#thank you star gloss

[tteokdoroki]

jock bf yuuji who’s tongue lolls out of his mouth when he feels u cum on his dick and then he ends up cumming when you suck on his tongue as it hangs out of his mouth <3 he’s a big manhandler and so unbelievably strong, has def broken the weak frame of your dorm bed at least once <3 loves sleeping over and then waking up to you in the early morning light, eats you out then has you ride him and you’re both thinking about it for the rest of the day <3 yuuji sends you the riskiest texts too, texts you that he can’t stop thinking about how good you looked when you sucked him off the night before and now you’re distracted in the library <3

ִ ࣪𖤐๋࣭ — JOCK BF!YUUJI ENTRY #6. pleasure prioritised.

about. just some scenarios of an incredibly strong jock boyfriend pleasing his girlfriend in different ways. thank you nonnie for driving me up the wall with this!!! ( 1K )

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. nsfw, smut, college!au, characters aged up to 20s, creampies, messy makeouts, breaking the bed, strength!kink, unprotected sex, oral sex (f + m!receiving), jock bf!yuuji, weird + fem!reader.

everybody knows that yuuji itadori is strong, he wouldn’t be the star athlete in the soccer team if that wasn’t the case. 

with muscles that ripple when he moves, thick thighs that spread wide and flex on instinct and dark eyes that shine like gold while pulling you in — it’s no wonder why half of the campus wants a piece of him. luckily enough, yuuji itadori only wants to give himself to you.

yuuji only uses the full extent of strength when he devotes his body to pleasing you. when it’s lights out at your dorm go out, and the common spaces are vacant while your roommates party the night away and all that remains is a man who loves his girlfriend with all of his entirety. and a girl who loves him all too much, right back. he pins you to the bed, pelvis to pelvis as yuuji uses all of his might to pound into you.

his thrusts are usually heavy, but thoughtful and with meaning — designed to make you see bright, shining stars behind your eyelids and pull an angels song from between your lips. itadori doesn’t just fuck you —  his sweet girlfriend, his everything, his purpose. he makes love to you, makes the bed rock while his sticky tip stays tacked to your g-spot and safe, comforting brown his eyes stay locked on yours, reminding you of how much you are loved as you tremble and quake beneath him. 

there’s often a dull thump to the wall from where the force of yuuji’s hips drive the headboard into it. only you ever have the power to make your man that feral, have him drooling like a dog with its tongue in the wind whenever he has the chance to sink into your tight heat. it’s the way your snug little pussy ripples around the giant jock’s fat girth, his tummy smooshed up against your puffy clit does nothing to help him either. the more ecstasy he gives you, the more you clench down on your boyfriend and the further his eyes disappear into his skull. 

itadori just loves being inside of you, tucking his thriving dick away inside your velveteen walls, hearing your pussy suction around you and your cheap dorm mattress squeak in harmony with your hiccuped moans. yuuji, yuuji, yuuji. his name on your kiss swollen and tear glossed lips is enough for the pink haired man to break the bed from how hard and deep he thrusts into you. even when it does collapse in on itself, yuuji doesn’t dare stop until you’re cumming in sweet streams around him — painting his toned stomach and washboard abs in your arousal before he fills you up with his own thick white.

he usually cums with his drooling tongue in your mouth and an arm wrapped around your head, keeping you tucked underneath while he grinds his hips through your shared highs. sometimes salacious laments and high-pitched whines manage to slip through the cracks — which mean noise complaints from the Dean of your dorm and a call to maintenance in the morning to fix your destroyed bed (and walls).

mornings are no different (once your bed is fixed), yuuji itadori always fails to keep his hands to himself and if he’s lucky enough to stay the night — he uses those very same greedy and large hands to pleasure you all throughout sunrise. you wake up to find fingers on the swollen little nub tucked between your puffy pussy lips and his eager tongue swiping over the eight of your slit to catch any of your juices before they’re wasted on cheaply made college-friendly sheets. 

it’s a sight to behold, the way you arch your back from the bed and your thighs quiver either side of a head full of bright pink hair that tickles their insides. you can’t help but tug on the soft tufts — dragging yuuji further into your creamy cunt while accidentally kicking plushies galore from their place amongst your pillows and blankets. itadori remains a messy eater, slurping on your succulent folds, running laps over every inch of the heat between your glorious thighs. 

except you don’t get to cum on his mouth or his tongue on mornings like this — instead yuuji likes to really show off his strength. he likes you in his lap and seated on the swell of his fat, oozing girth. he adores plugging you full, watching you writhe above him for something, anything. any type of thrust or friction. yuuji can’t help himself, he’s always dying  to grope the globes of your ass when you’re riding him, using the strength in his arms  to hold over his bright red ans milky tip before pumping himself all the way into you in one calculated thrust upwards. 

both of you cum before either of your alarms go off, messy as always but content. you’re happy with yuuji and he’s always so happy to please you — it’s the least he could do for his precious girl. 

itadori always leaves you with a limp throughout the rest of your day — a comfortable pain in the base of your spine that reminds you of how deep he’d gone. there’s a dampness to your underwear during your classes too, reminding you of how much hot, oozing seed the jock had filled you up with. ‘keep it there,’ the pink haired soccer player tends to ask with those guilt-tripping puppy dog eyes of his. ‘want you walking around with my cum dripping down your thigh, so that everyone knows who you belong to.’

you often wonder what the campus would think if they knew how debauched their star player really was.

they’d have a field day if they saw the texts yuuji sent you while wiping the floor with his teammates during practices. pictures of his erection in the changing room mirrors and maybe some of your pretty face while he had you cumming on just his tip. sometimes paragraphs detailing how he was going to ruin your pussy, make you see god or even reach cloud nine. some tell you how much itadori misses your plush lips wrapped around him as he cums down your throat. 

but no matter what way you look at it, your jock boyfriend yuuji itadori always has your pleasure prioritised at the forefront of his mind. he’d use whatever part of his body, whatever strength he has to keep you satisfied. all alongside his insatiable appetite for you and only you. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#itadori smut #yuuji itadori smut #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk thirsts #jujutsu kaisen thirst #itadori x you #⋆｡°✩ — jock bf!yuuji #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚💬੭ — unknown messenger #ghostqueues #angelshubnetwork

[gremlingottoosilly]

Can we get some Sugar Daddy König X Sugar Baby Bimbo!reader that actually is a little oblivious to the fact she is a sugar baby, "oh the colonel? He's just a fwb who likes to pay for dinner and buy me expensive gifts that's all, he's just like really nice"

Konig really doesn't know where to put his money. He bought a house, a car, and a collection of guns that already go over legal limits. He was thinking about buying a second house somewhere warm, but then he thinks about having to take care of that property too, and his head starts to hurt. He wants to put his money into something nice - he has investments, usually something that Hutch is telling him to invest too because he knows more about tech and crypto and other useless stuff. And the colonel still has a huge chunk of money lying around every month. He didn't even notice that he started to pay for your...everything, at first. Even when you were just friends, you were playing this perfect little game of him bringing you money and you never taking your wallet out of the bag. He likes to spoil you. Gifts, food, new clothes - he doesn't knows anything about clothing brands and expensive gadgets, but you start to chirp about wanting new heaphones or a brand of lip gloss that is sooo trendt eight now, and he likes to listen to you speak. Maybe he is playing his old-school fantasy of having a hot, popular girl actually talk to him instead of bullying and yelling. Maybe he is trying to compensate for his lack of female attention. Maybe he is trying to buy you. He knows that you aren't using him because, by god, your pretty little head is too empty to conjure such a scheme. You're always so surprised when he brings you gifts, and you thank him so cheerfully. Bouncing on his cock like a good girl, not because he is asking you to, but because you really just want to cheer him on. Sucking his cock and spreading that expensive lip gloss all over because he is such a cool dude, much better than your friend's boyfriends. Your friends are so jealous about you having such a great sugar daddy, but you don't even realize that Konig is one. Honestly, if you weren't the one initiating sex, he probably wouldn't even ask you to. He brings you gifts and pops a boner whenever you hug him, and then you get sad because he is lonely and rich and so so miserable, you'll just straddle his hips and ride him until you both see stars. He never asked you to have sex in exchange for gifts. You just...like to accept them. And you like sex. Konig simply likes you too.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader

[astraystayyh]

the premise : u apply lipgloss on felix because ofc he suits glossy lips except it takes an emotional turn???? because felix is perfect sorry. this is fluffyyyy and the sanest reaction to this man being ur bf (and these pics. these pics....)

“lixie, stay still,” you giggle, body nestled between felix’s legs. He's leaning against the bathroom counter, hands propped on the sleek ebony marble as you apply a shimmering lip gloss to his lips.

“but don't you wanna know what changbin said to me?”

“of course i wanna know what creative pickup line he used on you today. of course i do, baby,” you smile and he rolls his eyes at the sarcasm dripping from your tone, his tongue poking against his cheek before gliding in (fake) annoyance over his lips.

“but…” he muses, tilting his head to the side, his hands finding your waist once again (they've been away for two minutes too long).

“but when your mouth moves i can't technically apply lipgloss to it.”

“maybe you're just a bad make-up artist,” he teases, before quickly planting a kiss on your temple. “kidding baby. you're the very best at everything you do.”

“you're actually incapable of being mean,” you laugh heartily, your thumb swiping across his chiseled jaw.

“i am very much capable of being mean,” he pouts, his eyes widening slightly, golden light spilling into his pupils— it refracts into an arrow delving straight into your heart.

“you can't say this in the softest voice and expect me to agree.”

“i am very much capable of being mean,” he repeats, only this time his timber is many many octaves lower. his voice reverberates straight through your stomach, a deep melody orchestrating the untamed butterflies in your stomach.

“this is the equivalent of a kitten throwing a punch to me,” you pull his face closer, and he shakes his head, mouth shut tightly as you reapply the glitter infused gloss on his lips, going delicately over his cupid's bow. his eyes are boring onto you, yet you don't shy away from his gaze. it is a kind one— like a blanket knitted with love thrown over your body.

“done,” you whisper, hands trailing up to his hair, blonde silky locks akin to threads of sunlight. you think he must be favored by the stars— how they stored the sun inside every component of his being for him to keep safe.

“you have the prettiest lips,” your voice is suddenly hoarse, thumb grazing slightly over his lips, ones shaped like a heart— akin to the one freckle he has right underneath his eye.

it wasn't enough for him to have the kindest soul, no, love needed to be etched onto his skin too.

“felix,” you rasp out his name.

he catches your tears before you sense them falling, swiping his thumbs delicately on your cheek. “angel?”

“you're an idiot.”

“am i?” he brings you to his chest swiftly, your nose buried in the orange blossoms and sea notes of his skin— your home, the one you'd recognize in blindness, in despair, in safety, in love.

“i wanted to apply this lipgloss on you because shimmer would suit your angelic lips and then we'd make out. but you just had to be so beautiful and pure that it makes me wanna cry.”

“I'm sorry,” he says and you giggle, more tears spilling from your eyes.

“see, this is what i mean. why are you apologizing. this is so silly and you're so perfect and i can't believe you love me.”

“well i do,” he leans away, kissing your forehead tenderly. the sticky lip gloss lingers on your skin. “i love you so much, angel. i will only ever love you.”

“promise me?” you ask in a feat of vulnerability almost foreign to your being.

“i promise.”

you believe him.

“thank you. please don't put this lipgloss near anyone else or it'll make them cry too.”

“i think that's just you baby,” he grins, his thumb swiping over your thigh comfortingly, then, his nose brushing against your own. “kiss?”

you close your eyes, a sigh of relief, of longing escaping your body. “please.”

to be loved by felix— maybe you're the one favored by the stars after all.

#woah i missed silly little drabbles #this is my new serotonin booster #i dedicate this to my xi #and my anny #enjoy #felix fluff #felix x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #skz fanfic

[leiswxrld]

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬

pairings: piercer!ellie williams x fem reader

synopsis: your obsessed with ellie williams and have developed a little thing for her but never talked to her well not until you visited the tattoo shop.

warnings: mdni 18+, smut, cunnilingus (r receiving), strap on usage (calls it her dick), praise + degradation (slut, angel, beautiful, pretty), ellie williams is the mf warning, nipple piercings, public sex kinda.

a/n: I’m actually so fucking obsessed with ellie not even a joke, this was also a request from a friend so thanks bae.

credits: @mmadeinheavenn @hitobaby ❥

When it came to Ellie williams, your friends always heard about how much you were obsessed with her. to the piercings and tattoos they heard it all, you went to the same university and attended most of the same classes but never spoke a word to eachother other.

You were sat in the canteen, laughing and making jokes with your friends whilst your attention turned to Ellie who had headphones in, carrying a backpack as she buys her lunch, sitting herself away from everyone.

Trying to ignore her presence, you try listening into your friend's conversation on her current sneaky link dustin, a boy on the football team who was the goalie star of the team but a total dick, she would always complain how he would be fucking other girls whilst he was with her but she'd managed to go back to him saying, 'it was just for the sex'.

Your head begins to spin, turning your attention back to Ellie who's busy phone in hand and a sub in the other, her piercing green eyes look up towards you, licking the crumbs off her lips not being able to read her unreadable expression before she goes back to what she was doing.

In your deluded mind, you coped up the idea that she might have a slight thing for you trying to convince yourself she'd might actually hook up with you.

It's Monday morning, sat in your lecture a few seats from the front as the teacher is rambling on about a midterm test that's coming up very soon and that everyone should be studying but truth be told you had been too lazy to do anything, staying in your bed whilst watching YouTube. you noticed Ellie hadn't arrived, consciously looking at the door waiting for the freckled beauty to walk through the door.

you tapped your pen against the desk, head in your hand thinking about what you were going to have for dinner later until your completely brung out of your daydream by the sound of the double doors opening, speaking of the devil.

Ellie walks in, hair in a ponytail. dressed in a metal rock shirt with ripped black jeans and black timberlands with her headphones in. she seems unfazed at the amount of distasteful looks she gets as she walks up the stairs in your direction, briefly looking at you and continuing towards the top. the professor continues to teach ignoring her as she writes on the whiteboard whilst talking.

You pretend to drop your pen on the floor, looking behind you to see her sat on the seats towards the right. she's typing on her phone, completely distracted, looking up to see you before smirking to herself.

you freak out internally, feeling your heart flutter a bit as you gripped your pen tightly, humming quietly to yourself thoughts filled with her.

a few days later, your at the tattoo place waiting to get your nipples done. it was a rather last minute decision since you've wanted them for a while but scared because of the horror stories you've heard from other girls which completely put you off at first but then you decided maybe it wouldn't be the same for you.

You begged your friend to come with too scared to go by yourself as you signed the paperwork to get it done. "Girl I'm sure you'll be fine your literally shaking"

you scoff, giving her a dirty look, "If it was you...you wouldn't of gotten them in the fucking first place at least I'm actually getting them done"

she rolls her eyes applying her lip gloss, "I just got my eyebrow pierced I think that’s adventurous enough" you continue to bicker, before a girl approaches you not paying attention before she cleared her throat.

"Y/N right" you look up to see Ellie, the girl you've been crushing over for the past month stood right in front of you and she was about to pierce your fucking tits.

never in your right mind would you think she worked at a fucking tattoo shop but here she was in a tank top, showcasing the variety of tattoos across her arms and neck. you don't remember her being this fucking built but then again you never saw her in uni without wearing punk shirts with a white long sleeved top underneath. your voice gets caught in your throat, your friend looking at you with a smirk as you push her off you, "yeah thats me"

Ellie pauses, looking at her clipboard before looking back at you. "come with me" she says, turning around as you get up from your seat. You follow her, briefly turning around to see your friend who's making sexual jokes as you flip her off.

your nervous, your heart racing as she leads you to one of the many rooms, allowing you to go in first closing the door behind you. "Have a seat on the bed behind you whilst I get everything prepared" she mutters, pointing at the bed as you sat yourself on top of it. you don't think you've ever heard her talk her voice sweet but rugged at the same time as she goes to wash her hands at the sink.

"you've ever pierced uh- nipples before" you quickly speak out, cursing at yourself for your stutter. she takes a second to look at you, not missing the way her eyes stop at your tits before licking her lips. "uh- yeah this isn't my first rodeo so don't worry your in good hands"

she drys her hands, putting on her gloves and sterilising the equipment on the tray before wheeling it towards you next to the bed. "can you lay down for me and lift up your shirt and remove your bra if you don't want me to look I won't" she says, going to turn around before you stop her.

"No its fine you'll see them anyway since your piercing them" Ellie smiles at you, slowly watching as you carefully lift your top up revealing the cute red lacy bra. The tension felt all too intimate for you feeling so vulnerable under her intimidating eyes, you don't know if she's recognised you or pretending not to still remaining professional as you struggle to unbuckle the hook.

in embarrassment, you face ellie who's busy getting her tools lined up. "hey can you help me unbuckle my bra having trouble taking it off" you squeak out and she smiles signalling you to turn around, feeling her cold hands hit the warmth of your back causing you to shiver slightly as you felt the bra strap unbuckle. "thanks"

you slip your bra off, placing it on the bed next to you. Ellie hands you a towel to help you cover up, laying back onto the bed the anticipation killing you as your nerves began to pick up again. "I'm going touch your breasts now tell me if you get too uncomfortable" you nod in response and ellie gently moves the towel down revealing your tits, sitting perfectly the cold air breezing past causing them to harden.

you hear her mutter 'fuck' under her breath, but you don't know if it was your imagination or not. shes gentle, lightly pressing her hand against your left tit, the cannula in her right. "take a deep breath for me" you do, lightly taking in air before feeling the needle going through your nipple.

opening your eyes, you see she's already putting in the jewellery. "I was expecting that to be way more painful" you admit causing her to laugh, screwing in the ball. "a lot of my customers have said that it's just your nerves making you think it will be fucking painful than it actually is"

"don't blame them I was shitting bricks when I got here" you reply, admiring the many piercings she had in her ear. you don't think you ever noticed she had that many, "that was me when I first got them, I did them myself which looking back was fucking stupid but I was 17 and wanted to be different"

"that’s so real" you could relate you managed to pierce your septum and helix in one night which resulted in blood, infections and a long healing period but in the end they turned out good. "ok I'm going to pierce the other one take another deep breath for me angel"

the name went straight down to your core, feeling the wetness seep onto your matching red lace underwear as you avoid her eyes. you take another deep breath before feeling the needle go through which felt a little painful than the last as she puts in the jewellery screwing the ball in.

"anddd.... I'm done take a look" you receive the mirror, angling them towards your tits, satisfied with the cute piercings. "omg they look so pretty" you gleam, taking a second to look at a shy Ellie, "thank you so much"

"your welcome, they suit you just as pretty as you" your gleeful, expression falls turning to look up at ellie who seems panicked at your shocked expression. "s-shit I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I-"

"you think I'm pretty" you ask, needing the confirmation from her lips once again. "ever since I saw you in the library at uni I thought you were the most beautiful girl in there"

that was the signal you needed, "can I kiss you" ellie says, restraining herself from grabbing you and doing it herself. you nod and Ellie takes your lips on hers, heads moving against each other, roughly pulling at her neck as you both moan.

"so fucking beautiful" she mutters, against your lips grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards her. she makes her way down, leaving bruises all around your neck and kissing your pierced tits carefully making you wince before continuing all the way to your stomach.

"You moan so fucking pretty- shit I have to have you will you let me fuck this pussy baby" she asks- almost begging you to let you use her to get yourself off. "y-yes please fuck me ells" the yes a whimper, just wanting ellie to use her fingers on you.

Ellie wastes no time, taking off your joggers and throwing them across the floor. she moans at the wet spot that's appeared on the matching red lace underwear, helping you slip them off. "fuck" she mutters, your pussy glistening in your juices as Ellie slowly attaches her lips onto your clit, receiving a gasp from you.

She eats you like its her last fucking meal, licking and sucking like a mad woman, moaning at the way you taste and how angelic your moans were. "taste so fucking good"

"just like that els-fuck" she groans at your words, using her mouth to suction on your clit lapping up all your juices that seeped through the white protective cloth on the bed.

Your moaning, hands slipping into ellies hair and toes clenched too fucking blissed to say anything. "I-i want to fuck you" she says, stopping for a second bringing you out of your blissed out state, "what do you mean" your confused, wasn't she already doing it ?.

"you'll see turn around and arch your back against the bed" you obey, quickly rushing up and laying yourself against the bed, avoiding hitting your newly pierced tits.

You hear her unbuckle the belt to her jeans, pushing them down to her legs. briefly turning around, she pulls down her boxes revealing a black glittery strap on. "we only have 10 minutes before my next client so we have to make this quick, angel"

"look at you so ready for my dick, how much does she want it" she referring to your pussy, feeling her tap the tip against your opening. "sooo… bad please fuck me" you beg and you hear her chuckle at your desperate pleas, positioning herself before slowly pushing into you.

"ohhhh-fuck" you moan, exaggerating the oh as she puts her hands on your hips, "so fucking tight for me its been a long time since you've been fucked hasn't it" she asks, smacking your ass.

"s-so long" you admit, the longest time you had been without sex being 5 months. she pulls you back on her strap before thrusting into you at a slow pace, pulling back only to thrust back harder into you.

