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florwons · 8 months

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‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt — nishimura riki ‧ ˚₊‧

synopsis you hated niki. he hated you. despite your ongoing rivalry, your recent arm injury seems to have had an unexpected effect on your so-called enemy. rather than making fun of your injury, he's shown a surprising twist of kindness by wanting to draw on your cast instead.

pairing rival!niki x fem!reader genre fluff, e2ls, hs au !

warnings profanity, injury, just niki and reader being a bickering mess !! typical rival things

featuring danielle newjeans jungwon enhypen wc 2303 !

note first enha work !! first time on blr and i think i’m getting a hang of it.. took too much time figuring out everything though 😵‍💫. i guess this happens when you’re bored (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) anyhow, i just think niki fits e2ls !! also i think he fits this cute idea i was thinking about so why not combine the two ?? might also create a part 2 to this !!

— wanna read part 2 ? coming soon!

"Wow, two whole months for it to heal? I’m sure it hurt, didn’t it?" Danielle exclaimed, her expression filled with shock as she glanced from your cast to your face. The two of you were seated next to each other during your first period, giving her a chance to closely examine your injury.

"Yeah," you replied with a touch of sarcasm, a sigh escaping your lips as you gazed at the plain, white cast encasing your arm. "Just the sort of thing that can happen when you take up a part-time job at a convenience store. But, my doctor assured me it's not too serious, so this arm should be back to its usual self soon!" You lightly tapped your arm with your free hand, showing her that you’re completely fine.

"Well, it's still frustrating to have to let it heal for that long," she pouted, receiving a light chuckle from you. Extending your uninjured arm, you gently held her hand, offering her a soft smile. "Don't worry, Danielle. Two months will fly by."

You were truly grateful for a friend like Danielle, who consistently showed concern for your well-being. It made you wonder why your life couldn't be filled with people like her instead of people like him. But no, the universe had different plans and had given you Niki, your classmate, or rather your enemy.

This rivalry with Niki had its roots all the way back to elementary school, and due to both of your stubbornness, it had been brought into your high school years. Poor Danielle found herself caught in this mess, being friends with both of you. You did feel bad for involving her, but the blame fell largely on Niki, who seemed to exist solely to get under your skin.

"Does... you-know-who... know about your injury? You guys walk to and from here together," Danielle hesitated, bringing up him in the conversation cautiously. You shook your head and replied, "No, not as far as I know. I actually left a bit early today—oh no."

Your hand instinctively moved to your forehead, the beginnings of a headache forming from the thought. Danielle let out a small gasp, concern evident in her expression. "What's wrong, YN? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine—wait, no, I'm not!"

"Why? What's the matter?"

"It's Niki! I just remembered that he's probably going to make fun of my injury for the entire two months." You slumped in your chair, already envisioning the scenarios in your mind. "That asshole."

“You actually got me worried!”

"Sorry, but this is something you should be worried about! Niki's constant teasing might be the end of me!"

"YN, you'll handle it. You both argue every day, anyway," Danielle said with a dismissive tone, not fully grasping how serious the issue felt to you. After all, Niki having another reason to mock you during class was far from trivial.

You sighed, realizing that you really wished for your arm to heal as quickly as possible.

In what seemed like no time at all, the second period arrived—a bit faster than usual. You hurried into the classroom, aiming to get into your seat promptly. But there was no use of that if he’s your seatmate! Just why couldn’t it be Danielle? You silently cursed your teacher for arranging the seating this way. More people started filling the classroom, and Niki’s unmistakable blonde hair caught your attention — he was walking your way.

His gaze fixed strangely on your arm as you withdrew it from the desk, letting it hang at your side. You deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, unwilling to deal with his presence at the moment. The scrape of his chair against the floor caught your ear, prompting you to take a deep breath. "Already pissed?" His voice carried a teasing tone, and you could practically feel the smirk in his words, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Aw, you got my routine down already?” You scoffed, placing your notebook on your desk. You were determined to shut out his annoying voice, but of course, life had other plans. "Seems like it. Just call it the Niki effect, I guess."

"Yeah, a real heartwarming effect," you replied monotonously, your attention shifting to the front of the classroom. In the corner of your eye, you could see him take out a notebook as well. You silently hoped he'd simply focus on his work and not pay attention to you, though it seemed he had different intentions.

“What’s up with your arm?” he points at your injured arm with his pencil. Now that made you wish you could snap that pencil in half. Nonetheless, you managed to maintain your composure, or at least tried to, as you responded calmly. "Oh, you know, just your typical arm-breaking experience. Nothing major—just a cozy two-month wait for it to return to normal."

"I didn't need a breakdown of your recovery process, but I suppose thank you for letting me know,” Niki remarked, adjusting his seat position. "Wouldn't expect any less from someone like you."

Holding onto your pencil, the pressure of it snapped its lead, and you clenched your teeth in frustration. "Do you ever know when to just keep your mouth shut?" you retorted, your tone edged with irritation.

"It's one of my finer qualities—maybe you should catch up," he shot back, a hint of amusement evident in his voice.

"Sure thing. Just do me a favor and stay quiet for two months, will you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what's in it for me?"

"Me sparing you from my rude remarks—just not like what you're doing right now."

“Can’t make any promises,” He dragged the last word, making you sigh. He smiled slightly, knowing he knew exactly how to piss you off.

The bell rang, and relief washed over you like a wave. Hastily gathering your belongings, you were so focused on getting out of the classroom that you failed to notice Niki's gaze on you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you headed toward Danielle. Unknown to you, Niki's attention lingered, a subconscious concern for your well-being flickering in his mind.

"Niki? Niki!" Jungwon tapped him on the shoulder, causing Niki to start slightly. Wait, what was he doing just now? Before he could analyze his actions, Jungwon pulled him from his thoughts. "You seemed out of it for a bit. Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I spaced out for a second. Let's not miss our third period, alright?" Niki hurriedly packed his things, walking alongside Jungwon, his earlier behavior still puzzling him.

Niki's earlier slip-up had him lost in thought, and it continued especially during P.E. class. His eyes were drawn to you, sitting on the bleachers with a bored expression, casually observing the movement of the others. Then, unexpectedly, you excused yourself and headed toward the nurse's office. Niki found himself continuing to watch you, his focus on you more than anything else around.

"Hey, Niki!" A familiar voice brought his attention away from you, just in time to see a ball hurtling his way. He attempted to react, but the ball had already hit his arm. Wincing, he gripped his arm, a small crowd forming around him. Mr. Kim scolded him, and Niki nodded in acknowledgment—it was his fault for not paying attention.

“Take this pass and go get an ice pack,” Mr. Kim said, already finishing up the pass for him. At first, he contemplated declining, but then he remembered that you were in the nurse's office.

This was the fastest he ever grabbed a pass. His movements were swift as he exited the gym and quickly navigated the route to the nurse's office, hoping he could arrive before you left.

He knocked on the door, and a soft voice invited him in. Stepping inside, he found you seated in one of the chairs. Your surprise was evident as you looked at him, his hand resting on his left arm—the same one you had injured. He observed as he grabbed an ice pack before making his way over to where you were sitting.

In the row of chairs, he left a space between you, taking a seat. Your voice broke the silence, teasingly suggesting, "Starting to think you're obsessed with me." Niki couldn't help but scoff lightly as he settled in.

While you weren't exactly off the mark with your comment, admitting such a thing to you was out of the question. He waved off your words with a dismissive tone, "Me? Obsessed with you? Sure, as if."

A quiet pause settled between you both, and subtle glances were exchanged. Breaking the silence, you remarked, "Seems like you're about to join me, huh?"

He looked at you with confusion etched on his face, only to glance down at his arm and yours—both injured in the same spot. Niki couldn't help but chuckle softly, acknowledging that you were right. "Well, not quite as bad as your situation."

"Shut up." Niki's laughter filled the air, and for the first time, you found his laugh endearing—a thought you quickly brushed off. You simply smiled at his boxy grin. Has his smile always been this charming?

Niki realized he had let his guard down, his throat clearing as he subtly corrected himself. He needed to maintain the distance he had always kept between you two—at least for now.

"What are you doing here?" you started to answer, but he interrupted himself, realizing his mistake. "I shouldn't have asked, I mean, look at your arm."

There was the Niki you still had so much hate for. "If I had both arms, I'd strangle you right here."

"But you can't."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder, idiot—as if I wasn't already aware," you retorted, rising from your seat. He wouldn't be entirely honest if he didn't admit part of him wanted you to leave. It was strange, but he always felt a certain oddness when you weren't nearby. "Can't wait for you to make jokes about my injured arm at every given opportunity."

Your words sparked an idea in him, and as you turned to leave, he was already formulating a plan — his way of getting closer to you than before.

That's exactly what he did. Every chance he got to be near you, he seized it. His motives remained a mystery – was his plan to push you further away? If so, it was definitely working, as he managed to piss you off with every passing moment. Niki couldn't forget the way you clenched your teeth and let out exasperated sighs whenever he was around. He acknowledged he was being a nuisance, but was there really any other choice?

Could he just flip a switch and suddenly be friendly? That would be too suspicious, wouldn't it? Still, there was an inner push for him to say something decent for once.

