sure he thought about it, quite a lot, but with his focus deep on the shadow-curse he doesn’t have time to do much other than think about out. But the first time he does see you was far from romantic or sensual. A hook horror had slashed your entire back open when you got to close, and Halsin watched it all happen. Before the beast even hit the ground he was rushing over to you, he didn’t think, he just ripped your armor right off of you to get to the wound. You might have been screaming but his ears were ringing too loud to tell one noise from another. Halsin couldn’t even see where scar ended and fresh cut began, your tattoos were doused in enough blood to make them impossible to see against your skin. The bear of an elf’s hand floated above the wound with the same glowing blue light the hook horror’s body was basking in, thank silvanus he was far enough from the sussur tree for his magic to work. Even with his healing a scar in the same place as the monster's claw marks stayed. Halsin’s druidic skills must be faltering, that’s what he determines at least. Until the next day, you’re healed fully up and about getting ready to leave camp for the day. Halsin calls out your name - “I’m sorry I could not heal you fully, I tried best I could but the scar persists” to his confusion you begin laughing. The scar he’s so upset about has been on you for so long now, and you tell him such. His healing left no scar, in fact he healed you so well an old scar was able to show.

Karlach: The first time she saw you naked you were bathing next to each other after a battle. Even with Dammon’s initial upgrade you can’t touch each other, but you swore to find ways to be intimate without touching, just like this. However you neglected to inform her about what lay under your clothes until now, scars covering you head to toe interlaced with tattoos of varying quality. “Hey Soldier! How come you didn’t tell me before stealing my aesthetic!” You didn’t even register this was the first time exposing yourself in such a way, a brief moment of panic before you burst into a smile. “Come here, let me see them” Karlach makes you twirl around, using the faintest touch of her fingers to pull your arms out and see the tattoos wrapping around them. Her eyes continued to trail down your body, after a gasp she jumped back up to your face - “That burn scar looks like mine!” She said before pulling down her trousers to show you the near identically placed scar on her thigh. But Karlach didn’t ask about the obviously fresher stab scars, she continued to smile at her new discovery but lets the two of you properly bathe for once.

Lae’zel: Even when pinning you against a wall the githyanki warrior wasn’t particularly gentle. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into tonight, she had said pretty explicitly she seemed carnal pleasure. Somehow Lae’zel was even more assertive in such a scenario than during your adventures. You couldn’t even take your own armor off, she practically ripped it off of you. Your body is exposed to her in an instant, she doesn’t react, her hands go immediately to unlace your trousers and undergarments. The night is enjoyable even as exhausting as it was. Only much later does Lae’zel ever comment on them, and its in a conversation praising you two’s battle prowess “Each scar is a battle fought, a battle won.” You try not to tell her you have at least two scars from dropping the knife while cooking with Gale. She’s sweet in her own way.

Shadowheart: Shadowheart first saw you naked while healing a particularly cruel wound, goblin had snuck up on you and slashed your torso deep. You stabilized yourself quick enough with a healing potion but the wound persisted. After the battle you wandered your way over to Shadowhearts tent, asking for help. She laid you down atop her bedroll, sliding your shirt off as you let yourself relax into the makeshift bed. And then you caught it, Shadowheart’s eyes widened, shit. But she didn’t say anything; she pressed her warm hands towards your open wound as they lit alight with magic. Radiating from your gash the warm feeling washed over you, your eyes closed softly breathing out in relief. Shadowheart quelled her magic, looking over you for a fat moment. You can feel her eyes wandering over you, up and down your chest, down your stomach and across both your arms. The relief of healing has left you now but you’re still too scared to open your eyes. And then a soft hand traced along your largest scar, her fingers were so light it tickled. “I like your tattoos.” The half-elf’s voice was soft, her eyes focused back on your large scar, “How’d you get that one.” Whether or not you tell the story she’s content, happy to have this extra piece of you in her memory.

Wyll: Poor Wyll just wanted to ask about the plans for tomorrow, but not only did he smack his horns on the skeleton of your tent while entering but you’re also as naked as the day you were born. The man nearly shrieked like he saw a ghost, his entire chest swelled up with his shoulders shooting up and he looked like he just swallowed a frog. Without a word Wyll turned on his heel and left your tent, only after trying to cool his blushing face off did he even process all your markings. Upon the log he sat on he dragged his hand up and down his face trying to process what the hells just happened. And then you exited your tent, completely decent this time. You greeted Wyll and sat beside him wondering what he had barged in about in the first place. But the poor man can’t even look at you. He as calmly as he could gave you the sincerest apology you’ve ever heard. After your acceptance he finally turns to you “So what does that tattoo across your back mean?” You pause for a moment, then explain as best you can. And that conversation continues just like that, he’d ask how you got a certain scar or tattoo and you’d answer him. In return he showed you one particularly nasty scar on his arm from a monster he fought while traversing the sword coast. What may have started as the most embarrassing moment of your partnership ended with you closer than before.

392 notes · View notes

iliketangerines · 1 month

Note

consider the lin kuei brothers growing obsessive over someone and basically imprisoning her?

bi-han is obsessed with breeding the next lin kuei heir, of course. kuai liang thinks the outside world is dangerous and she's safer here. tomas just wants comfort and a big happy family of his own, and the reader can provide both of these! how lovely :)

i think temperature play and mindbreak go lovely with this - go crazy w this prompt otherwise i love reading ur writing

all ours

a/n: mmmmm, dark content my beloved

pairing: bi han, kuai liang, tomas vrbada x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), noncon, dead dove do not eat, breeding kink, pet play, pregnancy kink, pussy eating, overstimulation, creampies, somniphila, degradation kink, fingerfucking

you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and you turn to look over your shoulder

but all you see is the empty living room, and you slowly turn back to stir the food cooking in your pan

the past few weeks, you’ve felt like someone was watching you, waiting for you, like a predator hunting their prey, and you’ve been on edge

you can’t ignore the hissing sound that sounds behind you, and you whip around, wooden spoon in hand

there’s still no one there, but you see smoke rolling out of your bedroom door

you let out a yelp and turn off the stove, hoping that the candle you lit in there hadn’t set anything on fire too badly

you sprint into your room and find nothing there, candle still half-full, and you let out a sigh of relief

but goosebumps trail over your skin, and you turn around and find a tall man standing behind you, masked with feral eyes and gray hair

you try to run, but hands grab onto you from behind and press something against your face

you’re out before you even know it

you wake up with a start, and the world is a bit hazy as you try to blink your eyes open, perhaps it was just a bad dream

you go to rub your eyes and regain your sight, but the unfamiliar sound of a chain rattling startles you awake

you look to your hand and find it cuffed to the bedpost, which you most definitely didn’t put on yourself, and your breath comes out in quick breaths as you pull and tug on the chain

you start to cry, hyperventilating as you realize your ankles are also chained to the bed with little room to move to get off the bed and that you’re completely naked

a slight pressure is on your neck, and you tug at it and realize it’s a collar, like you’re a dog

the doorway to the room you’re in opens, and you try to scramble back as far as you can onto the bed

it’s not far enough as your back hits the headboard and a man with a blue uniform and hair tied up nicely into a bun enters the room

his eyes rove over your figure, and he stalks toward you, eyes not human as he crawls toward you on the bed

you try to kick him to get him away, but he easily catches your leg and squeezes tight, ice forming at the skin and freezing your nerves

you whimper and try to jerk your leg away, ice sending pain shooting up your body, and he lets out a low growl and jerks you toward him

he pins your hands up above you, freezing them in place and you cry as the ice cold temperature burns you, and he laughs at you

he trails his cold hands down your body, admiring the way goosebumps rise wherever he touches, and you squirm as best as you can in his grip to get away

it’s futile, your legs are spread by his hips, and he presses your hips down to stop you from moving

he growls at you to stop, or he’ll do something much worse

a blade of ice forms from his hand, and he points the sharp edge underneath your chin

immediately, you stop and take in shallow breaths as you hiccup and try not to cry as he hums in delight at your compliance

he puts down the ice blade, but it’s just within reach to remind to be good for him

he rubs at your hips and your waist and mutters something under his breath about you’ll bear his heirs, strong boys to lead his clan

you want to cry, scream, fight, but you don’t want to die and so you stay still and let tears drip down your cheeks as your wrists go numb

he trails his fingers down your stomach and spreads open your pussy folds, pressing his thumb into your clit and watching your hips jerk

you try to keep the sounds in, to not give him the pleasure of knowing he was making you feel good, but as he rubs insistent little circles into you, a small whine comes out

he chuckles and tells you he knew you were just a whore, a good little breeding vessel who’ll take his cock like a little slut

you can feel yourself getting wet, and you moan as he dips two cold fingers into your dripping cunt and fucks you roughly on his fingers

he laughs and presses his thumb into your clit, and you start to sob as he brings you closer to the edge against your will

your back arches off the bed as you cum, and your pussy clenches down on his fingers as you coat his fingers in your cum

your head spins as he brings his fingers out of your pussy and shoves them into your mouth, you have half a mind to not bite down and just let his fingers rest in your mouth

he pulls out his cock, and he pushes into you hurriedly, muttering under his breath how he needs to breed you, secure the future of the Lin Kuei, fuck until it takes

you cry as he fucks into you, hips slapping against yours and filling the room with a loud squelching sound

he rubs at your clit, telling you that you’re such a good bitch, such a good whore, gonna fill you up with his seed, have you round and pregnant as much as he can as you take care of his children

you cry as your mind goes blank, and you whine as you go over the edge, he

he grunts as he buries himself deep inside of you and cums inside of you

he stays inside of you, trailing his icy fingers over your body as you try not to think about how you’re stuck here, but your body jerks and twitches underneath his fingertips and keeps you in the present

he starts thrusting his hips in and out of you again, and you whine, saying you can’t please, you can’t you’re too sensitive

he growls at you to take it, and one of his hands go to tug at your collar as he starts fucking into you again

he makes you cum on his cock over and over again, filling you with his seed until you’re just a drooling teary mess and your stomach slightly bulges

he rubs your stomach, mumbling under his breath, but you’re too far gone to hear what he’s said and you pass out as he starts to fuck you again

you wake up, and you’re mostly cleaned up, ice gone

you’re sore and tired, and you quickly fall asleep again and hope someone will come and save you

but no one comes, and you learn that the blue assassin is named Bi Han, grandmaster of the Lin Kuei

you wake up, not completely sure of how many days have passed, but Bi Han has let you out of the chains and explore around the compound as long as you’re on the leash behind him

he brings you to a meeting, body clad in nothing, and you sit by Bi Han’s lap as he waits for the others show

a yellow assassin walks and sees you in Bi Han’s lap, and he immediately complains that you can’t be out, that it’s too dangerous for you

Bi Han growls that you are protected with him around and to keep him mouth shut

a gray assassin puts his hand on the yellow assassin’s shoulder and says Kuai Liang, you should calm down

Kuai Liang, it seems his name is, has furrowed eyebrows, but he listens and sits down to listen to the meeting

you sit silently by Bi Han’s legs, picking at the floorboards as you wait for him to finish up, and he brings you back to your room and locks the door, leaving you alone and chained to the bed

it’s only a few moments later when you hear the door latch open, and you look up and find Kuai Liang and not Bi Han

he closes the door behind him and locks it and crawls onto the bed

you flinch as he touches you

he’s much warmer than Bi Han, much much warmer, so much that it burns, and you whimper at the temperature difference

he laughs and coos at you, saying you’re just too cute, too innocent, that you need to be protected, too pretty for this filthy world

he mouths at your skin as he mumbles the words, and you let him, too scared to try and fight back like you had when Bi Han had first brought you here

he pulls your legs apart and admires your pussy, already wet for him, and he crawls down to place his cheek on your thigh

he places his tongue against your clit, and you whimper as the heat scorches through you

he hums at your small sounds and laps into your pussy desperately, trying to draw out more sounds from you, and he brings his hand up to fuck you on his fingers

you whine at the feeling, fingers thick and hot, as he fucks you slowly, stretching you out for his cock

he looks up at you, and he hums into your clit at the sight of your head thrown back in pleasure

he doubles his efforts, sucking on your clit and humming around it, and the vibrations travel up your mind and make your mind go blank as you whine and cum on his tongue

he moans into your pussy as he moves down so his nose grinds into your sensitive clit and he licks at your pussy to collect your release on his tongue

he mumbles out that you’re so sweet, so good for him, too good for this world, and he dives back into your cunt to make you cum on his tongue, he needs to taste you again

you cry as he keeps on lapping at your oversensitive clit, but he ignores your protests and keeps tasting you and fucking you on his tongue

you can’t think as he makes you cum on his tongue over and over again, groaning into you messy cunt as he grinds his hips into the bed and comes inside of his pants

but he can’t stop even as you start to push against him against all of your training

he doesn’t care, just can’t stop, and you end up passing out as makes you cum one more time on his fingers

Kuai Liang visits you more often after that

and then, the last one comes out of nowhere

you’re sleeping on the bed, cuddling into the pillows as you try to remember the days before, your past life before all this, but the memories are slipping and you can’t remember

can’t remember your home, can’t remember your friends, can’t remember your family, and all the days are starting to blur

and you can see your stomach growing, and by the way Bi Han had reacted at the sight of your plumping thighs and breasts and hips, you know you’re pregnant

but right now, you’re away from the both of them, letting your body rest

until you feel a hand brush over your stomach and something press into your back, hot and throbbing

an unfamiliar voice croons at you, telling you look so pretty carrying children, so so pretty and beautiful, that you’ll make a great parent, so loving and gorgeous as you’re filled with more heirs

he raises your legs up, cuddling into your neck and pressing kisses into your skin as he slides his cock between your folds to collect your growing wetness

he slides into you, and you whine at the stretch, but he kisses your neck and apologizes quietly as he fucks into you

you can’t do anything except take it as he fucks you and shower you in compliments, and his cock stretches you side and full, tip brushing against that sweet spot inside you

you throw your head back and whine as your oversensitive cunt clamps down on his cock and cums all over him all too quickly

he coos at you and tells you that you’re so good for him as he continues to thrust his cock deep inside of you

you clutch onto the sheets as he makes you cum on his cock a few more times before he grunts and spills his seed into you, staying seated inside of you as he brings your leg down and wraps his arms around your ample chest

you sob and whimper quietly as he tells you you’re so pretty for him, for them all, that you’ll give him and the others a big happy family

months pass, they continue coming to your room, bringing you out only if you’re hooked on your leash, and you’re starting to lose your mind

everything becomes harder as your belly rounds and grows plump with Bi Han’s child, and the men grow more handsy, more dangerous and aggressive towards their own soldiers

you cower in fear as they kill one of their men in cold blood for looking at you for too long, and they bring you back to your room and Bi Han stays with you, marking you in his kisses and hickeys

you’re never returning home, and you finally accept it, tears rolling down as your mind goes blank and forgets your past

304 notes · View notes

agustdiv1ne · 6 months

Text

𖤐⋆°·.3:13 a.m. (m) — choi beomgyu

genre: smսt (mdni! ageless blogs dni!!), vampire boyfriend!beomgyu, fem!human!reader, mc gets her period, oral (f receiving), bloodplay (ig), i would say i'm sorry but i'm not <3

wc: 3.2k

beomgyu awakes to the smell of blood flooding his nostrils.

bleary eyes snap open as he shakes himself from his suspended state of consciousness, only for him to squint at the glaring crimson numbers of the alarm clock sitting upon the nightstand. it's terribly early. early enough that the stars still glitter against the sable background of the sky outside, early enough that this particular bedroom of his manor remains bathed in darkness. the dimness of the room, however, proves to be no issue for beomgyu's enhanced sight; he watches as your chest rises and falls in steady succession, your sleeping form blissfully unaware of his current predicament.

oh god, it's you. the blood is yours. the sweet, saliva-inducing perfume of the crimson ichor overwhelms your typically clean, subtle scent; and yet according to his keen senses, the aroma is richer this time, somehow. more potent — he has not smelt anything as addicting in decades. it makes it all the easier for him to want to give into the primal urge to absolutely devour you, to feed and feed and fucking feed from your pretty little neck until he’s sated and you’re halfway brainless. with a jerky shake of his head, he pushes those instincts swirling in his chest into a dark corner of his mind. he’d never feed from you without your permission. he’s not like that; no, he’s not like his former coven that would hunt defenseless humans like you for sport, taking turns drinking from the victim’s body until their veins ran dry. no, he is far from being like them. he loves you, and he’d never do anything that could hurt you.

another wave of sweet iron wafts into his nose, and he exhales sharply, sitting up against the headboard. shit, he really should leave. he should run far away until he can no longer smell you, but he remains frozen in place. sitting there, he takes in how you begin to curl in on yourself, your brows furrowing as if you're in pain. the sight snaps him out of his bloodlust-induced daze, blinking hard when you groan and turn away from him on the bed, your arms wrapped around your midsection — cramps. you’re cramping.

blood, cramping…oh, beomgyu realizes, your period must have started.

the two of you are typically more careful than this, tracking your cycle and ensuring that he is far, far away when it inevitably does hit you. perhaps you’ve both become too complacent in your safety measures after being together so long. it’s easy to forget that he could pose a threat to you when he’s never given you a reason to fear him. he is considered a monster by many, yes, but not by you — and that’s all that really matters to him. besides, beomgyu likes to think he could control himself no matter what, especially when it comes to you and your safety; but when he looks down to his hands, he finds that the fabric of the comforter has been torn open due to his unrelenting grip. his eyes squeeze shut. he needs to leave. he needs to leave right now. you’re too tempting, too testing for his natural instincts. run. run far away before he loses control.

rolling over, your head lands on his lap, arms curling around his left leg as you nuzzle your nose into the smooth skin of his thigh. it’s stronger now, that overwhelming scent. he feels like there’s a frog stuck in his throat, ice in his veins — he needs to get out of here. right fucking now. gently, he tries to peel your body from his, but your arms have become vines, curled tightly around his leg, the side of his knee pressed into the valley between your breasts. they curl tighter as he tries to slip his hands beneath them, but he refuses to use the full extent of his strength on you.