Your pushing back onto her, meeting her thrusts as your moans get louder. "shhhh angel your being too loud you don't want wanna get caught getting fucked by me right" her tone is almost mocking, feeling her hand push your head against the bed muffling your moans into the hard surface.

You nod, babbling curses and muffled moans as she increases her pace, ass smacking against her strap as your hand grips onto the discarded towel next to you. "fuck back onto me baby come on" she's spanking you, whilst letting you push back onto her as you turn back to face her who seems to be enjoying it as much as you were.

"you look so fucking beautiful from here angel, so desperate for me" she's pounding into you, trying your hardest to stay quiet, your piercing hits the table causing you to wince in pain, "fuck els- I'm gonna cum gonna make such a mess all over you" you moan out, eyes rolling back as you brain goes fuzzy

the loud smacks are echoed across the room, ellie going to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling on it harshly watching as your ass bounces back, almost creaming at the sight of it. "are you going to cum for me slut" you almost silent, ellie knocking the breath out of you as she fucks the shit out of you.

"nghhh- fuck I'm cumming" you squirt all over her strap, earning a satisfied moan from ellie, who thrusts into you a few more times before slowing down. you laid slump on the bed, feeling Ellie pull out of you as you felt her tongue return to your pussy, licking up the juices with a few grunts as you whimper in sensitivity.

"Didn't take you for a squirter" she finally says, helping you to your feet. "that was my first time doing it" you admit and her eyes widen, "really..well shit I guess you just weren't getting fucked right"

Ellie helps you get dressed, cleaning you up and replacing the now soaked sheet with a new one.

"I have to get ready for my next client but I guess I'll see you around, angel" she gives you one more kiss before letting you out, you felt the obvious limp in your step ignoring the dirty looks you got from everyone in the waiting area, returning quickly to your friend who had an obvious smirk on her face.

"so how was it" you grab your purse from her, taking out your card. "it didn't hurt to be-

"Not that how was it was she more of a pink or black strap type of girl" you slap her in the arm, an obvious glare on your face. "I don't know what you’re talking about"

"you do realise everyone heard you getting fucked like the obvious limp in your step and the hickeys all over your neck is a factor" your face drains in colour, no wonder why everyone was giving you dirty looks.

" I have no idea what your talking about let me pay so we can get out of here" you pay, embarrassment on your face as the receptionist gave you the ‘I know what you just did’ look.

Ellie walks out clipboard in hand, calling out a customers name eyes meeting yours before smirking, your face heats up before you drag your friend out of the shop, missing ellies obvious stares at your ass as you do.

“hi I’m ellie right this way”

#ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #tlou2 #black reader #lesbian #stargirl interlude #lesbian smut #smut #leiscoven #leiswxrld

[hoony2k]

HEART 2 HEART

I aint never seen two chill idols in a room, one of them is always obesessed with the other. Or

Idol!enha giving idol!you heart eyes in professional settings.

PAIRING: ot7

GENRE: fluff, crack, established lovers, secret lovers, idol x idol

WORD COUNT: 3k (help)

WARNINGS: mentions of innocent kissing that's it. I got possessed during hoon and hee's.

NOTE: hii this was so fun. I kind of wanted niki and sunoo's to be a bit longer but I yapped a bit too much in general. this is massive for a 7 member drabble but 1 para wouldn't do justice. hope you enjoy!

Part 1 -> we dating fr?

Part 3 -> cut the cameras

requested masterlist

★ HEESEUNG:

He thinks everything’s a game!!he thinks its funny! But mr lee who is laughing? Not him rn

You’re walking in the hallways after a quick trip to the washroom when suddenly someone grabs your arm and pulls you into a room. You’re ready to scream but he swiftly covers your mouth and chants “It’s me. It’s me” like that’ll help you understand why your boyfriend thought it would be a good idea to lead you into a small clothing room.

You want to get mad at him for a billion reasons but mainly because what if someone saw? and misunderstood! But his stupid smile tells you how he doesn’t care. Sometimes you want to have his optimism and confidence, maybe then you two could live a carefree idol life.

 Heeseung wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to fiddle with the bows on your outfit and hair. Your faux anger slowly crumbles as he stares at you like you painted the night sky and hung the stars on it. Still, you break eye contact just to dust your pride and Heeseung can not stop laughing, finding you cuter than ever.

“I have to go soon. We can’t get caught”, you remind him, the overwhelming time restraint burdens you every time you meet him outside his dorms and as usual, Heeseung doesn’t mind. He shrugs casually, then gives you a reckless smile, eyes hooded. “Who cares?”

Your heart skips a beat in the best way but you purse your lips and pretend to think it over. A hum escapes you, tapping your finger on his chin. He leans closer.

“Probably our managers, you know?”, you say knowing he’s far too busy admiring your eye makeup to even care about the consequences of what would happen if someone were to open the door. So, you do the most logical thing a person subjugated with love could do. Taking his smiley face in your grasp, you turn his head and press a chaste kiss on his cheek, intentionally pressing into his skin to leave a stain.

You pull back to inspect the pink gloss on his cheek, lightly smudged. Heeseung looks like he’s floating but before he can pull any stunts you clap him on the back as a goodbye and quickly scurry out of the room. Not even bothering to check if someone was in the hallway.

If Heeseung stands alone dazed for a while…no one needs to know. He fights his demons when he brings out a tissue to remove your gloss, sobbing internally.

★ JAY:

You will be my girl my girl my girl <3

Jay had told you about how he’d film the Sweet Venom TikTok challenge with you to prepare you beforehand. You had learnt the dance long ago, but the mental preparation to become a different person in front of Jay from Enhypen and a camera took some mental energy. Acting like you were strangers and not a couple filming a silly video wasn’t what you wanted but you were thankful no one spread dirty rumours.

His manager held the camera to film some behind-the-scenes footage of Jay “teaching” you what to do in the challenge and it was kind of funny. But when it came to filming, Jay did everything to be able to spend some extra time with you without seeming suspicious.

He’d get the timing wrong on purpose, he’d bump into you, with the smallest nudge and he’d quickly pause the challenge to apologise. Each time he’d falter or force himself to be out of sync, to have one eye slightly closed, you’d laugh it off, genuinely finding his actions endearing.

He’s excited to film it with you, he can’t wait to show how good you two look, and how his dance style compliments yours, and he can’t wait to see his fans react, gushing over you, throwing heart emojis for his girl.

It was rare for to Jay get so stubborn so you entertained it and laughed. The manager didn’t mind as long as she farmed enough footage but eventually puts her foot down when the behind-the-scenes videos turns longer than 2 minutes and the challenge hasn't reached its middle yet.

She politely tells Jay to rehearse once more and she’d film it after that. The rehearsed one goes by smoothly; the steps are muscle memory at this point.

Before the final take, Jay wants to tell you good luck but almost slips and lays it all out in the open as he parts his lips to call you “Babe”. At the utterance of the first syllable, you snap your head in his direction, eyes piercing his soul, not a hint of a smile.

Jay catches his tongue and switches it to another similar word and thankfully it isn’t noticeable nor is it understood by the manager who assumes Jay’s nerves cause him to slur over his speech. No big deal.

Slightly nervous, Jay glances at you and you offer him an understanding nod. Then the final take begins and everything goes smoothly. When the challenge ends, you turn to bow and he thanks you for joining him. As the manager gives you a thumbs up and taps away on her phone preoccupied, you turn to Jay with a raised brow and he blushes.

“I don’t wanna talk about it”.

★ JAKE:

Personal space? Never heard of her

It’s been hours since you’ve arrived and Jake has not stopped smiling for even a second. He’s over the moon he can’t believe how well you fit into his social circle (enha) like a puzzle piece he was missing this whole time. He’s not sappy but he could write an entire sonnet on how gorgeous you look lounging on his bed, eating take out and brushing your hair back as you watch the movie with him.

But when you announce it’s time to leave, he does not stop sulking and begging you. Literally on his knees. The moment you try to get out of bed, he grabs onto your arm and pulls you tight into his embrace, nose in your hair, he pretends he’s asleep when you ask him to let go.

“My manager just texted me”, you tell him but your hands find his free hand. He rubs a thumb over your hand and you feel like you just kicked a wet puppy into mud. He groans into your hair, slowly and subtly, his legs wrap around your own as if he’s trying to merge your bodies.

“Tell her your phone exploded”, his voice is muffled and immediately you stop feeling bad.

You whine his name and try again but he refuses to budge, and when he tries to pull his bed covers on your frame, you decide to threaten him, “I’ll scream for Jay I’m not playing. I’m overdue curfew”.

“Door’s locked”. HELLO??

You sigh and let your head rest on his pillow that smells exactly like him, ignore the flutter in your rib cage and rest for just a minute. Jake mistakes it as a sign of you surrendering, his grip loosening. You don’t waste a second and throw his caged arms off and jump out of bed and he begins to sulk and wail at the loss of contact. But as much as you love him, you can finally breathe without the weight of your chest.

“I like the idol you better. The one who acts like he doesn’t know me”.

“He wouldn’t treat you like I do”.

He’s ready to have beef with idol Jake if it is meant to impress you. When he’s tying up your shoelaces for you, he’s like “I’ll walk you home” and you tell him he cannot do that because people are always snooping so you’ll get a taxi and he’s like “I’ll walk you downstairs and wait until you sit inside”.

How could you say no to his puppy eyes?

★ SUNGHOON:

he’s on cloud nine because his wish finally came true. He’s radiating light wherever he goes.

He sat next to you, far too close for it to appear platonic but Sunghoon told you not to worry. He tells you not to worry when he’s facing you, knees brushing, you can feel his body heat despite the cool in the room. You’re trying your hardest not to stare at him or how he’s rolled up his dress shirt sleeves despite his stylist’s scolding, or how they slicked his hair back with gel but left one strand to dangle on his forehead, how it curves and makes his eyes seem sharper than they are.

You’re trying, ok?

It’s better than Sunghoon who cannot stop leaning in your personal space as he reads his lines off your shoulder for some reason, he giggles when you try to push him away but he clings like a magnet. The floor vibrates with heavy bass, you’re up again in ten minutes and you need him to get serious.

Unlike him, it’s your first time mc-ing and despite his hype boy attitude, your fingers still shake as you read your lines out loud. Sunghoon’s smile flickers until he remembers he can do something to help.

“Hey, just focus on me”, he says calmly, ironically the one thing you’ve been trying not to do.

But, with blind trust, you agree and your gaze lands on his. His eyes twinkle and crinkle, he stares back at you and you think you’ve started to smile like an idiot. You turn your eyes to soak in his outfit once more, he matches your formal dress, a deep red satin dress paired with similar gloves. He’s adorned in dark slacks that emphasise his stature, and a dark dress shirt with a maroon tie. His tie is crooked-

Out of instinct or perhaps it stems from the urge to hold his hands, feel his heartbeat under your fingers, you reach out, hands settling on his shoulders, then inch towards his neck to tighten and straighten the knot. Sunghoon’s eyes don’t leave your serious expression, a lovesick smile hangs on his face. Your hands press onto the material to flatten it and fix his collars like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

Something clatters and smashes loudly.

You rip your hands off his shoulders and he suddenly feels cold. Sunghoon pouts but you quickly turn away, surprisingly less scared than before. You glance in front and see your stylist give orders, someone says another band is preparing for an interview in 5. Finally, you grip the cards tightly in your hands but don’t even spare them a glance. Instead, you lock eyes with your lover who had been looking fondly at you the whole ordeal.

“let’s go over this one last time for your sake”.

Sunghoon laughs.

★ SUNOO:

Therapists hate him. He’s a mastermind at manipulation.

Both of you are chosen along with another idol and actor to partake in a reality show where you all live together and go on an adventure it’s all a great experience and you get to interact with new lovely people but when it’s late at night, the crew has gone to their hotel, cameras have been turned off, you, Sunoo and the actor gather at the dining table.

Sunoo keeps smiling at you and the actor and he offers to peel mandarins. As he peels, the conversation flows smoothly, his fingers work quickly and skillfully. Even though his eyes are downcast, his change in expressions tell you he’s listening to the conversation.

Out of respect, he offers the actor a plate with the most mandarin slices and out of habit, he slides to you the plate with the juiciest and scrumptious slices, choosing the dry ones for himself. You shyly thank him and Sunoo brushes it off. He only realizes what he’s done and how much of a deal it is when the actor questions if he’s a good friend of yours.

Sunoo bursts into laughter, eyes crinkling, he waves his hand in dismal, he looks at you up and down. You refuse to make eye contact.

“Something like that”.

His open-ended answer renders you speechless and you pretend to be busy when the actor looks at you. You untie your hair for it to cover your heated ears and fake cough as you take another bite.

Sunoo offers you a napkin. His hand stretches over the table and all eyes are on you, the actor is on the edge of his seat as he observes you like a hawk.

As nonchalant as you can be, you roll your shoulders and take it from him. Despite your efforts to avoid skin contact, Sunoo flicks his wrist and his fingers delicately brush yours, sparks light up inside your stomach.

You quietly thank him and he shows off his charming smile. the actor next to you sighs loudly and glances at the clock before thanking Sunoo for the mandarins. Sunoo shines another smile at the man who glances between the two of you.

“Chemistry like this is hard to find. If you two end up dating, I’ll be supporting you”.

This time you choke on the juice and Sunoo springs up to give you a glass of water and pats your back for safety. The actor nods once more then leaves. When the coughing fit dies down, you ask Sunoo what all that was about, he tells you not to worry. He peeks at the camera as a precaution, it’s got a lid covering the lens. Then, he bends down to kiss your hair and brings your plate closer to him so he can feed you. Your heart attempts to jump onto the table when he affectionately begins to stroke your hair as well.

Friends be damned, you’ve hit the lover jackpot.

★ JUNGWON:

He loves his job but hates all the parts where he has to be too pretend his personal life doesn’t exist.

“I wish you were here with me”, he says the moment you pick up. You pout, shoulders sag immediately. 

He notices this and almost feels bad as he caresses his phone screen like it’s a glass screen dividing him and the fish at an aquarium. The thought makes him laugh. He wants to spend the entire night talking to you, memorising your presence, pretending you're cuddled next to him but he can’t go through with his urges because you need to sleep.

Jungwon would never want you to disturb your sleep routine, no matter how many times you text or tell him that you want to do these things for him, it's only natural.

“I bought you a keychain”, you tell him, voice cracking over the call. He adjusts his camera, brows raised. You know what he’ll say so you answer, “You’ll see it when I give it to you”. 

He pouts and brings the camera closer to his face to coax you into showing it, his tired eyes sparkle and almost distract you from his dark circles. Your heart sinks. What time is it there? You don’t need to calculate because you had already memorized the time difference by heart before he departed.

“Baby, it’s 2 am there”. 

He shakes his head, hair flicking him in the eye, he squints up at you and unconsciously buries himself under his comfy hotel blankets. You stare at your lover, take in his appearance and admire how hard he works to achieve his dreams, how he wants to be a good boyfriend and tick all the boxes that make your heart soar. He looks like he’ll fall asleep in the peaceful silence so you grant him an offer. 

“Would you like me to sing you to sleep?”

His dimple greets you and under the covers where you can’t see, Jungwon rubs his legs together, giddy like a child. 

“Sing your next song for me”, he whispers and you gasp at him, taken back by the new information. It’s your turn to squint at him as you ask him about how he knew you were preparing for a comeback. He shakes his head and mumbles, “You changed your makeup”. 

Makeup…that was only evident in pictures. You hadn’t met him all dolled up behind stage due to your schedules and could barely fit an hour with him at his dorm because you two were so busy. Yet he had noticed, somehow in a supernatural but very Jungwon way and your face heated up.

Your melody filtered through his speakers, it only took a minute for Jungwon’s breathing to even out, his hand going limp and the phone falling backwards to give you a view of the ceiling light. 

Still, you finish the song and wish him a good night. Whisper a soft I love you in the dimly lit room, a saccharine confession that he’ll hear confidently soon. 

★ NIKI:

Bro thinks hes in an edit‼️literally moves slowly like that when he sees you, r&b song playing in this head

On the encore stage, other bands including yours bow to Enha and in those 4 seconds, Niki decides to take a shot.

He thanks you with a bow and when you turn your attention to Jungwon, Niki speaks your name. It's far too gentle to be caught in the mic and he faces his head toward you so the back of his head is captured by the camera.

But like a compass, you always find his voice, when he calls for you in the hallways or when he's talking to other people in his makeup room, your ears seem to find him before your eyes do.

As you turn your wide eyes to him, unaware of his plans, Niki's boxy smile vanishes. He gazes at you through lidded eyes that appear striker more so than ever due to his bold makeup and he renders you speechless, cupid shooting you with several arrows.

You're paused mid-bow, face heating up under Niki's stare and smug smile, professional composure crumbling. There's a siren going off in your head, the cameras!

But what do they know? They can't even see your lover's expression, only the tilt of his head and dark wavy hair that tickles his neck. A part of you, a possessive side is overjoyed they can't. Swiftly, Jungwon covers your body and gives Niki a nasty side eye which finally manages to pull you out of the trance.

You return to thanking them and saying whatever nonsense comes to mind, Jungwon understands but Niki cackles loudly. As fast as this interaction happens, you fall back and merge with the crowd that walks off stage.

Thankfully, no one could figure out what happened but they made assumptions based on your expressions. That hype dies down in the fandoms but Niki can't stop replaying the moment on his end. It's a free amv for songs, he's never going to stop thinking about it.

Thank you for reading!

All rights belong to me. Please do not copy/translate/edit.

#k-labels #enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #enha fluff #enha soft hours #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #heeseung x reader #jay park x reader #jaeyun x reader #jake sim x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #niki x reader #riki x reader #heeseung scenarios #sunghoon scenarios #jake sim scenarios #jay park scenarios #jungwon scenarios #niki scenarios #sunoo scenarios

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

chapter one -

Late arrivals and big asks

A broken down car, a party at Reefer Rick’s, and a bandaid that needs to be ripped off.

warnings: 18+ drinking, smoking, lots of tension, some king!steve angst in the form of a flashback.

wc: 10.1k

series masterlist | series playlist

June - 

The air is sticky, thick with the kind of humidity only Indiana could have at 9:30 pm. An annoyed breath expands into your lungs as you lean against your car that refuses to do anything but sputter. Despite your irritation, your glossed lips twitch with the nostalgia that creeps into your heart because after all these years it still smells the same.

Crossing your arms, your eyes trail over the clear night sky not polluted with the kind of man-made smog that blankets the city and the stars shimmer like diamonds in its absence. The warmth of the overrun engine is still hot on your exposed calves, the light breeze making the bottom of your sundress dance across the tops of your thighs. White beams emerge, cutting through the dark at the top of the hill, followed by the roar only a tow truck can make, and this time, the smile you fought off before spreads wide across your face.

Robin.

Butterflies wake up in a frenzy deep in your gut, with nerves that twitch from your fingertips at the thought of finally getting to hug your best friend after months apart. You push off the side of your car as the truck approaches, eyes squinting to make out the second outline in the front cabin as it pulls over. You recognize the messy mane of hair that could only belong to Eddie Munson in the driver seat almost instantly and his dimple filled smile brings you back to memories you thought you’d long forgotten. 

“Well, well, well, would you look at what the cat dragged in!” Robin sticks her head out of the window with a wide grin as the big tires slow to a stop in front of your car, “are my eyes deceiving me or is my best friend in the entire world actually in Hawkins, Indiana right now?” 

The rasp in her voice sounds just like it does over the phone and despite the roll of your eyes, your cheeks hurt from how happy you are.

“Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t guilt me out here by saying the fate of your future depends on it.” Uncrossing your arms, you open them wide, “I made the ultimate sacrifice for you, so are you gonna hug me or not?”

Dramatic? Yes. But it works like a charm when she flings open the passenger door and charges at you in a mess of honey blond waves and freckles, almost tackling you with the force of her impact wrapping her arms around you.

Too distracted by Robin, you almost don’t notice the creak of the driver's side door or the filled out frame of the man that used to be a lanky teenage boy walking past as Eddie starts to attach your car to his truck. He’s taller than you remembered even bending down, and despite the navy blue coveralls, you can still see that his pale skin is littered with even more tattoos.

“I can’t believe my guilt trip worked!” Robin beams, finally letting you go, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement as she claps her ring clad hands together.

“I really can’t believe it either,” you laugh nervously, the reality of what it means to come back starting to set in after seeing just one familiar face, but this isn’t high school anymore and you’re definitely not the same person you were five years ago either.

“Thanks so much, Eddie,” you break the ice when he stands back up, and the sound of your voice has his big brown eyes warmed with gold light up just like his face when he turns his full attention onto you. Scruff filled dimples poking even bigger holes in his cheeks.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart, I almost didn’t believe Robin when she called me. I thought it was a prank.” He beckons you over with open arms, “now that I know it’s not, you have exactly 10 seconds to get over here and hug me before I change my mind.”

There’s zero hesitation about giving into his ‘demand’ and when your arms wrap around his waist, you’re brought back to afternoons in the woods behind the school with heavy lidded eyes and lopsided grins. 

“Your own auto shop, huh?” You smile up at him, pulling away, “Eddie Munson, the business owner.”

He rolls his eyes but the pink tint that colors in his cheeks tells you he appreciates the praise.