And now, here he was, sitting beside you, gazing at your plain cast. Two weeks had already gone by – why hadn't anyone doodled on it yet? He hesitated before gently tapping your arm, causing you to look at him, your expression vacant. You were ready for him to bring up your arm again, almost as if you expected him to repeat his hurtful comments again.

“What? I swear if you make fun of my arm–”

"Can I draw on your cast?" He uttered the words, seemingly without a second thought, catching you completely off guard. Why this sudden change? Could he possibly be planning to write something embarrassing? Then again, your cast did look rather dull, almost too depressing to glance at. But, you still had your doubts.

“What? What if you draw something weird–”

“Come on, I’m not that terrible of a person.”

“Literally who do you think you are–”

“I’m your classmate, loser. Think I can’t be nice for once?” His words left you stunned, and you watched him retrieve a sharpie from his bag. He uncapped it, motioning for your arm to move closer to him. However, you found yourself hesitating, which prompted him to raise an eyebrow ever so slightly. "May I?" he asked.

You didn’t know what went through his head, and yours too! Before you knew it, you were extending your arm to him, watching as he concentrated on writing and drawing on your cast. He held it gently, clearly being cautious not to cause you any discomfort. You were undeniably intrigued by his actions, even though his presence was obstructing your view – not that you cared anyways.

Soon, he finished, closing the lid to his marker. The bell rang, almost as if on cue, causing him to hurry out of the classroom. It was as if the roles swapped, he was now the one rushing out quickly. His abrupt exit left you wondering – why was he so nervous? He didn’t know either, maybe he was suddenly being nice with his rival.

As you finally glanced at your cast, your eyes fell on the words he had written: "Hope you heal quickly, loser." Right beside the message was a small drawing of Shin-chan sticking his tongue out. This time you found yourself breaking into a smile, rather than being irritated.

"So you're telling me I could have been writing about your cast this whole time?" Danielle exclaims, her eyes fixed on the doodles now on your cast. She stops, examining the drawings more closely. "Hold on, isn't that Niki's handwriting?" Without giving you a chance to explain, Danielle is already teasing you mercilessly.

You knew you couldn’t argue back with her. After all, how could you explain the decision to let your rival draw on your cast? You gazed at the doodles once more, finding yourself involuntarily breaking into a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, you'd allow him to draw on your cast again.

Yeah, you were totally out of it.

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oflgtfol · 2 years

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looking through the venom list of titles actually i think i just have to come to terms with the fact that a majority of venom comics just suck in general........ the bad comics aren't an exception at this point LMAO

#like GOD theyre either stupid as hell or just plain boring #late 90s was stupid as hell now 2003 run is just so boooooringggg #i feel bad admitting this but i see no hope in sight until 2016 #and then i know after the 2016 run we get the WEIRD like. god of the symbiotes stuff like. SCREAMS #i keep saying this!!!! but the san francisco era was the fcking best!!#ever since they returned to nyc for some reason i still havent been able to puzzle out. ever since then its just been downhill #brot reads marvel comics

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bookofbonbon · 4 months

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strut: into the archives - coriolanus snow.

Characters: Coriolanus Snow.

Warnings: Not edited so, bad grammar and probably bad spelling. Anything 1k+ is immediately too long for me to want to read back and edit.

Summary: Coriolanus is determined to find out who you are.

Word Count: 1800+.

A/N: They don't interact in this one. It's just all Coriolanus fretting over the fact that he doesn't know shit about reader and being determined to find out. Boring, I know however, this will be the segue into the beginning of their relationship!

Sleep evaded Coriolanus, your words playing over again in his head and haunting him throughout the night.

I think you know exactly what I mean, Coriolanus, or would like me to fetch a jabberjay to explain it to you?

The map in his hand crumples under the pressure of his closing fist.

It made no sense, how could you have known about the jabberjay? Nobody had known, except for Dr. Gaul and what benefit would it be to her to release that information? None. Nobody else had known and he had tied up all of his loose ends… hadn’t he?

Early morning chirps drew his attention to the window and away from the smoldering fire of his study's fireplace; the first rays of sunlight peeking from behind the drawn curtains - reminding him that yet another day had passed and still he knew absolutely nothing of weight about you and yet you? You already knew his darkest secret.

Leaning forward, his elbows dig into his knees as he haphazardly runs his hands through his hair and down his face; trying hard to drag something up of substance about you from last four or so weeks ago for what had to be the hundredth time that night.

The most he could recall was that he returned from District 12 and there you were, Sejanus's estranged cousin - he'd only heard of you once before from Sejanus but of course, Coriolanus wasn't actually listening so, he couldn't recall - and he didn't question your presence, why would he? Why would he care when he was finally returned to where he rightfully belonged in the Capitol. He had been honorably discharged from the Peacekeepers effective immediately, awarded the Plinth prize, studying under Dr. Gaul and interning as a Gamemaker not to mention that with the way things were going for him, he was sure he would soon be named the heir to the Plinth’s Munitions empire.

He alone, Coriolanus, was restoring the Snow name to its former prestige; finally getting back all that he had been owed. So why the hell would he have cared about the plain faced girl standing beside Ma Plinth when she and old Strabo greeted him for the first time upon his return?

Coriolanus had simply dismissed your presence as Ma bringing in a stray Plinth - an attempt to mend her broken heart. Of course, Coriolanus's return brought them to their senses, reminding them that he was Sejanus's best friend and only he could fill the Sejanus shaped hole left in their lives. You were still there of course but, he had completely- stupidly disregarded you and your slights toward him as absurd District prejudice against those from the Capitol - she's no threat, he had told himself, guard as far down as he ever let it… what a mistake that had been.

It took you quite literally hitting him with your car for him to identify you as a threat - maybe you were right, maybe he was too busy strutting about.

Coriolanus scowled, standing from the butter-soft, leather, armchair and made for his bedroom; putting an end to his sulking effective immediately with the sun's rising. Nothing would come from ruminating on what he hadn’t done while daylight was burning and it was clear that there was only one thing left for him to do and that was finding out exactly who you were.

He’d already had the wool pulled over his eyes by Lucy Gray, he wouldn’t allow you to do the same and he’d start at the second commonplace the two of you frequented.

Showered and immaculately dressed, the sun was still rising into the sky when Coriolanus climbed the steps of the Citadel.

He bypasses the high security zone with ease, the peacekeepers nodding in his direction; Coriolanus thankful for the odd hours that Dr. Gaul called on him as it didn't raise suspicion about his earlier than normal visit. That and he knew his presence was both welcomed and revered by those who worked in the grand building.

His strides are long but evenly paced as he walks the familiar route toward the elevators once inside; there he waits impatiently, smiling tightly at the two people who passed.

Ding!

The ride is an agonizingly slow few seconds and when the doors finally slide open to reveal the unfamiliar floor to Coriolanus, the first thing he spots is the huge sign hanging up ahead with bold block writing-

ARCHIVES

It’s as pristine as every other floor he had visited so far in the Citadel; however, there was something particularly sterile about it.

Approaching the front desk; a short, lithe woman stands behind it, her Citadel uniform pristinely pressed and fitted and without a single flaw; a reflection of the immaculately organized files he could spy beyond the glass wall that stood behind her.

“Hi,” Coriolanus greets her with a charming smile but she doesn’t spare a single glance his way so he goes the other route - straight to the point.

“I require all documents on the Initial Jabberjay Project.”

This gets her attention, “for what purpose?”

“I’m working with Dr. Gaul and Dr. Kay on the repurposing of the jabberyjays.”

She eyes him suspiciously at first until her gaze settles on his security clearance badge.

“Private Snow?” she questions.

This time Coriolanus becomes suspicious, head cocking to the side in question; no one had called him that since he left District 12.

“I recall your name from the files on the District 12 Reserve of the Jabberjay and Mockingjay, Species” she explains, gesturing to the device in front of her. “We just finished processing the files onto the new computer system.”

“Uh- yeah, that was me,” Coriolanus relaxes with what he hopes to be a sheepish smile. “You can just call me Coriolanus now.”

He never wanted to hear anyone call him Private Snow again, he didn’t need the reminder of that disgustingly horrid place.

“Sign in here,” she hands him a form, a tray appearing from a cavity in the desk. “Place your bag in there and come around the side once you’re done.”

He does as she says, coming up the side and meeting her at the first barricade - where she completes a security check on him - and then to the second glass barricade.

Once through, she provides him with white gloves, directions to finding the Initial Jabberjay Project files and directions to the files on the District 12 Reserve, "if you're interested."

Pulling the gloves on, Coriolanus thanks her but, before he can venture further inside, she stops him.

“I’m glad you put forward the slaughter of those mockingjays. They’re unnatural and their species should be eradicated. Well done, soldier.”

Pride swells in his chest at her praise and she salutes him. He returns the gesture instinctively and she turns swiftly, disappearing back through where they came, the door closing behind her.

The resounding click of the door alerts Coriolanus to the fact that he’s now locked in the Archives without any way to escape. Heat prickles at his skin, the same trapped feeling of being in the arena creeping up on him slowly but he shakes it away before its grip can cease him.

You're in the Capitol Archives in the Citadel, he reminds himself. You're safe.