“baby,” he murmurs, nudging your shoulder only to receive no response. he grits his teeth together, he gulps, he tries again. “baby, wake up. you need to let go.”

you let out a sleepy mumble of his name, hooded eyes just beginning to focus as you look up at him. slowly, you take in the stiffness in his posture, his fleeting gaze illuminated by the moonlight. frowning, you set your chin on his thigh, eyes fluttering to a close once again. “what’s going on?”

“i need to leave, darling,” he grits out — he wants to bite you. he can’t bite you. he can’t. he fucking won’t.

any fatigue remaining in your body drains from your system the moment he utters those words, worry flooding your veins in its wake. you sit up, arms curling around yourself as you lean closer to him, barely registering the pain in your abdomen. his eyes squeeze shut, dark brows furrowing as he shifts away. “why? did something happen? are you in danger—”

how are you so selfless? why, of all things, is the first thing that comes to your mind is his safety? you’re the one that may be in danger here, and he is the reason why you might be.

you’re on his lap now, hands sliding over the planes of his face and down to cup his jaw. “gyu, c’mon. why do you need to leave?”

his eyes glint red before returning back to normal, razor-sharp fangs elongating before retracting again. his hands remain by his side while he shakes his head, gripping the sheets so cruelly that the threads are on the verge of tearing. now that your legs are parted, he can barely think straight. he needs to taste you, he has to—

“your period just started.”

his voice has lowered to a snarl, resounding from deep within his chest and straight into the pit that has opened up in your stomach. restraint pulls his words taut, hungry, feral — he needs something. he needs blood. you know he’s been depriving himself lately, though you’re unsure why, but now…now feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke on you with this divine timing. at the sound of another feral groan passing from his lips, you freeze. the fingers brushing over his jaw tense up, pressing into his skin ever so slightly, your voice whisper-quiet. breathy, shock coating each word, “oh. oh shit, um. i’m so sorry, i didn’t. i thought i had another week until—”

your attempt at climbing off of his lap proves to worsen the situation. in the blink of an eye, he’s grabbed ahold of your hips, halting your movements. crimson tinges the edges of his irises, fangs poking out from his upper lip as he pants. “don’t move. please don’t move. i don’t want—fuck, i don’t want to hurt you, baby, please.”

you sit there for a moment, taking in his pained grimace. he’s fighting himself, he’s fighting every single primal instinct within him telling him to pounce, yet his terribly gentle fingers pressing into your hips indicates that he is still in full control. it’s okay, you think. you’d be okay if he fed.

fingers sliding down to his shoulders, you squeeze. “gyu, you need blood. i know you’re hungry, and it’s okay. i don’t mind.”

in response, he shakes his head. “no, i can’t. i might hurt you, i can’t.”

your lips purse. what could you do? you’re stuck here, in the precarious position, with no clear way out. figure something out, come on. deep breath. in, out. in, out.

suddenly, an idea unearths itself within the walls of your mind, blooms like the moonflowers that so easily captures your attention when you go on walks with your lover. he doesn’t have to feed in the typical way. he could…oh, he could…

“you don’t have to feed from me, baby,” you coo, watching as his eyes flutter open and meet yours. vermillion now, not one speck of brown in sight. with a gentle, encouraging smile, a hand comes up to swipe through his hair. he shivers at the contact, but you can tell he’s still there. he’s still your gyu, hungry or not. in silence, you take the hand that still holds your left hip and guide it down to the apex of your thighs, allowing his fingers to brush over your panty-clad core. “just…taste me from here.”

he inhales sharply at the contact, at your words, wrenching his arm away. his other hand leaves you completely, palms dragging over his face as he attempts to compose himself. every fiber of his being is screaming at him to take the offer, just take the offer and eat you out — you want it, he really wants it…

“i can’t,” he chokes out from behind his hands. with a sigh, you shift your face closer to his, grabbing his wrists to remove his hands. he lets you, he always lets you. his eyes remain closed this time, but you work with it; you know he can hear your heartbeat and the rustling of your shirt, smell your sweetness, feel the warmth radiating off of your face as you press a peck to his cheek.

“i trust you,” you whisper against the corner of his lips. he whispers out a weak refusal, and you shift against him, just a tiny motion of your hips that causes him to hiss. lower lip wobbling, his hands find your hips once more, eyes silently pleading with you to quit moving before he loses it. as you cup his cheeks, you tilt your head. “i know, baby. i know you don’t want to hurt me — and you won’t, i know you won’t. but don’t you want a taste? it smells good, doesn’t it? there’s nothing stopping you from taking what you need.”

his resolve crumbles before your very eyes as you continue to encourage him. he doesn’t even need to bite you, it’ll be okay, you’ll be safe. it’ll feel good for you too, rid you of your cramps in the process — doesn’t he want to help you feel better? you’ll both feel better if he does this.

that’s enough for his composure to splinter, cracks forming and spreading like the roots of a tree until it shatters. there’s little holding him back as he flips you onto your back, him towering over you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. pausing, he stares down at you, voice barely louder than a whisper. “tell me to stop.”

“i don’t want you to,” you murmur back. “take what you need.”

that’s all he needs to hear.

his fangs glint under the moonlight as he swoops in to capture your lips, aggressive, tongue slinking its way past your lips to curl with your own. the kiss itself doesn’t last long, not when one of his fangs slices into your lip, pulling a squeal from you. easily, he tongue locates the wound, laves over it as blood bubbles up to the surface of the flesh. he moans against your mouth at the taste. the sting subsides as the wound closes, and he pulls away.

“need more,” beomgyu rasps. he’s wide-eyed, on the verge of absolute ruin, but you love seeing him like this. you crave to see him lose control. you are not the glass doll he’s made you out to be. you can take it, you can take him, and he needs to realize that sooner or later — preferably now.

so you open your legs that have wrapped themselves around his hips, watch as his eyes roll back into his head, and say, “then have more.”

your panties are torn away from your center with ease, and while he can’t technically die, beomgyu thinks that this might just be the nail in his metaphorical coffin. with the barrier of clothes now eliminated, your scent is no longer obstructed, and you smell absolutely fucking divine. his head spins, nose filled with base notes of iron and sugar and a richness that he’s never experienced before. oh. oh fuck, he’s done for.

sliding down your body until he’s settled between your legs, he holds you open and takes in how blood drips from your fluttering hole. you’re aroused, that much he can tell, and it excites that untamed side of him that he constantly tries to tuck away. it’s out in full force right now, and he doesn’t have it in him to hide it anymore, not when you smell like this, not when your blood is right there for the taking, especially not when you’re inviting him to taste with that sweet little voice of yours, breathy and needy and wanton, pleading for him to touch you.

and fuck, he can’t take it anymore.

he doesn’t buy time with teasing your thighs like he usually does whenever he eats you out — no, he goes in straight for the kill, tongue licking a strip up your pussy, his groans reverberating against your clit as your saccharine blood hits his taste buds. he doesn’t pull away to comment, but you know just by the way his tongue slips into your hole that he likes what he finds. sometimes, you forget that your lover is no longer human — until these moments in which you are brutally reminded, his tongue extending far into your walls as he gives in to his most desires. you cry out as the muscle curls up against the spongy spot inside you, thighs closing around his head, but not for long; fingers curl under your thighs, spreading you open for him as he removes his tongue from your entrance, beginning to lick your folds, your inner thighs, cleaning up the blood that has found its way there. his tongue does not slowly savor your skin. rather, he laps at you like a starved man, pulling you closer and closer to his face. if he were human, you’d be worried if he could breathe.

this must be heaven, he thinks, as he returns back to your folds, tongue swirling around your entrance, his nose bumping against your weeping pearl while his tongue explores your walls as deep as his fingers could go. the sensation is far different from fingers, however — hotter, wetter, you can feel his desperation with every lick and drag, the roughness stimulating every single nerve ending it touches. his hands hold your hips up, holding you as close as possible as he shoves his tongue deeper, the tip of his nose now grinding against your clit.

“g-gyu! fuck, oh my god, gyuuu!” you repeat over and over again, feeling your high approach. the knot in your stomach pulls tighter, and you reach down to rub your clit with sloppy circles. beomgyu growls at this. he knows you’re close, he knows so well, and he wants to get you there. he needs you to experience the nirvana he has reached right now — he needs you right here with him.

his tongue leaves your hole again, but the aching emptiness is quickly remedied with three fingers filling you to the brim. back arching, you plead for mercy, for him to let you cum, for anything. please, god, you’ll take anything. he finds your bud, suckling it between his lips, moans muffled against your core and the knot pulls tighter and tighter and the fire rushing through your veins grows white hot—

the knot snaps.

“fu-uckkk!” you scream, voice cracking as your vision spots white, pleasure rushing through every crevice of your body, thighs quaking and back arching and hands finding hair and yanking. your body feels like it’s floating, the waves of pure bliss unending as he continues his ministrations, removing his fingers so he can revel in the taste of your sweet, sweet blood that gushes from your hole. unable to come down, you remain in the throes of pleasure even as he flips the both of you over, your thighs now cushioning his head as you sit atop his face.

you gasp at the position, his eyes now glowing a bright scarlet in the darkness as he looks up at you. you’ve never seen such a shade on him, and arousal sparks in your stomach once again. “gyu, what—”

“more, need more,” he grunts out, now tracing your folds with his tongue. your gyu is still there, just…hungrier, frantic for more.

if he could taste this for the rest of his life, he would never tire.

“gyu, i don’t— ohhh, shit!” your voice pitches up as he begins to lap at your core, little in his mind other than taking and taking until he’s sated and full. your clit aches with overstimulation, your walls quivering with each pass of his eager tongue as he holds you against him. soon enough, your torso collapses into the mattress, sheets curled between your fingers while you whimper, sweat beading across your heated skin. you can’t. you can’t cum again, and you tell him this again and again, yet he doesn’t heed your cries, building you up and making you cum on his tongue again and again until you can’t even think. your words are incoherent, garbled and tearful against the sheets, begging for him to let up.

“baby, baby i can’t,” you sob as you reach what you think is your fifth orgasm. “gyu!”

finally — fucking finally — he lets up, helps you ride out your high before slipping out from between your thighs. helping you onto your back, he holds your face between his palms, a small trace of blood from his fingers staining your cheek. your blood covers the majority of his lower face, smeared across his chin and lips and even a little on the tip of his nose. if you had enough energy to, you would laugh at the sight.

“gonna go clean up real quick, okay? i’ll be right back,” he murmurs, squeezing your cheeks when you nod. he’s back within mere seconds, irises now back their normal umber and fangs retracted, no longer more animal than human, no traces of your blood on his face anymore.

“you okay?” he asks softly, smiling when you offer a lethargic nod. he climbs over you, sliding his lips over yours, wet, languid kisses exchanged as he slides his hands up and down your sides. “y’did so well for me, darling. thank you for trusting me.”

“told you it would be worth it,” you shoot back, tiredly giggling when his eyes narrow.

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” he replies, eyes softening around the edges as he drinks you in, every curve and edge — perfect. you are perfect to him. hands slides up to your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “you wanna take a bath, love?”

leaning up, you give him a small peck. “that sounds wonderful.”

as beomgyu gathers you in his arm, commenting how he should just burn these sheets since they’re basically ruined, you find yourself thinking that there’s no one else that you would rather spend the rest of your life with — the rest of eternity with, if he’ll allow it. for now, however, you’ll let him tend to you in the bath, pressing butterfly kisses to your neck from behind as you bask in each other’s presence, the sky outside fading from a deep black into a muted azure.

for now, this is enough.

masterlist

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #agust.nsfw #💌 — gyu

936 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 1 year

Note

hi! not sure if you’re still taking requests but if u are may i request the prompt “it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know. you don’t have to carry this alone.” with reader comforting steve? tysm <3

bug's blurb sleepover (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)!

Steve tends to feel things really, really deeply.

When Nancy called him bullshit at a Halloween party and ran off with the weird kid from chemistry class a day later, he felt like it was the end of the world. His world, at least.

He thought it was going to stick with him for the rest of his life — that she was right, that he really was bullshit, and that that truth would haunt him forever. It did. It does. It lurks over his shoulder sometimes, like a shadow or a sleeping dragon.

And when Robin’s mad at him, like mad mad, it makes him feel like dying.

One time he overestimated how tired he was after a shift and forgot to pick Robin up after band practice. He was startled awake from his nap out of nowhere, like his brain knew he’d done something wrong, and realized he was supposed to drive her home over an hour ago.

He found her standing with her trumpet case under the awning in a futile attempt to hide from the pouring rain. She didn’t talk to him for days — not during the drive, not at work the next day, not until he was milliseconds from groveling at her feet for her forgiveness.

But it’s different when he’s happy. He’s got you and he’s got Dustin, and he loves the two of you so much it feels like he might burst sometimes. Adoration spills from his pores like so many little rays of sunshine, leaves him a grinning and gushing thing in the place of a teenage boy.

It’s so much worse with you, though. Because sometimes he feels like his heart beats only for you — that it follows the rhythm of your pulse, that it will stop when yours does.

He can taste every word that spills from your mouth, the one’s coated in venom and honey alike. He can hear every sound of your soul, too. It’s the crackles of an old record player when you’re content, autumn leaves crunching when you’re angry, and the sounds of a deep, deep ocean when you’re sad.

You’re embedded into every fiber of his being. You’ve entwined yourself with him without even realizing it, tucked yourself into the outer regions of his bleeding heart with a fuzzy blanket and a good book — no sign of leaving any time soon.

He loves you hard, too hard. So hard there’s no breath without you.

So when Vecna almost kills you, it feels a little like his life is ending.

He watches you float in midair, his feet still stuck on the ground, totally helpless.

Tears spill from your glazed-over eyes and glitter beneath streams of moonlight. Your body is slack, but your fingers tremble and your brows twitch and your chin quivers. You’re not all there, but you can feel every ounce of fear like an ice-cold bath, painful and numbing all at once. Because you know that you’re going to die. And that there’s nothing anyone else can do to stop it.