“Yeah, something like that.” He chuckles, “Got a soft spot for that old man in the trailer park, couldn’t bring myself to leave.”

Your heart warms at the fondness that drips from his ton. 

“Okay, as sweet as this little reunion is. You’re late, and we have a party to get to.” Robin interrupts snatching your keys out of your hand, dropping them in Eddie’s.

“A party?” You snap confused, and Eddie takes that as his queue to walk away with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, this is the summer of fun and reckless abandon, this is the last summer of our youth before we have to be adults. Do you understand me?” Her fingers are digging into your shoulders by the end of her rant, with the kind of look in her eyes that you’re absolutely going to have to revisit after a few weeks. 

“This is the part where I remind you that I graduated college last year.” 

Your best friend scoffs at you.

“Just humor me, okay? It’s your grand homecoming.” She pushes out her bottom lip, and makes her eyes big in a way she knows you can’t say no to.

“Fine.” You huff, making her finally let you go with the kind of pleased smirk that tells you she never thought she was going to lose to begin with.

“Great, it’s time to rip the bandaid off anyway.” Robin practically mumbles the last part turning on her heel to head back to the truck.

It takes a minute for her words to stick to your ears and their meaning to ring loud through your head, but when they do it feels like the air is stolen from your lungs. 

“Rip what bandaid off, Robin?!” 

It’s his name tightens in your chest but you refuse to say it, even after all this time it burns coming back up. 

“Since you had to drive for so long, I’ll sit in the middle because I’m just that good of a friend, you know?” She winks with a shit eating grin before pulling herself up and disappearing inside the cab of the truck, ignoring your question, like she’s not asking you to do the one thing you said you’d never do. 

See Steve Harrington again.

I tell myself, ‘draw the line.’

You wonder if Robin can feel the daggers you’re glaring into the back of her head as the two of you walk up the driveway to Rick’s house. Gravel crunching hard under your converse as you keep up with her black combat boots. She looks effortlessly cool in her high waisted jean shorts, and her oversized army green jacket covered in patches. You’d compliment her if you weren’t so mad.

“I can’t believe you guys still have parties here.” You scoff, making your sour attitude known, but your best friend ignores it with ease.

“I can’t believe you forgot to have fun. Don’t you live in the city?” Turning around with a smirk, she can’t help but laugh at the look on your face. 

She stops abruptly, almost making you run into her leaving you both just close enough to the party to hear the bass of the music spilling through the cracks in the windows. The low chatter of people echoes through the trees that surround you and bounce off the lake not that far away. The thought of hearing the calm baritone of his voice mixed in makes your chest tight with the kind of nerves that dare you to high tail it and run.

“It’s been five years.” Robin’s playful demeanor breaks and becomes pleading with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen from her before. “He’s not the person you knew in high school, I need you to understand that. You think I’d call someone like that my best friend?”

“Hey!-“ You object at the title, and it makes her lips twitch despite serious lines that crease her face.

“Stop, you know what I mean,” her painted fingers grab onto yours, squeezing them lightly, “please, just give him a chance. I’m not asking you to get back together or even be friends, just get along enough not to kill each other this summer. I can’t choose between you. I won’t.”

The genuine love she has for Steve is apparent in the way her ocean blue eyes threaten to drown you in their sincerity, and you can’t find it in yourself to say no to her. 

“Fine.” You accept your defeat in practically a whisper, but it makes your best friend squeal nonetheless. The giddiness from before coming back tenfold as she links arms with you, continuing your way up to the house. 

It’s just a summer, right?

The crowd gets bigger as more people start to come into view, between groups smoking cigarettes outside, couples arguing by cars, others making out against them. The smell of beer gets more pungent with each step, the atmosphere a stark contrast to the way the moon glows against the peaceful waters behind the madness of the house. 

Salt N Pepa’s ‘Push It’ plays loud enough for you to make out the words when you reach the front steps, walking through clouds of tobacco smoke to get to the unlocked door. The interior hasn’t changed at all since high school, the smell of stale lime and tequila stinging your nose. The bass of the music vibrates under your shoes as Robin unlinks her arms and you have to fight the urge to yank her back.

“Drinks or …Steve first?” She asks, her nerves about the situation finally showing themselves as she bites at her thumbnail. 

“Absolutely drinks! Is that a trick question?” You half whisper, half yell, looking around as if saying his name out loud might summon him.

“Okay! Okay!” Robin hisses, grabbing your wrist, leading you towards the familiar path to Rick’s kitchen.

Suddenly you wonder what your makeup looks like after a long day of traveling in your car, your fingers tugging at the bottom of your dress before adjusting the front of it so it sits just right. You itch to grab your lip gloss that’s tucked into the side of your bra, but you don’t want to deal with the look you’d get if you went for it.

Rounding the corner to the living room, your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach before you even have a chance to stop it when your eyes meet that messy head of chestnut hair, and a pair of hot pink nails tangled inside it. 

“Oh - I - god dammit.” Robin groans, when you're met with number two on your list, making out with a pretty blond on the couch.

Despite the years and distance, there’s still a sting that you feel in the corners of your eyes. It’s not enough for any tears to fall, there’s none left for him anymore, but it’s enough for the anger you’ve clung to since the day he broke your heart to boil hot under your skin. It singes the wings of the butterflies that try to take flight when you see the way his frame has filled out, how he’s somehow grown more handsome than the last time you saw him. 

Robin coughs, squeezing your wrist in reassurance.

“Hey, - uh, Steve.” The sound of his name catches his attention, long brown lashes fluttering open to reveal the deep coffee of his eyes that widen when they lock with yours for the first time in years. 

His lips pull from the blond’s with a loud smack, leaving a small trail of glitter on the side of his mouth that he tries to wipe away quickly with his wrist. Black ink you’ve never seen before looks bold on his tanned skin that glows like it’s been freshly kissed by the sun. 

His gaze wanders up and down your body like he’s unsure you’re actually real, and if it wasn’t for the obvious shock of your arrival and the way the color seems to drain from his face, you’d snap at him for the way it lingers over your curves. 

“Um, Robin, what the fuck?” The sound of his voice makes your heart skip a beat, and again when his hand drags through his hair just how you remembered.

“Surprise?” She shrugs, wincing when he scoffs loudly and the warmth that went missing floods his cheeks, turning them bright red. The blond next to him eyes you up while she clutches harder to his waist, and you can’t stop the rise of your brows and the giggle that bubbles past your lips because of it.

Steve’s head snaps towards you, something softening the moss that hides in his eyes when he hears the noise despite the sarcasm that drips from it, and you really get to look at him for the first time since high school graduation. 

God, you wish you could’ve had that drink. 

The jawline that always drove you mad is sharper, peppered with the kind of hardly there stubble that tells you he’s only missed one shaving day. A problem he never used to have, and somehow, it makes him all that much more attractive. 

His hair is a little messier than his carefully crafted look that used to take him a good forty five minutes every morning. It curls wildly at the ends now, tucking behind his ears and fanning along the nape of his freckled neck. It still looks as soft as you remember, though. 

His shoulders are broader, stretching the white cotton of his shirt tight enough across his chest that you can see the outline of a thick patch of hair that had only just started growing when you knew him last. The dark wash of his jeans makes them look almost black, fitting snug over his thighs, cuffed at the bottoms framing the tops of his boots.

Why couldn’t Steve Harrington just peak in high school like he was supposed to?

“So yeah, this is awkward.” Your best friend laughs nervously, “We’re going to get a drink or three because this scenario is by far the worst case and not the way this was supposed to go in my head, but anyway, look who’s here for the summer! We’ll talk later!“ 

Robin grabs your wrist before Steve can respond, pulling you back into the party and away from your ex-boyfriend while the realization of the summer you’ve foolishly agreed to hits you all at once. It turns your body weightless as the two of you weave in and out of the crowd. It tightens in your chest, the music turning muffled hitting your ear drums. Suddenly, you're not the woman who crossed state lines to the one place she said she’d never come back to, happily living the lie that you’d actually forgotten about him to be a good friend.

You’re the girl who let him keep you a secret, and you hate him for it.

Sneakers hit the sticky tile floor that hasn’t changed since 1984, the harsh lighting of the kitchen makes you both squint. It’s calmer than the rest of the house, just a few groups lingering off in the corners, too deep in conversation to care about you and Robin. Letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your ears start to pop too, Eddie Money’s Take Me Home Tonight coming through crystal clear.

“The band-aid might have been violently ripped off, but hey, it’s ripped off nonetheless.” Robin shrugs, finding the half-drunk bottle of tequila on the counter. “I think we should count this as a win and take a shot to celebrate.”

“A win?! Are you kidding me?!” You hiss, completely bewildered.

“Yes a win - oh no.” Her blue eyes go wide at whatever’s behind you, but it doesn’t take you long to figure out when that familiar spice and cedar of his cologne hits your nose.

“Right so, who’s going to let me know what’s going on?”

His voice comes out close enough to send your lashes fluttering, mimicking your heart. The nerves you’d just gotten over threaten to come back tenfold, but you manage to swallow them down just like in high school, turning around.

“I think it’s obvious what’s going on, Steve,”

It’s not as hard to say his name as you thought it would be, but it is hard to stare at his face from this close. Specifically, the two moles that dot his cheek that you always used to kiss, or the ones on his neck that you hate still taunt you for more. 

“I’m here for the summer.”

Steve Harrington had thought about this moment a lot, but Rick’s house was never the backdrop for it. His eyes take in the features you’ve not only grown into but somehow are even more beautiful than he remembers. Even if they’re twisted in a glare. 

“I meant, why didn’t I know until right now?” He manages to get out with a shake of his head narrowing his eyes at Robin, who’s too busy trying to find clean shot glasses to notice.

“Why would you need to know?” You snap, making a nervous hand card through his hair

“Cause I’ve, uh,  you know, I’ve asked about you a few times,” the last part comes out a little harsher, clearly directed at your best friend, who you know is actively ignoring you both now.

“Why? Why would you need to know anything about me?” Your hostility still shocks him even though he was expecting it. His eyebrows shoot up just like his hands in surrender. “Why didn’t you tell me, Robin?”

She groans loudly, slamming the tequila bottle down on the counter before turning around.

“You said you didn’t want to hear anything about him after you moved, why would I tell you he was asking about you?”

“Wait -“ Steve butts in this time, “seriously?”

“Oh my god, can you two shut the fuck up for a second and take these shots? You’re really putting a damper on the beginning of the best summer of our lives,” Robin snaps before waving a hand in front of three freshly poured shots.

It’s a struggle to tear your eyes from him, your body responding to his presence in a way that feels like it’s turning against you. It has you downing your shot in one quick motion before anyone else can even touch theirs. 

“Wow, okay.” Robin deadpans before shaking her head, wasting no time in following your lead.

“So we’re not cheersing anymore? Isn’t that bad luck?” Steve mutters, shoulder brushing against yours as he leans forward to grab his shot, the slightest touch enough to engulf your skin into flames.

A whole summer? Fuck.

“Robin, pour another one.” You rush with pinched brows as you try to move past the bitter sting of the alcohol going down your throat, taking a step toward her and away from him, you add “and we’ll cheers.”

You refuse to meet his gaze when you say it, but you can feel the intensity of it on the side of your face, begging you to break.

“Rob’s, how are you guys getting home?” Steve finally breaks, giving up his quiet fight for now, and you hate the way his nickname for her softens your heart.

“Huh, that’s a good question, I hadn’t thought that far yet.” She admits, over pouring so tequila splashes against the countertop, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“Seriously–

“RECKLESS ABANDON STEVEY!” Cutting him off, she downs her shot in his disapproving face.

“You didn’t cheers again.” Steve sighs, hands finding his hips as you whine an irritated, “We needed to cheers!” At the same time.

Your eyes meet his finally, his knowing smirk twisting the corners of your lips despite yourself. You blame the tequila starting to warm the blood in your veins.

“Well, you need to take yours then if we’re doing another one ‘the proper’ way, or it’s not going to be even.” Robin points at your drink in a silent challenge. 

You know how this game works.

“Fine.” You shrug, downing it with more ease than the last one.

“Oh my god. Stop! Do not pour another one before you answer my question, please!” Steve sounds exasperated, grabbing the bottle from her before she can disobey, “How are you getting home?” 

You try not to focus on how much larger his already big hands are now, or how small the bottle looks wrapped up in his palm compared to your best friends. The second shot takes the edge off your nerves in a way that your shoulders relax. Leaning against the counter, you cross your arms, watching the two of them bicker, catching Steve’s wandering gaze on your exposed legs while he tries his best to keep his focus on Robin. It boosts your ego in a way that has the anger hiding just under the surface go from a boil to a slow simmer.

“I don’t know Harrington, do you know anybody with a car?” She wiggles two thick brows at him, the second shot making her blue eyes glassy, and her smile a little more goofy.

“Why’d I know you were going to say that? And why did I know you were going to do this?” Steve sighs, letting her snatch the bottle out of his hand.

“What? Bring her to the party?” Robin snorts pointing a thumb in your direction, making you gasp.

“Robin!”

“No! What? No. But don’t think,” Steve clears his throat looking at you awkwardly before finishing a little quieter, “don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

“I can still hear you.” You remind him with a sarcastic smirk.

“Yeah, I know you can. Look, I’ll DD for you because obviously tonight is, uhh,” he gestures to you with cheeks that grow pinker by the second, “a big deal. But you gotta stop doing this to me, I need you to get your license you’re out of colleg-”

“Shots! Steve’s driving us home!” Robin whoops loudly, and an irritated Steve pinches the bridge of his nose before walking away. 

Your eyes follow him out the door, shoulder blades flexing under cotton when he runs another hand through his hair before disappearing from sight. You try to push down the small pang of jealousy that makes a familiar home inside your chest remembering the blond girl waiting for him on the couch.

“Okay, okay,” Robin interrupts your inner struggle at the perfect time, sliding an overflowing shot over to you with a giggle that's contagious and it banishes Steve from your mind just like magic. “I’m not going to forget this time, promise.”

“I don’t think I can afford for you to forget again,” you smirk, raising your glass, tequila spilling over the tops of your fingers, “cheers!”

“Cheers!” 

You both down them at the same speed, slamming the empty glasses back onto the countertop with laughter that bounces off the walls and threatens to drown out the music. And for a second you think maybe you can actually do this.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” She squeals, throwing her arms around your neck, doing a terrible job of holding her weight up. Grabbing onto her waist, you do your best to steady her, “Look I just want to say while he’s gone, I know this isn’t easy for you, okay? I know.”

She hiccups before pulling away slightly to look at you as she finishes,“But It means so much to me, and I just wanna say I’m proud of you. I mean, who knows, you’ve changed, he’s changed-”

“Nope, no, you’re done. Where’s the weed? I wanna smoke some weed.” You push Robin away, rolling your eyes at the loud laugh your reaction gets from her.

There’s a long summer ahead of you, but right now, all you need is to find a joint and try not to think about your ex in the next room.

With a few more shots and a couple of hits from a blunt you and Robin you’d stumbled upon being passed amongst a group outside, you start to really feel like you’re back home. Nostalgia hits you hard in the gut as you walk through the crowded living room hand in hand with your best friend, giggling and stumbling back to the kitchen on the hunt for some food. 

“God, I’m so hungry!” Robin practically growls when you hit the harsh lighting again making you both hiss.

An empty bottle of tequila sits on the counter now and red solo cups litter the floor that weren’t there before, and a growing pile of bitten into limes cover the counters in a sticky mess. Alone and left to your own devices Robin begins to raid the cupboards, huffing when she finds nothing behind every door she aggressively yanks open.

“Why is his kitchen always so empty? Like? Do we just always miss the party?” You hiccup, tripping on a tile that’s coming out of the grout. 

You catch yourself on the kitchen island in front of you, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest, too drunk to focus on how gross the formica feels under your fingertips.

“There’s literally nothing to eat in here, not even like an old bag of stale chips.” She opens the first cabinet one last time before slamming it shut, officially giving up with a thump of her forehead against the wood. “This is why he’s always at the diner.”

“Wait, Rick actually lives here still?” Another hiccup, you foolishly lean your elbows on the counter, something you’ll regret in the morning as you stare at your best friend with a toothy smile, completely unaffected by the news about the missing food that seems to be ruining her entire mood.

“How can he sell weed and not have any food in his house? What happens when he gets the munchies?!” She throws her hands up, ignoring your question and answering it all at the same time. “I’m gonna find a bathroom, and then we’re gonna find Steve - don’t make that face, he’ll take us through a drive-thru.”

“Don’t be gone long, I don’t know anyone here!” You whine with a childish drunk stomp of your foot, still sporting that sour look she told you to wipe off. The carefree girl from moments before now gone in the blink of an eye.

“Literally like five minutes, I swear!” She promises, turning around with a smirk as she crosses her heart with a ring covered finger like you used to do as kids, easily earning the smile from you she was hoping for.

You watch her disappear into the party, staring after bouncing honey waves until they’re out of your sight. 

Suddenly alone for the first time in hours, the kitchen feels quiet. The bass of the music is distant, and your thoughts are heavy just like your feet as your last shot of tequila settles with the rest. Your brain wanders to places that you thought you’d banished from the corners of your mind for years. It takes you to the pink fullness of his lips, and has you biting the bottom of yours. Then it’s the freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and explode across his cheeks, even leaving their mark on the bottom of his earlobe.

You’d found that one the night you’d tried to count them all. You never finished.

Then you remember the blond on the couch, and how her pink nails dug into the thick chestnut of his hair that you used to tug on when his kisses got to be too much. She turns into Nancy Wheeler and those stolen looks in the hallways at school, and suddenly, you hate him all over again.

“Jesus, you’re in here alone? Where’s Robin?” Steve’s voice makes you jump at the worst possible time, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scar-“

“Seriously?!” You snap, turning around with crossed arms. Leaning against the counter, you hope that you don’t seem as drunk as you are, but the way his lips twitch regardless of your attitude tells you that it’s not working. “She went to the bathroom and then was going to look for you.”

“So, it just makes sense for me to hang out here then, right?”Steve raises his hands in a silent plea for permission. 

His big boots take heavy steps towards you, and just like on cue, has your body betraying you. The plush dough of your thighs pressing harder together each time he gets closer to closing the gap. 

Cautiously taking the spot a few feet away from you, he keeps his hands up till he feels safe enough to shove them in his pockets. The spice of his cologne smells fresh, and you wonder if he sprayed it before walking in here. It overpowers everything else around you, invading your senses and committing itself to memory despite you.

“I um, I really hope this is okay to say,” he stammers watching the way one of your eyebrows arches up, and it doesn’t take long for his hand to escape from his pocket to run through his hair again, “but it’s, it’s good to see you. I m-missed you, Robin’s missed you.”

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your girlfriend?” You ignore him and tuck his words away to unpack another time with a sober mind.

“Cassie? She’s not my girlfriend.” He answers without any hesitation, something sparking alive inside the gold of his eyes that has one side of his mouth tugging up. 

“Does she know that?” 

“I’m pretty sure she does considering she left with another guy not that long ago.” He snorts, the confidence you’ve always known him to have finding its way back, and you don’t miss the way he scoots closer. 

So you scoot back.

“Sucks to suck, Harrington.” You sigh, impressed with how well you’re playing off the victory lap you’re shamefully running in your head at the new information.

“There you are!” Robin rushes in, face flushed and out of breath, interrupting the moment you weren’t ready to have yet at the perfect time “Somehow I got roped into like a keg stand and I think it’s really time for us to go home guys.”

“Robin!” 

“What?!”

She tries to shush you, but even you can see from across the room the way sweat starts to bead across her forehead, the blush in her cheeks going pale before she runs to the trash can. Steve pushes off the island without any hesitation, rushing to the other side of the kitchen, gathering her hair in his hands to hold it back.

“What were you thinking?” Steve scolds her in the softest way possible, rubbing her back as all the beer finds its way out of her body.  

Those big eyes of his that you’re sure are going to haunt your dreams meet yours, and in that moment the room decides it wants to spin. You’re not sure if it’s the night of tequila with nothing but a weed chaser catching up to you or if it’s the onslaught of feelings you’ve successfully suppressed for the last five years coming back to seek their revenge. The deadly combination of both comes to a head the more you watch the gentle way Steve handles Robin and it makes you realize it’s time to go.

You manage to pull yourself together enough to help Steve get Robin in his car, heart almost stopping when you walk up to the same Maroon BMW he took your virginity in. It takes everything inside of you not to abort the mission, run to Robin’s apartment by figuring your way through the woods you used to play in, do anything but sit in those leather seats. But your best friend’s drunk rambles of how happy she is to have her ‘two amigos and how that it makes three now’ while professing her undying love for both of you has you putting on a brave face, and then your big girl pants when you have to sit in the front seat next to him.

It’s in perfect condition, just like the morning he pulled into the parking lot Junior year with it. Your stomach twists in the kind of knots that have you wrapping your arms around your waist. The smell of leather and pine pulling on the back of your throat, and all the memories that come with it. He keeps the radio low, and you can hardly make out the faint sounds of whatever late night talk show was on over the soft snores of a passed out Robin in the backseat. 

“I thought you’d have a different car by now.” You grumble sinking further into your seat, keeping your eyes trained on the trees that zoom past your window.