Not bothering with the Initial Jabberjay Project files, Coriolanus makes his way to the District 12 Reserve files - they’re new and already on the new computer system and more of a chance for him to be able to actually take the files out of the building.

Making his way to his second destination, Coriolanus follows the directions he’d spent all night memorising; the map of the archives burnt into his memory having studied it all through the night when sleep would not come; taking him further and further into the archives until finally, he arrives at his intended destination - Employee Records.

He moves quickly but there's hundreds, thousands, maybe tens of thousands of files and it takes him longer than he expected to find your file but he does find it eventually and it’s thick. How? Why?

He shakes the train of thought, refocusing himself and, thanking whatever higher power that decided that Project files should be housed in boxes instead of folders because there was no way that he could’ve smuggled your employee folder out otherwise; it was far too thick.

With sweat gathering on his brow and his breaths coming out heavier, Coriolanus removes the contents of your record from its folder, then opens the box and takes the equivalent of your records out, swapping the two then swiftly replacing the lid on the box and your folder back into the cabinet.

He makes his way to the exit, calming himself the entire way; the box feels heavier in his clammy hands but he knows it's not.

Pushing down on the intercom button, another few agonizingly slow seconds pass until the same lady appears before him.

She immediately raises an eyebrow at the box in his hands, her voice coming through the intercom, “you can’t remove the Initial Jabberjay Project files from here.”

“It's the District 12 Reserve files, not the Initial Jabberjay files,” he holds the box up, showing her the label.

“I thought you needed the Initial Jabberjay Project files.”

“I did, but these are far more informative on the biological makeup of jabberjays," he explains, a story already fabricated. "The research undertaken for the District 12 Reserve has resulted in further developments into the jabberjay that the Initial Jabberjay Project files don't contain.”

“You still can’t remove those, you can access them on the new computer system, put them ba-”

“Please, my access doesn’t come through for another week, I’m just an intern and I need these otherwise- otherwise Dr. Gaul will…” Coriolanus trails off pathetically, swallowing thickly and leaving it to her own imagination to guess what Dr. Gaul would hypothetically do to him.

It was all lies of course. Coriolanus was one of the first to gain access to all Project archives that had been uploaded onto the new computer system - Dr Gaul ensured it. Unfortunately, access to Employee Records was not a part of that access and well above his security clearance.

When she doesn't budge, Coriolanus makes a show of having his expression fall, shoulders slumping dramatically as he makes to return the box-

“Fine,” she concedes. “But, you are to return them within 24 hours otherwise I will personally place you under arrest for their removal.”

Coriolanus doesn’t listen as she clears his exit and rattles off whatever care and safety precautions he needs to take while handling the files; pulling the gloves off, he practically runs to the elevators when she finishes. Only allowing himself to breathe easier and relax entirely when he finds himself back in the safety of his home and in the comfort of his study - the sun shining high in the sky through the uncurtained window.

Setting himself up comfortably behind his own desk, he opens the box with steady hands and removes your files.

Finally able to study them, he’s immediately taken aback by the sight of your picture staring up at him. His fingers ghost over the picture then curl in on themself; taking in your rounded face and hopeful eyes; you looked young - a child. Coriolanus’ eyebrows draw together in confusion, his fingers pressing into the centre of his palm

How long have you been in the Capitol? Working in the Citadel?

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow x reader #coryo x reader #coryo snow #tom blyth

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renku · 25 days

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Shared Bliss

Soloist Choi Yunjin (Jini) x Male Reader

[Part 1?]

A/N: I just feel releasing this short fic for some reason. Maybe it’s my impatient ass or something. Anyway, I truly enjoyed writing this one so I hope you enjoy it too. Let me know if you’re up for a 2nd part. Ideas are also welcome to my inbox! Good day to all!

To define the relationship you share with Jini is difficult, but to be bothered by such trivial things is a waste of time. People are going to think what they want at the end anyway.

Both of you possess the same traits; carefree, live-in-the-moment type of people, cherish, and spend the youth before it’s gone. No commitments. Feel the joy of life outside responsibilities and duties. Time waits for no man at all.

It started in the old fashion way—kicked off as high school peers that escalated until college. Ironic as it is sounds, met at the same company and now coworkers in the present. Same department, just different sections and ahead of her for a year. Taking into account Jini’s exaggerated storytelling (at least from your point of view) on why she left her previous job: the weight of just being there was unbearable. She said that she’d rather work as a waitress at a pub or something.

Sharing various moments with each other, there’s this bond and connection that felt exclusive and genuine. A safe space—comfort and no judgement. Romance? It doesn't cross your mind a bit and not would even dare to step into that unfamiliar realm.

Here’s the thing: random chances often come by to bring good things, chaos, or something in between the two. In your case, Lady Luck bestowed upon you the last one.

It was one Friday night—her occasional invites for dinner or plain drinking session are something you’ve become accustomed to. A fifteen-minute ride is all it takes. Not bad, better to spend the rest of the night outside than get bored alone.

“Still gets me,” you thought, looking at the front of her house. The amount of detail and work she put are remarkable. After a few steps, you pressed the doorbell.

“Oh, hey loser. Thought you wouldn’t come,” she said, “Just a sec. I’m coming.”

She did not even bother to ask who’s on the other side, like she don’t have any visitor besides you. After waiting for a few seconds, the door opened, and there she is—Jini in her off-shoulder dress with rose imprint.

Stunning... Captivating... Tempting.

Three words to describe the sight right before you, in flesh.

Her dress did its job flaunting her figure. Her presence that exude an intimidating aura—fierce, attitude, and boldness. One fierece look and she can make anyone kneel in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, loser. Hey!”

“What?” you replied, still in shock.

“You zoned out, are you okay?” Jini asked, you just shook your head a bit.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, yeah... Hundred percent.”

“Come in then, it’s freezing out here.”

Few common dishes and cans of beer were already placed on the table in the living room. “Not much, but that's a free meal. Besides, I’m not a bad cook,” she winked.

“Full of yourself sometimes, aren’t you?”

“I think the word ‘confident’ is what you’re looking for, mister.”

“Fine, fine... Let’s just eat,” you said, before sitting and opening a can of beer.

“Hah! I won!”

Throughout the meal, different topics fueled the flow of conversation. Some of them were about work, things in the past, gossips, funny, sad, and anything that comes into mind until all that's left on the table were the beers.

“A question,” said Jini, bringing seat closer so she can lean forward towards you across the table.

“Be my guest.”

“Did you ever think about having sex with me?”

Making a surprised reaction would not change the situation so you just answered her in a straightforward manner. “Yes, and if I'm being honest, I can’t stop thinking about it the moment I stepped inside this house. You’re so fucking hot in that dress.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or just courage that came out of nowhere but you still said it, and who gives a shit anymore?

Jini finished her remaining beer looking at you. She stood up, walked slowly and sat down on your lap.

“Is that true?” her focus shifted on your lips.

“Yes.”

A split second was it all took. She kissed you, and you responded accordingly bringing it to a make out session. Sloppy, wet, and warm. Jini pulled your head closer as her tongue joins the action and so are yours. It wasn’t a fight for dominance, but rather an exchange of intentions; something beyond words and better expressed through actions.

None of you can’t stop as your hand began an exploration of its own—the smoothness of the silk dress gave the impression of touching her bare skin.

Jini broke free; hazy, lust-filled eyes remained in contact with yours.

“Dress.”

“Not so fast, pervert. My house, my rules.”

“Playing tough?” you asked, raising both brows. “I’m born tough, loser. Now take that shirt off.”

“Okay, I’ll play along.”

You took your shirt off swiftly in one motion, revealing a body built for years. Astounded, it occured to her that this is the first time she saw you shirtless. Keeping the composure she displayed moments ago is crumbling.

“Happy?”

“Oh, shut up.”

She initiated the kiss again—on your neck going downwards, taking her time to taste your upper torso sending sending you into a frenzied state. Her tounge plays one of your nipples, while her finger does the other by means of making these circular motions, teasing you.

“Fuck.”

Jini’s dirty assault continues and not a word has had left her lips since. She’s acting like a predator aiming to completely devour her prey whole with no intention to stop until she’s satisfied.

“Let’s see what you pack down here,” she said, before pulling in one go your pants and underwear. Jini’s subtle gasp was still noticeable after seeing your cock.

“Well?”

“N- not b- bad...”

“Touch it.”

“Wh- what?”

“You heard me. Just do it.”

It was already erect, and Jini didn’t even hesitate to wrap her fingers around it—contact sent an electrifying feeling as she executed few, careful slow strokes. Unbelievable. It totally feels like the first time. Her jerking you off was overwhelming that precum is already leaking from the tip.

“Oh- oh, shit... That’s good!” you exclaimed, grip tightened on the arm rest of the chair. You don’t want to cum and if you’ll do so, it’s better to land it somewhere more interesting. Grabbing her arm lightly to halt her actions, caressing her face.

“Why?” Jini asked, her face blushed.

You just stared at her eyes, before brushing your thumb on her pinkish lips. She gets the hint and she knew it was going to happen anyway, sooner or later. She nodded as a ‘yes’.