Dustin shouts for help into his supercomm, begs for Max to bring her walkman or steal the nearest boombox they see and bring it with them to Lover’s Lake. They’re too far away, though, on the other side of town in Nancy’s too slow Station Wagon picking up more hunting supplies to kill the son of a bitch trying to kill you. He knows they won’t make it in time.

Steve shakes your shoulders and shouts in your face, but you still don’t wake. He keeps a hold of you until you’re out of his reach entirely — rising and rising and rising until you’re six feet off the ground. Then he’s just begging, shouting pleas up at you, at god, at Vecna — the shriveled skin creep doing this to you.

“Please,” he shouts to everyone and no one all at once. “Please, just— you gotta wake up, okay? I’ll be better, I’ll be so much better, I promise. I’ll listen to all the music you like, watch all the movies you want — even the ones that suck — I’ll be a better boyfriend, okay? You just— You need to wake up!”

You don’t.

You just keep on crying, like you can hear him in whatever world Vecna’s sucked you into. Eyes fluttering, neck jerking, lips trembling. You succumb completely to the monster’s curse.

It’s Eddie that saves you.

He rushes to the stolen R.V. for his guitar, the one Steve said made him look like he was overcompensating for something, the one that’s about to save your life. “What’s her favorite song?” the boy urges as he slips the strap over his head with pale and trembling fingers.

Steve looks over at his shoulder at him. It’s hard to see through the stinging tears. “Wh— What—” He can’t form words. Or thoughts, really. The only thing going through his head is that you’re about to die, that he’s about to lose you forever. It clouds his mind like thick black smoke.

“Her favorite song?” Eddie snaps. “What is it?”

He scrambles to answer. “Uh, it’s uh— it’s Take— Take On Me… Do you know that one?”

“No,” the boy answers honestly. “But I can try.”

That’s all they can do for now. Try. Hope.

He puts his fingers to the strings, trying to find the right placements, but it’s hard when you don’t know how to play the song and you’re shaking that you’re fucking freezing. Eddie’s forced to play it by ear and tells Steve that it won’t sound exactly right and that it won’t be loud without his amp.

It takes him a moment to find the melody, but Steve hears it the second it comes — the synth-y da-da-da-dum, da-da-dah, da-da-da-da-dum’s that were practically engrained in his psyche after he heard it on the radio the millionth time.

You weren’t as afflicted by the earworm as he was. You loved it.

The song came out the year the two of you started dating, so all he heard for months was that catchy beat and even catchier falsetto. You played it on the jukebox when you went to the diner, popped the tape into your radio whenever he was over at your place, requested for it to be played virtually wherever you went.

You hear the song from where you’re stuck in your own head. The strums of the guitar are quiet and a little out of tune, but the uncanny notes make sense when you’re trapped in a world that isn’t really your world. Suddenly you don’t see Vecna or his claw in your face — just Steve, Steve, Steve.

He’s with you at the diner with whipped cream on his chin, making fun of you for singing to the song so off-key. He’s with you in your childhood bedroom, spinning you around and singing all the high notes with you. He’s with you at Enzo’s, the fanciest place in Hawkins for your anniversary, and slips the mini-orchestra a hundred-dollar bill to play the song for you.

Suddenly, you’re on the ground again — back in Hawkins — and gasping for breath in his arms. You can’t see him from where he’s got his face tucked into your neck, but you can feel the scarily rapid beat of his heart and the way it matches your own.

Steve sobs into you, uncaring about how loud he is or how his snot and tears stain your t-shirt. Because he almost fucking lost you. And, for a split second, he tried to think of what a life without you would look like. He quickly came up short. There was nothing — no light, no sound, no music — just darkness. A void.

Sometimes, he thinks he would’ve died with you that night.

Vecna is dead within the next twenty-four hours after the fact. You and Nancy take turns shooting bullets in the pale patchy skin of his chest where his heart’s supposed to be while Steve and Robin throw hand-made bombs in his direction. He trips and stumbles out the window while the rotting basement erupts into flames. There’s nothing left but ashes.

Steve doesn’t feel a thing for a little while after that, just the acute urge to protect the group of you even though the boogeyman is long gone.

He doesn’t let go of you for days, always holding onto some part of you, because he’s terrified of you slipping away again.

He lets Dustin sleep at his place when the boy asks, but it’s for his own peace of mind more than anything else. He doesn’t let the boy out of his sight until his mom gets concerned about him.

He drives forty-five minutes to the hospital every day for two weeks with you so you can visit Max and Lucas, always with two peanut butter jelly sandwiches for them — just in case.

He’s on auto-pilot for a while. He just keeps on taking care of everyone else because it distracts him from himself — from his own inner turmoil, from the horrors he saw that night, from the boogeyman still in his closet.

It takes you a month for you to tell him what you saw. You were a lot like him in that way, still trying to hide from it all. You would’ve been more than happy if you could squish your great big problem into a tiny little ball that you could stomp underneath your feet and forget about completely.

But that’s not how life works.

The thing just swells and swells and swells until it takes everything in you to stay sane.

You sit Steve down on his bed and curl into his lap — knees to your chest, head tucked beneath his chin. And you tell him about it. Everything.

You tell him that Vecna showed you Brad, the boyfriend you had before Steve. It was a replay of the last night you saw him parked at Lover’s Lake, the very same place you had been when Vecna almost took you. You’re sitting in his passenger seat and he’s trying to feel you up. “Billy’s girlfriend lets him fuck her all the time,” he gripes when you swat his hand from your thigh.

“Then maybe go fuck Billy’s girlfriend,” you shoot back.

It’s the last thing you’d ever said to him before storming off and catching the late bus back home. He went missing the next day; his car still there, but no sign of the boy himself.

Vecna shows you everything you’d been making yourself sick over for years, tells you exactly what happened to him that night.

A demogorgon appears in thin air and snatches the boy, takes him to the Upside Down like he’s some kind of light night snack. The thing doesn’t eat him, though, just plays with its food for a while until it gets bored and lets him rot. Brad was down there, for days, beggingfor someone to save him. Help never came, though. Just the slow, slow hand of death.

“You never even looked for him…” you recite the words Vecna said to you, voice much softer than his cruel baritone one. “You let him rot down there while you threw yourself at a boy that didn’t even want you…”

Steve eyes squeeze shut then, like he’s trying to hide from your words. It’s about as effective as those idiots in horror movies who try to hide under their bedsheets from demons.

You sought refuge in Steve that night and many others, when Brad was acting especially douchebag-y. It was innocent at first. He was your friend. But somewhere down the line, you realized that you had bigger feelings for him than you ever did for your boyfriend. Steve, meanwhile, was still caught in the web of his complicated feelings for Nancy.

It wasn’t until you got kidnapped by Russian soldiers that he realized how much he loved you.

There’s just something about the end of the world that makes a person see clearly again.

Everything seems to hit him exactly a week later.

He’d done a pretty good job at hiding it all — the nightmares, the panic attacks, the sleepless nights. He hid that all from you because you were recovering too. He didn’t think it was fair to dump all his hurt on you while you were still trying to get back to normal.

You noticed it very quickly, though, that Steve didn’t seem to be very affected by any of it.

He was so nonchalant about everything, the kind of casual only a person who was aching could pull off.

And he’d get real reserved at times, uncharacteristically quiet, and you’d ask him if he was okay. He’d scoffed and say he was fine —of course I’m okay, what do you mean? — while his cheek speckled with red and he blinked back glassy tears.

You’d try to hug him and he’d let you, but kept shrugging off your concern — I’m fine, babe. I promise. I’m not the one who almost died.

Steve did that a lot. Made it seem like his problems didn’t mean as much because they weren’t as big as yours or Max’s or Eddie’s. He convinced himself that they didn’t. Why should he be upset when he didn’t have to meet the monster face to face or live through something traumatic all over again? What does he have to cry about?

But when he sleeps all he sees in you — in that spot at Lover’s Lake, succumbing to Vecna’s curse, while the rest of them try like hell to bring you back. In his nightmares, they never do. He watches your bones break one by one, piercing cracks in the quiet night that he can feel in his chest, before you fall limply to the ground again.

He wakes with a gasping breath, the same way you had all the time ago. You’re sleeping peacefully beside him, hair wild and face smushed into your pillow, but he can’t seem to get the vision out of his head — of your mangled body and sucked-out sockets. He stumbles off to the bathroom on tired and trembling legs.

You wake to the door slamming shut and stir at the sound of the faucet turning on.

Light spills from the crack underneath the door, bright in the darkness of your bedroom. You watch Steve’s shadow with bleary eyes, how it stands in one place for a moment and then paces back and forth.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you tiptoe to the door, but don’t do anything when you reach it. You just wait, listen.

Steve mumbles something to himself that you can’t quite make out — you’re okay, stop being such a baby, jesus… is all you can hear. He sniffles as his feet pad the length of the tiled bathroom floor. It doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s crying.

Your knock upon the door is a soft one. You don’t want to startle him. The second he realizes you’re outside the door, he freezes.

“Stevie…” you call gently out for him. “Are you okay?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah—” Then again. “Yeah, I’m fine… Go back to bed.”

“Are you sure?” you press. “Do you want me to get anything for you?”

The boy has to take a deep breath in to stop himself from snapping at you. He’s angry at himself more than anything — for hiding, for failing at hiding. He runs two anxious hands through his hair and plants himself along the ceramic edge of the bathtub.

“I’m sure. Just… Just go back to bed, okay?”

You don’t listen. You just slide along the door frame until you’re sat on the carpeted floor of your bedroom. Steve can hear your shuffling outside.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay. You know that, right?” you ask him through the door.

Steve puts his face in his hands before he can catch his scrunching face in the mirror. Just when he thought he wasn’t going to cry, here you come, pulling this shit.

“I know,” he answers tightly, muffled through his palms. He rubs them up and down his face once, twice, and then a third time before throwing his hands into his lap. “But I’m fine, okay? Seriously.”

“You can cry in front of me, Steve. It’s okay. You don’t have to— You don’t have to go through this shit alone, you know? I’m here. I’m right here, okay? Let me help you.”

It’s that reminder that does him in; the assurance that you’re here and not a disfigured mess in the tall grass of Lover’s Lake. A sob spills from his mouth too abruptly for him to stop it.

“Steve…” you call for him again, heartbreaking on the other side of the door.

“I’m almost lost you,” he cries, more than himself than to you, then sniffles. “I’m almost fucking lost you.”

“But you didn’t. I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere, Steve Harrington. The universe is gonna have to try a whole lot harder to keep me away from you.”

He manages a laugh through his tears. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” you quip. “If Vecna couldn’t stop me from being with you, nothing will.”

The thought of that warms him. He realizes it’s not the universe keeping the two of you together, not fate or some higher power in the clouds. It’s love. It’s all the love the two of you have got for each other, stronger than any demogorgon or Russian soldier or dark wizard. And it’s love that’s gonna hold the two of you together for the next several decades, until you’re old and wrinkly and ugly.

But Steve won’t think you’re ugly. He’ll think you’re as beautiful as the first moment he saw you — throwing up in the bushes outside Tina’s house after your first high school party.

You rise quickly when the door opens. Steve stands in front of you, eyes puffy and face red and smiling gently down at you anyway. “I love the shit outta you, you know that?” is all he can think to say. Because that’s all that he feels in that moment.

“Of course, I know that,” you grin up at him. Your hands rise to cup his jaw, thumbs swiping at his tear-stained cheeks. Your browns pinch in concern. “You okay?”

For the first time, he’s honest.

“No…” he murmurs with the soft shake of his head. His eyes dart away from yours and to the floor where his and your twenty toes stand, still on the ground, not floating in thin air.

“No— I… I don’t think I am,” he confesses softly. His tired, sad, and heavy honey eyes flit back up to yours again. “But I will be.”

You nod until your words catch up to you. “Yeah. Yeah, you will.”

“If only out of pure spite of all the monsters to all the monsters trying to destroy our lives.”

“They’re gone now,” you promise, like a parent who’s checked under their child’s bed for shadows and ghosts. It works well enough. Here, with his face in your hands and standing in your shared bedroom, he’s never felt safer.

“Can you… Can you hold me?” he wonders, a little meekly because he feels like an idiot saying them. Then he feels even more like an idiot for feeling like an idiot. You’re his girlfriend, after all, cuddles sort of came with the package.

“Of course,” you answer without thinking twice. You grab his hand and tug him back to the bed almost immediately. “I’ll hold you for the rest of our fucking lives, Harrington, you know that.”

The two of you settle into the mattress. Steve uses you like a pillow, wraps all of his limbs around you and tucks his face into your neck. Your scent is a familiar one, warm and comforting, like home. “I like the sound of that,” he mumbles into your shoulder after a moment of quiet.

“Well, buckle in, baby. ‘Cause I got you for the next, like, six decades.”

You feel his smile form against your skin as Steve tucks himself inside your soul.

#bug's blurb sleepover #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #published by bug #stevie drabble #st drabbles

2K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 7 months

Note

please.. i beg for one ounce of happiness. zombie au was just cruel

Alternative to this, and inspired by this, what if you had been in Simon's place? 18+ MDNI / angst, killing, zombies - dead disco au / this is a little fucked up but it's also cute-ish? Maybe?

They had only let you out of their sight for a few moments.

Your skill with the hunting knife had grown, considerably, impressing both of them, allowing them to relax bit by bit, taking comfort in knowing that if something were to happen, you'd have a fighting chance.

You hated how they hovered all the time, anyway.

"I can do things on my own, you know. Look for berries, mushrooms. I can contribute."

Johnny was more keen to let you wander during the day, to let you exercise some freedom. He didn't want you to feel like they were keeping you on a leash, even though Simon couldn't stand to let you get more than a few feet away, always trying to keep you crowded between him and Johnny, snuggled between a protective barrier, holding you close. Even during travel, he walked in front, Johnny walked behind, and you stayed in the middle, backpack hiked up on your hips, knife cinched in your belt.

At night, they tucked you between their bodies, just like at home, making sure your sleeping bag was zipped tight to ward off a chill... or a wandering set of teeth.

They needed to keep you safe. Protect you. They clung to it, your softness, your gentle spirit. This world was not made for you, but they would be damned if they let it take you away from them.

But they couldn't suffocate you. They both knew that. Johnny knew, you needed room to let your emotions breathe.

So, he didn't protest too much when you wanted to go forage for mushrooms. He made sure you had your knife, pressed his lips to your forehead and told you be careful, to stay close. Keep an eye out.

He wishes he had said no instead.

Johnny's blood turned to ice when he heard you scream. It rang out through the forest like a siren, both he and Simon taking off into a sprint towards you, crashing through the brush without caring how loud it was. You were crying, shouting, getting louder and louder until they came across where you were pinned beneath a runner, blade jammed into it's face, your body shaking beneath its weight.

"Shhh." He hushed your hysterical cries as Simon rolled the zombie away from you, both of them frantically checking you over for their worst fear.

A bite.

"Breathe, darling. Just breathe." Simon coached you, pulling up your shirt where it was torn to check your belly, big hand smoothing over your skin slowly, feeling for something, anything that would indicate you'd been infected. "We're here. Right here."

"M-my neck." You sobbed, and Johnny's stomach flipped, terror ricocheting through his bones, fingers tracing over the torn skin beneath your jaw.

"No." He croaked. "No- no, oh god no... please." You cried harder, reality sinking in, realization sharp across the three of them.

"It's alright, shhh." Simon soothed you, one of his hands clamping down on Johnny's shoulder. He was shaking, looking at Johnny with a command in his eyes.

Get it together. Stay calm. For her.

"It's not that deep, darling. Not that deep. Ye'll be alright." It was a lie, a bold faced one, but Simon nodded in encouragement, looking back down to you with a tense smile.

"Let's get you back to camp and cleaned up."

They held you that night through your cries, assuring you that everything was going to be alright, that you were going to be okay, that they would always take care of you. Love you. Forever. They clutched you to them tightly as your body temperature rose, and your crying subsided, eyes slipping shut with sleep even as they stayed awake, watching you with vigilance. Watching for any changes, waiting for it to begin.