“You’ll have to pry her from my cold, dead hands, honey.” Steve chuckles, relaxing a little more into his own, a big hand finding a new resting spot on the stick shift.

The endearment sends you reeling, the tequila making it hard to bite your tongue.

“Don’t call me that.” Quickly realizing that staring out the window does nothing to help your already dicey equilibrium, you decide to finally look at him, but you’re not sure if that’s any better.

‘What? Honey?” He asks, fully knowing the answer but egging you on just the same with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Narrowing your eyes, you turn fully in your seat doing your best to ignore the way the street lights bounce off his sharp features as you face him.

“What? So you just make out with girls that you’re not dating and get away with it?” 

Steve snorts, licking his lips and meeting your angry gaze with an amused one. 

“I am twenty-four and single.”

Scoffing at his answer, you pause to collect your words that keep getting tangled on the tip of your tongue from too many drinks and how the whites of his teeth start to show in a grin as he glances in the rearview mirror to check on Robin.

“You think you can do whatever you want don’t you?”

“No -“

“What? Because you didn’t peak in high school like you were supposed to, you somehow just got hotter, you think the rules don’t apply to you or something?”

“Good to know you still think I’m hot.” Steve’s face cracks into a smile, turning into an apartment complex you’re assuming is Robin’s. 

“You’re the worst,” you try to deflect weakly, turning back in your seat with a huff.

“I definitely used to be,” he mumbles mostly to himself, putting the car in park, both of you jerking forward slightly. The sudden lack of movement makes Robin groan in the back, lashes fluttering open to look at her surroundings.

“Oh, thank god, I think I’m gonna be sick again.” Her throat sounds hoarse when she finally speaks, but it’s all she can manage before a dry heave has the boy next to you scrambling.

“Not in my car! Not in my car!” Steve’s quick to jump out of the driver's seat rushing to get your best friend out of the back, leaving you alone to fight with your seatbelt. 

Frustrated, you blow a breath out from between your pressed lips tugging on the smooth material while your thumb smashes the release button. It doesn’t budge and the cedar starts to pick at your nerves. An angry noise squeaks from the back of your throat catching Steve’s attention who finally gets Robin on her feet. The spice of his cologne swallows you whole when he emerges back into the car. Leaning over the console he’s gentle when he pushes your hand away. You don’t protest his help this time, eyes tracing the gold chain that slips out from under his shirt. It shimmers everytime it swings from his neck when it hits the moonlight, clicking the button with ease, releasing you from your self imposed trap.

“Thanks,” you grumble, using a wobbling arm to open your door, clambering out less gracefully than you intended.

“Are you good to follow me? I don’t think Robin’s gonna make it up the steps on her own.” Closing the car door, he leans over the top of it, his eyes watching the way you maneuver around his car like you’re walking on thin ice.

“I’m fine,” you growl, right as you lose your footing catching yourself with an open palm on the hood of his trunk.

“Seriously, I can help I just have to take you both one at a -“

“Steve, I said I’m fine. I don’t need anything from you.” You interrupt and if you weren’t so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, you’d see the way the harshness of your words make him wince.

He stares at you for a minute longer before muttering a quiet ‘whatever’ scooping Robin up and tucking her into his side. You follow them at your own pace up the cement steps to the second floor, thankful that her apartment isn’t too far from the landing when you get to the top. Your legs start to feel like Jell-O waiting for him to unlock the door, the long drive from New York and the night finally catching up to you in a way that makes your eyelids heavy as Steve pushes open her front door. 

“Bathroom! Bathroom!” Robin manages to get out when she and Steve cross the threshold first, a string of cuss words spilling out of his mouth as he tries to hurry her to the place she was begging to be taken to.

You use the full force of your weight with your back to the door, closing behind you with a loud slam. The navy blue couch in the middle of her living room begging you to sit down, an invitation your clumsy steps accept, leading you to the fluffy cushions. Collapsing onto them with a satisfied hum, you sink into the foam, lashes fluttering and eyelids getting heavier with each second that passes, and soon you find yourself giving in with a warm cheek pressed into the arm rest.

You don’t know how much time has passed when the feeling of your laces being tugged loose stirs you awake. Trying to focus with vision still blurry from sleep, Steve’s messy head of hair comes clear into your line of sight. Long fingers pull the white strings from the metal eyelets of your converse, a warm palm wrapping around your ankle that sends a shiver up your spine as he slowly wiggles your sneaker off your foot. The white tube socks that cover your feet make him smile with a thumb that dares to rub a small circle on your skin before dropping it to work on the other.

“Steve,” you manage to get out, voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m just tucking you in, that’s all hon- and then I’ll get out of your hair.” He clears his throat after the nickname that set you off earlier burns like acid dying on his tongue.

You grumble something unintelligible, rubbing the mascara off your eyes as he pulls your other shoe off the pad of his thumb doing the same thing to your other ankle making your toes curl. Both his hands find their way to your calves squeezing softly at the muscles before he starts to lift them up.

“Come on, let's get you laying on your side.” He coos, helping you adjust so you’re finally horizontal. You groan a little, reaching out for him on instinct, the softness of his touch making a very drunk you crave more. 

“I’d love to cuddle but I think you’d actually kill me in the morning,” he laughs to himself knowing you won’t remember any of this when you wake up.

You make some more noises that he can’t figure out if they're supposed to be words or not as he drapes Robin’s thick throw blanket over you. Grabbing the material in your fists when you feel it, you pull it even closer, a low satisfied hum spilling from between your lips that still sparkle with leftover glitter from your gloss. He watches the way you curl into yourself, fingers twitching at his side to run his knuckles over your cheek.

“Steve,” his name comes out clear as day, kicking up his heart rate.

“Yeah?” He squats down next to your face, the warmth of your breath hitting his face while your eyebrows furrow in your sleepy state trying to get whatever you want to say out.

“You really broke my heart, you know that?”

Your words punch the air out of his lungs, just like your unexpected arrival. Something he’s fantasized about happening more times than he’d like to admit.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighs defeated, giving into his urges for comfort with knuckles that brush against the warmth of your skin, a familiar burn stings his eyes when you subconsciously lean into it. 

You don’t say anything else to him, the furrow of your brows smoothing out as your face finally starts to relax under his touch. He watches the way your shoulders move with each deep breath that pulls you further into sleep and away from him. 

He takes a selfish minute to stare at you uninterrupted, tracing your cheekbone one last time before he stands up to leave, he knows he won’t get any sleep, and the words you won’t remember saying are already haunting him like a bad dream.

“Do you really wanna love me like you say you do? Give it to me like you say you do? Cause it’s hard enough you gotta treat me like this, lonely enough to let you treat me like this. Do you really love me?”

Steve was late, glancing down at pink the digital watch on your wrist, fifteen minutes late. Five lockers down from his, you wait for him at what’s been your meeting spot for the last eight months. Far away enough from his locker that no one would suspect you waiting for the King of Hawkins himself, but close enough to the janitor's closet for him to steal you away from sight without anyone noticing for the forty-five minutes of study hall. 

Hushed argumentative whispers catch your attention, nerves making your feet move from side to side unsure if you should abandon ship and just go and study for the final in your last period. Nancy Wheeler's eyes meet yours as she rounds the corner with her best friend Barb, the corners of her lips pulling up ever so slightly giving you a small wave which you return as she tries to ignore her friend.

“He’s just trying to get in your pants! Come on, you have to be smart enough to know that.” Barb points at the note Nancy is clutching in her hand so hard that the whites of her knuckles show.

“It’s not like that, I’m just tutoring him.” She argues but the blush that creeps across her cheeks and spreads down her neck gives her away.

I’m just tutoring him.

That simple sentence is enough for your world to tip off its axis, chest tightening at the realization of who they're arguing about. All the canceled plans the past few weeks with the excuse of extra tutoring starts to feel like a knife to the gut. Prince Charming rounds the corner holding and twists the handle with a bright flirtatious smile that used to be just for you, only now it’s flashed at the dainty brunette who melts under it because no one is immune to Steve Harrington. 

It takes him a minute to see you, too wrapped up in Nancy who’s back is pressed to the lockers, caged in by Steve’s big hand splayed against the metal by her head. They’re too far to hear what he’s saying to her, but the confident way his teeth flash and the sweet giggle he earns from it tells you everything you need to know. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing them fall. Fists clenched at your sides, the blunt ends of your nails dig into your palms as you hold in the sob that threatens to give you away as you walk past them, meeting his guilty eyes before you round the corner.  

The pounding in your head wakes you up before the sun that leaks through Robin’s small kitchen window. Your hangover rings in your ears with a vengeance, and has you letting out a pained groan. Everything after the joint you shared outside at the party is nothing but a blur, a scattered puzzle with pieces missing as you try and figure out how you ended up back home and tucked into the couch. 

“Are you alive out there?” Robin’s voice calls out weakly from down the hall in her room. 

“Barely,” you grumble, agitation kicking in from dehydration and the old wounds your dream decided to rip open.

“I’d say I’m never drinking again but we both know that’s a lie,” she says, muffled by what sounds like a pillow.

A giggle tries to escape, but it only makes you wince, clutching your forehead willing the pain to subside.

“How’d we even get home?” You croak, rubbing harshly at your eyes before attempting to sit up, covering them with a cupped palm as your surroundings get brighter.

“Steve,” Robin’s voice comes out right next to you, surprising you by appearing in the entryway. 

Hearing his name out loud sends the kind of rage that scorches through your veins, it burns from your fingertips remembering the look on his face when you broke up a few weeks after that day in the hallway your dreams so sweetly reminded you of. 

It was Pity.

Your best friend ignores your silence and the sour look on your face as you silently take a trip down memory lane while she shuffles into the living room wandering to the attached kitchen. 

“How far is Eddie’s shop from here?” You grimace watching her chug from a carton of orange juice.

“Oh, super close. You can walk from here.” She answers, wiping her upper lip with the back of your hand, “they opened like two hours ago, I’m sure he’s already looked at your car.”

“I think I’m going to shower and go over, do you want to come with me?” Raising your hands above your head, you stretch your sore muscles as a yawn comes out in the middle of your question.

“I think I need to rot in bed for a little while longer before I go walk amongst the living, I promise I’m all yours after I don’t feel like a freaking crypt keeper.” Your yawn is contagious, giving you a view of all her perfectly straight teeth.

“I demand something greasy for lunch when I get back then.” You point at her finding your footing on the carpet, noticing your converse are tucked nice and neat against the couch next to you. The feeling of Steve’s knuckles is a ghost against your skin, details starting to come out clear from the murky waters. 

Heat rushes to your cheek at the memory while your emotions start to go at war with each other over what to feel towards the man who tucked you and your best friend in last night, but also broke your heart in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite forget. 

“I’m on it boss, god, I wish Benny’s was still open.” Robin interrupts the inner struggle she’s oblivious to you having as she walks past you flinging herself on the couch you’d just won the battle of leaving “But I’ll think of something good, I promise.”

Just like your yawn, the smile she gives you is contagious despite the sharp pain you get in your head from moving too much and you both laugh wincing when it only gets worse. 

Ibuprofen first, then your car.

Birds chirp loudly, mocking the headache that's turned into something more annoying than painful after a handful of ibuprofen. The sticky air is still suffocating even in a pair of black biker shorts and an oversized loose fitting tee, while the sun shines golden against the cerulean sky without a cloud in sight to hide you from its light. 

The heat warming off its rays makes beads of sweat start to collect at the crown of your head and the nape of your neck, while the incline Eddie’s spinning auto body sign sits on top of threatens to take your breath away. Unwanted thoughts of Steve Harrington keep your pace quick, stewing over the last twenty-four hours and everything it’s unraveled.

The small parking lot is empty when you reach it, kicking small rocks with the toe of your sneaker as you cross it. The double garage doors are open, Metallica’s Seek and Destroy echoing loudly, tugging up the corners of your lips. Your Chevrolet Caprice is the only car semi-lifted in the air with a pair navy coverall-clad legs underneath it.

Opening your mouth, Eddie’s name dies on your tongue before you get a chance to shout it, clocking him and his wild curls sitting in the glass office inside. Those big brown eyes meet yours from across the way, a dimple filled grin lighting up his face waving excitedly from his chair before standing up.

“Glad to see you’re alive, princess.” He teases stepping out of his glass case, with coveralls that are gray today.

“Honestly, it’s a miracle,” you laugh, confused eyes darting to the large boots under your car that don’t seem to have any reaction to the sound of your voice.

“Oh, I heard all about your first night back home. In fact my shop opened thirty minutes late because of it,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the open metal frame where the door should be. Faded bats that you remember when they were fresh dancing across his arm with his movements.

“Wait, what?” You ask, confusion pinching your brows together right as the mysterious pair of legs start pushing out whoever’s under your car.

“I didn’t get back to my place till almost four in the morning after getting you two home and in bed,” Steve emerges flashing you his million dollar smile as he sits up on the dolly, the sleeves of his own coveralls tied tight around his waist and hair wild like he’d just rolled out of bed, “I slept through my alarm.”

The immediate glare that hardens your face when you see him has Eddie's eyes light with obvious amusement. 

“What are you doing here? And why are you touching my car?” You snap, trying to push the worries about what you look like deep under the irritation and the distraction that begs to steal your anger with his arms on full display like this. Or how the patch of chest hair that peeks out the top of it shines with sweat. 

“I work here,” Steve snorts like it’s the most obvious conclusion, because, well, it is, “and I volunteered to look at it, Eddie’s got his hands full.” 

That was a lie, he begged him.

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Snorting, your attitude makes him roll his eyes, pushing himself off the ground.

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze when he stands at full height, biceps flexing with his movements practically daring you to look. He pulls out a faded maroon rag from his pocket and starts wiping off the fresh black from his hands that’s already stained under his nail beds. The hard bottoms of his work boots making their way across the cement floors of the garage. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me anymore, that’s what happens when someone leaves for five years.” Steve antagonizes, his lack of sleep leaving him with thin patience.

He stops just close enough for you to smell how the woodsy spice of his cologne mixes with the sweet bitterness of the oil that seems to find a way to leave its mark on every surface in here. Including him.

“I’m going to finish balancing the books, why don’t you tell her the good news first and then the bad,” Eddie pours ice over the tension that threatens to boil over before it can turn hostile, catching the way both of your nostrils flare and shoulders square up.

“Wait, there’s good news and bad news?” Your focus on Steve shifts as Eddie’s words sink in.

“Like I said, I’m going to finish balancing the books.” The metal head reminds you, giving a half salute with two fingers while simultaneously shooting a stern look to Steve who’s mouthing something behind you. “Your mechanic’s going to go over everything with you, we can talk about pricing when it’s all said and done.”

“Seriously?” You bluster as Eddie shrugs with the kind of nonchalance that sends you reeling before sitting back down, tuning the dial-up on the radio in his office. End of discussion.

“Look -“

“How do I even know that you know what you’re talking about?” You interrupt, making his full lips set into a straight line.

“Are you going to be like this the whole time?” Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before crossing his arms, the tops of his shoulders moving with them. 

A pleading expression softens his features instead of the hard combative one you were anticipating, and it helps your blood pressure return to normal. The realization hitting you that maybe skipping breakfast with a hangover probably wasn’t your smartest idea.

“N-no, sorry, I just feel like -“

“Shit? Yeah, I bet.” He chuckles, and your jaw clicks. Maybe if you count to three…

“Just tell me what’s wrong with my car, Steve.” It comes out clipped, but it's an improvement from your fingers twitching to rip that handsome head right off those shoulders that won’t stop trying to distract you.

“How about you tell me the last time you had your oil changed?” He counters, taking a few steps back to sit on the hood of the rusted baby blue Buick behind him. 

“Uhh, I- I think,” All the blood rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin as you try to wrack your brain and not focus on the way his legs spread wide to keep his balance. “Maybe, like, six months ago.”

“Six months?!” The number must be worse than whatever Steve was preparing for when a dirty hand runs through his hair, “and then you drove it three states to get here?”

“Yeah, I - I mean, hearing you say it out loud,” you grimace thinking of all the weeks you ignored that flashing orange light on your dashboard.

“So then you shouldn’t be surprised when I tell you that your engine locked up.” 

“Is this the bad news?” 

“Kind of,”

“What do you mean kind of?”

“Look, the good news is that I can fix it, the bad news is that I have to order a few parts that could take up to three weeks to get here, then the job itself is going to take me probably another week.” He sighs standing up, starting back towards your car with you quick on his heels.

“That’s the whole summer!” You argue like it could possibly make a difference, frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes watching him pop open the hood.

“More like half of it, but hey, you’re lucky I can even get it running again without having to replace the whole thing.” He meets your gaze from under his lashes leaning over the engine, long nimble fingers unscrewing the cap where your oil should go.

“So what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to get around?” You know that part isn’t his problem, this entire mess is your own doing but it doesn’t stop it coming out in a whine. You blame your hangover.

“You’re gonna be just fine, city girl,” Steve grins up at you before reaching even further under the hood, muscles flexing with him, “besides we both know I can’t say no to Robin.”

He pulls at a small tube that’s purpose is unknown to you but you keep eyes trained on his movements like you have an idea, anything to keep the focus off the gold chain that dangles from his neck. 

“Or you.” The last part comes out so quiet, a focused look pinching his brows together as he continues his investigation.

“Me?” 

He doesn’t look at you when he shrugs, pulling at something with a little more force that makes you both flinch. 

“How much is this going to cost me, Steve?” Your defeat shows in your tone, as the question slips quietly from between your lips that you wish you’d have put gloss on now.

He grunts at the same time something pops against metal under his hands, muttering a string of curse words under his breath before standing back up wiping his palms on the white cotton of his tank top. Charcoal stains fill the small grooves in the fabric with each swipe of his hands, pulling the collar further down every time. It’s a losing battle not to look at his chest when every motion reveals more of the thick curls underneath. 

Steve clears his throat, letting you know that you’ve been caught and it’s at this moment you wish you could walk in front of the moving truck that drives loudly past the shop, only exaggerating the silence that follows.

“Don’t stress about that today,” he smiles, letting you off the hook for now, something mischievous dancing in his eyes for another time. “Like Eddie said, we’ll figure it out.”

“Don’t stress about it?! Have you met me?” You huff, the money you’ve saved up for the summer starting to dwindle right before your eyes. 

“I have actually,” Steve chuckles, stepping close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch his boots. He feels bold when you don’t make any attempt to move away like at the party or retreat when he closes the gap. A thumb and forefinger finding their way to your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, “and you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

Your lips part on their own, the full force of his face from this close stealing the breath from your lungs. You can smell the coffee he had this morning and the mint from his toothpaste still lingering on his breath. The stubble that lines his sharp jaw is even more noticeable today, tapering off at the top of his neck making the cluster of moles that live there stand out even more. A pink tongue runs over his full bottom lip and it has your lashes fluttering against the tops of your cheeks.

“Now go get some food, grumpy,” his voice comes out low, a teasing edge to it that reminds you of what it’s like to have Steve Harrington flirt with you. “I’ll call when I get the parts, okay?”

It’s like detention junior year all over again as you turn into putty in his hand. Still too attractive for his own good, all you can do is nod while all the fight you had left inside you disappears as the pad of his thumb swipes soft against your heated skin just under your pouted lip before letting you go. He turns on his heel after that, walking back to the box of tools he has spread out over his workbench before adding,

“Do me a favor and tell Robin she owes me a new shirt.”

beta’d by @sweetsweetjellybean

🌻 chapter two

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n

[svuguru]

step dad nanami fucking his step daughter in her school uniform >o<

Tags: stepcest!!! Antis and minors DNI! Unprotected and it’s implied (heavily) he finishes inside <3 I tried to be more inclusive of the uniform :( fucking in front of the mirror ^^ I don’t remember which position it was but I think it was doggy?? 😭

Kento’s hands hold a firm grip on your hips, thrusting his hips back and forth as gasps fall from your pretty glossed lips. Your little school skirt is thrown over your waist, but it’s just a bit too short he was sure you must have gotten dress coded… it barely reached just above your knees, there’s no way no one called it out.

The moment you walked through the door after coming home from school, Kento’s pants grew tighter for whatever reason. Just the way your skirt would flow along with your legs, when you would bend over and teasing him with that slight peek of your cute pink panties… it was too much for your poor stepdad, how could you tease him so much?

“Wah, Daddy!” You cry, clenching onto the messed up bedsheets underneath you. Kento’s thankful your mother is still at work, blissfully unaware of the way his thick cock is stuffing your tiny hole full, so deep in front of the mirror so he could watch the way your little body moves in your school uniform.

“Shh, sweet girl, I know,” he murmurs softly, looking down at your back hidden by your uniform shirt. You’re just too cute in your uniform, so irresistible, and the way your lips stuck in a pout, whining about needing him and all… how could he deny his pretty little stepdaughter of something he knows they both want?

“S’deep, daddy…” you mumble dumbly, stupid on his cock as your juices coat his dick. You look so cute full of his girth, tears in your eyes, crying incoherent sentences.

“Yeah?” Kento laughs, “look, you’re so tiny,” he says affectionately, his hand carefully trailing up to your chest, his fingers teasing your hardened nipples, pulling and twisting at them which elicits moans and whimpers from your throat.

Your tits jiggle at the way he’s fucking his cock into you, one big hand cupping your boob, the other keeping its hold on your hips, moving you back and forth along with him.