Jini seemed to hold back a bit but she opened her mouth anyway, sticks her tongue out as she starts to lick one of your balls. Fucking hell. She attempted to put one in her mouth, drenched from her saliva. Jini gives a slow, long lick from the base of your dick going to its tip, tasting that precum still flowing. She takes time to know your proud member.

“Ahhh~ fuck, so good! Keep going!”

Hearing words of affirmation encouraged her even more as Jini started to give attention to your head. Putting it just inside her mouth made wonders—her tongue swirls around it and the sensation is driving you crazy. Unknowingly placed a hand on her head for support from the pleasure that travels around your body, trying not to get consumed by her actions.

Jini starts to take more by pushing herself with her tongue tracing the underside of your cock until she reache the limit—tip reached the back of her throat. Her gag reflex is evident as she holds on for a few seconds before releasing your cock with a pop. Jini catches her breath for a moment, still maintaining eye contact after what she just did.

You stood up while Jini is basically on her knees. No words were spoken at the heat of the moment.

You just position your cock right away in front of her mouth, slowly pushing the tip to enter once again and Jini willingly accepts.

Moving your hips backwards slowly until the glans remained inside, one thrust forward and from there the pace started to build up as you just basically facefuck Jini. Subtle, suggestive moans from her were signs she's enjoying it.

Lasting this long was quite a surprise as the inevitable first release of the night started to build up fast. Primal instinct took over you—faster thrusts, lewd and squelching sounds, moans of pleasure from both of you get louder and you knew holding back was impossible.

“Ji- Jini... fuck... I’m about to cum!”

One final thrust as spurts and ropes of cum went straight down to her throat, and Jini just swallowed everything. Some were escaping the sides of her lips. The high feeling of orgasm disappeared and you went back to your senses pulling out your cock.

“Yum.”

Jini catched her breath after what you just did. It took her a few minutes before returning to a more relaxed state.

She looked even more sexy; scooping the remaining cum using her finger, putting it back into her mouth.

One word and you knew the night is far from over.

“Should we head to my room? You can still fill me somewhere else, right?”

“Oh, you bet.”

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #idol x reader #female idol x reader #male reader #jini #jiniyxxn

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the-archxr · 2 years

Text

just like in the movies

steve harrington x afab!reader

summary: yours and steve’s friends with benefits situation becomes a whole lot clearer. alternatively, steve promises to fuck you until you realize just how much he loves you.

a/n: *gif isn’t mine, it’s from pinterest* this. THIS IS THE ULTRA SMUTTY SHIT I WAS TALKING ABOUT. WHEN I GOT THIS IDEA I STARTED SWEATING BUCKETS CAUSE HOLY FUCK. ONE OF THE SMUTTIEST THINGS IVE EVER WRITTEN (I listened to a lot of the weeknd, so I’m not surprised).

warnings: +18 content, SMUT CITY, minors dni; unprotected p in v; use of 80s sex toys (steve bought her a vibrator); jealous!steve/romantic!steve/dom!steve; size kink (steve has a monster schlong); hair pulling kink; biting; overstimulation; praise kink; boob play; masturbation; dirty talk to the fucking MAX (steve calls her a slut); mentions of multiple orgasms; use of different positions; rough sex; oral sex f receiving (cum eating); steve’s breeding kink; mentions of porno movies (this is also prolly the plot of a porno honestly 🙃) lil’ bit of fluff

word count: 7.1k (of pure smut babyy)

main m.list | steve harrington m.list

part one (can also be read on its own)

•••

To say you were unsatisfied would be an understatement.

The understatement of the goddamn century.

An hour ago you drove to Rick’s house, where he proceeded to have sex with you, only to cum within the first five minutes of hardly-there foreplay. You hadn’t even realized he finished until he was shuddering into the condom, stroking your hair as though you were a prized possession. A sex toy to let out his lack of stamina on. You had pretended to cum while he was still lost in his high, hoping that you wouldn’t have to deal with the eventual lecture of how it was ‘you’re fault’ that you were ‘too tense’.

Rick wasn’t your first rodeo for guys like that, but part of you hoped it would be different for your first time. That he would be different. He would be caring and attentive and make sure you came first.

You hoped he’d be like Steve.

You hoped that he’d kiss your knuckles and rest his face in your neck as he came. You hoped that he would’ve mumbled praise after praise in your ear as he slowly brought you to that edge before tossing you off with a bite on your collarbone.

Or…

You hoped that he would’ve at least, lasted longer than twenty fucking minutes.

But no. The little shit didn’t even give you a chance to build up your arousal whatsoever. Not even to the point where you would at least be able to finish in the safety of his bathroom.

Thinking back on it, you’re not even too sure he realized you had faked it. That the shitty, high-pitched moan you let out was false, and that he wasn’t in fact ‘giving it to you’, regardless of how many times he mumbled that above you.

The entire thing was stupid. Silly and irreparable and downright annoying.

Because an hour ago you left to go have what was supposed to be really good sex.

And a half hour ago you came home to sit on an empty couch, in your empty house—extremely horny and far hungrier for something that wasn’t microwave mac n’ cheese.

You needed to be fucked. Properly, until you were drooling and unable to speak.

So really, without a second thought, you left your dinner plate on the kitchen counter with your keys still stuffed in your pocket and a new sense of determination.

•

The drive to Steve’s apartment was familiar. A second nature route that guided you from one end of town to the next, up the stairs of his apartment and to number 38. What wasn’t familiar though was the locked front door.

Regardless of the monstrosities—the mind flayer, the bad men, Billy—Hawkins, Indiana was still Hawkins, Indiana. A boring small town in the middle of nowhere full of endless country dried up plains and empty streets.

This meant that other than hicks, and the occasional sense of the end of the world, there was nothing to even be remotely afraid of. And really, nothing that would warrant your friend to lock his door: something he has never once done in all of the years you’ve known him.

There’s a part of your mind that prickles with nerves.

So you knock.

It’s loud and curt and would leave enough room for you to hear the sounds of padding feet. Or any sign of life for that matter. So you wait. You wait for one, two, nearly four minutes and yet you hear nothing.

So you knock again, only to be met with dead silence again.

You go to knock for the third time, but then your ears pick up on a whimper. A low sob which is hardly discernible until it’s accompanied by a crackle of television and a creak of the floor. Putting your ear to the door, you concentrate on trying to pick up on any other sound you can.

But after nothing happens, you choose to dig through your pockets until you come across the spare key he gave you.

Pushing it in, you slowly turn the lock until you hear a soft click and the door falls open. His apartment is dark. Pitch black, with the only semblance of light coming in from the thick curtains covering the living room window.

“Steve?”

Quiet.

“Steve?”

The agitation that tickles you at the back of your neck morphs into fear. Because Steve is usually a light sleeper. One of the lightest sleepers you know, easily woken up by something as soft as the sound of rain. So with no response and a locked door, your heart jumps at the possibility of something horrible.

Gone is the thought of your needy arousal. Now you worry about your friend's life and what you’ll find when you come across his body.

If you come across his body.

You’ve had nightmares like this. All eerily similar to the current events playing out. It all begins like this with you walking through his kitchen and down the main hall, only to end in the worst.

The bedroom door is closed, having been forced shut without any lock on it. The air surrounding you—frigid and nail-biting—feels like death. Completely lifeless other than the light of the tv bleeding out from under the door.

The faint sounds come back, but as hard as you try to listen, you can’t make them out at all. And though that still concerns you, it doesn’t deter you. Everything acts like a magnet, drawing you closer to the source of the noise and the end of the mystery that causes your heart to slam against your ribs.

Your hand grabs ahold of the doorknob and as you open the door slowly, you start to realize what exactly you’re hearing.

And what you’re seeing.

Through the small space, you can see…a movie. It takes you a second to understand what you’re seeing, but when it finally clicks, you can’t help but feel flushed. There are flashing images of a woman bouncing on what looks like a guy dressed in a pizza delivery costume. Over-exaggerated echoey moans are then met with softer noises. Ones that sound as though they’re coming from right beside you. Instinctually you look to your left, only to find Steve in a compromising position. He’s lying on his bed in the corner of the room, spread eagle, pants by his ankles and cock in his fist.

His hand is tight around his length, pumping quick and hard as his hairy thighs flail around. His head is flat on the pillow, jaw wide open as he mumbles incoherently, twitching every time his thumb runs over his tip.

You gulp at the sight, legs tightening together both at the perversion of watching him and in hope of bringing some sort of relief.

He looks beautiful like this.

Granted, Steve Harrington is always beautiful. Pretty beyond words. Soft hair and honey eyes and strong hands covered in moles and freckles and the evidence of a life lived.

He’s like a deity. A demi-god of sorts, like the kind you learned about in your junior year ancient history class. Hercules and Perseus. Man and god, divine and mundane.

Beautiful and otherworldly.

You can tell he’s close, chest rising in shallow puffs of stunted air. His fingers tighten against himself; squeezing the base and dragging upward, only to repeat the motion again even faster.

You shouldn’t be watching this.

But you can’t look away.

“Steve?”

You scare him shitless. He jumps, nearly ten feet off the bed only to flop on his stomach and onto the ground. He seemingly disappears, the only thing visible of him being a hand that frantically searches for the remote.