By the morning, they had made a decision.

They would stay true to their vow to you, their promise. They would take care of you, would love you, protect you. They would keep you safe, keep you with them, for as long as they were alive.

This world wasn't sane anymore, why should they be?

The first few days were the hardest. You were still lucid, in some ways. Still knew who you were, still knew them. You would cry uncontrollably if they left your sight for a moment, the outbursts ensuring one of them was with you at all times, soothing you, keeping you calm. You couldn't speak to them, only able to slur a few words here and there, but they didn't need your words to understand you. They knew your moods, your base line, your needs. Time passed, and those things didn't change. Even as your mind slipped away, they still believed you recognized them. They felt as if you did know them.

And you did things that solidified that belief. You would scent them, sniffing them at night, pressing your nose into their skin, snorting against them like their smell pleased you. When they spoke to you, you would stare at them, like you were hanging on every word. If they separated, you would groan, staggering in their direction, confused, distressed about splitting up. You would whine like an animal if either of them got too far away during travel.

You let Johnny fix your hair, let them both wipe you clean with water from the river. You'd grunt and grumble if he tugged a little too tight, but you still responded to his soothing, letting him gentle you when you got too worked up.

"Shhh, darling. 's alright." He'd coo as he fixed the makeshift mask up over your jaw and mouth, securing it tight so that you couldn't bite either of them in their sleep.

At night, they zipped you into your sleeping bag, arms down by your sides so you couldn't crawl out, and then tucked you alongside of their bodies, snuggled between them just as they always did.

They still knew you. You still knew them.

And they knew you were hungry.

It was the one thing that Johnny did not want to do, was hunt for you. He opted to stay behind, let Simon procure your meals instead, waited for his return when he would fetch you and bring you to the woods, keeping your line long so that when you came across your food, you'd have enough of a lead you could easily eat without him getting too close.

Simon didn't mind hunting living people for you, bringing them back and tying them up so they would be an easy meal. He couldn't risk them harming you, after all.

They would cry and beg him to let them go, ask him why he was doing this- didn't they understand?

He had to take care of you.

They'd do anything for you. Besides, it was only for a little while, you'd be back to normal once they caught up to Price and started towards the secure site, where they were sure there would be a cure.

They'd fix you, they had no doubt. You would be okay, just as soon as they got there.

Price was gobsmacked. Kyle was staring at them like they lost their damn minds.

"Boys, you- you can't-"

"She cannae bite, captain." Johnny protested, motioning to where your mouth had been covered with a mask, something tough they had fashioned out of velcro and a piece of his tac vest. "She's harmless." His hand clenched around the rope that had been tied around your waist, looped around your wrists. Your head lolled on your neck for a moment, before snapping upwards, nose in the air.

You had become accustomed to their scents, but not Price or Kyle's, and your eyes gleamed with hunger.

"Bloody hell." Gaz whispered.

"She's not in there anymore, son. You've got a zombie on a leash!" He spat, incredulous.

He didn't understand. You were still in there, still their darling, still with them. You were just sick.

You groaned, and Kyle flinched, staring at you in horror, and disgust. Johnny moved instinctively to block you from sight, protecting you from their terrified eyes, body vibrating with tension.

Simon took his hand, giving a squeeze, and a long look.

If they wouldn't accept you, they'd just find a way on their own.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #dead disco zombie au

469 notes · View notes

tyonfs · 2 years

Text

netflix and chill

❝ you’ve been eye-fucking me all night, and i was starting to think you weren’t gonna get around to the chill part of netflix and chill. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee jeno x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, strangers to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, smut, couch sex, wall sex, shower sex, fingering, dry humping, lots of teasing!! and some degradation and praise, oral (fem. receiving), choking, size kink, bulge kink, hyuck is insufferable, i’m sorry this is pure filth, despite the warnings there are fluffy moments

SUMMARY ▸ lee jeno doesn’t want to give up the carefree life of a single man, not tied down by emotional entanglements and commitments. that is, until he sees you smacking a man twice your size with a stack of engineering paper. he kind of falls in love, so jeno does what any normal person does and invites you over to netflix and chill.

PLAYLIST ▸ long way 2 go by cassie • sour grapes by le sserafim • foreshadow by enhypen • lucid dream by aespa

WORD COUNT ▸ 10,087 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ hello hello! i went awol for a tiny bit but im back and i really hope you guys enjoy this !! shoutout to the ice cream sandwich that kept me awake to finish this. second installment of the bitch hunters series ♡

THE FIRST TIME LEE JENO FELT THE WORLD SHIFT OFF ITS AXIS WAS WHEN HE SAW YOU KNOCKING THE DAYLIGHTS OUT OF A MAN TWICE YOUR SIZE.

Na Jaemin and Lee Donghyuck, his housemates, were still bickering behind Jeno about a pact they had made in the beginning of the year. It was a tradition the residents of the Bitch Hunters household carried out, in which they would get a girlfriend in their fourth year of college. Since their other housemate, Huang Renjun, had already accomplished a successful bitch hunting season, Jaemin and Donghyuck were arguing who would get a girlfriend between the two of them.

Jeno honestly didn’t care when it happened; he just knew he was ready for a relationship, but he was planning on waiting for the perfect girl to come along.

Jeno had flings here and there. He hooked up with Kim Minjeong for a long time before she got a boyfriend. He was a great guy and Jeno truly was happy for them, but he felt a strange feeling in his chest when he realized she was tied down.

No, it wasn’t jealousy in any sense. Jeno was on good terms with Minjeong, but he didn’t like her to the point of wanting to be in a relationship. The reason he felt so strange was because he felt left behind. Once Minjeong picked herself up and found someone that made her happy, Jeno felt like he was stuck in a rut.

That, or he just felt embarrassed to be lumped with Donghyuck and Jaemin.

It was when Jeno started dreading his 4 P.M. Structural Design class that he started to think about how laughable his situation was. He was an architectural engineering major who could outline the process for laying down the foundation for a building, but he couldn’t set the foundations of a relationship within himself.

That was when he heard the commotion.

“Cut it out already!” the person yelled. “I don’t want anything to do with you after what you pulled last night.”

“Y/N, please,” the man who looked about twice your size begged. “Can we just talk in private?”

“I already told you, I don’t wanna see your face again.”

It was rare for Jeno to get involved in other people’s problems, but you two were arguing in the middle of campus and Jeno was a little scared for you. For starters, the man was taller than Jeno himself, and he kept getting closer to you despite your protests. It always angered him when he saw situations like these unravel; some people just didn’t know how to respect boundaries.

“Whoa.” Donghyuck placed a hand on Jeno’s shoulder after he had stopped in his tracks. “What are you gonna do? Punch him?”

“Let’s get going, Jeno.” Jaemin nudged his housemate. “Causing a scene in front of everyone might make this worse.”

Jeno was a careful man. He paid his bills on time, stuck to a strict routine to make sure he completed everything by the end of the day, and abided by the rules as often as he needed to. Violence was definitely not in Lee Jeno’s book, and this was mostly because he promised his mother that he wouldn’t get into trouble. So, nope, he was not going to get involved.

“Just please don’t tell my girlfriend.”

There was one thing that Jeno would never tolerate, and that was cheating.

Whatever snapped in him had clouded his brain completely. Before he knew it, he was charging over to the guy with his hand balled in a fist, raising behind him to swing.

The sharp sound that followed the blow made the courtyard go silent. For a moment, Jeno couldn’t even figure out what had happened. His knuckles weren’t stinging at all, and he hadn’t even gotten close enough to land a blow on the man.

“Holy shit,” Jeno whispered when he realized the man had been knocked down by none other than you.

You were holding your thick stack of engineering paper in both hands, brows knitted in frustration as you realized what you had just done. You finally made eye contact with Jeno. He wasn’t sure if his heart was racing because he was absolutely terrified of you, or if he had just fallen in love with you. Both were plausible, and that confused Jeno even more.

The man grunted and started to get up. “Hey—”

This could turn ugly fast, and Jeno had already inserted himself into the situation by approaching you. Before anyone could react, he grabbed one of your hands and started sprinting in the direction of the architecture building.

(He was going to get an earful about this from Donghyuck and Jaemin later, which he was not prepared for.)

When Jeno decided that the coast was clear and it was safe for you two to stop running, he jogged to a halt and let go of your hand. His chest was heaving from exerting himself suddenly, and he felt a little bad when you had to double over to catch your breath.

“Thanks,” you breathed out, hands placed firmly on your knees, “but… who are you?”

“Um, Jeno,” he introduced. “Lee Jeno.”

“I’m Y/N,” you said, managing a smile while looking like you were about to go limp. “How’d you know I needed to go to the arch building?”

“Oh…” Jeno glanced over his shoulder. “Actually, I just wanted to get us out of that weird situation. I just ended up running to wherever my next class was.” He paused for a second before asking, “You an arch student, too?”

“I’m materials engineering, but I’m trying to switch,” you explained. “Anyway, thanks for getting me out of there. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I just kept standing there.”

Jeno laughed. “Honestly, I didn’t need to do anything. It looks like you can handle yourself just fine.”

You had a curious look dancing in your eyes, like you wanted to say something more, but you held off. Instead, you asked, “What class are you going to, by the way?”

“Structural Design,” Jeno answered with a scoff. “I don’t think you’re gonna experience the thrill of columns and beams anywhere else.”

“No way. I’m trying to crash that class.”

“Willingly?”

You giggled. “If I wanna switch—yeah,” you said matter-of-factly. “You wouldn’t mind helping me get in, would you?”

Jeno pondered on this for a second. This was the perfect opportunity to get to know you, a complete stranger, a lot better. He was already seeing possibilities of something coming out of this, but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“I mean, I do know the professor pretty well,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin, “so I guess I could put in a good word.”

This seemed to brighten your spirits, which was a stark contrast to the gloomy expression you wore earlier. Jeno exchanged some small talk with you, getting to learn that you were a year younger and were currently going through a quarter life crisis because you felt like you were switching majors too late. Jeno managed to reassure you that it was fairly normal to switch, especially when you already had engineering classes completed to stay ahead.

When you both got to the lecture hall, Jeno was surprised that you stuck by his side. He half-expected you to ditch him for a friend you ran into. And although you did run into a friend, you still sat next to Jeno.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel proud about that.

Actually, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be feeling at all, but two things were running through Jeno’s head: you were very pretty, and you were probably going to be the death of him.

Later that night, Jeno realized that he had to prepare for war at the dinner table.

“And you know what Lover Boy did after that?” Jaemin jested. “He ran with the girl! Dude thought this was his K-drama moment.”

Sometimes, he found meals with his housemates to be insufferable.

Donghyuck and Jaemin were currently giving Renjun the rundown of what had happened. Jeno, on the other hand, had never wanted to die so bad. Maybe it was some sort of curse, but there seemed to be a pattern of bully victims in the households being the men who were interested in a girl.

“I won’t lie,” Renjun started, turning to look at Jeno, “I got secondhand embarrassment listening to that.”

“Thanks Renjun,” Jeno replied flatly.

“Did you ever find out what happened between her and that dude?” Donghyuck asked.

Jeno recalled their conversation after class was over. He had mentioned the topic very vaguely, and then you went off on a tangent about how the guy was hitting on you at a party, and then you found out he had a girlfriend as he was practically begging you for sex. Thankfully, nothing had happened, but you were very unsettled that he was shamelessly cheating on his girlfriend.

When Jeno asked if you were going to tell his girlfriend, a coy smile spread across your lips before you showed him the text messages you sent her.

“Just some idiot trying to keep her quiet after he was trying to get in her pants,” Jeno replied, disgusted, “and he has a girlfriend.”

“Some people are just grown adults with the brains of a child,” Renjun muttered, shaking his head. Once the slightly uncomfortable silence settled—one that Jeno assumed was out of respect for your unfortunate situation—Renjun cleared his throat and asked, “So, is she nice?”

“Nice?” Jeno frowned. “Well, from what I noticed—yeah.”

“Renjun just wants to know if you’d cuff her,” Jaemin clarified, looking down as if he was more invested in his Chipotle bowl than his housemate’s love life.

“That’s not what I meant!” Renjun protested, but then he turned to Jeno again. “But, uh… would you?”

It wasn’t like Jeno hadn’t thought about that question eventually coming up, but he had just met you and wasn’t keen on answering right away. While you seemed sweet, there was still a lot that Jeno didn’t know about you. He was never the type to rush into relationships, which is why his situationships in the past never worked out; they always got tired of waiting for Jeno to make a move.

That was probably something he should be working on.

“I’m happy being single,” he answered, “and I like our little bachelor pact, save for Renjun.”

“Gee, thanks,” Renjun muttered.

“You should invite her out with us,” Donghyuck replied, and Jeno knew that was just his way of saying he was going to tease them ruthlessly.

He chewed on his salad, thoughtful. “I think I’ll hang out with her one-on-one first.”

Lee Jeno was a man of his word, so when you showed up to Structural Design a week later, you had been successfully enrolled in the class.

You slid in the empty seat next to Jeno with a grin. “I owe you big time.”

If this was some formality, Jeno felt worse and worse by your actions. He appreciated your kindness, but he wasn’t ready to break the news that he might have accidentally left out. He felt like Adam in Michaelangelo’s The Creation of Adam, except God wasn’t reaching toward Jeno to breathe life into him; Jeno was desperately trying to get the higher power to pull him out of this horrifying situation.

Perhaps you were starting to notice, too, based on how the atmosphere in the classroom shifted from its normal lecture days. It was almost obvious with how students were either buried in their notes or frantically flipping through their textbooks.

“I wouldn’t say big time,” Jeno mumbled. He sheepishly grinned before muttering, “I might have forgotten to tell you that we have a midterm today.”

Your face went a little slack.

“What?!”

You looked around you in a panic before slumping back in your seat, both hands covering your face. Jeno wasn’t sure what expression you were wearing behind them, but it couldn’t have been good.

“I’m sorry!” he apologized quickly. “Honest to God—it totally slipped my mind.”

“I’m done for,” you replied, sorrowful. “First official day in this class, and I’m gonna fail.”

Jeno balked. He had shattered any chances of a friendship with you. This would probably be the last time you ever sat next to him again. He tossed around the idea of letting you cheat off him, but Jeno played by the rules; he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he got caught helping someone cheat.

He ended up not being able to say anything to you. Despite how many times he ran through different dialogues in his head, none of them sounded good enough to ease your worries. There was no shortcut to redemption from here, so Jeno was doomed—a little dramatic, too, but mostly just doomed.

He attentively listened as the professor spoke briefly before passing out the exam, trying to ignore the distress that was just emanating from you. He kept his eyes down as he passed you the other exam packet he got, physically swallowing down the guilt that was eating at him. Jeno knew deep down that it wasn’t even that big of a deal, but he felt horrible for potentially ruining your chances of switching into the class.

“Oh, Y/N,” the professor began, grabbing the paper that was in front of you, “since you joined pretty late, I don’t think you’ll be ready for the midterm. I’ll excuse you from this exam, and you can just complete the assignments you’ve missed.”

“Thank you so much,” you gushed. “That’s such a relief to hear.”

Girls were scary, Jeno decided.

One minute you were glaring daggers at him, and then the next you were buzzing with joy. When Jeno shot you a wary look, testing the waters before he could smile, you just smirked back at him and caused him to malfunction. With that, you made your exit, leaving Jeno at a crossroads, not knowing whether to feel relieved or terrified.

Focus, Jeno. Focus on structures and beams.

“I want to remind everyone to show their work on their paper,” the professor reminded, “and, yes, Heeseung, for that last question I do want you all to find the derivation of the equations for the determination of internal forces in the three-hinged arch.”

Piece of cake. Jeno had spent all night studying the stress distribution across beams and the design of its flexural reinforcements, so he was—

Hold on.

After fully processing the words that came out of his professor’s mouth, Jeno was mortified. The sinking feeling in his chest had capsized and fallen into a pit in his stomach.