“‘M not that small…” you pout before feeling his tip tease your sweet spot. Your jaw goes slack, your eyes roll to the back of your head before the squeeze shut. “S’much, daddy, too much!” You cry and squirm, feeling knots tie in your poor tummy, your legs twitching.

Kento’s hand moves from your tit to your ass, rubbing it gently before landing an unexpected slap to it, his eyes glued to the way you jump slightly from it.

“Poor baby,” he grins, “you can take it, yeah? I know you can, be a big girl,” eager to please your step daddy, you nod, biting back a sob, tears falling from your lash line, down the flushed apple of your cheeks.

His hips are slamming harshly against your ass, bouncing at the impact. Your skirt falls from the waistband back down to its original place, which earns a grunt from Kento.

“Shit… such a pretty girl,” his voice is deep and low, your walls clenching his dick, feelings his veins throb against your warmth.

“Daddy, think ‘m gonna cum!” Your fingers squeeze the bedsheets, grounding yourself to earth. In response to your whine, Kento groans and nods his head.

“Come on, you can do it,” he encourages you, “do it f’me, like a good girl,” and suddenly the knot in your stomach unties itself, all you see is stars everywhere you look, all around the room. Kento’s hips don’t stop even as you’re coming undone, painting his dick in your juices. “That’s my baby, hm?”

It’s only a few more thrusts before Kento’s hips begin to stutter, his breath gradually growing uneven. “Princess,” he sighs, “‘m gonna stuff you full, ‘Kay? Is that alright?” So dumb on your stepdad’s cock, you nod your head, mumbling a barely coherent “mkay, daddy,” as your head buried itself in the sheets.

Kento knows it’s wrong as he fucks harder into you, he knows it’s awful to do this with his stepdaughter, but you’re just too cute to resist..

#jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #Kento Nanami x reader #Nanami Kento x reader #Nanami Kento smut #Kento Nanami smut #Nanami smut #Nanami x reader smut #Nanami Kento x reader smut #Kento Nanami x reader smut

[luveline]

I don’t really have a request I just love anything you write💗 maybe something with girly!reader?

thanks lovely💗

Spencer wrings his hands behind his back, shifting from one foot to the other unhappily. He hasn't felt this nervous since he was young —his PhDs have acted as a shield for years now. Even if he doesn't know what to do, he physically cannot be stupid. 

He feels pretty stupid. Less when you look up, smile blinding and sticky with gloss. He's thought about how it would feel to kiss you before and he tries desperately to push the thought away now, his hands shaking where they're hidden. 

"Hey, Spencer Reid," you say, lightly teasing as you wave him toward you. "How are you?" 

"I'm good." 

"Yeah?" You gesture at the empty seat in front of you. "Are you having lunch?" 

The bureau cafeteria is less of a cafeteria in the kitchen sense and more of a staff room, though hot food is served at the very back. There are couches toward the patio of an outdoor area to the left. You sit at one of the tables near the doors. The air is cold around his ankles as he sits with you. 

"No, I– I came down for coffee, but the jug is empty." It's a bad lie. Luckily you have no idea that there's a kitchen in the BAU offices. "You're not?" 

You turn your laptop screen to him. "I ate my lunch at my desk. I'm just catching up with my show." Your laptop has stickers around the screen, silver shiny stars and tiny pink hearts that look like they're made of jelly. There's a closed bottle of nail polish resting near the keyboard. "And I'm gonna touch up my nails, too. They're always chipping." 

"They look perfect to me," Spencer says. 

You beam at him, beatific, so, so pretty, he could die. He might. "Thanks, honey. You'd look cute with painted nails, have you ever thought about it?" 

Spencer honestly forgets about his nails. He should take better care of them. He thinks about hiding them under the desk. "I don't think I could do it." 

"No one's good at it, at first. I'd paint them for you, if you wanted. I have a couple of things in my bag." 

Spencer's relieved to present freshly trimmed nails to you for painting. Your polish is a light blue colour, milky, and he assumes it'll be the one you use on him, but you decide to ruin his life, taking his hand into one of yours. You hold his fingers in a way that presents the nail as you brush cuticle oil around the edges of his nails with a small pen brush. You chatter as you do in your way, all sweet and gentle in mirror of your touch. 

He's proud of himself for keeping his cool. To have you touching him for so long, so kindly, to have your attention, it has him squirming with a mixture of pleasure and horror. He wants to be seen by you but he doesn't know if he likes what you're looking at. 

"You have really lovely hands," you say, using the tip of one of your nails to scrape stray wet polish off of his skin, "do you play piano?" 

"You can tell?" he asks. 

"Pianist's fingers," you say. "That's a thing, isn't it?" 

"I haven't played much since I was younger. I got distracted by other stuff." 

"Maths," you surmise. "And criminology?" 

Everything. He pushed away a want for human connection with books and education until it got too much. Even the wisest of honeybees will brave heavy rain for a beautiful flower, and that's sort of how he feels about you. He knows it's stupid, knows it's doomed, but he couldn't not try to speak to you. You're the prettiest girl he's ever seen, all your lip colours and shimmery eyeshadows, the chirpy way you talk, the earnestness of your please and thank yous. 

Your hands. The silver ring on your index finger dotted with tiny pink stones. Your bracelets. The smell of your perfume and your soft sweaters. 

"Done," you announce, an uncharacteristic hesitance to your tone. "Are they okay?" 

You've done a perfect job. "They're so neat. Thank you. I– I love it." 

Your eyes linger on his hands. "I love when guys wear nail polish. You're even handsomer now, it's crazy. I didn't know it was possible." 

Spencer should have more style for sure, but he asks you to dinner right then and there. 

You smile until the lashes kiss in the corners of your eyes and say yes. This new place opened just around the corner from your apartment, and you've been trying to drum up the courage to ask him all week. When Spencer hears that he almost passes out. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[toruro]

— ✧ cry for me

i want you to cry, cry for me (twice)

pairing: lee chan x reader

description: in which you're holding back tears in a cute little restaurant because you spilled wine all over your lap, and chan is holding back a raging boner.

a part of the crybaby series (can be read as a standalone)

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, ft mingyu for a second

tags: tattooist + tattooed chan, crybaby reader, established relationship (they're so cute it's disgusting), dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), wall sex, petnames (baby, crybaby, princess), chan has a chest tattoo and i think that deserves it's own warning

w/c: 5.1k

a/n: i am a woman of my word: i finished it tonight! thank u to @rubyreduj iand @gyuswhore for looking this over for me when i thought i was going crazy. anyways, i hope u guys missed me actually writing. writer toruro is BACK!

Pretty and short satin skirts are saved for nights like these. Under the dim glow of the moonlight and stars, the soft fabric falls loosely over your soft thighs and the beautiful curves of your hip. The cool night breeze pinches at your skin as you shuffle toward your boyfriend, hugging his arm that’s already linked with yours even closer to your chest.

Chan hums when you press your cheek against the cool leather of his jacket, “What is it baby?”

“‘m cold,” you mutter, pressing your legs together in an attempt to preserve what little warmth you have left. In hindsight, wearing this skirt probably wasn’t a good idea knowing that it’d be on the chiller side tonight but still, you couldn’t help but want to doll yourself up.

“Here,” Chan says, and you nearly whine when he pulls his arm away, but the complaints die on your tongue when he takes off his jacket and slips it over your shoulders, leaving him in his short-sleeve shirt.

“But—” you protest, running your fingers over his bare arm and frowning, but Chan cuts you off before you can speak further.

“Wear it baby, it looks nice on you,” he says casually, holding his arm out so you can wrap yourself around it again and hold him close. You feel warm, partly because of the protection that Chan’s jacket provides but mostly because of the way your body flushes with heat at his affectionate words.

The two of you are standing outside of this restaurant that you’ve been aching to try for ages, waiting for your names to be called in. As you settle back into his hold, Chan pulls out his phone holding it at an angle so the both of you can read the messages on the screen when he scrolls through your friends’ group chat.

“You wanna go to Jeonghan’s place tomorrow?” you ask, noticing Jeonghan complaining about being bored since Jihoon never leaves his room. Chan nudges your head with his own affectionately before shrugging.

“I’ll go if you go.”

You frown. “Well do you want to?”

“Baby if you want to, then I want to,” Chan says with a chuckle. “And anyways—”

“Chan! Table for two!” the voice of the hostess from the entrance of the restaurant calls out, and the two of you perk up. Chan raises a hand and nods, gently tugging his arm out of your grasp and instead slotting your hand in his, pulling you to follow after him inside.

The hostess greets you kindly, and you’re thankful that indoors is much less cold and much more inviting as she takes you to your table where you and Chan sit across from each other.

“What were you saying?” you ask as you settle into the seats, slipping off Chan’s jacket and handing it to him.

He only holds his hand out, palm facing you, and shakes head with a smile. “Keep it. Anyways, I was saying that I’ve been meaning to talk to Jeonghan for a while since he said he wanted to get a tattoo done.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at that as you carefully drape his jacket over the back of your chair, scooting forward. “No way! Jeonghan always told me he’d never get a tattoo ‘cause he’s scared of needles.”

Chan laughs and his eyes light up. “Didn’t you say you were scared of needles? Look at where you are now …” he murmurs, eyes glossing over the little crescent moon on your arm, and then the small star that he had the privilege of pressing into your wrist just a few weeks earlier.

You shift in your seat and shyly nod. “Yeah but … that’s different. I think I might’ve chickened out of the last part if—” Your breath hitches in your throat and you stop yourself from finishing what you were about to say. If he hadn’t fucked you in that tattoo parlor right there and then, is what you both are thinking.

Chan grins at the way you grow flustered at his words before changing the topic. “I like this top, is it new?” he asks, eyes glossing over the blue, knit shirt that you put on for him just an hour earlier.

“Yeah! I got it to match the skirt—I’ve had this one for a while though, but it didn’t look nice with any of my tops I had until now, so I was really excited to finally get to wear it,” you tell him with a grin, hands smoothing over the satin and brushing over the plush of your thighs. Your stomach fills with a wave of giddiness when Chan smiles at you and nods.

“I’m glad. You look really pretty,” he says, reaching over and grabbing your hand. His gaze doesn’t falter, eyes on you as you continue to tell him about how you thought the shirt was sold out when you found it online you cried (Chan remembers; you called him with choked sniffles at midnight and almost hung up right away out embarrassment but he assured you that it was okay), rubbing a thumb over your skin as you speak.

You two fall into conversation naturally after that, waiting for your food to come as your fingers intertwine and sit in the middle of the table comfortably. The waiter starts off with your drinks—a wine for you each—before bringing out the appetizers.

Things go smoothly as they always do: the food is amazing and the setting is perfect, Chan’s hand grazes over yours ever so often and his eyes are on you in a loving gaze—everything’s going great, actually.

So maybe that’s why you let it get a little to your head when you hear the clanking of glass against glass.

It happens so quickly—the sound reverberates through the room and you blink once and then twice, looking down to find the growing wet spot on your cute little skirt. The feeling of wine against your skin hits you next, and when you look to your right and see the apologetic look of the waiter as he scrambles for the glass on the ground, it sinks in.

Fuck, and there it is again—that ugly feeling that clogs your throat and the furious blinking of your eyes as you try your best (you really, really do try your best). Chan knows it all too well, the way you press your lips together and try not to quiver as you reach down and try to help the waiter.

“What the hell man?” Chan exclaims, standing up from his seat in an instant to walk over to you, his eyes set as a hard glare on the waiter as he observes the growing stain on your precious little skirt.

The waiter stutters for a moment, reaching forward to dab a napkin over your lap, but your boyfriend stops him midway, swatting his hand away. “Watch it—” Chan peers closer at his name tag as he snatches the napkin from the waiter’s hand, “—Mingyu. You’ve done enough.”

“I-I’m sorry,” the waiter, Mingyu stutters out, holding the dropped wine glass behind his back as he shuffles away.

Chan glares at him hard as he presses a hand against your back, and if your vision wasn’t already so blurry you might have been intimidated by how intense the gaze was. Instinctively, you turn your face towards his figure as you feel other customers’ eyes over the little scene unfolding at your table. “C-can we go?” you ask him quietly.

It doesn’t take him more than a second for Chan to turn to Mingyu and mutter, “Just get us the check. We’re leaving.”

Mingyu nods bashfully and scurries away, but you don’t really notice because you’re chewing down on your lip as your boyfriend pats your back and leans down to watch you apologetically. Fuck, you feel so pathetic for crying over this but you can’t help it! You really can’t!

You’ve been looking forward to this night for so long and have been planning this outfit for even longer, and now that both your night and your pretty little skirt are ruined, you swear you can’t stop the tears from falling.

Chan hates it when you cry. Well, that’s a lie. It’s a fickle thing, really—the anger that bubbles up inside of him whenever he sees your eyes red and brimming with tears isn’t directed at you—fuck no—but rather whatever (in this case, whoever) caused it in the first place.

So yeah, you could say Chan hates it when you cry, but then again, he finds it cute when you call him, sniffling over your favorite croissant being sold out at that cafe down the street you always go to. He hates when you waste tears over things like this, but he also knows you can’t help it, and there’s something oddly endearing about the way you always lean in to his touch for comfort. After all, you’re his sweet girl, and he loves all of you; the parts of you that cry over seeing a kitten struggle to cross the street and the parts of you that sob when he’s shoving his cock into your warm cunt.

All of it, he loves all of it.

So maybe that’s why Chan can’t help but get a little bit lost in your puffy, glossy eyes when you look up at him and silently beg for some comfort. He knows it’s an innocent gesture, and when he runs a hand down the side of your cheek and you nuzzle into his palm, he almost feels guilty for the way his cock begins to strain against his pants.

You’re just so cute, and Chan swears he can’t control himself. He can’t ever control himself when it comes to you.

Using the napkin he snagged from Mingyu just moments earlier, Chan leans down and swipes over the wetness on your thighs, soaking up as much of the red liquid that he can. It’s kind of hard to think, honestly. He watches your tears mix with the wine on your lap, and while his fingers brush over the plush of your thighs, he starts to lose himself entirely.

Stop! Stop! Stop! Chan tries to tell himself because really, he should be focusing on taking care of his sweet, sweet girl and wiping away her tears but here he is trying to not think about the massive hard-on he’s got going on beneath his pants.

Mingyu stops by with the check, frantic with more wipes as he cleans up the ground as Chan pays the bill. You quietly slip on the same leather jacket Chan gave to you just half an hour earlier as he helps you get up from the seat, cringing at the way your wet and stained skirt feels against your legs.

With his hand closed around your wrist, your boyfriend leads you to the exit but you keep your head down bashfully. You feel the gazes of other customers on your back as you two make your way out of the restaurant, and the cold night air is a stark contrast to the way your body burns with embarrassment.

Once finally outside and standing by the parking lot, Chan takes a moment to look at you. You’re still biting down on your lip like it’s the only thing you know how to do, eyes trained to the ground as you tighten your fingers around him instinctively. He senses something is bothering you—something other than the fact that your meticulously planned outfit was ruined on such a whim.

Nightly zephyrs pulse against his skin and Chan glances down at your slightly shaking legs, realizing that they are now wet and exposed and probably feel colder than ever. “C’mon baby,” he urges, tugging you towards his car, “Let’s sit inside.” Silently, you comply and follow behind him, slipping into the passenger seat and sighing contently as you escape the chilliness of the night.

He watches you as you click your seatbelt on, sinking into the seat when that familiar clenching of your jaw and furious blinking of your eyes takes over your features. “Oh baby,” Chan coos, shuffling closer to you so he can plant a hand on the back of your neck. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks as you bury your hands in your face in a fruitless attempt to muffle your sniffles.

“I—” You stop because your voice comes out all ugly and distorted. “—I was s-so excited for tonight,” you admit honestly, calming down a little as Chan’s hand runs up and down your spine soothingly. “And then I just—I ruined it.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” your boyfriend asks, tapping your cheek so you finally look up at him. Your cheeks are a little puffy and your bottom lip juts out in a pretty pout, and Chan brushes a thumb over the wet skin. “You didn’t ruin anything—it’s all that prick Mingyu’s fault. We can go to my place and still have fun,” he suggests, and although he means it to be a thoughtful gesture—something like takeout and ice cream—he can’t help but fantasize about some other definitions of fun.

“But—”

“No buts baby. Except, maybe yours,” Chan tells you with a playful wink, his heart swelling when you manage out a giggle between your harsh breaths. He starts to pull himself away from you when he senses a lightening of your mood, and so slowly, he starts the engine.

You settle into a comfortable silence as he starts the drive back to his place, and even though he’s mainly focused on keeping a smile on your face, Chan really can’t ignore the relentless ache in his pants.

After all, how could he when you insisted on keeping his hand on your thigh? “Wanna feel you,” is what you said when you guided his fingers to settle over the soft flesh, and Chan has half a mind to think it’s in an innocent gesture—his sweet girl just wants to keep him close—but he also knows you.

Chan knows that beneath all the soft whimpers and hot tears is a girl far more observant than you let on, and he’d be stupid to think you didn’t notice the tent in his pants earlier.

Maybe he’ll make you pay for that, he thinks as he parks in front of his apartment building, but when you shyly slip out of his car and keep your head hanging low as your eyes glaze over the big red stain on your skirt, Chan thinks otherwise.

Again, he can’t ever control himself when it comes to you.

Any thoughts Chan might have had about teasing you until the world’s demise wash away when he closes the door behind him as you both walk into his apartment. He knows you get a bit needy when you’re upset but still, he wasn’t really expecting you to turn around and sink into his arms the second the lock clicks shut.

Your cheek is pressed into his chest as your arms circle his firm torso, and from above, Chan can see that your eyes are pressed shut. The base of your stomach is pressing into his crotch and fuck, he can’t tell if you intentionally shift against him because your face looks so sad but then again, there’s no way you’re doing this without thinking.

Still, Chan shoves away the filthy thoughts that he really doesn’t think he should be having and wraps his arms around your shoulders, placing a hand on the back of your head. You’re not sure how long you guys stay like that, and despite the ache that burns between both of your legs, it’s a comforting few moments—his fingers in your hair as you pull him closer to you.

You need a distraction, you’ve realized. Something to really cry about.

Being with Chan over the past few months has taught you that, in the best way possible, your tears really mean nothing unless they’re falling because of him. Maybe it’s the thought that prompts you to finally pull away and pout up at him.

“Channie,” you whimper and fuck, Chan knows those eyes. You know he does.

“What is it baby?” he asks, gazing down at you so intensely that you know he isn’t even bothering to hide his lust anymore. He holds your cheek with a hand, thumb stroking over your soft skin for a moment before crashing his lips onto yours.

Chan kisses your breath away. Teeth nipping and sucking against yours as your tongues melt in a hot mess when he presses you into the wall. Looming into you from above, his grip on your face remains tight as he guides you deeper into his mouth, crotch pressing into your lower stomach.

It’s dizzying, almost. Kissing Chan always is.

It isn’t long before you’re pawing at his chest as you struggle to keep up with his intensity. Your palms ache for his skin, and having your fingers run up and down his firm arms just isn’t enough. When Chan pulls his lips away, your eyebrows furrow and your bottom lip juts out into a pout.

“Off,” you mumble, weakly tugging at the hem of his shirt, and usually Chan would play with you a little longer, make you beg a little harder, make you really work for it, but he feels that you’ve already suffered enough.

Swiftly, he pulls the tight shirt over his head, revealing the firmness that lay beneath the fabrics, and fuck, you think you might just pass out on the spot—you’ll never get sick of seeing him like this.

“Like what you see baby?” Chan chuckles, but he already knows the answer from the way your eyes zone in on the symmetrical pattern that adorns his upper chest.

“Always …” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your body close against his as you start to place kisses all over his skin. Shy and sweet is what your lips feel like, skitting over his chest as Chan watches you in admiration; your tongue traces over the dark curves, eyes fluttering shut as if you’ve already got it memorized by heart (you probably do).

His hands start to thread in your hair, pressing against your scalp until he’s fisting the strands and tugging your head back. Chan’s mouth meets yours in a hot mess—your own saliva’s already smeared all over your chin and cheeks, and the mix of tongue against tongue and teeth against teeth is only adding to the sloppy kiss as he backs you into the wall.

“Baby,” he whispers into your mouth before beginning to trail rough kisses down your jawline and over your collarbone. He sucks blotchy, red marks into your soft skin, fingers kneading at the flesh of your waist when you start to press your lower half into his. “Baby, you drive me fucking crazy.”

You wanna scream and say ‘ditto’ but the only sound that escapes your lips is a choked moan when he shoves a thigh between your legs and presses against your core. The ache is like a fire, burning through your veins and blooming all up inside of you, making your tummy tumble and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you clamp your bottom lip between your teeth.

Grinding against him, your skirt rides up your thighs revealing the pretty white, lace panties hidden beneath, and Chan’s breath hitches in his throat. Something buzzes in his head and it’s like a rush in his ears—his hands shoot out and are all over your tits.

Gripping the soft flesh over your pretty little shirt and matching lace bra underneath, and soon you’re scrambling to get all this fabric off of you. “So pretty baby, so pretty,” Chan breaths out when he steps away from you a little, dropping his knee as you toss your shirt and bra to the side. He grabs your chin and uses his fingers to squish your cheeks together as you look up at him dreamily. “You’ll suck Channie off, right baby?” he coos, and you feel your legs grow weak at the sickly sweet touch to his tone.