“Jesus fucking Christ, —!” He shuffles around on the ground for a bit, yanking on his pants as he grabs a pillow and covers his hard-on. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Throwing your hands up in the air, you turn on the bedside lamp closest to you, yellow light warming up the room as your eyes readjust. “I—I thought you were hurt!” You stutter.

“Hurt? What do you mean hurt?”

Huffing, you force yourself to keep looking at him and not the incredibly dirty image paused on the tv screen. “Your door was locked.”

His eyes widen. “…what?”

“Your door was locked, Steve, your doors never locked. I was worried.”

“So?” He yelps, taking the remote and permanently turning the tv off. A red flush deepens across his face, swirling down his neck and blooming beneath the collar of his shirt. “You don’t just walk into someone’s house when their door is locked.”

“You gave me a key, and you didn’t respond when I called out for you.” You roll your eyes, averting your gaze to the floor as embarrassment starts to take over. “How the fuck was I supposed to know you were jacking off?”

Groaning, Steve falls backward into the bed, hands flying up to cover his eyes. Shaking his head, his palms dig into his eye sockets. “Gross, don’t say that—“

“What? Jacking off?!”

“Yes, it’s—it’s just—“

“That’s what you were doing!”

“It’s my home!” He whines, looking away to continue avoiding you. “If I want to jack off with my door locked then that’s what I’ll fucking do!”

You blink at him in bewilderment, anxiety running you both to the ground as you try to ignore the other. With a long sigh, Steve crosses his arms and blinks up at the ceiling, giving way to the silent dance you both are partaking in. It isn’t until he’s running a large hand through his sweaty hair, that he exhales deeply. “What are you doing here anyway? …Thought you were out with Dick.”

“Rick,” you correct.

“Same difference.”

“It’s really not,” you snap. Wringing your hands out, you lean against the wall, jitters running up your arms as the tension in the air slowly begins to disperse. You feel incredibly exposed, the memory of why you’re actually here coming back to the forefront of your mind. Shaking your head, you bit at your cheek. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter now ‘cause it didn’t end well. Probably won’t see him anymore.”

If Steve has any reaction, any thoughts or comments or feelings on the matter, you don’t see them. His expression is unreadable. “Is—did he do something wrong?” He finally says.

You laugh. A half-hearted chuckle as you fall onto the edge of the bed, much like you’ve done a million times before. “It’s more like what didn’t he do.” He doesn’t respond, but his gaze does shift over to you. He waits for you to continue; eyes imploring you to do so while he sits there. Groaning, you lie down beside him. “Well I went there to y’know…we were going to…anyway… We’re doing it, right? Like we’re getting ready and then—then he ends up coming like the second he puts on the fucking condom.”

“…Jesus.”

“Right?” You grit your teeth at the memory. All the frustration from earlier bubbles over into word vomit; things you weren’t exactly planning on telling Steve but can no longer stop from escaping. The proverbial cracking dam. “And then, oh, and then the fucking kicker! When he’s done pretty much fucking himself, he has the audacity to ask me if I came. Ya know the whole—“ you lower your voice with a cough. “‘Was it as good for you as it was for me?’ type bullshit.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Steve's grimace. “Gross.”

“Ugh, I know!” You cry, squirming in your spot on the mattress. “Like shit, I didn’t even want to go over, but I was lonely and…and I guess I thought that maybe it would be different?” You let out a sigh, an exasperated sound as you stretch your body out. “But Jesus, if I knew what I know now I wouldn’t have even wasted the fucking time.”

The two of you sit in silence again; shoulders touching with your fingers dangerously close to intertwining with the other. There’s a different kind of strain on the situation—a different feeling that graces both of your equally frustrated selves.

Steve still holds the pillow over his crotch, fingers digging into the corner of it every time he shifts his hips; a gesture that you’re intensely aware of and acutely turned on by.

Except you reason that maybe you lost the moment.

Maybe you imagined too much for tonight, and you jeopardized everything.

Your original purpose for being here was lost to time, mixed up in enough confusion and shock to shadow your moody arousal. And now, you’re just sad. A painfully lonely person who’s just beginning to realize how painfully lonely they are. Pathetic to the point where you have to go to your friend to try and get your rocks off, only for him to not want you either.

You don’t even try to stick around to ask him if he wants you.

Part of you thinks maybe he fell asleep, but then he stirs as you get up and stride toward the door. “Where are you going?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you tug at the wrinkles in your shirt. “I’m sorry, I—I just wanted to talk. But I…I should go home.”

Steve’s hand wraps around your forearm pulling you towards him. He doesn’t say anything, though, with the way he strokes circles into your elbow, you consider that he doesn’t have to. “Why are you here, —?”

“I told you,” you sigh. “I was lonely. I just—I needed to talk. But we talked and you’re…you’re clearly busy, so it’s okay. It’s okay, Steve, I’ll see you tomor—“

“Are you still lonely?”

The even pace of your heartbeat stutters. “What?”

He gulps then, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes squint together. There’s something he’s concentrating on or something he’s holding himself back from. You can’t exactly tell. But you can see that it’s bothering him. That whatever he’s thinking is especially troublesome as it hangs in the balance between you. “Are you still lonely?” You frown.

“I don’t know what you mean, Ste—“

“Cause I think you are.” He mumbles, pulling your hand closer to his face, twisting and turning it delicately in his grasp as he inspects you. “I think you need the company, sweetheart.” He places a butterfly kiss on the main vein on the inside of your wrist. “And I also think you need a good fucking orgasm.”

Oh.

The pit of your stomach opens wide at his words. A gaping hole that plummets with the fire of his touch, with the way his hair falls in his face, and with the way he looks at you.

He looks at you like you’re everything. Like you don’t really exist, and you’re nothing but a mirage.

One that is only tailored to him.

You’re still when he stands up, not even moving when his hands come up to your shoulders and his mouth lands on your cupid’s bow. You softly exhale. “…And not just from some rich douchebag…” his knuckles stroke your forehead, face’s already slanting together—an assumed position as your body complies with him. “You need to be fucked by someone who cares, honey.”

You roll your eyes and grumble, a surge of confidence washing over you. “Like who? …like you?”

He smirks at your quip, at your ability to bite back even in the heat of the moment. Pressing his lips to your mouth, he hums. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Kissing him back, your hands smooth over his chest, down his stomach and to the edge of his Henley. You’re already breathless, having all the air in your lungs been kissed away in a matter of seconds. He has you against the wall, making a mess of your mouth as he sloppily kisses you. “Well then show me…” you nip at his upper lip and sigh into him, taking the time to breathe and examine the solemn look on his face. “Show me how much you care.”

You don’t even need to ask him twice.

Instantly, Steve undresses, guiding you to the bed with wandering pesky fingers tugging at the hem of your own shirt.

His mouth is everywhere, bruising kisses searing into every span of skin; every body part revealed as he removes your clothes piece by piece. Slow. Tantalizing. A mix of having intense control over himself, and none at all.

As though he can’t make up his mind when it comes to you.

His lips are wet, red and raw as they glide over your chin, down your neck and to your collarbone, only to mouth at the flesh above your bra.

Wherever his mouth isn’t, his hands are.

One palm lays flat against your knee, forcing them apart so that way he can nestle between your thighs, legs dangling precariously off the bed. He kisses you like his life depends on it, going back and forth between your face and your chest as he moves the strap of your bra down your arm.

Holding your jaw in place, he squeezes your cheeks until your mouth is wide enough for him to jam his tongue into. His kisses are filthy, frenzied and passionate, yet slow and steady all the same. He’s doing everything and nothing as he works you. The slow start-up of an engine. Preparation for a long fucking night.

Your tongues battle for dominance as your hands card through his hair, holding him in place as you begin your own assault on his lips. Tugging on his head by his roots, he moans loudly before jutting his hips into yours. Pulling away, your spit covers his lips only to be smeared along your neck as he sucks a bruise right below your ear. “You’re so fucking pretty, ya know that? That guy doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Your heart thrums at his words. At the angsty confession that sounds a lot like what you’ve been wanting to hear, yet being nothing of the sort.

Contrary to popular belief—to the rumours spread through the halls of Hawkins High and what you’ve overheard from a string of dates leaving Family Video—Steve Harrington is a romantic at heart. And part of you has always known that. Has always assumed his hidden desire to have someone need him as much as he needs them. You could see it everywhere you went; in the longing looks he’s sent to couples walking out and about, to Nancy and Johnathon when they get so easily wrapped up in each other on movie night.

The girls that left him all complained to you and Robin about him being ‘preoccupied’; too caught up in the idea of love to appreciate what was actually in front of him. Apparently, too caught up in the idea of another person to truly care about them.

The notion always seemed silly to you. The idea that Steve couldn’t and wouldn’t give his hundred-and-ten percent to the person he was with, when he oh-so-desperately wanted them. It was stupid. Entirely blind on their part to not see how incredibly devoted your friend could be.

And that was never more the case than when you actually started hooking up with him.

It was a random night, one where you both were lonely and a little too pent up to handle yourselves, that you decided on it. At the time it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Something you could move forward with, without any fears or doubts or worries.