He studied the wrong chapter.

Jeno was walking out of the lecture hall with sagged shoulders when he heard your voice ring from beside him, “Why the long face?”

He was startled for a moment, wondering why you were even there. He had taken an hour and a half to go over the exam thoroughly before giving up and turning it in, so that was far too much time for you to wait around. Part of him was rather fond at the thought of you waiting around for him, though.

“Probably failed that test,” Jeno replied, as if he was completely unfazed by your presence. “That midterm was not about structures and beams.”

“That’s tough.”

Jeno had to keep himself from glaring at you, but he supposed he was failing by the way you shrank back at his eyes narrowing. “You got it lucky.”

“I just switched in!” you defended.

“Well—yeah, I guess…” Jeno mumbled. He was stuck between wanting to act childish and wanting to numb himself from the pain of failing his test. So, he offered, “Wanna get away for a bit with me?”

“You have class at noon.”

“After that, I mean.”

You blinked at him before responding, “I’m down. Actually, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to hang out because we don’t know each other that well. Might as well get comfy if we’re gonna be classmates, you know?”

Jeno grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“By the way,” you started, “if you had my number, you could’ve just texted me about the midterm.”

“But I don’t—”

“So”—you paused and pulled out a Sharpie from your bag, uncapping it to scribble down your number on Jeno’s hand—“I’ll just give it to you.”

Jeno smiled down at you as you held his hand carefully, writing your number down all the way across his palm. The way your tongue stuck out while you were concentrating was absolutely adorable. Maybe it was him feeling absolutely defeated after that exam or maybe it was the way Jeno could smell the lingering Cocoa Butter Kiss Body Splash coming from you, but he was overtaken by the urge to indulge himself.

Come to think of it, Jeno hadn’t even figured out where he wanted to take you when he proposed it earlier. He had just been speaking his unfiltered thoughts without processing them.

So, like a fool, Jeno blurted out, “Are you down to Netflix and chill?”

You agreed.

It was surprising. Jeno was actually waiting for you to shoot him down. He hadn’t expected you to look up at him with those innocent eyes and nod so cheerfully. For a moment, he was wondering if you had misinterpreted his words, but then you were asking where his house was, so Jeno assumed you had some understanding of the implication.

He made sure that his housemates were away, so he offered up his house. You seemed more than willing to go over even when Jeno informed you that you two would be alone.

He didn’t expect you to take it so literally.

He was baffled that he had actually spent the past four hours watching Shokugeki no Soma with you. Maybe it was the fact that you two were watching a slice of life anime that made it hard to set the mood, but Jeno assumed you got the hint that “Netflix and chill” had a sexual undertone. He wasn’t going to make you uncomfortable by making a move, though, so Jeno sat back and resented how the anime characters were seeing more clothes coming off than he was.

You weren’t supposed to actually chill; you were supposed to jump his bones and show him the light.

On the bright side, Jeno felt better knowing that his housemates weren’t home while you were over. There was a high possibility that Donghyuck would somehow ruin this date or make Jeno feel like he wanted to die. He could almost hear the echoes of his friends laughing at him, and Jeno was certain the lack of action he was getting was making him go crazy.

“They always drop their pants over food,” you commented, snickering at the show of several garments flying off on the screen.

“Makes it hard to believe this is just a slice of life anime,” Jeno replied, and he was a touch bitter that he didn’t use his turn in the conversation for a pickup line instead. “Do you usually watch this genre?”

“Yeah, sometimes. This show’s really popular, though, so I’m excited to watch the rest with my friend.”

Huh? You were supposed to watch it with him.

Maybe this really was supposed to be completely platonic. Jeno was starting to suspect he got the mood wrong earlier and you took his invitation as something friendly. The worst situation was unfolding in front of him right now, and Jeno didn’t know how to salvage it.

Jeno was being stupid. He barely knew you to begin with. How could he expect such a commitment from you?

He raised a brow. “Oh? Do you usually watch with other people then?”

“Not really,” you answered. “I just knew we would be too preoccupied to finish it.”

“Preoccupied? With what?”

Jeno’s mouth went dry when your hand slid onto his knee, and his head started spinning when you dragged your nail up to his thigh. He was finding it hard to figure out what to focus on when you started leaning in closer, too. Your proximity was intoxicating, your touch was driving him crazy, and he couldn’t even breathe properly when you were giving him the bedroom eyes.

“What do you think, Jeno?” you asked with a little giggle. “You’ve been eye-fucking me all night, and I was starting to think you weren’t gonna get around to the chill part of Netflix and chill.”

Holy fuck. Jeno must have saved a kingdom in his past life.

Part of him was amazed that you took four whole hours to make a move on him, but he had no room to complain when he had been holding back the entire time. The other half of him, though, was just itching to tear off your clothes and fuck you into the couch. Jeno wasn’t sure if you liked it rough, and he didn’t want to test the waters after seeing you knock the daylights out of a six-foot-two man.

Plus, he wanted to be gentle with you (for the first time, at least). Although his carnal instincts urged him otherwise, he wanted to treat you like a princess.

“Jeno,” you repeated, hooking your leg around his waist and sliding onto his lap. Jeno was taken aback when you straddled him, immediately moving his hands to grab your waist. You grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you, whispering in his ear, “Make it up to me and fuck my brains out.”

Scratch being gentle.

It appeared that you weren’t as soft and pliable as he had thought.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” Jeno growled before grabbing the back of your neck and pressing his lips to yours. He was delighted by your muffled whimper, feeling more encouraged when you tugged his hair. Jeno slid his tongue past your lips, coaxing you to deepen the kiss further. He pulled away a little to murmur against your lips, “Want me to go slow?”

You shook your head, shuddering at the close proximity and your hot breaths fanning against each other. “I don’t wanna go slow,” you whispered.

Although you were so insistent on Jeno being rough with you, he was still gentle when he replied, “Whatever pace you want.” He brushed your loose hair out of your face. The eager look on your face just made him want to tease you. “You sure you can take it?”

You nodded once more, and Jeno grabbed ahold of your hips, rocking them slowly against his. You started to match his rhythm perfectly, whining with each roll of your hips that caused your cunt to rub against his growing bulge. He paused for a moment as he tugged your shorts down, making you lift your hips so he could remove them. There was a timbre in Jeno’s voice when he told you he was going to go harder, and all you could do was grab onto the front of his shirt and beg for more. In a twisted way, he liked having you so helpless on his lap.

Jeno’s lips met yours once more in a fit of passion, tongue sliding against yours as his fingers dug into your waist. He switched positions, flipping you over so that your back was on the couch and he was hovering over you.

The moment Jeno dragged his fingers from your hips to the front of your underwear, he noticed you squirming instantly. The sight made his lips curl into a smirk, not halting his slow, torturous motions with his fingers. Barely grazing his hands against your cunt, and Jeno already had you whining for him.

“Feels good,” you breathed out. Jeno could tell you were playing it up just to get more, and he had to appreciate the effort you were putting in. “Jeno, please…” you trailed off, hands reaching down to slowly trace the veins on his hand.

“Hm? You like my fingers?” he asked, feigning sympathy.

His voice was honey in your ears, and you were melting at the very words. Jeno was startled when you nodded, pulling his hand up so that you could suck on his fingers—so that you could show him how badly you wanted him. He stared at your lips wrapped around his digits in complete awe. Your tongue moving around his fingers was making him go crazy; it burned like a fire, like a sin. It completely doused Jeno’s fiery confidence, leaving him gawking at you.

You took the lead this time, pressing your lips to Jeno’s swiftly. What started chaste and gentle soon turned languid and hot, with Jeno chasing the taste of your tongue each time.

There was something he felt when he made out with girls in the past. It was this hazy, clouded daze in his head, like he couldn’t think straight. This time, however, Jeno had never been so alert and clear-headed. Sure, his thoughts were mainly composed of tearing your clothes off, but he was so grounded in the moment, wanting it to last for as long as it could.

When Jeno pulled away, you were both staring at each other with blown-out pupils and swollen lips. Jeno was praying his flushed cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

He liked your pretty lips far too much to rush things, but he agreed he would be rough. Jeno was, at his core, a man of his word.

“I’m gonna fuck you against the wall.”

“Huh?”

While you were staring at him with wide eyes, Jeno shifted off the couch to scoop you up, holding you steady by your thighs. You were clearly shocked by his strength, yelping initially before wrapping your arms and legs around him. Jeno appreciated how adaptable you were when you started stringing kisses from the corner of his lip to his jaw.

He had your back up against the wall, and his own body was pressed flush against yours.

The bed was no longer an option. Jeno was too drunk on your taste to think about moving all the way to his room, and he didn’t even care if Jaemin were to walk inside right now. (Maybe he would feel some shame if it were Donghyuck or Renjun, though; he knew he would never hear the end of it from those two.)

Clothes were taken off, strewn aside, and Jeno couldn’t help but smirk as he circled the pad of his thumb around your bare nipple, admiring how beautiful you looked when you were fully nude. You helped Jeno with taking off his own clothes, as well, and he grinned, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose.

Although Jeno had reiterated several times that he would go rough, he was still a softie at heart.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t go hard, though. This was just the build-up, and Jeno lived for the foreplay.

“Y/N,” he mumbled, peppering featherlight kisses to your lips, “you’re so fucking pretty.”

His lips traveled down your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along its column until he reached your collarbone. Jeno’s teeth razed the tender skin, sucking delicately until he left bruises down your neck and along your shoulders.

You swallowed, instinctively bringing your hand up to tug his hair. “What if someone sees?” you asked.

Jeno hardly even flinched at the possibility. “Let them.”

There was a shift in the air, and maybe it was because of the thought that crossed Jeno’s head—that you didn’t want anyone to know what you two were getting up to. He started biting harder. Sucking harder.

“Why?” he asked between love bites. He let his tongue graze over your bruised skin. “You don’t want them to?”

You shook your head quickly, hips stuttering to a stop. You looked Jeno dead in the eye.

“No, I do.”

Jeno sighed quietly—a little happily, if you were able to pick up on that—and he tugged his boxers down so that his cock sprang out. You marveled at his size, and that only made Jeno’s ego inflate further.

“You want it?” he mumbled in your ear. “Want me buried inside that tight cunt of yours?”

You whined at his words, which turned Jeno on even more. He thought he would go crazy if he couldn’t push himself inside you soon. His cock was already throbbing painfully.

Your eyes were screwed shut. “Please, Jeno,” you breathed out. “Want it so bad.”

“Look at me and tell me what you want me to do.”

Jeno was amused as your eyes fluttered open, half-lidded but still meeting his gaze. He continued the torturous roll of his hips as he waited for your answer, even teasing your clothed cunt with the head of his cock. He was itching to tear off the fabric that was holding him back.

You hummed. “Can you do something for me?”

Jeno leaned in and whispered against the shell of your ear, “Anything.”

“I want you to eat me out.”

It was as if some beast deep within Jeno had been waiting for your confirmation, waiting to snap.

He wasn’t sure if he was testing the waters or diving in head-first anymore. Nevertheless, Jeno started kissing down your body, making his way from your chest, to your stomach, to your hips, and down to your inner thighs. Every breathless whimper from you encouraged him further, and Jeno was ready to give you what you wanted already.

Unfortunately for you, Jeno was an absolute tease.

His palms gripped the back of your thighs, sliding forward until they were gripping your hips. He bit down on the lace of your underwear and dragged it down your legs, looking up at you with a smirk as he did, enjoying the flustered look on your face.

“Want my fingers, too?” Jeno asked, positioning himself and spreading your legs apart more. You were looking at him like you were surprised that he was offering both, and all Jeno could do was grin.

“Please,” you begged.

Jeno licked one long stripe along your lips, hot and wet and messy. It was like the first taste of poison that spurred him to drink more. Your hips started squirming at the contact, and he had to push them back against the wall. He moved back up to kiss your clit, ghosting his lips along your folds. However, Jeno wasn’t satisfied by your stifled sighs and whines; he knew you could be louder if you let yourself go.

So, Jeno grabbed ahold of one of your legs, ignoring your yelp of surprise, and he waited for you to balance on the other before he draped it over his shoulder. This gave him a better angle to devour you, so he dove right in, licking and sucking on your cunt like a starved man.

That got you moaning, and Jeno felt proud that he could make you feel that good. He settled for sucking on your clit gently, showing special attention to that little ball of nerves until you were sobbing and crying out his name. His cock was aching by this point, and he didn’t want you to be sore before he fucked you, so Jeno decided to finally aid your incoming orgasm with his fingers.

He went back to eating out your cunt, using his fingers to rub your clit in precise circles. Your cries were seared into his memory, like a melody he couldn’t escape. It was making him feel like he was on fire, inciting a groan from the back of his throat.

The desperation was thick in your voice. “I-I’m so close…”

“I got you,” Jeno mumbled against your cunt, and he slid two fingers inside you just as you came.

He guided you throughout your orgasm, continuing to kitten lick at your engorged clit and fingering you as you rode out your high. Jeno could feel your walls contracting, and the feeling must have been so intense for you because he felt your legs starting to shake as well. Your other leg was on the verge of buckling and collapsing, so Jeno held you steady by gripping your knee.

“So good for me,” Jeno moaned, “so fucking good and obedient for me, doll.”

This was what Jeno loved about wall sex. He loved watching you struggle to stay upright as he fucked you out. He loved the tension despite being in such an uncomfortable position. He loved feeling you grab onto him for leverage since there was nothing else you could do.

“How was that?” Jeno asked once the pulsing of your walls slowed to a twitch. He gently removed your leg from his shoulder and stood up so that he was cornering you against the wall again. “You want more, don’t you?”

Dazed, you bit down on your lower lip, nodding dumbly at his question. You weren’t even trying to speak, though, so Jeno gripped your jaw.

“Words, angel,” he ordered.

You whimpered, gripping the front of his shirt. “I need you to fuck me already.”

Gaze on your lips, Jeno only nodded before sealing your mouth with his again. You sighed into his mouth blissfully, sliding your hands up to wrap around his neck once more. Jeno scooped you up and brought you back to the couch.

You giggled. “TV’s still on.”

“You’re gonna have to be extra loud for me, then,” Jeno replied, grinning as he got on top of you. He ran his hands along the curves of your body, exhaling slowly in utter admiration. “You ready for me?”

“Of course,” you breathed out.

He reached for his wallet first to pull out the spare condom he kept inside. When he was taking it out, you raised a brow at him.

“Is that a condom?” you asked.

“No—seasoning packet.”

You rolled your eyes. “Very funny.”

Jeno smiled at you before he used his teeth to tear the wrapper off, sliding the rubber onto his cock. Once he rolled it onto his length, he looked at you to make sure you were still okay with this. The way you reached for his cock, pumping it once and rousing a groan from Jeno, though, was very telling.

Jeno licked two of his fingers and brought them down to rub against your folds, smirking at how you squirmed and whined for him. He pulled away and pressed his fingers against your lips, urging you to open up. Soon, you wrapped your pretty lips around his fingers and sucked on them obediently. His cock twitched, as if it was telling him to hurry the fuck up already. Jeno thought he would never be able to get tired of the breathtaking sight.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he groaned.

With that, Jeno pulled his fingers away and leaned down to peck your lips softly before he slid inside you. Your eyes widened and a gasp tore its way past your lips, and the way Jeno was splitting you apart made you feel like fine china shattering into pieces. Jeno himself was overwhelmed by the sensation; the way you sucked him in was bringing his entire world down.

God, now Jeno understood why men went to war over women in the past. This was earth-shattering.

Jeno removed your legs from where they were wrapped around his waist, and he pushed them up so that they were closer to your chest. He groaned as he bottomed out inside you, relishing each cry and whimper that fell from your lips. The way your walls tightened around his cock made him feel desperate more; one taste and Lee Jeno wanted your everything.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Take it—take it all, doll.”

Jeno started moving inside you at a steady pace once you were adjusted to his size. He pulled your hands off of him, interlocking your fingers with his and holding them above you. Watching your gaze turn lustful and your tits bounce as Jeno pounded into you was quite the sight. He fucked into you harder, slowing down for more precise thrusts.