“Yeah-huh,” you pant, inching closer to him as you start to drop to your knees, hands immediately making their way to the waistband of his dark jeans. Chan doesn’t help you with the belt—he enjoys watching you fumble with the leather, pouting when it doesn’t come out as easy as you’d like.

Once you finally work your way around it, you’re unbuttoning his jeans and yanking them down to reveal the bulge that strains against his boxers. Without a second thought, you lick his cock over the fabric, eyes lazily looking up at Chan who watches you expectantly.

“You know what to do baby,” he tells you, and so you comply, hooking your fingers under the elastic band and tugging his boxers down. When his cock springs out, it lightly slaps against your cheek, precum smearing all over your already wet cheeks.

Chan thinks you look so beautiful like this, shiny cheeks marked by his heavy cock that starts to make its way between your lips with the guidance of your hands. Soft fingers play with the base of his length as you swipe over the tip your shy tongue and fuck—you look so hot when you stare up at him like that, like you don’t know all the depraved things Chan wants to do with you.

You start off with kitten licks—lapping at the precum that’s dribbled all over the pretty, prominent veins that adorn his cock, and pressing your tongue flat against his bulbous tip. Chan runs a hand over your hair, resting his palm against the crown of your head at the end and gently pushing you forward.

You whimper as you start to take more of his length into your mouth, the underside dragging against your tongue, and you move one hand up to wrap around the base of where your mouth can’t reach, using the other hand to cup his balls.

“Jus’ like that,” Chan mumbles, watching you struggle to take him deeper, shoving his fat tip to the back of your throat as far as you can, tears pricking in your eyes, before pulling back to take in a heaving breath. “Good job baby,” he urges you on, when you open your mouth again, taking him down your throat again.

Your jaw aches as you repeat the motion, tears dripping down your cheeks, over your chin, and onto your soft thighs. Every time his cock pushes to the back of your throat, a few more drops fall, and soon Chan starts to take the lead, directing the movement of your head with his grip on your head.

And it feels so fucking good, the way he’s a got a firm grip on you, the way his cock stretches your mouth open so nicely—so you can taste all of him—the way he’s muttering curses amidst the murmurs of praise; “Yeah baby, feel’s so fuckin’ good.”

It’s got even you rolling your eyes to the back of your head and all you can think is Chan, Chan, Chan, and he can think about is you, you, you—and suddenly, he’s pulling his length out of your mouth so quickly it has your vision going white.

“Gotta cum w’me, princess,” Chan instructs over the rush in your ears, grabbing your wrist and gently tugging you to your feet. You’re slightly light-headed, stumbling forward from all the movement, but Chan catches you gently with a soft chuckle. “Easy baby, easy,” he murmurs, smoothing one hand over your head and kissing your aching lips softly as he once again presses you into the wall.

You make out sloppily for a few moments, your arms wrapping around his neck, tongues melting into each other as Chan tastes himself on you. His hands are playing with the zipper of your skirt, and with a soft gasp into his mouth, he pushes them down to pool at your ankles. “Leg up baby,” he tells you, tapping your hip with one hand so you get the message.

Hastily, you lift your thigh, involuntarily groaning against Chan’s lips when his big, rough hand plants itself on the underside of your thigh, helping you wrap your leg around his torso. His cock’s prodding right against your leg now, and you swear you can feel how painfully hard he is, swear you can feel him straight up throbbing against you.

“‘m so wet Channie,” you sigh helplessly, slotting one hand between your parted legs and swiping your fingers over the slick that drenches your thin panties. With slippery hands, you mindlessly reach for Chan’s cock, gently nestling the thick length against your clothed core.

“Oh fuck,” Chan groans at the contact, jutting his hips further into yours to increase the friction. His pelvis is flush against yours, and the stimulation of his skin against your clothed clit along with his cock sliding right by your folds is dizzying. “Makin’ a mess already, huh?” he says, shoving the fabric of your panties to one side to reveal your dripping cunt.

Quickly, his fingers are all over you, sliding between your slickness and thumb rubbing circles into your clit until you’re whining and fuck—Chan hardly gets to stick one finger into your tight cunt before you’re almost on the verge of tears again—

“Channie, need your cock now,” you cry out, hands pawing at the tattoo over his chest. “Can’t wait—need it no—oh.” The last words die on your tongue when Chan shoves his fat tip inside you. “Oh Channie—feels s’full,” you moan, your head falling back and hitting against the wall as he continues to slide his full length against your walls.

“Yeah princess?” he mutters, leaning forward and kissing your shoulder blade after he fully bottoms out inside of you. Your cute little cunt is screaming from pleasure, erupting flames all over your skin as you struggle to adjust to his size. Chan can see it, the way you’re already trembling, standing leg quivering as you try your best to not crumble into him, try your best to not give in right away.

You always look so cute trying when you know you’re gonna fail anyways.

Without warning, Chan drags his cock out slowly, and when you look at him with those glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, he can’t help but slam right back into you with a force that throttles you against the wall.

“Fuck,” you whimper, running one hand up Chan’s arm, tracing the curves of his biceps before finally gripping onto his shoulder tightly.

“You feel it princess?” Chan asks you softly when he drags out of you again before pressing you into the wall with another harsh thrust.

“Yeah-huh,” you nod dumbly, using your free hand to run your palm over your lower stomach. “Feel you all the way here Channie,” you moan when he shifts inside of you so his cock is hitting you even deeper. “Fuck!” you cry out when his pace starts to speed up, the tears that lingered in your lash line already starting to drip down your face.

“My pretty baby’s crying already …” Chan coos with a mocking pout, grip on your waist tightening so much you feel you’ll have bruises the next morning. “That’s it princess … cry it out—I know you wanna,” he eggs you on once he leans in, fingers ghosting by your earlobe.

“Can’t help it,” you choke out, finally letting the soft sobs pleasure erupt from your throat, head falling against Chan’s shoulders. “Feel so good Channie—can’t help it—’m sorry, I—”

“Shh,” Chan hushes you with a particularly harsh trust, pressing so close to you that his pelvis is once again bumping against your clit. “Don’t apologize … you look so pretty … pretty crybaby. That’s what you are, aren’t you? My crybaby?”

“Ye-yes!” you mewl when your legs start to shake more rapidly.

“Yeah … yeah—fuck,” Chan huffs when you clench down on him, and your walls are so tight around his length that you’re starting to wonder just how much longer you can hold out for.

“Can’t have anyone seeing you like—fuck—like this,” he moans, gripping your thigh tighter and tighter as he starts ramming into you so fast it’s punching the air straight out of your lungs. You’re wailing into his skin now, teething at his neck as your whole face is covered in a hot and sticky mess, fingers running all up and down his chest.

“Only thing you should be crying over is me, okay baby? You got that?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, fingers sinking into his skin as you feel that familiar wave of pleasure well up in your stomach. “Only yo—oh fuck, Channie ‘m gonna cum s—fuck!” you gasp out, hiccuping over your own tears as the waves crash down.

Your legs go limp as Chan’s cock drills into your warm cunt, the combined arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the floor (you’ll have to clean the ground later). His fat cock is battering against your tight walls roughly, fluttering walls pressing down on every vein, every curve of the length.

“There you go princess, cum f’me,” he grunts as he secures one arm around your waist, digging your back deeper into the wall so you don’t fall over as he starts to ride out his own orgasm against your pulsing walls.

Watching your blown out eyes and swollen lips, tear kissed cheeks and disheveled hair, Chan feels his own eyes rolling to the back of his head when your overstimulated pussy clamps down on him, squeezing out every last drop of cum. Painting your walls white, the sensation of Chan’s cum filling you up has you whimpering and mewling into his neck as he starts to loosen his grip.

“Fuck princess … made such a mess,” he mutters, looking down at the sticky mixture that rests where his softening cock meets your cute cunt.

“Hmm,” you hum, letting your wobbly legs drop to the floor once his cock flops out of your slippery, cunt, nuzzling into his tattooed chest. Giggling softly, you wrap your arms around his torso and look up at him with a lazy grin, “I forgot why I was crying earlier.”

Chan smiles, holding your cheeks with both his hands to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.”

crybaby series masterlist

a/n: thank u for reading, i hope u enjoyed >_< pls feel free 2 leave comments / rbs if u did! i know i took horrendously long 2 pop pt2 of crybaby :[ I'M SORRY guys not 2 ramble but i have been in a writing slump recently and this is the only thing of decent length and decent quality that i have produced in the span of two months so c: i am happy w how this turned out! i'll try my best to get the 3rd and final part of the series a little bit quicker, but no promises :3

taglist pt1: @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @rubyreduji @todorokiskitten @98-0603 @hipsdofangirl @minnie-mouser22 @minhui896 @whippedforjihoon @seokchannieworld @nishloves @woozarts @ellesmoon @blurryriki @maknae00 @hanniebanggi @peachyaeger @shoulietaro @1004luvangel @dnylwoo @dollyhaes @gyulune @wonranghaeee @tsukkisboo @cheolism (strike through could not be tagged)

#lee chan x reader #lee chan imagines #lee chan smut #dino x reader #dino smut #dino scenarios #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fanfic #📝 writing

[undercoverpena]

anytime

javier peña x f!reader

summary: “Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper. Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing the place where the hair sits atop his lip. “Anytime, cariño.” “Anytime, really?”

wordcount: 3.1k. warnings: fluff. bestfriends to lovers. banter. reader wears a dress and has a gloss on lips. no physical description. javi calls reader solecito as a nickname only. likely warnings for spelling as i wrote this on my phone. an: huge thanks to @wildemaven for creating this moodboard (pls go show it some love), letting me make a banner from it, and then letting me write this for Javi instead of Frankie. bby, i hope you like this.

Javi had never been good at avoiding challenging situations.

For the longest time, he’s been finding himself in the centre of a whirlwind—whether in Bogotá, Cali or apparently even back home.

You, his friend, best friend—a well-kept secret, tucked away in his chest, not shared with a soul when he was away. You were a thing that he’d clutched close to his chest from the moment the two of you had first gotten close, through his failed engagement and even more so when he left for Colombia. You, in all your understanding, hugging him, telling him he’d be great, amazing, the very best.

Both of you were younger then, less worn down by life, its many obstacles and all the other things.

You best not become best friends with anyone over there, Peña. As if anyone could annoy me as much as you, solecito.

In the brief interim of his return, you hadn’t appeared all that different. You may have had a job, a house—drove a slightly better car than when the two of you were staying out at all hours—but you, at your core remained very much the fucking same.

Still just as understanding, as kind. A person who got him, without really needing to try.

For Javi, the best thing—outside of you being you and the monthly calls you made him promise to keep when he was drowning in murder, drugs and Escobar—is that you never ask him about it. Any of it.

You had always let him pretend, escape, listen to you fill him in on gossip—things such as disagreements over the size of rhubarb and whether someone was having an affair. A thing you did even when he came back. Even more grateful for it then, when he grew tired of the questions, the compliments, the everything.

Its why he didn’t tell you when he would land back in Laredo for good. Just waiting, standing outside your place, leaning against your car as you walk down the street—eyes brushing over him, pausing, before he gets to see that smile. That signature fucking smile.

When he’d left the first time, he remembers how you’d lingered near your car, unwilling to climb into your bright yellow death trap—the entire reason he called you solecito to begin with—wearing the beginnings of that smile even then.

The difference is now he knows that there was something under it. Hidden, held back, kept from him.

It’s why it meant so much to him when he saw it in all its glory, all alight, blooming and somehow healing.

He can’t explain it, but it repairs strands inside of him. Your presence alone continuing to do so when he meets you for lunches, coffees, and late-night drinks. In exchange, he makes you laugh, your head thrown back as he tells you about whatever he did on the ranch—all of it comical, apparently. Because the idea of him, Javier Peña doing ranch work brought tears to your eyes.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” you splutter, taking a mouthful of your beer as you narrow your eyes.

Nodding, he leans back into the booth, arm stretched out, picking and picking—the label crumbling from the sweating bottle. “Yeah. Bet you’re upset you don’t get to see me herd cattle and mend fences.”

“Oh, yeah. One-hundred-percent.”

Shrugging, he grins—an easy task with you. A thing that has always been that way, even when he turned up at your door when he couldn’t get married; even when the two of you sat under the stars when he told you about possibly going to Colombia. You still made him grin—even when things weren’t fucking easy at all.

“I’ll add it to my to-do list—visit Peña on the ranch—it’s currently sat under finding a dress, a boyfriend and the will to fucking live.”

Snorting, he traces his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your face scrutinises him, before rolling your eyes. And he just waits—because you always spill eventually.

One. Two. Th—

Fine, you huff, before it unravels from you. How the wedding of your work colleague is close, closer than I thought and you’re tired of attending these things alone, circled like a fucking fish by single sharks.

And he’s listening, taking it in. Trying to not wince at how high-pitched you’ve got as you’ve ranted.

Mainly, Javi finds there’s more questions rising than answers provided.

One singular one rising to the top. A thing he’s wanted to ask for the last few weeks. Not in a rude way, or in the way it burns inside his chest when he talks to you on the phone and he has to bury it. But, it’s there, bubbling, wishing to escape and know. It's even louder when the two of you are like this, crammed in a space, laughing, smiling, sharing, wondering—

Why are you even single? How are you?

You’ve mentioned people—names, here and there when the two of you had been on the phone. Them fluttering out before you can pull them back, but then they’re forgotten. Javi, I get one call a month—let me tell you about the cattle war going off. And, in a way, he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, so he never asked.

Now, it’s all he wants to ask.

Because you’re… you. You’re brilliant, beautiful—funny, clever, witty. And yet—

“—so, now it’s a week out, and I need to find a dress, a date and drive there to watch another person I know get married.”

He knows he should busy his mouth with the bottle—wrap his odd idea in beer. But, that part of him—the one which wants to help, solve issues, and be useful—rises up in him like a phoenix left from the ashes of Colombia.

“I’ll go with you.”

He expects the pause, even braces for the look of shock.

He doesn’t expect the smirk. Doesn’t expect the way it spreads out, to hit your eyes. How under the low-bar light over the table, it makes your eyes glimmer and fucking shimmer.

“You want to go to a wedding with me?”

Shrugging, he picks off the last part of the label—the mess of it all circling around where the glass meets the wood.

Mirroring him, you shrug. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

He should take his eyes off you, but he finds he can’t.

Javi hasn’t been able to since you stepped out of your place, a handful of your dress as you locked up—stepping down your steps to his car, letting it flutter down to your ankles.

You look like a fucking dream.

A thought he knows he shouldn’t have—but has all the same. His heart staggered, half-halting in its hammering as his hands paused in their drumming on the steering wheel; his glasses slid down his nose, his skin suddenly warm all over, even if his jacket was already splayed out across the backseat.

Close your mouth, Peña.

I’m chewing gum, solecito.

Yeah, that’s why your mouth is open.

It hadn’t passed his notice that you were good-looking before today. He’s known you were, had always known it—he had eyes, after all. But, he’d always felt there was a line. A line the two of you never delved too close to step over. The sign above both of your heads already illuminated in bright bulbs and flashing lights:

JUST FRIENDS.

Until this, anyway. This thing that can only be described as the longest one-hour drive he’s ever been on. And he used to do recon with Murphy.

Because you’re teasing, taunting him. All in that usual way that you do. And it’s so easy to flirt back, to let line after line roll, but he has begun to spot you squirming.

Doing so while matching his suit in a deep brown shade—chosen by him, ‘pick a colour suit, Javi’. Adding a tinge to some of your comments—things that if said by someone that wasn’t you, he’d ask them (flirtingly) if they were coming on to him.

But with you, it’s something he can never be sure. Never something that can be completely understood, known, cracked or figured out. In the same way, he can’t understand how your perfume keeps following him. How it embeds itself into the cabin of his truck when he picks you up, sews itself into his clothing when the two of you meet—and right now, is attempting to bury itself in his skin, muscles, and bones.

“You’ve been abnormally quiet.”

Smirking, he snorts. Fingers smoothing out his hair as he swings into a spot—the tyres crunching over the gravel. “Have I? Or have you just not shut up.”

“Rude.”

Laughing, he cuts the engine—hands resting on the top of his thighs, not missing the way your eyes follow his movements before clearing your throat. It shifts something in him, makes a little part of him surge, like the smallest of fireworks suddenly erupting in his chest.

Something he forces himself to shut down the moment you shove open your door, slipping out, as he grabs his jacket.

“Do I need to be worried about you crying today, solecito?”

Rearranging your dress, and slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you squint as you stand tall, hand covering your brow as you meet his gaze.

And fuck, with this backdrop, even squinting, you look beautiful, radiant, stunning all over again. Somehow his brain having forgotten when you were next to him, when you were acting as if this was the most normal fucking thing they’ve ever done.

It isn’t.

Something he’s becoming more aware of as his throat goes dry, and his thoughts slow to nothing—

“No, you’re good. Your mouth is open again.”

You say it with a smirk, all teasing—making heat lick up his spine all over again. And, if you were anyone else, he’d have already pulled you close, tilted your chin up, and likely smothered your mouth with his.

But, you’re his friend—his best friend. The one solid thing he’s had in his life since he became a name, a poster, a hero.

“C’mon,” you say, turning on your heel as you head in the direction of the entrance, him following, jacket slipping on as he mutters mouth isn’t fucking open under his breath.

Even if he knows it was. Even if he’s desperately trying to stop his eyes from descending down to your hips, eyes fixated on the way you walk with ease to the wooden sign which greets all the guests.

He knows, due to his absence from home, there haven’t been many weddings he’s attended. Least of all like this. But even he thinks this is over the top, suddenly understanding why you hadn’t wanted to come alone. Because grand doesn’t quite cover it—not after the last one he’d attended.

This one has flickering candles lit in the day, waiters all set to hand glasses of bubbles and offer little mouthfuls of flavour on silver trays. Then, there’s the backdrop—the enormity of the building, only for you to tell him that it’s an outside wedding.

It’s more of a comfort as to why his hand drops to the small of your back than anything else. A need to be rooted, to feel calmer as he nods at passing people he doesn’t know (and hopes don’t know him), feeling you curl into him subconsciously, your bag swinging between the two of you both—affording a gap, forcing it, in fact.

The ceremony will start soon.

He overhears it, as he assumes you do, because your fingers wrap around his wrist—taking it from your back, before your palm meets his, and then you’re guiding, leading. Dragging him. All willingly to the back of the building where he sees it—the makeshift aisle. A wooden arch, and lots of deep orange-brown chairs all line up on either side of an orange aisle.

“Glad we chose brown now,” he murmurs.

“Does it make you think, y’know—being at a wedding?”

He swallows. Because it’s a loaded question.

One he assumes has been sitting all politely on the tip of your tongue since you sat beside him in his vehicle. It’s why his eyes watch you carefully as you grab the two of them a flute each from a passing waiter. Handing it to him, adding nothing—not rescuing him. Just waiting instead, doing that thing you do, where your eyes widen as you wait, trying to look all innocent even though it’s you who has just dropped a live grenade into the centre of the conversation.

Shaking his head, he snorts. “No. Not really. Knew… I knew deep down it wasn’t right. Her… and me.”

“You got any idea what’s right?”

You take a sip this time when the question lands, it again sparkling in glittered innocence, the softest of smiles pressed against the glass.

You he thinks. But he swallows that away and says ‘Not a fucking clue’ instead.

Throughout the day, he’s been desperate for a reason to stop looking at you.

So far, he’s found none.

Bits and pieces of things Murphy used to say, the words he’d drop into conversation when talking about his wife: how he knew, why she was the one, all coming back to him in drips and drops.

It dawns on him, the same as it had done since before he went to Cali, that you might mean a little more than a friend. A lot of what Murphy used to say, so easily applied to how Javi felt about you.

You make him feel calmer, create a space where he can relax, really unwind. It’s easy, uncomplicated, when he’s with you—from the conversation to the things he thinks. Complex balled thoughts stretch out until they’re in easy-to-decipher lines, able to process, able to understand.

He even told you about the boats.

A secret he’d have been prepared to take to the grave, if not for the fact you pointed out he wasn’t sleeping. Your eyes watching, pleading, don’t lie to me. And fuck, he couldn’t—not even if he wanted to.

That should have been the first sign.

He guesses he should be thankful today has been stuffed with more of them. One after the other. From the way you made sure to make him a plate of only his favourite things, to the way you knew when he needed a bit of space from the thousand questions as to how you both knew one another, and what he does.

Now, Javi is on the sidelines, admiring you in a way that makes his heart double in size.

Your dress skims around your calves as you dance—your arms rising above your head, glee stitched itself from cheek to cheek. On occasion, time halts when your eyes land on his—stealing whatever thought he had, only resuming normality when you close your eyes, belting out the lyrics to the song.

Mainly, the thought he finds which keeps returning is: I wanna do this with you again. any place. any time.

A hollowness scratches out in his chest as he lets himself acknowledge it. A thickness growing in his throat, a sorrowness weighs down on his shoulders as he nurses his glass—hand in his trouser pocket, telling himself he should be content he got to be on your arm, got to have you against him during a slow dance over an hour ago. That he gets to see you smile, hear your laugh—even know you.