Steve made you feel safe. And somehow, someway that fact only increased whenever you had sex. There was a point, in which Steve had gone down on you for the first time, subsequently pulling two orgasms from you in a matter of minutes, that you realized you would never feel more protected than with him.

It was a daunting thing when you finally decided to become friends with benefits. Part of you knew from the get-go it would ruin your perceptions of other people. But the other part couldn’t be bothered at all, especially not when you entertained yourself. Because you dreamt about it sometimes. You dreamt of another world where you and Steve had no boundaries, where you were free to be as you were, free to be with each other in every way as you wanted.

Your body freezes at that.

Steve hasn’t noticed, too caught up in suckling at your left nipple while his thumb and index finger roll your right one around. Your bra is long gone, discarded to the floor along with both of your shirts.

Your mind, which had been empty other than mulling over your thoughts on the man biting at your breast, has now drifted to the realization.

Did you want Steve like that?

The question sits on your tongue; tasting of burnt ash and trepidation as your eyes roam over his body. He’s crooning into your skin, hips rolling with every whine, rutting his hardened length into your still fully clothed core. The moon shines on his back, tracing over the muscles rippling beneath the skin, veins growing taut in his forearms as he holds your body still.

You love him.

And it’s not necessarily an astonishing conclusion. If anything, there hadn’t been a point in time where you’ve looked at Steve and hadn’t felt immense love. Because knowing him and not being hopelessly in love with him was impossible.

This was Steve after all. Your Steve.

The one who fights for his friends and loves aimlessly and has a big heart that begs to be nurtured because he’s never had that. He’s the one who cares for Dustin—his friend and his brother. He’s a shoulder to cry on and a lover and a fighter.

But most importantly, he’s quite possibly the love of your life.

You don’t realize he’s stopped until you catch him blinking at you. His thumb which had come up to your cheek, runs along your cheekbone and wipes at your temple in the most tender of ways. “Everythin’ okay?”

You want to say it. You want to tell him everything you’ve just realized. Every conclusion and emotion and thought that he incurs in you. You want to tell him that you see him. That you love him. That you want him and need him in ways he may never understand.

Because with the way his hips jerk forward, practically dry humping you as he looks up at you with the biggest doe eyes—innocence and erotica all rolled into one—you realize you may not be able to control yourself. You need him to fuck you, but you also need him to know how loved he really is.

So you tell him.

“I love you.” He halts, lifting off of you slightly in a daze. He looks you dead in the eye, disbelief and shock shrouding his features. Offering him a lazy smile, you choose to let go of everything. “I love you so goddamn much, Steve.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he shakes beneath you. His breathing is shallow, fingers nervously trembling against your sides. For a second, you worry that he doesn’t feel the same. Mistaking his silence for disinterest, you begin to shuffle up the bed, worrying that this was it. That in moments you had fucked everything over.

“Holy shit, —.” He mumbles, fully sitting back on his knees. His gaze doesn’t meet yours, but it never leaves your body. You can’t tell if he’s happy or upset or scared, and the feeling eats away at you. “…You can’t…you can’t say shit like that, sweetheart.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, throat closing up in impeding sobs. “I’m sorr—“

“You can’t…” letting out a groan, Steve crawls back up your body, caging you in between his broad shoulders and the bed. You can see his eyes now, the way he stares you down and the way something darker floods his irises. Though, his expression is the all-too-familiar look he always seems to give you. Leaning down, his lips curl around the edge of your ear, hot breath invading your senses. You take note of how he smells of citrus and mousse, how nice the concoction is as he lets out another shaky breath. “You can’t say stuff like that and not expect me to fuck the shit out of you.”

…Well, fuck…

“I mean…” Steve hops off the bed after planting a kiss on your forehead and walks to his closet. He talks to you as he rummages through his things, determined to find the exact thing he’s looking for. “I mean you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that, baby.” Taking a box from the top shelf he walks it over to you and places it on the nightstand. Then, with just as much ease as before, he swoops down and captures your mouth in another mind-numbing kiss. Except this time, there’s an added urgency behind it. One he’s never had before. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

While nipping at your chin, he opens the box and pulls out a small and colourful cylindrical object. It’s pale purple with a series of buttons on the bottom of it. You frown once you see it.

“Stevie, what’s that?”

He can’t control the wolfish grin spreading across his face. Nuzzling further into your throat, he sucks and licks and bites until you’re too distracted by your own sighs. “It’s um…it’s my surprise for you, honey. Got it the other day. Saw it and immediately thought of you.”

“What…” another breathy moan as he bucks into you. “What does it do?”

Clicking his tongue, he gropes your boob, massaging the tender flesh. “Something fun,” is his only reply.

Placing it beside your head, he leans back and begins to unbutton your pants. You stiffen a bit, as he works wordlessly to relieve you of your other clothes. Your interest only seems to spur him on, make him work quicker as he pushes you down flat to the bed. There’s a sudden string of melodies that escape then, as though he’s fucking singing to himself. Content and relaxed as he pulls your jeans down your legs.

You think it’s Wham!, maybe Careless Whisper if you tried to listen hard enough. But you can’t particularly focus when he looks up to you and beams like that. Evident excitement making his body stretch upward and his dick twitch in the tent of his pants. “God, you’re gonna love this, baby. Need you to relax though. M’promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Whining, you grab his shoulders and pull him down to your level. “Why don’t you just fuck me already, Harrington?”

“Patience is a virtue, babe.” Grabbing the device he presses the button, triggering a high whirring sound to emanate from it. “Besides, gotta loosen you up first.”

And with that, he presses the head of the object to your cunt, reeling in the way your eyes widen and your jaw falls slack.

The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It isn’t the comforting feeling of your fingers gliding over you or of Steve’s tongue flicking at your hood. Instead it’s a steady vibration that rumbles your entire body, catching your arousal in its grasp instantaneously.

There’s a sharp gasp lodged in your throat, fighting to be released as you grapple for oxygen. Steve’s body still hangs over you, eyes transfixed on the way your face contorts with every movement he controls.

Sometimes when he flicks his wrist, moving the massaging head of the device to your already fluttering hole, you let out a long strangled moan. But the other times, when he presses the device right into your clit while his mouth wraps around your nipple and his other hand massages your lower belly, you can’t help but whine repeatedly.

Your thighs have begun to quiver as he slowly increases the pace of the object (which you didn’t even think was possible to begin with). Your hand flies to his shoulder, nails digging into the muscle as your head falls back.

“You like that, honey?” Steve growls into your chest as he hitches one of your legs over his hip. “‘Course you do. My little slut likes anything I give her, don’t you?”

You nod erratically, back aching as he presses the beating device harder into you. “Just…oh my god, Steve, please, I…”

“Look at you… Can’t even fucking talk, you feel so good.” A broad hands runs down the expanse of your stomach, running over your hip before slightly smacking the curve of your ass. You fly forward, sitting up completely as you try to trap his hand in between your thighs. “Told you this would be fun.”

You cry out, heart pounding against his as you press your breasts into his chest. “Stevie, please. Wanna cum so bad.”

He chuckles, resting his chin on the top of your head as his hand continues it’s descent down your body. “I know, baby, I know.” His knuckles circle your entrance before two thick fingers jam themselves into you.

“Fuckfuckfuck—“ you whimper as you bite at the tendon in his neck. Your toes curl in tandem with the fingers he moves along your walls, continuously hitting that sweet spot within you.

“Come on, baby, come for me… Come on.”

Your orgasm slams into you at what seems like new heights. Gripping his body tightly, you arch into him body rocking on the device with every wave of your high. Coming and going, back and forth until your knuckles are white and sweat lines your back and the sheets beneath you.

You shake violently in his arms, heavy pants racking your chest as dizziness clouds your mind. Your gaze stays stuck on the ceiling as you try to come to, your own feeble attempt to ground yourself. You feel the bed dip as rough hands smooth over the bones in your hips, rubbing small, tight circles in the skin above your mound. “That was—that was good, baby. Did so good for me.” His voice draws you back to reality, your gaze drifting around the room to find his. He peeks over your body, messy hair and hooded eyes that darken as he stares ahead.

Your hand—which feels limp hanging in midair—flies to his skull, gripping the roots of his hair and tugging him forward. “Steve, I…I want you to…please, want your cock.”

“Mhm,” he inhales the scent of you, nose just hitting your swollen clit. “And I want this pretty pussy of yours.” Deep brown eyes flash up to you, a powerful sneer morphing the lines of his mouth. “Good girls wait their fucking turn.”

Your head lolls back the second he begins to lap at your core. A shrill sound, something close to a cry but still not quite, escapes you. He mouths at the space between your clit and your hole, groaning into your folds as he adjusts his grip on your legs.

A puff of hot air hits you, spine trembling as his lips tug at your hood. “Oh my—fuck, Steve. Steve, please—“

“Please, what? I’m doing what you asked, pretty girl.” Another lick—a smooth and slow flat press of his tongue. “I’m fucking you like you deserve, so just…” he groans, removing himself from you before spitting on your cunt and diving back in. “Just. Fucking. Take it.”

Dammit, this man was going to be the fucking death of you.

He eats you out like he’s starved. Like he’s been locked away for days, weeks—shit, years—and is just finally getting access to a good meal. A bountiful feast, all for him and only him.