“F-faster,” you begged, eyes trained where the two of you were connected, where his cock was buried deep in your cunt.

“You want me to ruin you, huh?” Jeno questioned in a low voice, his voice so featherlight that he wondered if you could hear it over the sound of skin slapping. “Want me to fuck you ‘till you’re sore.”

“Yes—fuck, yes.”

Jeno sped up his thrusts, groaning as his hips slammed against yours. He repositioned himself so that he was sitting up more, and it was mostly so that Jeno could push down on your stomach as he fucked you to see if he could feel his cock moving inside of you. When he did feel it moving under your stomach, Jeno’s cock twitched inside of you, causing you to cry his name out.

You didn’t verbalize it, but Jeno could tell you were reaching your orgasm once again. The way you started to seize up, mouth parting as your eyes were lost trying to make sense of the blinding pleasure, was enough for Jeno to draw the conclusion that you were very close. He, too, felt his pleasure teetering over the edge, daring to spill over.

So, with one last groan, he buried his face in your neck and came. Good could hardly scratch the surface on how it felt. Jeno felt like he had experienced an explosion of pleasure after holding back for so long.

However, his job wasn’t done; he still had to take care of you. Jeno grabbed ahold of your hips firmly and fucked into you at a swifter pace, trying to get you to your orgasm despite his sore and aching cock. The overstimulation had him practically whimpering as he fucked you harder.

You were finally at your peak, coming undone in front of him with your eyes rolling back and your jaw helplessly gone slack. Jeno smirked, wondering if he had fucked you dumb, and his smile faded when he realized he probably had. He held you in his arms, kissing your cheeks gently as you twitched and squirmed, fighting the waves of pleasure that were starting to subside.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a soft murmur, stroking your hair. “You were so good for me.”

Your chest was heaving like you had just run a marathon. “That was the best sex of my life.”

“Don’t stroke my ego.”

“I’m serious.”

(After that, Jeno invited you to wash up with him, which vaguely translated into shower sex. He helped you wash your hair and scrub your body with soap, slathering the suds all over your body. Then, Jeno pushed you against the wall after you washed off, kissing your neck with vigor before turning you around.

Jeno groped your tits as he slid inside you, taking you from the back. He pounded into you for a few minutes before you were going limp against the wall, needing Jeno to hold you up and keep you grounded.)

You were so sore and fucked-out by the end that Jeno was worried he had gone too hard on you. He helped you dry yourself with the towel and dried your hair with the hairdryer once he gave you clothes to change into. He even ordered take-out for the two of you and had dinner with you in his bed. You two talked about architecture and your dreams, and then you started talking about what shows you wanted to watch next.

Jeno was trying to decode your words in case you were talking about sex positions, but, no, you were legitimately talking about Netflix shows.

He offered you sleeping over, mostly because he didn’t want you to leave nor did he want to sleep alone after such a sensual night. Thankfully, you accepted his offer and Jeno found himself spooning you in bed. He nestled his chin in the crook of your neck and realized he had never felt so cozy and relaxed with someone in his arms. (Once he slept over in Minjeong’s bed and she kicked him out in her sleep.)

“Hey,” you whispered. Jeno hummed sleepily, acknowledging your words, and you continued, “Thanks for today. It was a lot of fun.”

Jeno tightened his grip on you. “I had a lot of fun, too.” He moved his lips to your ear. “Maybe we could do this again some other time.”

“I’m free this weekend,” you offered.

“Perfect.”

Jeno smiled and thought about all the new things he could try with you. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take you both four hours to get to business. Jeno spent more time waiting to fuck you on that couch than actually fucking you.

He froze upon a newfound, horrifying realization. You must have noticed him stiffening up because you turned your head a little, looking concerned.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

Jeno swallowed thickly. “I just realized we broke the ‘no sex on the couch’ rule.”

This was how the exchanges usually went.

Jeno would make an excuse to come over to your place—something along the lines of “we didn’t finish that show,” which was completely bullshit because you two never finished shows—and then he would fuck you on every surface imaginable. This time around, however, you were going over to the Bitch Hunters’ residence, and Jeno was absolutely terrified because he would be breaking the one unspoken rule that didn’t make it to the contract.

No sex on the couch.

(He broke this rule the first time, actually. He felt horrible about it and skipped class to deep-clean the couch.)

Sex on the couch was Jeno’s favorite, though. It presented the challenge of finding a way to get into a comfortable position, but it was also so accessible to use. He especially loved being over you so that he could show off how huge his muscles were, and balancing his weight on furniture with minimal surface area was the best way to display that.

It wasn’t that Jeno was scared to bend the rules of the contract—actually, scratch that; he was terrified. He wanted to respect his housemates, and fucking you on the couch that everyone sat on was going against that.

They had to have known that Jeno was planning to have sex on the couch, though. Jaemin had already teased him about his “Netflix and chill” date this morning, and everyone else decided to clear out of the house for tonight. Renjun was at his girlfriend’s place, Donghyuck was hanging out with Yoo Jimin, and Jaemin was getting munchies with a friend. Jeno felt like he had unknowingly sexiled them, and he felt a little guilty about it.

When you showed up around thirty minutes after his housemates left, Jeno couldn’t help but think about how thin the material of your dress was. Naturally, all thoughts of protecting the poor couch disappeared (again).

He swooped down to peck your lips before you walked in, and then Jeno spent the next five minutes wondering if he was even supposed to greet his hookup with a peck on the lips. You both wound up settling on a random episode of Never Have I Ever. It wasn’t like either of you were actually interested in the show; it was just easy to ignore as it played in the background.

(However, you told Jeno earlier that you two had to watch Don’t Fuck With Cats, and that he would face the consequences if he fucked you senseless before then. So, Jeno complied and put the show on.)

Five minutes of catching up and you two ended up making out on the couch, Jeno’s hand sliding to your lower back and pulling you flush against his body. What first was kissing turned to a heated makeout session, and that quickly turned to Jeno rolling his hips against your clothed cunt. It was almost painful how hard his cock was in his sweatpants.

He grunted quietly. “Fuck, that’s it,” Jeno growled out, his thrusts turning sharper and more eager. All he wanted to do was tear your clothes off and start fucking you; dry humping was only doing so much to satiate his libido.

“I thought we… were watching—a-ah!—Don’t Fuck With C-Cats,” you got out, whimpering each time Jeno thrusted against you at a brutal pace.

You were definitely insane, Jeno deliberated, or maybe it was the entire female population in general. You decked a beefy-looking man with a stack of engineering paper, willingly chose to switch into architectural engineering, and now you were thinking about a serial killer documentary right before Jeno was about to fuck the daylights out of you.

“We can watch it later,” he growled, pinning your hips down against the couch. “I’m a little preoccupied right now.”

You whined, arching your back and hiking up the skirt of your dress so that Jeno could simper at your soaked underwear. He could tell he was embarrassing you, and, better yet, he could tell it was turning you on.

“Jeno.” You had never called out his name so seriously, punctuating it like a slap to the face. It pulled him out of the fog, looking right into your eyes. “Fuck me already.”

“Anything for you.”

He wasted no time undressing you, tugging your underwear past your ankles and helping you pull your dress off. When you were fully naked, it was your turn to help Jeno remove his clothes. Part of him swelled with joy when he noticed that you didn’t shy away from him once, like you were finally perfectly comfortable being so vulnerable in front of Jeno.

“Choke me,” you pleaded. It was completely out-of-the-blue for Jeno, but it had surely been on your mind for a while.

Oh. That was new.

“You’re such a weirdo,” he chastised, but the both of you were very well aware of his cock twitching at your words.

“I’m not a weirdo,” you defended, then smirked. “Plus, I can feel how excited you are to try it out.”

“Got me there.”

Jeno wrapped his fingers around your neck, not adding any pressure at first so it was more for decoration. Then, he squeezed the sides gently, watching your lips part in surprise. Jeno rubbed your cunt to prep you, and he slowly increased the pressure on your neck when he felt you getting wetter. Then, he started rubbing the head of his cock along your folds.

He called out your name in that low register of his when he slid right into you, holding your legs apart so that you wouldn’t squirm. It was slow and sensual, but the moment he felt your walls throbbing around his cock, Jeno couldn’t hold back anymore. By the way you rocked your hips against his, it was clear that you didn’t want him to hold back either.

“J-Jeno, you feel—”

Jeno clamped a hand over your mouth, smirking at the half-dazed, half-stunned look in your eyes. “Angel, did you forget you’re supposed to be quiet? My roommates might be out of the house, but I still have neighbors.”

You nodded, eyes practically glowing at his words. Jeno liked how you could switch up from bratty to obedient in seconds, and he would never admit it, but he got a kick out of you being so compliant with him. It was the biggest power trip for him.

He fucked you deep and slow, and you didn’t beg him to go faster or try to get yourself off as fast as you could. It was like you were enjoying the moment with him, enjoying feeling so connected like this.

Jeno felt something rising to the surface, like it was about to boil over. He didn’t have time to be rational or think straight when he was so immersed in pleasure, but he felt so vulnerable and weak with you in his arms.

Then, your walls were pulsating around his cock, squeezing him in such a way that he was cumming next. Jeno groaned lowly against your skin, whispering sweet nothings as you sobbed throughout your orgasm. Somehow, the intimacy made Jeno’s orgasm feel ten times more powerful.

“I want this,” he breathed out, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I want you, Y/N—want you more than anything else.”

Jeno’s lips trembled against your skin. He was terrified for your response, terrified that you could end things right now. He contemplated getting off of you and clearing the air, but something told him to stop lying to you about what he truly wanted from this.

Seconds passed. Minutes. Jeno’s heart was pounding because you two were just holding each other, you stroking his hair in soothing motions while he laid on top of you.

After several agonizing minutes, you finally whispered, “I want you, too.”

You laid like that for hours, neither of you moving or saying anything. You two just listened to each other’s heartbeats in utter silence, and it was comforting.

Other than the fact that Jeno was starting to realize that he was developing real feelings for you, and that made losing you feel a lot scarier.

Before Jeno was about to announce to his housemates that he was going to ask you out, he had to make a formal apology. So, being the honest man he was, Lee Jeno got down on his knees while his three friends were watching a SpongeBob SquarePants rerun.

They were all, of course, concerned for their friend. Sure, Jeno did stupid things here and there (and it was often Renjun that asked him if he the clouds he floated in were even in our atmosphere), but, this time, they were all staring at him in sheer confusion.

Jaemin raised a brow. “Jeno? Are you on drugs?”

“I wanna apologize to you guys,” Jeno said, raising his head to meet their eyes. “I fucked Y/N on the couch.”

Donghyuck gaped at him. “Wh—”

“Twice,” Jeno admitted.

Renjun’s jaw dropped—almost comically—and he grabbed the arm of the couch to lift himself from the seat. “This couch? Why would you tell us that information while we’re sitting on it?”

“I cleaned it with the steam cleaner right after! Both times!” Jeno added quickly to ease their worries. Renjun sighed in relief and sat back down on the cushion. “I felt so bad after breaking our contract, so I did a deep clean after Y/N left.”

“I really appreciate your honesty, Jeno,” Renjun started, “but, honestly, I could’ve gone my entire life without knowing Y/N got railed on the couch that we’re watching fucking SpongeBob on.”

Jeno grinned sheepishly. “My bad.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Also, I’m planning on asking Y/N out soon, and I sort of need your guys’ help.”

“Good!” Donghyuck huffed. “You better go out with her after all the emotional trauma you’ve put poor Larry through.”

Jaemin frowned. “Who’s Larry?”

“Our couch, Jaemin.”

“Who named our couch after Harry Styles’ and Louis Tomlinson’s ship name?”

“Our couch is no longer named Larry,” Donghyuck announced, mortified.

Renjun rolled his eyes at his friends, and he turned to Jeno once again. “What do you need us to help you with?”

Jeno sucked in a sharp breath. “Well…”

Lee Jeno wanted to ask you out in the most romantic way. His gesture had to be absolutely golden—something you would remember for the rest of your life. His plan was almost perfect; he had sent you on a very small wild goose chase while he was setting up the last part of his scavenger hunt for you. It was composed of all of the places that reminded him of you.

Jaemin was stationed at the place on campus where Jeno first met you. The clue he sent you was pretty straightforward: Go to the place where you decked that creep A.K.A the first place we met. When Jeno received the text from Jaemin that he had given you the bouquet of flowers and the next clue, the second part of the scavenger hunt was underway.

Renjun was situated in front of the building where Jeno hit on you for the first time. Not that this clue was hard or anything, but he knew that you would recognize the classroom you waited outside of while Jeno failed his midterm. (He later wondered if that was probably more of a traumatic memory for him, and perhaps he had miscalculated the romantic aspect of this plan). To his relief, Renjun was able to hand you the box of chocolates along with the third and final clue.

The paper slip read Netflix and chill, and Jeno was sure you would know exactly where to go. Donghyuck was standing outside the house with a key for you. Jeno had set up a picnic for the two of you in the living room, complete with candles and your favorite movies ready to watch on the TV. He had also prepared a slideshow of his favorite moments with you; it was cheesy, but he really wanted to show you he cared. All he had to do now was hang up the letters he had drawn and cut out that read “Will You Go Out With Me?”

His plan was almost perfect.

His mistake, however, was asking Donghyuck for help.

jeno: can you stall y/n for 10 min before you let her in the house? im almost done

hyuck: aight i’ll let her in

jeno: WTFFF DID U EVEN READ WHAT I SENT

To his horror, Jeno heard the key click before the door opened. He didn’t even want to turn and see you standing at the doorway, still mentally cursing out Donghyuck for half-assing his job and getting the hell out of there so that he wouldn’t have to face Jeno’s wrath.

You sounded bewildered when you read aloud, “Will… you… go?”

Jeno was not able to hang up the last three words in time.

So, he grabbed each word and held two in either hand, and he held up the middle one with his teeth. Jeno finally turned to you and kneeled under the words on the wall, hoping this had cleared everything up for good. This was probably the messiest confession considering he had put so much thought and effort into it, but Jeno hoped you would at least like the apple pie he made.

“Will you go me with out.”

Jeno switched around the papers he was holding.

“Will you go out with me?” you corrected. Jeno looked at you expectantly before you broke into a fit of giggles, still clutching your rose bouquet and box of chocolates tightly. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for you to ask me for ages!”

A flood of relief washed through his body. Jeno felt each and every nerve of his physically unravel and settle down. He had been so on-edge about asking you out that he didn’t realize how instinctively tense he was these past few days.

“I really like you, Y/N,” Jeno said, smiling, “and I wanna get to know you better, so can we graduate from Netflix and chill to actual dates?”

You grinned. “I like the sound of that.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I suppose a picnic at home is the perfect place to start.”

Jeno slung his arm around your waist and started explaining all the dishes he made for you, thrilled at the way your eyes lit up at every single one. He sat with you on the blanket and helped you taste from each of the plates before you picked one to start with. (You really liked the apple pie, and it made Jeno swell with joy.)

It was true that Jeno probably didn't have all of his columns and beams in place to form the structure of a relationship. All this time, he thought he was the one who was supposed to set the foundation and lay the materials out. Now, though, he realized that he could build up the framework with you, and it wasn’t so bad having someone who could understand him through and through.

Lee Jeno loved the structure and analysis that went into architectural engineering. He loved the calculations and hands-on work he had to do in order to solve a problem.

He loved building things—working toward creating his own future, his own life. Jeno preferred taking control in that regard.

Now, though, he was more than happy to share the reins with you.

Lee Donghyuck and Na Jaemin sat at a park bench, contemplating getting high off their asses to distract themselves from how they felt like complete losers. After helping Jeno with his plan and getting the confirmation text from their friend that it actually worked out, the two boys realized that they were now fighting for second-to-last place.

“You know why the two of you haven’t gotten girlfriends yet?” Renjun reprimanded them earlier. “It’s because you guys keep seeing this as a competition.”