“Hey, Peña.”

“Hey solecito.”

You grin—a little breathless, the music having changed, becoming slower, softer—wrenching the glass from his hand as you drain it.

“Fuck me. Y’thirsty?”

“Very. You’d know if you had any rhythm.”

He pinches you, lightly—teasingly. Your grin shifts into a laugh, tucking yourself in against him, arm around his back. And fuck, the way you’re looking up at him, he wants to warn you.

If you look at me like that, I’m going to kiss you.

Javi wonders what you’d do if you did. Whether you’d pull away, hissing the two of you are friends. Or whether you’d kiss him back.

“Want to get some fresh air?” you ask, your words against his ear—lips so close to ghosting his skin.

“Sure.”

It’s cooler when the two of you step out from under the marquee, the music getting quieter when your fingers loop in his, guiding, easing him around plant pots and tall trees, until the two of you are descending marble stairs and past iron fencing, to take him to the perimeter, to the view looking out over the city.

He watches as you step forward, fingers around the iron fencing, leaning, staring out as you let out a heavy sigh. One laced with things he wants to ask for, tug it from you, let you unload whatever is weighing on you—because that’s what you both do for one another.

You make it easy.

Make it all bearable.

But, whether you mean to, or not, you shiver. A light one, barely noticeable by most—but he isn’t most. His fingers are already at the button, undoing it, sliding his jacket down his arms before he places it over your shoulders, watching your head turn, meeting his gaze.

“You look really pretty.”

Flicking your eyes down, you smile. Sweetly. Unreadably. “Well, you’ve always been pretty.”

“Pretty?”

Laughing, your fingers tug his jacket closer, burying yourself in it. “The prettiest, Javier.”

Leaning beside you, he feels the metal from the railings, you’re both resting on, cut into his palms. He wonders if you feel the same, your dress billowing in the gentle breeze as the two of you stare off into the distance, spotting the flickering lights of a city, of homes tucking in for the night.

Then he turns his head, finding you already watching him, studying him in a similar way as you were before.

And, he lets his eyes drop to your mouth. A sign. A signal. It’s not the first time, usually, he does so when you’re not looking, letting himself trace the curve of your lips. Now, he stares at the way your gloss has long since gone, left behind on glasses and straws.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper.

Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing where the hair sits atop his lip.

“Anytime, cariño.”

“Anytime, really?”

Nodding, he swallows. A thousand things he’s thought, and felt, all rushing to the surface—unwilling to bury itself, to descend under the usual guilt and feelings of inadequacies when it comes to you.

“I’d do anything for you.”

Smirking, you tilt your head. “Anything?”

Biting your lip, he feels it—something thrumming in him, being plucked.

“Will you kiss me?”

“I could…”

Your brows rise, a louder cheer coming from inside, but it doesn’t do anything to tear your eyes away from the other.

The whole world could slowly vanish from around the two of you, and all he’d want is just to stare at you.

“But?” you ask, delicately.

Almost so softly, it makes his chest ache.

Dipping his head, he lets his gaze wash over the place again—the rolling land, the trees, the houses in the distance.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You slide closer, shoulder to shoulder, eyes scorching his jaw, his neck, the side profile he can feel you tracing with your gaze.

“Then don’t,” you say.

His neck almost cracks with the quickness of his movement, his eyes scanning, reading, a part of him wanting to step back, and protect you. Because he’s not sure about the parts of him you’d find easy to love—

“You don’t know what you’re—“

“Don’t care,” you interrupt, fingers twitching on the lapel of his jacket. “I know you—Javi, not Agent Peña. I know the boy who cloud-watched with me when my parents wouldn’t stop fighting; I know the man who told me to stop sending him postcards from the town shop—but also whispered that he liked them.”

Snorting, he smiles.

“So, if you want to, no pressure—but, I think you should kiss me.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your cheek. “Think you’ve wasted a lot of time not kissing me already, honestly.”

Of course you do, he thinks. And then he kisses you, palms on your cheeks, slanting his mouth over yours.

And fuck, it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever done.

an: honestly, this made me so fucking happy to write.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

[ultravioletrayz]

hello, darling!!

i absolutely love your work and how you write and i was wondering if you could write something for miguel inspired by the song million dollar man by lana del rey? it could be something like him being reader's sugar daddy and taking them to trips and shopping sprees. I'd love it if it had some smut to it but that's up you!!

thank you!!

A miguel ask based on lana? Nonnie, I’m in love 😩 (18+)

"You're screwed up and brilliant... Look like a million dollar man... So why is my heart broke?"

You had thought that being with a man of such status, a man with sophistication flooding out of his deep pockets, would make such degenerate acts a thing of the past. You're 'dating' the CEO of Alchemax, a certain level of refinement should have been expected.

But not with Miguel.

Miguel has money and power, sure, but he's dangerous. He's tainted. He's flawed.

Only you, his princess, get to see those flaws of an otherwise suave man. One of which being his inability to resist your seemingly innocent charms. Something about your naivety turned Miguel into a needy man, hellbent on satisfying you with his lavish lifestyle and fat cock, while you cling to him like the pretty little trophy you are.

Tonight is no different.

The noise of people chatting coming from outside the sleek bathroom of the fancy restaurant Miguel had brought you to is filtered out by your muffled cries into the calloused palm of Miguel's hand clasped over your mouth, smearing the Dior lip gloss you bought with his card last week.

Miguel's eyes constantly dart back and forth between the clasp of the Tiffany necklace that decorates your neck, and the way your ass ripples with the force of each of his thrusts, the bottom of your little black designer dress flipped up to give Miguel a good view of the way your perfect body greedily sucks his cock inside.

Everything acts as a constant reminder that, despite your relationship being hard to define, there is no price Miguel isn't willing to pay to get you to remain loyal. To remain his.

It's almost unbelievable, the fact that even though Miguel sees you as the most radiant exotic flower, he still makes it abundantly clear that you're at his mercy by fucking you in the cramped toilet stall of a 5-star restaurant.

You whimper and sob, Miguel's girth splitting you open as your forehead lulls against the wall, making Miguel chuckle.

"This is all part of the deal, muñequita. I get to grab you and take you anywhere I like. If you don't like it, then it's no more special presents for you. ¿Entiendes?"

I tried to incorporate as many lyrics as I could into this ;)

#ultravioletrayz #miguel o'hara #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel spiderman #miguel 2099 #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel ohara x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #spider man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 #million dollar man #lana del rey #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction

[hallietblr]

Could i get a conrad x reader smut where they are in a secret relationship/fwb and at the end maybe admit they like each other or start dating?

tangled up with you | c.fisher x reader

a/n: ahh i had such a good time writing this one for you! thank you so much for the request love <3

warnings: SMUT (minors DNI!), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), swearing, mentions of weed usage.

—

sneaking around with my best friend’s older brother made life so exhilarating, maybe because of the risk tied to it. i know that if jeremiah were to find out about conrad and my secret relationship that’s been going on for the past eight months, there’s the possibility of losing my best friend.

according to jeremiah, conrad and steven were not allowed to date or hook up with me. i was off limits. i was jeremiah’s best friend since the second grade and the last thing he ever wanted was for things to get complicated with his brothers (steven is basically another brother to him) having a relationship with me.

but feelings are feelings, they can only be suppressed for so long before moves are made.

and maybe the incredible sex tied to conrad fisher sways that statement.

i look out my bedroom window to see the jeep park on the side of the road. the silhouette of the golden haired fisher brother bobbing his head to the music. i giggle before turning to my vanity mirror to check myself out for the last time.

i fixed up my hair, touched up my mascara and lip gloss before spritzing myself with my signature perfume. i grab my phone that sat on my bed before scurrying down the stairs and yelling to my parents that i’m heading out.

i slide my vans on as i make my way over to conrad’s car. i open the door and he’s already smiling at me,

“hey pretty lady,” he winks, making me flush pink.

“hey handsome,” i say back as i settle into my seat, he cradles my face before pulling me into a long kiss. something we’ve both been craving for after pretending for the whole day around steven, belly, and jeremiah that we were, of course, only friends.

his lips tasted like mint and his chapstick, i smile into the kiss and i feel his lips turn upwards in response.

“you ready?” he asks after pulling away, i nod excitedly.

conrad always takes me to new places around cousins, we typically sit on the roof of the car and talk endlessly for hours into the night. sometimes we will smoke a j together, often making out and touching each other in places that isn’t normal for friends to touch.

the weeknd hums quietly as we drive in the night, his large and vascular hand placed highly on my thigh. his long fingers slowly crawling up to my centre. i feel myself getting more excited when his hand is centimetres away from my core.

he pulls away which makes me pout while he puts the jeep into park and steps out the door. he comes to my side of the car and opens my door, he offers his hand as i step out.

conrad brought us to the lighthouse, where waves crashed upon the large rocks and you can see the bright reflection of the moon and stars sparkling on the water. his muscular arms wrap around my waist from behind and we sway side to side, i’m taking in the beautiful sight.

he places gentle kisses on the back of my neck, and i tilt it to the side to give him better access. i can feel him smile at the action as he carefully sucks at the soft skin.

“this view is beautiful,” i tell him, turning around to put my arms around his neck,

“yeah?” he asks with a smirk, “well my view is better.”

his eyes flicker down me and back up to my eyes,

“you’re so cheesy”

“i love you, baby” he kisses me again,

i kiss him back passionately, my fingers getting tangled up in the locks of hair at the back of his head, “i love you so much more.”

so stands two teenagers, desperately in love, making out by the cousins lighthouse in the middle of the night. their hands running up and down the sides of each other before conrad pulls her back towards the car to continue their fun.

we both crawl into the back seat, he lays me down carefully across the three seats as he hovers over me. he removes his shirt in one motion before leaning down fo connect our lips again.

our teeth and lips are clashing as his tongue swipes across my bottom lip, i open my mouth to greet his tongue as it continues to explore.

his hand inches down my body, giving a soft squeeze to my boob before moving down to the edge of my cotton shorts. i sigh in pleasure as he slips his hand into my lacy thong, his fingers playing with the bundle of nerves that make me lift my hips up for more contact,

“please.” i beg him, arching my back as his lips kiss down my throat,

“relax, my love,” he mumbles against my skin, “i’ve got you.”

i moan out as two digits enter me, slowly but hardly thrusting into my centre, “fuck, you’re so wet.” he groans.

he continues to finger me for a few moments longer to prepare me,

“you ready?” he asks me and i nod, conrad kisses my lips again before pulling down my shorts and his own. his thick cock with veins running up it’s sides slaps his abdomen, released from the constrained boxers they were in.

my mouth basically drools at the sight. i’ve always knew that conrad fisher was handsome, but seeing him in the moonlight with his six pack and erected dick only made the wetness between my legs increase.

i watched intently as he lines himself up before sinking down into me, bottoming out. every vein and inch of his cock stretching me out in the best way possible. my head throws back at the feel of him inside of me as he thrusts deeply into me.

i moan loudly, grabbing the edge of the car seat and the head rest as i feel him nearly hitting my gut.

“fuck!” i cry out as he buries his face into my neck, increasing how hard he’s pounding into me. his hand grabs the back of my right thigh, pushing it to my chest to give himself a better angle to hit my sweet spot.

i bite into his shoulder, making him groan lowly as i feel his dick twitch inside of me. my hands are in a frenzy, clawing his back or pulling at his hair or anything to get him closer to me.

“you like that, baby” he moans as he continues to thrust his cock to my sweet spot that makes the knot in my stomach tighten. i nod quickly, “yes, holy fuck, you feel so good!”

“no matter how often i fuck you, your pussy is always tight for me,” conrad breathes out into my ear, “you feel so good around me, babe”

“m- maybe because your dick is so big,” i stutter out back to him, as i feel my orgasm coming closer.

“are you close?” he asks, “i feel your walls squeezing my cock.”

i moan out in response, unable to form words with the state of bliss im in. i cling onto his shoulders as my legs start to shake,

“fuck, i’m gonna come soon,” conrad groans, throwing his head back in pleasure, “where do you want it?”

“i- i’m” i try to speak, but my eyes keep rolling backwards, “i’m on the pill.”

he looks down at me with lust in his eyes, “are you sure?”

i nod, “fuck, conrad!”

he picks up the pace of his thrusts, now chasing his high. his hand reaches down to start rubbing figure eights on my clit to help me get my orgasm,

“come on my dick, baby” he tells me, “i know you can do it. i’m right behind you.”

“fuck, conrad!” i scream out, “i’m coming!”

“that’s it baby” he pants out

conrad litters my face with kisses as my toes flex upwards and my thighs are shaking. my back arches to his chest as i feel my orgasm crashing down on me all at once.

i release pornographic type moans and all i see is white as my nails claw down his back.

i feel him release inside of me, his warm coating my walls as he slowly thrusts me through my orgasm. he eventually pulls out and grabs a baby wipe that he stored under the driver to seat to clean me and himself up. conrad helps me put my clothes back on and kisses my shoulders while he pulls my t-shirt on.

we drive quietly back to my house where he kisses my goodnight before i exit the jeep. right as i open my front door i feel my phone buzz in my back pocket,

con <3:

goodnight my sweet girl, i hope you had as much fun as i did tonight! i love you so so much❤️

i blush at the text and turn around to the road where i see him blow a kiss in my direction. i pretend to catch it and place it on my heart before sending one back. i see a smile etch onto his face before driving off.

y/n <3:

i always have fun when i’m around you, sweet dream baby :) i love you!

#conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher imagine #conrad x reader #jeremiah fisher x reader #tsitp x reader #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fanfic #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher fanfiction #conrad fisher fluff #jeremiah x reader #jeremiah fisher x y/n #jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher smut #tsitp smut #tsitp x you #tsitp imagine

[thegoblinboy]

Eddie skims the books on the shelf in front of him, there was no use in trying to find one he was actually interested in. He was just going to end up forgetting about it and picking up one of the lord of the rings books again. Instead he just lets himself wander through his thoughts. Letting his body go in autopilot as his fingers gently brush the spines of dozens of books.

He should be in gym class, but he isn’t. The consequences of skipping were far better than those of actually showing up. The last time he went (over a month ago now) he ended up walking out with a chipped tooth and black eye. And he can’t forget about the bruised ego.

Walking at the end of one aisle, he carefully turns and moves himself into the next. Preparing to loop through said aisle again but nearly jumping out of his skin when he nearly falls over another person. A person who was sitting down, back pressed to the shelf he was walking the corner of.

A croak like noise comes out of the back of his throat as he nearly tumbles face first into carpeting. Stumbling forward a bit and catching balance on the shelf to the left of him. Secretly praying to all that’s holy that he didn’t somehow know the entire shelf over.

“Jesus H Christ.” He spits out, a hand pressed against his chest as he dramatically breathes heavier then normal. Putting on a show for whoever nearly killed him. Turning around to face the culprit he nearly jumps back again startled.

Sitting, pretty pathetically Eddie would say, was a very beat up Steve Harrington. Who looked like a horror book came to life. His eyes, or eye was a bit glossed over and wide as he starts stuttering over his words a bit. Obviously having a moment before Eddie came along and crashed the party.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up like that.” Steve visibly cringes at his own words, as if he was also aware he seemed pathetic.

“Eh- it’s alright. Not the first time a king has tried taking me out.” He grins, before faltering a bit as he remembers that the other wouldn’t understand his DnD campaign reference.

He begins to walk away, wanting the entire awkward interaction to be over. But he can’t help but be just a bit nosy as his eyes glance down at the book in Steve’s lap. It probably had been open at one point, but it was now closed and Eddie is secretly thankful he can read upside down.

“Head injuries huh?” He points out. “Didn’t take you for a reader King Steve.” He drags the other’s name out a bit longer than he has to as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocking a hip out. He didn’t personally enjoy talking with asshole jocks, but what he did enjoy was knowing some things. He liked having some lore for the people around him.

“I’m not.” Steve snorts as he lifts the book up. “Just trying to do some research, I don’t know if you have eyes or anything but my face is pretty smashed in right now.” He retorts back with a little bit of sass. Eddie notes how his words slur up a bit, like he was drunk. But Eddie could spot a drunk anywhere and Steve Harrington seemed a hundred percent sober.

Furrowing his eyebrows, just a bit concerned he doesn’t let up the banter. Purposely forcing his eye lids open with one hand and jokingly pressing the finger tip against his eye before pulling back. Blinking the tears out of his slightly agitated right eye as he brings two thumbs up and comments, “we are in the clear I, Eddie Munson, let the record show, have eyeballs.” He grins dramatically.

“Want a gold star for that poncho.” Steve snorts, shaking his head a bit obviously amused. His body tensed up a bit as he goes a bit pale for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut with shaky breathes as his fists tighten around the book he was holding.

“Yes I do in fact want a gold star-” Eddie mumbles out gently, face scrunching up a bit more worried now as he moves his crossed arms from off his chest and moves a few steps closer to the other.

“Hey Harrington, you alright? You don’t seem like your typical charming self.” He comments as he hesitates for a moment before he crouches down. Leaving a few inches between the two of them.

Steve gives a weak nod of his head before he adjusting himself. “Yeah- just moves my head too much. Happens sometimes you know?” He chuckles gently.

“Oh thank god, you were looking a little green. Was worried you were about to hulk out on me buddy.” Eddie jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Lifting his hand up and running one of his rings against the bottom of his lip before glancing back down at the book.

“Find anything good in there, or are you just holding it for show?” Eddie asks gently, trying to come off a bit more teasing.

Steve snorts again, sounding a bit stressed as he nearly shakes his head no again but stopped ps himself. “No, couldn’t even make it through the first page without wanting to throw up.” He groans as he quickly adds. “Not because I don’t want to read it, it’s just the words won’t sit still and it hurts my eyes which then hurts my head.” He groans as he opens his eyes back up fully and looks down at the book with a little huff.

“Could always get a nerd to do your homework for you,” Eddie jokes, slightly hinting towards Wheeler. “Heard that girlfriend of yours had a decent brain on her, she seems like the type to understand that you’ll need help.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at the other.

Steve makes a noise that Eddie can’t even place, it sounded like the mixture of a laugh and a snort combined. “Can’t, I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with Byers. Don’t want to feel any more stupid around her.” He mumbles the last sentence out.

Eddie looks a bit surprised, he hadn’t taken Mrs Priss to be a cheater. Though he furrows his eyebrows again in thought. “If you give me a twenty I’ll read that book for you and try answering any questions you have.”

Eddie didn’t want to seem completely like a sweetheart, he had to keep up the image he had going on or else people wouldn’t take him seriously during deals. And he didn’t want to ruin said image to Steve Harrington of all people.

Steve squints his good eye at Eddie suspiciously, “I’ll pay you a hundred if you don’t mention this to anybody else.”

Eddie feels a little bit shitty for doing this but an image had to be kept.

“You’ve got yourself a deal Harrington.” His grin isn’t fully authentic as he takes the book from the other and does a playful salute as he stands up fully and begins to walk away.

#Eddie is a worried wart #Steve may become a lost sheep #a drabble of sorts #don’t know if I’ll do another part #just wanted to write and see where it took me #I’m back! #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #bxb #steveharrington #steveddie #eddie stranger things #steve and eddie #Steve has head injuries #hoh steve harrington #Steve has a concussion #post season 2

[the-californicationist]

The Fox & the Hound (Ch. 01)

Inspired by a tag on @ceilidho's tumblr post reblogged by @garbagecompactor3263827 where Johnny wants to sink his teeth into a newbie porn star.

MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS

AO3 Link - Comments/Reblogs very appreciated

You watched him prep in the shared bathroom. People were bustling in and out, and a lighting manager was handing him a fresh razor, reaching over him for her films. He trimmed around his fat, flaccid cock with a practiced hand, getting the hairs just right. Part of you wished it was still the 80s when bush was en vogue . The rest of him remained furry, thankfully, and just as you were about to tend to your own garden, he caught you looking. That same glint in his eyes sparkled, like a hound that had spotted the writhing tail of its fox, ready to crack its bones in his huge maw. He’d been looking at you like that all day. He laughed, but he didn’t ride you for gawking. If anything, he looked a little relieved. What had you gotten yourself into?

Nothing had gone according to plan. This was your first real shoot, and the original actor who had set you up with this production company wasn’t even in the film. Film , your internal monologue chided you, it’s a porno, you filthy slut . Okay, a porn film. You’d sent nude photos here and there, and you’d even landed in Playboy as a back-page lube advert girl. It was a start. But, now, here you were about to shoot your first porno , and the only thing you knew about this guy was that he had fought for this part. 

He was beyond famous. You’d heard that Johnny Dangerous was the man of the hour, and that most of the girls who needed to boost their bankrolls called him up to ask him to co-star. You’d never even heard of him until today, and after hanging around the catering cart, you learned that he was the one who had paid actual money to star with you. 

It was probably some power play. Maybe it was your novelty. Banging the brand new porn actress must have been some sort of game. You didn’t care. This one gig was about to pay off your loans and buy you a brand new car all at the same time. You just needed to survive Mr. Dangerous. 

“Honey, are you comin’? We gotta shoot outside before the sun goes down.”