His stubble burns you as you jump his face, gnawing at the inside of your cunt and thighs until they’re raw. The pressure builds yet again, deep within your gut and permeating your bones. You hold him there, smothering him entirely as he either gulps for air, or for more of you. Regardless, he’s tasting every inch of you and soon he’s sucking at you even faster.

“Ste—Steve, just—oh my god, right there. Right there, please, please, please!”

Your second orgasm slaughters you where you lie. The pleasure is blinding, almost intangible as you ride his mouth. An endless slew of moans and sharp intakes of breath accompany your convulsing body. Somehow he’s still breathing, still soldiering on as he eats up everything you have to offer him.

It’s incredibly dirty. Raw and pornographic. A purely sleazy sight of him enjoying himself on the orgasm he just pulled from you.

Eventually he lets go of you, leaning up on his forearms and wiping away at the dripping cum on his chin.

He licks his lips then, a free hand trailing up to his messy hair and pushing it out of the way. Steve licks his lips, like a murderous predator eyeing its next prey; toying with its meal as it rolls in delight. “You taste,” he sucks yet another hickey into your breast. “So good.” He moans out the words, rolling his bare hips into you. He’s completely naked now, having taken off his pyjama pants sometime between unfurling his fingers in you and latching his mouth to your clit. He completely engulfs you, member sliding between your slick folds; twitching at the wonderful tension he’s been building. The friction is unbearable, deliciously combining with the taste of yourself on his tongue.

He kisses your mouth in the same way he kissed your cunt. Slow and lazy, an attempt to devour you whole.

“I love you so fucking much, y’know that?” Taking your hand he kisses each finger, your palm, the back of your hand and then your knuckles. “Loved you for a long time. A long, long time.”

You sigh into his chest, tears of relief burning at the corners of your eyes. There’s a gaping feeling within you, deep in the pit of your belly that carnally craves him. Despite already having had two orgasms, you’re hungry for another; for whatever he’ll give you.

You want his cock, want to feel him fill you to the point where you’re breaking in half. You need to feel the burn in your pelvis and the cured ache in your core.

You need him.

So, so fucking bad.

“Want you,” you grumble. Your throat is hoarse, pained from all the whines and the screaming and the moans of pleasure. You’re clawing at him, yanking and pulling at his limbs until he’s impossibly close. “Please, please, please, want you.”

Steve is unfazed as he keeps kissing you. Nearly every spot on your body is touched by his mouth, caressed by his tongue and bit by his teeth. Somehow, as much as he’s been grinding into you, as much as you can tell he wants to fuck your abused hole, he controls himself.

Tapping on your nose with feather-light touches, he gently kisses your eyelids. “Want what? Gotta use your words if you want my cock, baby.” Pumping himself above your stomach, he presses the underside of his dick along your belly and drags it, right above the spot where you want him most. “You want my cock, hm? Want me to fill you up like the good little slut you are?”

You don’t even nod. Instead, you just widen your legs and open up to him even more, pouting as you blink at him. “Want your cock so bad, Stevie. Wanna be yours. Please, please give me…just, fuck me hard.”

Smirking, he runs a hand up and down your thigh. “Are you mine?”

Your feel your face contort, confusion twisting your features as you gasp for air. And though you’re partially confused, a little curious and a little too far gone to fully understand his request, you simply smile.

“Yes. Yours. All yours.”

Steve growls, actually growls before taking two fistfuls of your hips and flipping you over onto your stomach. “Up, pretty girl,” he gestures to your lower back.

You do as he says, unable to stifle the smile of elation as he manhandles you. Pressing your head into the pillow, you push your hips up only to feel him directly behind you. His hand rests on the globe of your ass, tenderly stroking the curve of your spine as he gets you into position. He’s up on his knees, adjusting himself to fit your slit as he pulls you back into him.

“Wanna know what I was thinking about before you caught me earlier?”

You groan. “Jesus Christ, Steve, just shut up and fuck me already.”

He laughs, then lays a smack on your bum before shoving the fat head of his dick into you. Crying out you fall forward, frantic to feel him further. “You need to learn to stop being so impatient, —.” Pushing himself by another inch, he stops and stays there. Him stretching you out is a torturous event, one that pains you as your hands ball up the sheets. “Anyways, as I was saying…” his hand smooths down your back and to your neck, holding you in place by the nape. “I was thinking about this. ‘Bout you underneath me.” He kisses you in between your shoulders. “…Was thinking about fucking you from behind… Like this.”

With those words he slams into you, the tip of him hitting your cervix while his hips remain flush with yours.

You gasp, inhaling the smell of sweat and sex as you shake around him. “Oh my god, Steve, I—holy, fuck, that’s good, feel so good. Fucking me so good, Stevie.”

He takes a minute to breathe, to collect himself before completely bottoming out and shoving back in. Your walls clench around him, the heavy drag of his length making you shiver as he starts off at a slow pace.

Steve’s always been big. You had assumed as such from the rumours spread around school that there was something a little extra special about Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington. But it wasn’t until when you first had sex with him when he had rid himself of his pants and stood before you entirely nude that you realized that he definitely had something to show for it.

At first, you were nervous, weren’t entirely too sure that you could take him in the way you wanted so much.

But then when he finally entered you for the first time, and every other time after that, you came to the conclusion that you wouldn’t want anything—or anyone—else.

He stretches you out perfectly. An amazing fit that only increases every time you feel his bulge in your lower abdomen. “Faster.” You pant. “Harder, fuck, harder.”

His hand fully circles your neck, gently pulling you back with just enough pressure to make you see stars. The harsh snap of his hips sends you spiralling, obscenities spilling out of you as your third orgasm comes and goes. It all happens so quickly, to the point where you can’t even process the fact that you came yet again.

And although it feels good—fucking great, even—it’s still not enough.

You’re incredibly sensitive, eyes rolling into the back of your skull with every thrust. The sound of balls slapping against your ass fill the air, a medley of noises—just like the ones coming from the tv earlier—keying you higher and higher.

“Christ, you feel so good, honey. So good… I’m so fucking in love with you.” Another thrust rattles your body. Your bones are weak, muscles so sore that you can’t even keep yourself up. And Steve can tell, has half a mind to help you out.

Hooking one arm around your stomach, and with the other still, on your neck, he pulls you up into his lap. Your legs rest on either side of his thighs as he bounces you up and down on his dick. His back is pressed tightly to you, allowing you to hook your arm around his neck until his chin hangs over your shoulder. “Steve…Steve, I’m gonna cum. Fucking me so good, so, so, so good.”

He roughly kisses the side of your face, mouth hanging wide open on your cheekbone. “I know, baby, I know… No one fucks you this good, huh? No one—no one makes you cum on their dick like I do.”

“Oh…ohmygod, ohmygod. No, no one fucks me like you do, Steve. Please. Please, fuckfuckfuck.”

Pushing his hand into your abdomen, he holds you in place as he spears into you. Fire, an aching burning passion, licks at the base of your spine as heat pools in the knot of your belly. It feels so good it hurts; so numbing that you can’t do anything but sit and wait for your climax to crash over you. Because, painfully, you’re right on the edge. Steve strains behind you. “Gonna’ cum too, baby. Gonna fill you up, fill you up until I’m fucking spilling out of you.”

You’re babbling into the air as your head falls backward. With your eyes screwed shut, your hand falls to Steve’s knee while a fourth orgasm rips through you. You scream at the feeling of him annihilating your insides and sending you into orbit. It’s almost like you’re in space, gravity falling from your weightless body as Steve rams into you in a brutal rhythm.

“So, so beautiful, baby. Look even prettier with my cock in you.” At this point, he’s rotating you down onto his lap instead of thrusting up into you. Sweat beads down his forehead and onto your chest as his groin tightens. His dick grows bigger, swelling inside of you while he grunts and growls and lets out the prettiest sounds into your ear.

“Gonna make you a mom one day, baby. Fuck you until you’re round and full and everyone, even fucking Rick, knows you’re mine.”

He moans ‘I love you’s’ into your shoulder, biting down onto the junction of your neck as he empties inside of you. Ropes of warmth spread throughout your cunt as he fucks you through his orgasm.

His chest heaves as he falls forward with you, collapsing onto the bed in a frenzied mess of aching limbs and satisfied hums.

He catches his breath quicker than you do, contended sighs and soft kisses along your spine as you both settle down. He moves down your body until he lands on your hips, before gliding his mouth back up to your cheek. He kisses you for the millionth time that night. “…Were you serious? Ya know, did you mean what you said?”

You smile into the blanket, using what little strength you have left to roll over onto him. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you mouth at his neck and collarbone, kissing Steve tenderly in the way he truly deserves.

“Every word.”