Donghyuck was an honest man, most of the time. Although it made him sound like a shitty person, it was true that he had a competitive streak. The fact that Renjun and Jeno were kicking his ass was pride-crushing. He couldn’t believe he, Lee Donghyuck, was vying for last place with Jaemin.

The two bitch hunters with the short end of the stick felt pathetic.

That being said, it wasn’t like Donghyuck wasn’t happy for Renjun or Jeno. In fact, he had been rooting for them the entire time and encouraging them to ask out the girls they liked. That’s what friends did; they supported each other until the very end. He wasn’t praying for their downfall, either. If Donghyuck truly wanted someone to fail, he would personally be involved in their downfall, and that wasn’t the case at all.

It was shitty—he knew that. Donghyuck couldn’t shake off the feeling of wanting to be first. He was too competitive for his own good, even if it was fun sometimes.

“Are we even gonna get girlfriends?” Jaemin questioned. “You know, we’ve lived an easy life—getting by with our pretty privilege. Maybe we were doomed to fail because we’ve been so careless.”

Donghyuck groaned. “Don’t say that! I’ll go crazy if I lose.” He sighed softly and pressed his lips together. “You know, I think we’ll be just fine. It would be criminal if we didn’t get cuffed.”

“You’re right,” Jaemin replied. “I’m a catch.”

“Well, I’m actually not so sure about you, but whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Jaemin laughed, pushing at his friend’s shoulder playfully.

That was how it was. Donghyuck never meant any of the jabs he made at his friends. He always sincerely supported them behind that joking facade of his. He truly did think Jaemin would find someone. Why wouldn’t he? Jaemin was probably one of the most attractive guys in their year. Once he got past all of the commitment issues and flightiness, he would have no problems cuffing that special someone.

“You know, I think we need to go out more,” Donghyuck said. “We need to start going to parties again.”

His friend raised a brow. “For what?”

“To meet people,” he explained. “It’s unlikely that we’re gonna fall for someone in our class like Jeno—”

Jaemin huffed. “Unlikely? Why?”

“Because you barely even go to your in-person classes, dumbass.”

“Point taken.”

“Renjun, on the other hand,” Donghyuck continued, “met his girlfriend at a party, and if he can do it, so can we.”

Jaemin nodded along to his words, holding out a hand for Donghyuck to shake. He took Jaemin’s hand and shook it firmly, as if this was a business deal they had just finalized.

“Speaking of parties,” Donghyuck started, “Yoo Jimin’s throwing a party tomorrow, and I think we should go.”

“Dude, she doesn’t want you.”

“I just said we’re going to her party!” Donghyuck exclaimed. “I’m not expecting anything, but if she happens to be into me, then that’s a win.”

Jaemin chuckled. “Keep dreaming.”

Deep down, though, both boys knew that Donghyuck was very capable of chasing after what he wanted. If who he wanted was Yoo Jimin, he was 100% confident he would successfully cuff her if he tried hard enough.

For now, though, Donghyuck watched the water ripple across the pond alongside his best friend.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE ON THIS ONE !!! let’s all celebrate league player no bitches lee jeno attaining his bitch <33 also half this fic was pure self indulgence and filth but yk it’s all for the vibes >:) i am very very excited to write hyuck’s and would start now but it’s late and i am using my energy to post this muah muah !! thank you for all the support on this series and the hype for this fic! i have been soooo blown away by the comments and reblogs and asks!! <3

GENERAL TAG LIST ▸ @leeknowsredeyeliner @wownajaemin @geniejunn @huangberryyy @halbae @sehunniepot @jjaeyoonoh @subhyuck @itskkung @channiedani @jaemboi64 @n0hyuck @hyuckinx @domhyuckie @justhereforimagines @daegalfangirl @nctevia @legbouk @wanlore @wannabeursugarbaby @mippidimop @bockhyun @yuhuzu @tacojisung @66hycks @jenosbliss @punnshine @jenoxygen @tiramisubox @baehaechannie @studywoo @kkakkdugi @jenoslutie @luvenshiti @uglyratlmao @vantxx95 @jenlvr01 @njmcockring @swimmingkpopblog @aliceinwhateverland @bbyjayb @sayyysss @keemburley @luvjeongjaehyun @cosmicwintr @lenonie @smolpeyy @dnylwoo @nayuinchains @rbf-aceu @aerev @soobin-chois @lunarlxve @zelqueenofspades @so-showme-ill-shownu @nominsgirl @oohyansi @hiqhkey @rosiie @bellepluie @aminihhj @yixingtion @lumineuxes @lachimolalas-posts @iveivory @pckeia @jenorenle @rioderiver @fairysunooo @eternalhongshine @alyselenai @multihoe-net @ttae-yong @count-your-shadows @kindawack @jaeymark @nanascupid @yunopouts @youngandkuripot @cuteejeno @secretnovelliteraturenerd @hyuckscore @aadya-alaris @shawkneecaps @pewpewpwe00 @yourelate @jenojaeminrenjun @deaaaan @chezzontop @chims-kookies @bffbangtan @donutswithjaminthemiddle @lynniensfw @bellamendoza @spicyutas @bethm5 @bananaxsydeee @carelessshootanonymous @otchae @staysstrays @galifreyp0tt3rh3ad @jenoleeaesthetic @fullsunld @jusaminki @alexameliamg @hwasatiny @stealercore @jae-bam @airpodbaekuwu @jenosbunny @lovecherrytion @justalildumpling @fkwplctmjz @flower-lise @bmgyubear @evergreeneyesx @tamakofever @sunnylixxx @yunhon0 @mingilingy @deobitiful @jsjcue @hyckio @liyinzen @baehaechannie @soobinscutedimples @sundamariis @popunkzz @baekhyunstruly @yunho-1999 @artgukk @rinjeolmi @lmkworld @baekhyuns-lipchain @kpop-bambi @its-taeil-time @beomgyus-crayola @brightestmark @friseealamode

FIC TAG LIST ▸ @the-borahae-jj @meowniee @sovlidago @cdellee @tacojisung @seonghwaverse @taestrwbrry @chansbabygirl02 @jinnieyeolele @verybeautifullee @ilvaussie @bellamendoza @etaerealboy @kaislinging-slasher01 @beomgyus-crayola @rbf-aceu @rollypollypoing @n0hyuck @ti--red @vip-access @cathyoliveros10 @kireijae

CAN’T TAG ▸ @irrealitys @lilacboba @jdance01 @greentealattae97 @betweenminds @heestoe @yongsfiles @basskickswingingbrucelee @sycasz @nachotequilaqueso @artsenthusiastk77 @luminousannie @themessigurl @markleesluvur @nothingwasnotfound @morklee127 @untitled-blog9836 @slowlyweepingnacho @thatdreamerbxtch @moonlightgreleric @hyuckschocoball @nanajaemin @peachydreamies @sabrina22892-blog

#nct scenarios #jeno scenarios #nct dream smut #jeno x reader #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct smut #lee jeno #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct oneshots #nct dream oneshots #jeno imagines #jeno oneshots #00 line hard hours #00 line smut #nct dream hard hours #nct hard hours

5K notes · View notes

raktanag · 16 days

Note

"Snake..." "a scary snake.." a kid version of adam approaches you, but looked scared

@f1rst-man

"Oh Nagaraja Shesha, help me..."

Kalyan hasn't recognized the child, yet, so he just crouches as much as his tail allows him to "Lisssten, i know i look scary and all but i am not going to hurt you"

#awake and hunting (ic)

10 notes · View notes

wriothesleybear · 10 months

Text

Tea Time with Wriothesley

~ contents: pre-fontaine wriothesley, fluff, a bit suggestive

~ a/n: i'm not that much of a tea person except for sweet iced teas, but i'd wanna have tea time with wriothesley🥺 this sorta made me blush and smile while writing this, but i hope this isn't cringe lol. I hope you guys enjoy it also :)

In the room, the ticking of a clock and papers shuffling can be heard. Wriothesley puts the papers down to close his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. He glances at the clock and sees he's been working overtime for about an hour and a half. He looks at the stack of papers on his desk and sighs. It's gonna be a while more until he finishes with today's paper work. He grabs the papers he put down to continue reading. Suddenly, there's a knock at his door. He tenses and sighs, thinking it's a coworker bringing more work to him. He tells the person to come in. The door opens and he visibly relaxes when he sees it's you.

"It's over your work hours and you haven't come home yet. I figured you got caught up with work again."

He chuckles as he puts down the papers. "Yeah, it's been a very chaotic day today."

You walk towards his desk and as you got closer, you noticed the faint bags under his eyes. You then begin to comb your fingers through his hair, causing him to close his eyes. He has a faint smile on his face.

"When was the last time you took a break?"

He tenses a bit. With his eyes still closed, he signs and says "Not since noon, but that was only for 5 minutes until I had to go out to capture a group of criminals we've been hunting for a while in the main part of the city." You figured he wouldn't be able to leave work anytime soon so you began to think of something you could do to help your boyfriend get through his work. You stop combing his hair and pull your hand away. He opens his eyes and you could see in his eyes, his was wondering why you stopped. You giggle.

"How about I make you some tea? I know that will help you hold you over until you're done with your paperwork." His face softens as a small smile forms.

"As long as you don't try to switch out my drink with one of Sigewinne's drinks again."

You gasp. "That was one time. I was only trying to help her mess with you."

He silently smirks at you.

You roll your eyes and smile. "I promise I won't switch out your tea with one of her drinks." He chuckles.

You walk over to the little drink center in his office where his usually makes his tea. You decide on some green tea to help keep Wriothesley awake while you make yourself some hibiscus tea.

Once the green tea was done heating up, you remember your boyfriend prefers the bitter taste of tea, wanting no sugar, milk, or cream added. While you prefer sweet things, adding about four spoonful of sugar to overpower the bitter taste of the tea.

While making the tea, you didn't notice the eyes watching you the whole time instead of focusing on the paperwork in his hands. Wriothesley put the papers down, quietly got up from his chair, and walked over to you where your back was turned and you were too focused on getting the tea right.

Suddenly, you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, startling you and causing you to squeak. You feel the breath from your boyfriend on your neck as he chuckles.

"You're cute when you squeak like a little mouse."

You blush. "Don't tease me or I'll add sugar to your tea."

He laughs and buries his face in your neck. " But you promised you wouldn't do anything to my tea."

"Yeah, well if you pick on me, I'll mess with your tea."

He laughs some more and apologizes.

You smile and relax in his arms. "The tea is almost ready."

"It smells good. I'm starting to feel relaxed already." His arms tighten a bit more around you. He leaves a light kiss on your neck. He enjoys little moments like this with you. "But that could also be because I have you here in my arms."

You blush. "You're teasing me again."

"Maybe. But it is true. You help me get through the rough moments of work". You smile. He always knew how to make your heart race. You move your hand up to his hair to comb through it again.

After a few minutes of staying in that position, "The tea is ready" you said.

He hums. "Let's just stay like this for a while longer." You wanted to say how the tea would get cold but you would be lying if you said you didn't want to stay like this a while longer also. You snuggled further into him to silently tell him okay.

You can always heat up the tea and have it later.

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley headcanons

320 notes · View notes

sunnysideprincess · 2 months

Text

There is no one coming for Tony Stark, he gets that early enough.

Seven and being fed lines at gunpoint. Rescue doesn't come for days until the kidnappers grow sick of his weeping and leave him alone, giving him enough time to wiggle his way out through the vents.

Fourteen and sporting a broken limb, face marked black and blue. The man with a hook for right hand listens to Howard Stark's "we don't negotiate with terrorists" speech and comes back with a meat cutter, only to find a rigged smoke bomb and a vindictive teenager with a makeshift taser.

Twenty-one and Ty's filming him, his moaning and crying and the press has a field day dissecting the whore of a man the Stark heir has become.

Twenty-two and there's a bottle, or seven, and needles going into his arm, a broken piano and a shattered will. Tony Stark is a broken man.

But nobody comes.

Thirty-nine and he's under water, a hole in his chest and a car battery that's keeping his heart ticking. There's him and a dying old man. There's him and the suit and a torch of vengeance he carries out to the desert.

Forty and he has a time bomb in his chest—

Nobody comes.

He knows this.

Nobody ever comes.

Tony Stark is destined to die alone.

Forty-five and trapped inside a bunker, cold and frozen, held at gunpoint by wayward scientists and soldiers. His suit of armor is scrap metal. The numbness crawling over his chest.

Nobody's gonna come.

Rhodey's not awake.

Pepper's not aware.

Vision...

Nobody's coming on time.

Except, there's a knife and a scream and the blinds are ripped from his eyes with ferocious gentleness. There's ice and cold and storm-weathered eyes peering into his soul.

"How bad," Barnes asks him. But all Tony sees is a blood-soaked knife and scattered bodies. All he sees is Barnes and his bleeding rage coiled tight around his shoulders and Tony is a broken clock. He doesn't know what day it is. He can't guess because Barnes looks just the same as the day he last saw him.

"How long?"

"Too long," he hears when he stumbles into his rescuer's hold, shivering and weightless, disoriented and so, so confused.

Nobody should have come. Yet outside, there's an army. Slaughtered and thrown about. And Barnes walks unhurried, his arms secure around his cargo. A predator carrying his trophy for the hunt.

Nobody's supposed to come. But Barnes did.

Tony wonders why.

#tony stark #bucky barnes #pre winteriron #deb writes in between #post cacw #tw: child abuse #tw: drugs #pre slash #winteriron #starbucks #buckytony #fic #ficlet #mcu

89 notes · View notes

borathae · 2 years

Text

↳ Index [Day 01 - Period Sex]

Pairing: aaol!couple

Kinks: sub!Jungkook, dom!Reader, Mommy kink, period sex, blood, vaginal penetrative sex, vibrator, edging, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), dirty talk, creampies, they are clean & on birth control, aftercare

Wordcount: 3.5k

a/n: if I read one asshole pseudo-intelligent comment about her using pads, I will personally skin you alive in the most painful way. Us monthly-bleeders should support each other instead of judging each other and that goes for what you feel most comfortable in during your period as well. So keep your ugly words to yourselves and enjoy this story. Now that this is out of the way, enjoy besties! 💗

"My love?"

You grumble as an answer.

"I'm home."

"Hmpf."

The bed dents, a warm hand rests itself upon your hip.

"What's wrong?"

"My uterus is shedding itself."

"Oh no, god", Jungkook clicks his tongue, sagging his shoulders, "that sucks so much. I'm sorry. Do you want me to pop down to the store for something?"

"Yes", you roll onto your back, looking at your husband, "can you buy me a new uterus?"

Jungkook laughs, "how about vanilla fudge ice cream and rambokki?"

"Yeah sounds good too", you mumble.

“Yeah? Then I’m getting that”, Jungkook stands up and smooches your forehead, “brb, I won’t be long.”

Jungkook returns half an hour later with the fruits of his successful food vendor hunt. He smooches your forehead as a greeting, doing so with the cutest and proudest sparkle in his eyes.

You eat the rambokki and ice cream cuddled up on the couch together whilst watching a cake baking competition on TV and later Jungkook rubs your feet whilst telling you about his day. Quite frankly, it lifted your once horrible mood by ninety. Your husband always knows how to cheer you up.

Your mood probably would have been lifted by a hundred if it wasn’t for those pesky cramps literally torturing you once you are trying to fall asleep.

Jungkook lifts his head from the pillow upon feeling you toss and turn once again.

"My love, are you still awake?" he whispers.

"Mhm", you answer him, breathing heavily.

"Are your cramps really bad? You’re moving a lot", he asks, scooting closer to you in the darkness of your bedroom. He reaches for your back, scratching it softly to soothe you a little. It feels really nice.

"It hurts", you say, clutching your own tummy tightly.

"I know", he kisses your shoulder, "should I get some pain meds?"

"I already took some, but it still hurts."

"Nooo my love, that sucks so much", Jungkook whines, draping his arm around you just so he can place his hand on your tummy as a makeshift heating pad. He rubs you gently, drawing little circles as he does.

It soothes the pain instantly. Jungkook must have magic in his touch or maybe it is because he does it with so much love and devotion that it really, really helps. He is truly the best heating pad ever.

"Does that help a little?" he asks.

"Yeah, thank you", you say, finally feeling yourself relax.

“Then I’ll keep doing that”, he says, making himself comfortable behind you to spoon you.

Jungkook rubs your belly for quite some time, enjoying the tranquillity of the night with you whilst slowly, very slowly, becoming droopier and droopier in sleepiness.

His eyes are already heavy, when an especially angry cramp makes you tense up again. He puts more vigour into his rubs, kissing your neck and shoulder as he does.

"Is okay", he whispers tiredly, "s'okay."

"God I hate it so much, I just want it to stop", you whine, "I was so sleepy and now I'm not."

"I know, me too", Jungkook says, pecking your cheek repeatedly. His head is just a little bit heavy as it is fighting the cruel pull of gravity.

"Can’t you just fuck an orgasm outta me or something? I heard that helps", you say completely jokingly, laugh contorted in suffering.

Jungkook’s hand halts on your belly, his puckered lips are pressed against your cheek.

"You're not actually considering it, are you?" you ask him, sneaking a glance at him even if the room is dark.

"I mean", Jungkook starts only to get his hand slapped by you.

"Bunny, come on."

"What? You were suggesting. I'm just saying, maybe it helps. You don’t know unless you tried."

"And if it doesn’t help what then?"

"Then we had nice sex."

"What if it's not nice sex?"

"Of course it’s going to be nice. It’s with you", he says and snuggles into you cutely. He makes high-pitched little sound effects, nuzzling into you with all he got and melting your heart with it. He is such a cutie, you really can’t say no to him.

"Okay, okay fine. Let's try it. My cramps can't get worse can they?"

"Really? Are you serious?"

"Yes, let's do it."

"Oh my god that’s so great. I wanted to try this for so long", Jungkook giggles, "I'm so excited right now."

"If I hear one comment about gross blood though, I'm divorcing you."

Jungkook snickers, "that won’t happen", he pecks your cheek, "relax my love, I’m getting everything."

And with that he turns the lights on and runs out of the room. Of his once supposed sleepiness, no trace is left.

"Wait. What? Everything?" you mumble, staring at the bedroom door which he left open.

Jungkook returns from the playroom with a leakage proof sheet cover, some lube and a handy, little vibrator.

"I come bearing gifts", he says.

"I can see that", you say in a chuckle.

"You'll love it. It’s your favourite vibe. Freshly charged for those extra aggressive vibes", he continues, making you smile. He knows you so well.

He helps you place the cover under your butt, kissing you with his hands on each side of your head for way too many seconds afterwards. When he breaks the kiss, your lips became just the slightest bit tender and your pulse is racing in your chest. He looks so excited as well, cheeks rosy and big eyes all sparkly.

"I'm so excited", he says and giggles.

"Me too. I'm starting to feel it."

"Yeah? Are your cramps better already?"

You shake your head, "we need to try more", you say, wiggling your brows.

"Uuh, ohoho", Jungkook wiggles his brows, "more you say? Well then I shall provide for you, my lady", he says in a fake posh accent, making you laugh with it.

"You stupid noodle, you."

He sits down on his heels and lifts the vibrator into your vision. With a click, he has turned it on to the lowest setting, now placing it against your inner thigh right where your knee is. He guides it down your leg, switching his gaze between your clothed middle and your face.

The vibrations feel soft on your skin, gaining in intensity the closer to your pussy he gets.

Jungkook reaches it and does a little swirl, missing your clothed heat to instead tickle your lower tummy with it.

"Don't tease", you warn, opening your legs more.

"I'm not, I’m vibrating the cramps away", he says, swirling the toy right under your belly button.

You crack up, laughing loudly. It makes Jungkook grin cutely.

"You stupid noodle, I can’t believe you", you say between chuckles.

"Heh", Jungkook lets out and kisses your knee. He abandons your tummy to instead rub the vibrator up your other inner thigh.

"Mhm Bunny, not gonna lie, that feels nice", you sigh, "I want more."

"More? Like this?" Jungkook asks, running the tip of the toy up the middle of your pussy. The combination of pj pants, panties and pad barely lets any vibrations through, except for when he reaches your clit. Your hips chase the sensation, you sigh softly.

Jungkook, who realises you love it here the most, stays, turning the vibrations up by one.

"Wow, good", you gasp, "Bunny…baby."

"Are the vibrations enough?" he asks, rubbing the toy up and down just slightly.

"One more?"

Jungkook obeys, gasping right with you as a jolt of pleasure runs through you.

"That's good, that’s really good", you moan, "keep doing that."

Jungkook watches you writhe in pleasure, feeling his pants slowly but surely become tighter in excitement. It turns him on so much to know that he is pleasuring you just right. Also seeing you be blissed out is the hottest view to him, so that doesn’t help with his boner either.

"This is really hot", Jungkook says, "can I take my cock out and touch myself, please?"

You peel your eyes open.

"Take your clothes off first. Wanna see your pretty body."

"Yes, Mommy", Jungkook says, nodding his head obediently.

He sadly has to turn off the vibrator for now, placing it next to your foot. Then he undresses. First his shirt, then his pants. Both get thrown onto his side of the spacious bed.

He looks at you with shy eyes, hands by his sides and chest heaving up and down quickly.

"Such a pretty boy. Look at your cute, little dick. Did you already get a little hard, mhm?"

"Yes, it turns me on so much when you feel good", he says.

You smile. He is the cutest.

"Take off my pants, Bunny."

Jungkook obeys instantly, discarding the clothes on his side of the bed. He looks at your middle, eyes racing over the little flaps which hold the pad in place. He gets harder because of it.

"You're so sexy", he says, running his fingers up and down your warm panties.

"You think so? You like how I look in my period diapers?" you joke, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, they're cute", he says, turning on the vibrator afterwards. He places it back on your pussy, tracing your entrance before returning to your clit.

"Yes Bunny, mhhm yes", you moan, rolling your hips up repeatedly, "shit, that’s good."

Jungkook moans softly, wrapping his hand around his cock to jerk it off to the image of you. It won’t be long and he is completely rock hard. Touching himself just gets him way too good when he can get you off as he does it.

"Keep going Bunny, keep going."

"This is so hot, Mommy. So, so hot."

Not long and your thighs are twitching in an approaching high, body filled with endorphins and head dizzy. The vibrations are intense on your clit and you can’t figure out if the wetness sticking to you is your period or utter horniness. Probably the latter.

Jungkook is panting so much, looking so desperate with his cock all pink and swollen between his fingers.

"Stop Bunny, stop."

Jungkook obeys even if he is edging himself with it. He whines, pouting at you so incredibly sadly as his cock throbs in his hand.

"Me too."

Jungkook drops the vibrator, holding your thighs as you writhe in the pain of a denied orgasm.

"Urgh god", you groan, arching your back in desperation.

"I, I don't understand", he says.

"Want your cock, Bunny", you press out, "just need to be filled by you, love."

"Really? Are you okay with undressing?" he asks, kneading your thighs in excitement.

You nod your head, "just don’t look too much."

"I won’t, but I'm not judging you so don’t worry", he says, hooking his fingers in your panties, "ready?"

"Wait."

"Yeah?"

"How about I'll do it?"

"Yes okay, do whatever feels comfortable."

You sit up, tangling your legs over the edge of the bed to take off your panties.

"Sorry, I’m kinda weird about my pad. I don’t want you seeing that ‘cause it can be such a mess."

"It's really fine, don’t worry."

"Aaand it's…not even as bad as I thought it would be", you sneak a glance at him, "tmi. Sorry, I’m talking a lot. This is new to me? I guess?"

"It's really okay. You know how I can get, I’m such an endless chatter when I'm nervous."

You chuckle, "I know you are. Fuck, okay let's do this. Here we go", you lie back down, parting your legs, "my period pussy in its full glory I guess. Tada."

Jungkook looks at you, staying silent for way too many seconds (it wasn’t long, you are simply nervous).

"Say something please."

"Your pussy is so pretty, wow that’s how wet you are already?" Jungkook gushes, running his hands up and down your inner thighs, "your lips are really red right now because of the, you know, blood", he says and giggles.

"Don't say that, oh my god", you whine, trying and failing to close your legs as Jungkook holds them open. His arms tense as he fights you, but he shows no ounce of struggle.

"It's so pretty, you look so soft and warm", he says, gazing at your face with love drunk eyes, "I want to sink my cock into you so bad, Mommy."

Your stomach twists and turns in arousal. He is such a sweet talker. It works every time.

"Then do it", you order him, relaxing your legs again. You don’t want to close them anymore, not when Jungkook promises you the sweet future of his perfect cock.

Jungkook nods his head, wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock to lay it atop your pussy. He rubs it through your folds slowly, frenulum grinding against your clit each time he does.

"So wet", he says, breathing speeding up, "and your lips are really swollen. Are you really turned on?"

"Yeah, so turned on. I want your cock."

"I want your pussy too", Jungkook says, pushing in two inches before slipping out again. He moans, furrowing his brows, "it's sticking to me. That’s so hot. My tip's so red now."

"Fuck Bunny, just slip in", you order.

"I'm sorry, it’s just really hot", he says with a grin, before pushing back inside.

He doesn’t leave you this time around, allowing his cock to connect with you inch by inch until he doesn’t have any more to offer.

You feel not even a pinch of discomfort.

Bear in mind, you rarely do with Jungkook, but given how little foreplay you did in comparison to your other extensive sessions, it is truly remarkable how easily he slipped in. Your pussy is just naturally so wet and swollen and ready to be stuffed that his cock feels like heaven now that he is inside.

"Oh my god Mommy", Jungkook squeaks out, pursing his lips into a pout, "your pussy is so wet. Like really, really wet."

"I know, I feel it too."

Jungkook starts rocking back and forth, "woah okay woah", he laughs and furrows his brows, "woahwoahwoah, woah."

He tilts his head back for a gasping breath, chest shuddering as he exhales and fingers digging into the softness of your thighs.

"Woah."

"Yeah, woah", you agree, staring at his face obsessively. He looks so handsome when he gets off good. His cock shifts inside you, rubbing against your g-spot repeatedly. Even inside, you are more sensitive than usual, feeling the need to curl your toes each time he grinds against your favourite spots.

"Your pussy is insane. It’s so warm and so wet", Jungkook looks into your eyes with blown-out pupils, "that’s insane. It’s like you’re having a fever. You’re so warm."

"Bunny seriously, we should have done this sooner. I'm so sensitive."

"You are?" Jungkook pulls a face of devastation, whining loudly, "Mommy I want to cry. I'm so happy that you love it."

"Don't cry, use the vibe instead", you tell him lovingly, eliciting a little chuckle from him.

"Yes okay. Like this?" he asks, turning it back on to place it on your clit. His cock he keeps fucking in and out of you, going slow yet precise.

"Yes fuck", you press out, back arching off the mattress, "fuck, Bunny, oh god that’s the spot."

Jungkook keeps rubbing your clit with the vibrator, eyes fixated on his cock. It turns him on how your pussy looks around it. How she stretches and moves and hugs him so perfectly as he fucks into you. His shaft is all red from your juices, glistening almost blindingly much. His pubes are covered in it as well, looking just as soaked as his cock does.

"You're so wet, seriously so wet. Don’t wanna stop fucking you", Jungkook moans, thighs tensing with each thrust.

He doesn’t go fast, but he makes sure to go as deep as possible to really make you feel his cock. He knows you love that.

"Don't stop Bunny, you’re such a good boy. Your cock's the best", you encourage him, writhing happily. The vibrations are so intense on your clit. Like a constant source of warm electricity, which creeps deep into your every inch. Jungkook’s cock feels a million times better because of it, making you moan each time he hits your g-spot.

"Mommy, I love it", Jungkook croaks and falls to his elbows in a whimper, "love it so much. You’re so wet, it’s insane."

"Fix the vibe Bunny baby", you order.

"Can you do it please? My arm is breaking off otherwise."

You chuckle, taking the vibrator out of his fingers to place it back on your clit. Jungkook places his other elbow next to your head as well, using his fingers to play with your hair.

"Love that", you croak, tilting your head so your lips were almost touching.

Jungkook moans, chasing you with parted lips and continuous sounds leaving him.

"It's so fucking nasty", you rasp, "I love having your perfect cock in my wet pussy."

"Please don’t talk like this", he begs in a whimper.

"Why not?"

"Wanna cum", he whines.

"Aww so sweet, you’re close because I talk dirty good to you?"

"Yeah", Jungkook drops his forehead against yours, "and 'cause your pussy's so fucking wet. Fuck", he adds in an aggressive whisper, cupping your cheek roughly so he can tilt your head up and kiss you as passionately and as deeply as possible.

You moan, you groan, you growl into the kiss, tongues dancing with each other and lips never satisfied with the closeness. Shit, that kiss feels like paradise. Bringing you over the edge so well that you full on moan into Jungkook’s mouth. Jungkook whimpers as it happens, squeezing your cheeks in desperation.

“You’re so tight, oh god”, he keens.

"Cream me Bunny, cream me", you order him, pulsating around him as the vibrations on your clit force your orgasm to feel never ending.

"Mommy", Jungkook squeaks out and sobs, coming undone with a tremble of his limbs.

His hot cum shoots up your pussy, covering your every inch. The fuck becomes even wetter than before, squelching sounds growing in volume and pussy feeling on fire.

"Fuck baby, Don't stop", you growl, forcing him closer by his hair, "hear me? One more."

"It's so tight", Jungkook sobs, "so w-wet."

"Close baby, close. My pussy's so sensitive. Close. Keep moving Bunny."

"So hard", he whimpers, twisting the pillow and curling his toes.

"Close", you croak, tensing up in anticipation, "Kookie n-now."

You cry out for him, kicking the sheets as your pussy spasm in her orgasm. Lesson learned. You can climax like a mad person on your period. Well, that is going to be one of your new obsessions.

"That shit feels so good", you wail, "so good, ah!"

"It's so hot", Jungkook sobs, spilling tears, "I love you Mommy, I love you so much."

Jungkook has the tendency to confess his undying love for you when you cum especially good. It will never grow old.

"I..love…you-", a gasp and one last shake, "-too."

You drop, skin sticky against the cover and head turning in dizziness. You turn off the vibrator with shaky fingers, discarding it with weak hands.

"Well fuck", you say and exhale loudly, "that was intense."

"Yes, so intense", Jungkook rasps, kissing your cheek repeatedly, "was I good? Did you like it?"

"I fucking loved it. Holy shit, Bunny", you cup both his cheeks, "you are the bestest boy. I feel so fucked, it’s amazing."

Jungkook breaks into happy giggles, attacking you with smiley kisses.

"I'm so happy, this was amazing for me too", he says, softening cock slipping out from all the movement.

"Mhm Bunny, I can feel it dripping out of me", you whine.

"I'm sorry, I came so much. I was so into this", he says, reaching for a tissue, "here, for you."

"Thank you", you accept it, pressing it against your pussy. You study him. He is wiping his cock clean with a tissue as well.

"That's so much blood" you cringe, "are you okay?"

Jungkook looks at you with big, shocked eyes, "of course I am! I don’t think it's gross", he insists loudly, shaking his head, "especially not after I felt how wet you are during your period. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay. It’s good to hear you aren’t grossed out. Fuck, it's so messy, isn’t it?"

"It's nothing a quick shower can’t fix", he grins cutely, "do you want to hop in under together and wash up?"

"I feel like this is going to end with us against the wall."

Jungkook laughs, "maybe, let's see."

You roll your eyes, "you're such a stupid noodle. Goddamn. Fine, let's shower together. I really can’t say no to you, can I?"

Jungkook shakes his head, "no", he giggles, "it's because I'm so cute."

"You aren’t wrong", you laugh, "fuck Bunnybaby, you’re such a cutie. My cramps are better too, you know?"

"Really?! Wooow, I’m so happy to hear that", Jungkook squeals, helping you sit up in bed just so he can smooch your lips.

1K notes · View notes