•••

Steve Harrington Taglist (+18)

@freaky-dcaky @spideyssunflower @detectivecarisi-1 @superfanmixromancepony @bookfrog242 @spectorfilms @serrendiipty @keepingitlokiii @v0idl1nq @blindedbyyourgrace17 @mrmoonman @emileebert14 @wordle233 @demirunner @randomlyblue @sad-innit @smarie7543 @scoopsahoyharrington @moonknightyws @imanilizabeth @gracie-marvel @liltimmyst @asbisexualasitgets @heihei2221 @thirstynymph @bludhavents @steveslittlesunflower @tiaamberxx @crying-caro

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things smut #stranger things #joe keery #st4 #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the-archxr writes

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chochuuya · 5 months

Text

manga genres.

matsuno chifuyu x fem!reader

disclaimer/note: lots of bickering, chifuyu is a hardcore, he called you a dork and actually roasts you bad but.. finally breaks his christmas curse? (｡- .•)

wc: 1.6k [1668]

you both can never get along when it comes to your manga preferences.

“shut up.” chifuyu sneers.

“no, you shut up!” you say in return.

it’s been about 30 minutes since you first started arguing. chifuyu is a softie at heart, and enjoyed the romance genre. while you were a person of action, enjoying the thriller genre much more.

“the art style is so much better. i don’t even know how you can read a story with such bad flow!” he argued.

you scoffed, turning your head away for a second before looking back at him.

“bad story flow? how dare you. as if your fav isn’t so predictable and mundane, chifuyu. trust me, action is sooo much better than romance.”

“well at least my favourite doesn’t have bad character development! at least they have likeable characters with diverse personalities, compared to your fav show where everyone is plain and boring.” chifuyu says, clearly not going to budge.

“oh, and your fav also has shitty romance.” he adds with a smirk.

he’s getting annoying, you swear you could punch his dumb face but you decided against it.

“well, at least my manga has plot twists and actually keeps their audience wanting for more! your romance? twelve episodes and we’re done. you can just read another of the same genre and you’ll get same plot every time.”

“oh no plot twists, huh?” chifuyu retorts gleefully.

“like who died in the latest chapter or some other bullcrap like that? i rather read and watch something where i can relax and enjoy.” the blond says, “you know, something that doesn't overstimulate your brain.”

“and plus, with romance i get to enjoy some sweet and spicy scenes that i like so much.”

he adds cheekily, “besides, i hate waiting a week for the next chapter. romance is much better than that.”

you scoffed in disbelief. the audacity and ego of his is something else.

“maybe your attention span is just too short to be watching or reading action, chifuyu!”

“and maybe your brain is a bit too simple compared to mine.” he retorts snarkily, “maybe you need constant action and stimulation to keep you entertained, because you get bored too easily.”

“and, it doesn’t matter how long a manga or anime is, it’s the enjoyment and the quality of it that counts. and clearly romance does it best.” he adds smugly, knowing he’s won in his eyes.

you actually rolled my eyes at his reasoning.

“maybe your authors keep dragging the story because they know romance and slice of life is just too simple without any action in it! yeah, what about that?”

“not to mention some of your favourites are quite questionable, chifuyu. what was it again.. oshi no ko? fruits basket? yuck!” you added.

chifuyu chuckles in amusement at your annoyance.

“you know what else is funny? i bet you can’t watch a romantic comedy without feeling cringe or getting embarrassed. and i mean real romcoms, like wotakoi and kaguya-sama.”

"and yeah, they’re my favourites, the anime just elevated them more. i mean come on, they’re cute and funny! and oshi no ko’s mystery and drama, even the comedy at times! how can you hate them?!” he states, annoyed.

“you bet i do, i don’t know how you feel all giddy inside when watching or reading them. maybe you’re just a hopeless romantic!”

you laughed wholeheartedly at your own remark.

“kaguya-sama? even i know better romances than you, ao haru ride and kimi ni todoke is so much better.”

“you know nothing, (y/n).” chifuyu says, amused.

“i admit kaguya-sama has its flaws, but it’s so damn good too. and ao haru ride is nothing but a sad, slow-burn romance that is painfully boring." he says, feeling a bit annoyed at your remark.

“and kimi ni todoke? again, slow-burn that is a bit too cliché.” he adds before saying, “i’d rather read or watch wotakoi. that’s a much better romance manga.”

you sighed in defeat. just hurts your throat trying to even get your argument against him.

chifuyu laughs, “told you! you clearly don’t know enough about manga and anime. you should learn from me, (y/n)!”

“and maybe, just maybe, if you try to change your tastes in manga and anime, you’d start attracting people who like the same thing as you.” he smirks, knowing he hit a nerve with that last comment of his.

you nudged him.

“you say that as if i don’t hear you complaining every christmas that you can’t get a girl, chifuyu. shut up!”

he goes silent, a slight redness creeping into his skin, “h-hey, c’mon! you didn’t have to point that out!” he says, trying to defend himself.

“besides, one day i’ll get a girlfriend.. just you wait—” he grumbles, looking away.

“yeah, whatever. i would probably be dead before you even can get yourself a girl.”

he goes silent again. his face seems to get redder, his annoyance clear.

“what’s that supposed to mean? you think i can’t have a girlfriend?” chifuyu retorts, annoyed.

he didn’t appreciate you mocking him like that.

“um, yeah. every time a girl talks to you, you chicken out. be grateful that i stayed.”

his face turns to disbelief at your words, still red with anger.

“i chicken out? chicken out?! that’s rich coming from you, who’s too scared to ask anyone out on a date.” he says, not backing down.

“and at least i’m not an introvert who gets anxiety whenever they meet new people, scared of embarrassing themselves and avoiding any and all social situations.” he adds, being as brutal as he can be.

your jaw dropped but you quickly compose yourself. don’t let him get to you just yet!

“h-huh? what do you even know about dating?! i bet i have more chance than you do, chifuyu.”

he chuckles in amusement at your outburst.

“oh you’re just all bark, no bite, (y/n). i’ve been on a few dates, sure maybe none of them really lasted, but at least i’ve been on some. you can’t say the same, can you?”

“and i doubt anyone would wanna go out with a dork like you anyway,” he adds with a smirk.

you had enough. you stood up from the floor of his room and exited the door. wow, so much of a hangout!

“hey hey hey, where do you think you’re going, (y/n)?” chifuyu taunts, standing up and walking towards you.

“the conversation isn’t over yet, now is it?” he adds.

“i’m going home.” you said plainly as you walk down the hallway.

“no, you’re not," he says, grabbing you by the arm and stopping you from continuing your walk.

“who says you can leave now?” he asks, annoyed and determined to carry on with his argument.

you nudged your shoulder, removing your arm from his grasp as you continue to ignore him.

coincidentally, baji came and opened the door. poor guy must be confused to see you leave right after. he stepped aside as chifuyu tried to chase after you.

“hey! what gives you the right to ignore me like that?!” chifuyu shouts, watching you walk out of the front door.

“damn it!” he yells angrily at you as you walk away with your nose in the air.

“way to go, chifuyu.”

“kindly shut up, baji-san.”

the next day at school, you were not in the mood. maybe his words got to you yesterday.

you stare into the void of your locker as you got your books out slowly.

chifuyu notices something is off with you. he decides to walk up to you as he sees you get your books out slowly, looking at you with a concerned expression.

he decides not to bring up the argument you had yesterday, for he knows his words can cut deep sometimes.

“hey (y/n), are you alright?” he asks quietly.

“hm.” you simply hummed in response as you shove your books into your backpack. you adjusted the straps before closing the locker and walks towards your class.

chifuyu follows you. he decides not to follow up with his previous question, and instead makes an attempt at being friendly.

“can i walk with you?”

“sure.”

he walks alongside you, feeling quite uncomfortable with your silence.

“so, um, do you mind if i ask what’s got you so down?” he asks, as he walks with you to class.

“was it that argument we had? or something else..?” he asks again, genuinely curious.

“maybe next time don’t call me a dork when you know i dislike it, chifuyu. i get it, i’m sensitive sometimes but—”

“that was yesterday, is that why you’re pissed at me still?” he asks, not fully understanding the situation.

“besides, i wasn’t being serious, (y/n)! we’re friends, you’re no dork.. i’m sorry okay?” he says, feeling a bit saddened.

“and besides, i like it when you’re sensitive. it’s adorable.” chifuyu says with a small smile. he felt that admitting that is rather embarrassing, but he wanted to reconcile with you.

you paused on your tracks as you look up to him. “did he just.. call me adorable?”

“come again?”

“you heard me.” he smirked.

“you being overly sensitive is such an adorable trait to have. not to mention, i would prefer my future girlfriend to be somewhat sensitive, instead of being a cold and mean person.”

he said it all so boldly that makes your mouth hangs open slightly. your cheeks are betraying you already.

“what..?”

he can see your cheeks getting slightly red tinted now. he was getting flustered himself.

“i.. uh..” he stammers.

“i mean, everyone would want their future partner to be someone they like. and i like you, (y/n).”

“plus, what i said is the truth. people do think you’re cute and adorable whenever you’re overly sensitive. even your anger is adorable.” he adds, giving it his all to persuade you into admitting you like him.

he’s clearly into you now.

and, you have no choice but to answer.

please do not steal, copy, translate, repost to other sites or claim my writings as your own. plagiarism is real!

chifuyu is so cute (i am biased) and a fluffy fluff is what he deserves (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³ i hope you like this one~ all reblogs & likes are vv appreciated!

#🐯 luna writes #🐯 luna's fics #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #x reader #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu matsuno x reader #chifuyu x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers scenario #tokyo revengers imagines

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