The voice came from the doorway, but you weren’t the honey, for once. They were talking to him. He didn’t answer. He just nodded, dismissing them, throwing his bright green swim shorts back on and rubbing the remainder of the oil into his broad chest. He was staring at you, biting hard at the inside of his cheek like he had a secret. Then, his expression became resolute, and he spoke to you softly, the way you do when you’re trying to coax a cat out from under a car,

“You gonna make it, lass?”

“Yeah,” you swiped on some waterproof mascara as an excuse to stare into the mirror and not at him, “I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. That seems normal.”

“It is,” Johnny moved closer to you, fluffing his own eyebrows in the mirror right alongside you, “Very normal. I’ll take care of you, hen. Nothin’ to worry your wee head about.”

You smiled. You didn’t want to thank him, exactly, but you wanted to be nice. Cordial. Professional. 

It wasn’t very professional of you to stare at the way his cock bounced as he adjusted his shorts, though, was it?

Then, to your shock, he leaned down and planted a kiss on the corner of your lips, tasting your sticky, cherry gloss, and saying, 

"See you in a bit, bonnie. Gonna make you feel real good." 

You stopped. He was gone, and for the first time that afternoon, you were alone. He lingered in all of the cracks and crevices of you, though. Now that he had pressed his lips to you, the spell had begun, and you realized you’d be fucking this man for hours. You drank your water from your icy jug, trying to turn it into liquid courage.

“Okay, okay, uhh… cute, yeah. Love it,” the director, Mike, appraised you like he worked on an assembly line, swooshing you over to the diving board with his hand, clutching a venti Starbucks cup in the other, “You look great, babe. Go sit on the diving board and let’s do a little preamble. Feel yourself up, pretend that you’re sunbathing in Malibu and not fuckin’ Santa Clarita, mkay?”

You made your way over to the diving board, walking in a way that you assumed was sexual, making a sexual face, and moving your hands across your tits…sexually. You thought it was a fine job until you heard the cut whistle. 

Mike was behind four people, two cameras, and an iPad when he shouted at you again,

“This isn’t a goddamn church service, babe. C’mon. I get hard when Chuy over here drives too fast, and this is not doin’ it.” 

“Sorry,” you said, moving back to your mark, determined to be positively the sexiest sunbather he had ever seen. 

“Mikey,” you heard Johnny’s voice call out, “Lemme kick it off.”

“Shut up, Johnny. I can’t afford your extra minutes, you skank,” Mike laughed and sipped his triple caramel mochaccino. 

Johnny came out from his shaded tent and cut his eyes at Mike before staring right at you,

“No charge. Just want it to be right.”

“Ugh,” Mike rolled his eyes behind his too-small sunglasses, “You and your…” he used scare quotes, “... art . Fine. Whatever. I just don’t want to shoot in the goddamn dark, so hurry up.”

Johnny walked around the pool, stroking himself across his shorts to stay hard. He was so thick that it looked like he was petting a handle of vodka back and forth. You tried to control your face, but you were getting more and more nervous as he came closer and closer to you.

“C’mere, bonnie,” he pulled you up from the diving board and held you in his arms.

If it wasn’t for the twenty people sweating to death in black tech clothes and eating dried-out hummus from foam plates standing around you, you would have felt like you were at your high school formal, being cradled gently in hands that wanted to do so much more. 

“Eyes on me,” he whispered. 

You obeyed, for some reason. There was nothing else to do but obey him. 

When he bent to kiss you, you knew it was for the cameras, because the angle of his face was open and softly spread so that the way he sucked your lips into his mouth would be seen by A and B-roll film. You kissed him back, trying to turn the sexiness up to eleven, rubbing your hands on his rigid cock to appear wanton and needy. 

He shuddered, and you thought you’d done something wrong. The look in his eyes told a different story. They were feverish, daring, and his pupils were fully blown. You could smell the coconut sunscreen someone had applied to him, and you could feel his breathing quicken in his huge body. 

Mike’s nasally voice came over the speakers,

“Let’s get a boom in there and pick up some of the kissing noise, please. Also, Johnny, some of your famous accent there, baby. You know what the ladies like.”

You were being kissed again, now set up for everyone to hear. He was devouring you, and you tried to keep your footing, grabbing his hulking shoulders and running your hands across his hirsute form. His muscles rippled and stretched beneath your touch, and he spoke his lines,

“Thought you would sneak into my wee pool, did ya, hen?”

You gave your voice a high-pitched lilt,

“Yes, I just wanted to get nice and tan.”

“Aye?” He pulled the tie on your bikini top, “Wouldn’t wanna get any tan lines, huh?”

You shook your head no, kissing his bare chest and feeling the top slither off of you to hang around your waist. 

“Wow,” his voice had changed its timbre, “Look at these pretty tits. Jesus…”

Johnny brought his mouth down to your nipple and sucked on it, licking on your beaded nub until it tightened for him, making sure to allow the camera man a full view of your perky breasts as they filled his hands. 

You moaned, and then you remembered to moan the right way, high and whiny. The higher the pitch, the higher the profit, they’d said. 

Johnny stopped suddenly, looking you in your eyes,

“Go back, lass. The first way. Do it the first way.”

“Johnny!” Mike complained, “Do you wanna come sit in this fuckin’ chair, or are you gonna focus on gettin’ your fat dick wet? Stop directing mid-scene. Cut. Cut. Start over with the tit sucking, and we’ll take it from the top,” Mike changed the tone of his voice and smiled at you, “You’re doing great, babe. Ten outta ten.”

You felt Johnny move his mouth to you again, but this time, his eyes were watching you, looking at you and waiting for you to make a choice. He was eager to make you moan, sucking hard and then soft, letting his long tongue lave over you like an animal, nibbling at your skin and making your blood rush to the surface. 

You moaned for real, testing the waters. Johnny smiled so wide you could see his back teeth, his jaw open and parting to let his tongue come forward to do its work. 

“Tha’s it, hen. Lemme hear you.”

His enormous hand squeezed your other breast, and he moved his mouth between them, stirring up your pleasure like a whisk in cream. Soft peaks. 

You obliged. The more you moaned, the more he fondled. He was yanking at your strings and ripping the bikini from you quicker than you had assumed he would be, especially since you were still in the outdoor scene. Wasn’t this all supposed to be inside?

“Christ,” Mike groaned, “I look at my email for five seconds and you’re almost nose-deep in her asshole? Johnny, this was supposed to be at couch scene three. Can - hey! Can somebody get him a book?”

Someone handed him a book, and he tossed it in the bushes,

“I dinnae care if it’s scene five thousand, Mikey. Just shoot it vérité, mate. Just like old times,” Johnny barked. He was getting more and more ruffled as Mike kept cutting in, almost like he was impatient to be done with it. Done with you?  

Mike turned his head to his assistant and asked,

“How many minutes do we have? Are we good? Okay. Okay!” He threw up his hands, “Okay, Johnny, you prima donna bitch. Let’s take it inside.”

The Someone with the book now passed Johnny his robe and he shouldered it on. He looked around and barked again,

“Aye! Hers? Give it here.”

He then had your robe in his hands and put it over you, cloaking you in its soft terrycloth, making sure you were covered. It was such an abrupt stop to your pleasure, one that you were not used to making, and your body railed you for it. Your pussy throbbed, your nipples ached, and your belly was full of butterflies. He held your hand as you walked inside. Just as you were about to get into position four on couch three, he pulled you back, nodding up at Mike and his team of people.

“Okay, lets get lighting on couch scene three, Billy. Hey! Hotdog! I didn’t say pull the lamp. Put the lamp back. Thanks, my man. Two more clicks on the warm light. Okay, gross, one click. Perfecto.”

Mike’s head popped over his iPad,

“You lovebirds ready for scene three?”

“Hang on,” Johnny grumbled, removing his swim trunks and flip-flops. 

He positioned himself on the couch and spread his legs, jerking himself back to full hardness and staring right at you as he did so. 

“C’mon, bonnie. I’m ready for you.”

You made your way over to the couch and knelt down. You didn’t mean to, but you hissed when your knees hit the cold, hard tiles. 

“Sorry!” You whispered to him.

He took his hands off his cock and pulled you onto the couch with him,

“Here, bonnie girl. Like this instead, yeah?”

Johnny pushed himself out along the length of the couch so that you were both laying on it. You placed your knees on the arm of it, raising your bare ass in the air for B-roll shots, your face perfectly positioned at Johnny’s raging hard-on. It was massive up close. His plump head and thick rod had seemed normal in his huge hands, but now that your small fingers were wrapped around him, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. 

“Okay, fuck,” Mike smiled, drinking his coffee and nodding, “That’s hot. Good call, new girl. Smart.”

You smiled back at Mike, grateful for the praise, feeling like you were going to knock it out of the park. Then, Johnny’s cruel hand grabbed your hair and turned your head up to stare into his eyes. He grinned like a demon,

“You don’t have to smile at him, lass. He’s a fuckin’ bawbag.”

“JD! Can we get on with it?” Mike rolled his eyes. 

You got on with it. Something in Johnny’s demeanor had stirred a dark place in your belly. He was possessive, and he didn’t like you smiling at Mike. He did like the way you took each of his balls in your mouth and sucked on them with loose, pouty lips. His moans were cut short, not wanting to over-saturate the reel with male grunting sounds. Apparently, the straight male audience wasn’t a fan of anyone’s grunting but their own. 

He also liked when you tried to take him into your throat, moving your head as far as you could down his shaft, choking on his cock until you felt drool coat the inside of your mouth. You spit it onto him, and he wrenched his eyes shut, unable to watch you fuck your own face with his shaft. 

“Okay, while Johnny’s taking a nap or whatever that face is, let’s get B-roll in here for her mouth. Also, let’s take a minute or so of that gorgeous ass she’s got up there for us. That’s gonna be money, my friend. You are gonna be Miss Popular!”

In the place where you were staring before, Johnny’s face of agony and bliss, now there was a big, black lens. You could see yourself, bobbing up and down hungrily, and you pulled out all the stops. You suckled gently on his glans, lapping up his precome dutifully, enjoying it enough to moan again. 

He jumped, and Johnny’s hand snaked its way under the camera to squeeze the life out of his shaft. 

“Hey, mate, move to B-roll of her ass, would ya?”

The camera man laughed,

“About to lose it, Johnny? I thought she was the newbie.”

“Shut up, mate.”

You stayed stock still, watching as the camera moved to your rear end, feeling beyond exposed. You played with your pussy, spreading it open, fingering yourself, all of the things you were supposed to do. And, to be honest, it felt great. You needed to come so badly, a warm breeze would have been sexy to you at this point. 

Johnny stared down at you, his dick still in the prison of his fist, panting,

“How are we doin’, lass?”

“Good, you?” You appreciated the check-in. 

“Good. Ready to fuck you. So damn ready.”

His voice and his eyes were predatory. You felt like his prey. Prey had claws, too, though. So, you licked his shaft again, and you fed his own line back to him,

“I’m gonna come so fast. You’re gonna make me feel so good, baby.”

His face changed into a look of shock. Just then, Mike rang the bell,

“Alright, it’s couch doggy and - what does this say?”

“Light,” someone told him.

“Okay, light spanking? You okay with that new girl? It says you signed off on it.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. 

“Okie dokie, just checking. Sweet. Let’s get there.”

Johnny was standing at the arm of the couch, positioned behind you were you couldn’t see him. You felt his hands rub your cheeks and spread them wide, opening your core up to him. Then, that long tongue was lapping up your wetness, and he was talking with his mouth full,

“Mmf, so wet for me, lassie. That’s my good girl.”

Your pussy clenched and you knew he could see it. You thought he might laugh or make some other comment, but he kept your secret, licking the inside of you with soft, languid strokes, you gave him another clench - this time on purpose - waiting to see if you could rile him up again. 

“Oh, fuck,” Johnny moaned, “You’re so ready for me. Fuck me, wait.”

He stopped eating you out, which was the opposite of what you were going for. This shoot was a disaster, and you really needed this gig.

“I’m sorry!” You said, turning around.

“What?” His brow furrowed, “No, just wait. Mike!”

“What is it now? Johnny - this is why I didn’t call you about Manuel Ferrara’s gangbang.”

“I just need my bag.”

Mike’s sigh was theatrical,

“Everyone take five.”

The bell went off again. You sat on the couch and the same someone brought you your robe and a water. You smiled and thanked them. Johnny had disappeared, but when he came back, he was wearing a thick, black cock ring, tightly secured around his shaft and balls. 

“Okay,” he sighed, sitting by you on the couch, robeless.

“Are you alright?” You asked, offering him some of your water.

He took it, gulping down two huge swallows before responding,

“Aye, lass. Just had to stop myself from ending this show too soon.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise,

“I thought it was for the opposite reason. Must be hard to keep it up for such a long time, especially with all these breaks.”

He laughed,

“Usually, yeah. But, not today.”

His eyes were raking over you, still hungry for you even though he’d seen it all already. It would have been a lie to say you weren’t hungry for him, too. It was intoxicating, the way he stared at you, eager and joyful. You weren’t surprised he was so popular. 

“Annnnnd, we’re back, people! Baby, could you perch up there again, please? Now that Mr. Princess is done preening, we can shoot a fucking porno.”

You repositioned yourself back to where you were, and someone came by to re-oil your ass cheeks. They felt shiny, and you hoped you looked great. Watching the film was going to be humbling, but this was your first time and you were learning so much. 

Johnny took his place behind you, and you felt the familiar, heavy slap of a cockhead on your pussy lips, sticky and exciting. You gasped. He responded, 

“That’s right, hen. It’s time for your reward.”

He began to feed his head into you, and the crown of it popped into your hole with some resistance. Behind you, his thick fingers spread your cheeks apart, and you felt one hand leave just to return in a sharp smack. You cried out louder. He sank in a little deeper, moaning right along with you. He slapped your ass again and growled,

“Fuuuuuuck, that’s too tight, that’s too tight. Oh, Jesus.”

You keened, embarrassed, but unable to stop the noise that came out of your mouth. 

“You like it, lass? Gettin’ this pretty little cunt all stretched out for me. Gonna make you beg for this cock and only this fuckin’ cock, ain’t that right?”

“Yeah,” you moaned, your voice straining, “Only this cock, baby. Fuck me nice and hard.”

You regretted every word because he was pleased to oblige you. He slammed himself down into your aching hole, pressing through your walls, through your wetness and the oil and the lube, and it still wasn’t enough. You felt like you were tearing apart, especially when he pressed you onto his hilt. 

Everything slowed way down. You saw white, for a moment, and you felt tears well up in your eyes, burning on their way down your cheeks. He was trying to ease you though it, but you were coming on him. Your whole body was shaking and trembling, and his girth was forcing an orgasm to rattle through your core. You even felt him fighting to stay inside of you, battling against your tightening walls, desperate to keep his position, nestled at your womb, deep within you. 

“Oh, fuck! Lass! Holy God, that pussy is tight. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You felt him slap you again, but the sting was gone. Your body had flooded you with orgasmic endorphins and adrenilne, and it was going to take a lot more than a “light spanking” to get your attention away from the cosmic nova exploding in your belly. 

Johnny’s thrusts were that of a hungry beast. He didn’t falter, nor slow, nor stop to check and see if you were even still alive. He was chasing himself down inside of you like a dog with its tail. Over and over and over, you felt the heavy weight of him pushed forward, smacking into you, feeling his hips snap repeatedly spearing your core with his enormous rod. He was grunting with abandon now, just barking out cries along with you, and when you looked at him over your shoulder, his face was bent and twisted in such a rage that it frightened you. He looked inhuman.

Suddenly, you were lifted from the couch, and his hands were around you. He flipped you over and held your thighs pressed down to your chest, creating an even deeper angle. You regained your thoughts quickly enough to hold your legs pinned for him, only half-worried that you’d tumble off the couch. 

You weren’t sure it was possible though, since his grip on your waist was so punishingly tight. He was fucking you so hard and so fast that you were feeling it in your bones. Your hips were taking the brunt of his sex-fueled wrath, and you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow. 

Then, his fingers found your clit, rubbing accurate and pleasure-filled circles around and around, making your lips swell with intensity. You were going to come again, and you told him so,

“Johnny… you’re gonna make me come, baby.”

“Come,” he snarled down at you, his eyes wild and haunted, “Come on me. I wanna feel you fuckin’ squeeze me out. Come. Come. Come, lass. Come for me, pretty girl. Oh! Oh, there it is. Yes, yes, yes, good girl. Good girl. Fuck!”

He rode you through your orgasm and stalled, leaving himself inside of your fluttering walls, basking in the sensation, trying to catch his breath. Johnny sat on the couch and you climbed into his lap, taking his cock in your hands and guiding it back into your dripping hole. 

“Bonnie,” he sighed, kissing your neck and grabbing your ass in both of his hands, “You feel like heaven. God, baby, don’t stop. Just like that, don’t stop.”

You were rocking back and forth on him, and you could feel his swollen head rubbing at the end of your pussy, bullying your cervix, making you feel too full. 

“It’s too much, baby,” you confessed, squishing your breasts together and letting him move his mouth across your nipples once again, “You’re too big. Filling me up… I’m so full.”

“You’re so tight, lass.”

He said it like a prayer. His eyes were glassy as they stared up at you. All of his bravado and flirtatiousness was gone, and it had been replaced by boyish wonder. It was as if it was his first time to feel the inside of a woman, to be hugged, warm and wet, engulfed in her core and playing within her the oldest song known to man. You sang it for him, not for profit anymore. His bewtichment was complete. You were totally and completely ensnared by him. 

Then, he held you to him, clutching you to his chest and screaming out loud, braying and writhing beneath you. He was coming. You felt him pulse, over and over, spilling and foaming and frothing around the edges of your hole, soaking you from the inside. 

You rode him slowly, back down from his high, and he gasped with every roll of your hips, looking at you in some sort of horrible ecstasy. 

Mike’s bell went off in your ear.

“Okay, folks! Thanks so much. Let’s wrap it. I’m sure some of this is salvageable. Johnny, and uh… whatever your name is, you still owe me garden scene six and upstairs… um, is it pool table? It’s pool table. Wanna be back here tomorrow at two?”

Johnny gave an exhausted thumbs up, and so did you, finally sliding yourself off of him with a wet milky sound. 

“Um,” you tried to catch your breath, “Thanks, for helping me today. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He looked at you quizzically, almost a little hurt. It was a confusing face to see, but you didn’t really know him that well, so you waited for his reply.

“Sure, bonnie.”

You untangled your legs from him and pulled on your robe, leaving him on the couch. You needed a shower and some brand of fast food, as soon as physically possible. 

The bathroom was steaming when you hopped in, and you were covered head to toe in coconut smelling soap when you heard a knock at the door. 

“Uh, come in?” You peeked around the glass partition.

It was Johnny. 

“Got room for one more, lass?”

You looked around behind him, half-expecting a camera to pop out. He noticed your reticence, and he shook his head,

“Nevermind. Forget I asked.”

“Hey, yeah. Sure, if you want. Come on in,” you moved deeper into the shower, letting him step into the billowing steam. 

At first, he was silent, just washing himself, scraping the suds over his body and sharing the water with you. But, then, he asked,

“Wanna get a bite? I’m starvin’ to death.”

“Me, too,” you laughed. 

“Class,” he smiled.

There was another long pause, and then when you turned off the water, he stepped into your space, too close to be friendly, 

“What if I was still hungry for you as well, hen? What would you say to that?”

The water dripped from the head of the shower in a soft tinkling pattern. You breathed each other’s breaths, inching closer and closer until your lips touched his wide chest, the hair smeared flat from the warm water, rivulets rushing down his belly to his crotch, dripping off of him and of you. 

You kissed his chest again, feeling him shudder under you as if he hadn’t just come inside of you minutes ago, packed with anxious excitement. 

Smiling up at him, you took a chance, 

“Your couch or mine?”

Chapter 02

#call of duty fanfic #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish smut #soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

[joonberriess]

𓆩♡𓆪 “damn papa, you a rare breed, no comparing,” – jock!jk

·˚ ༘ 💌 TAGS — soft smut, unprotected sex, creampies, riding cowgirl style, thank u anons for ideas, love making by the fireplace bruh, moonbyul being cute asf, reader is a happy bean, blowjobs (sorta?), slight somnophilia, some dirty talking, jk being a girl dad, oc is a good mommy, daddy kink n her cute potty mouth

You’re in the kitchen at around six in the morning happily humming and swaying your hips to the low music you have playing in the background. You were making soft fluffy souffle pancakes in the shape of hearts. You had a plate of fruit already cut up in cute little shapes like stars, hearts, and flowers. Excitement filled your entire being with every pancake you stacked on the tray.

Orange juice? Check. Whipped cream? Check. You turned off the stove and pursed your lips in confusion, “What am I forgetting..” You trail off as you look around the kitchen. “Oh!” You cheekily tuck the syrup in the waistband of your thong under the silky pink robe you were wearing.

You hurriedly stack the stuff onto the large breakfast tray and hurry upstairs, tiptoeing into the room and setting the breakfast down on your vanity table. Jungkook was still sound asleep with his arm outstretched on your side of the bed. He looked so cute and handsome in his sleep you couldn’t help the tiny coo you let out as you crawled onto the bed slowly, hiding yourself under the blankets and making your way to him.

He was sporting his usual morning wood inside his Clavin Klein boxers that hung low on his hips, the mere outline of his thick cock hidden away had your mouth watering as you gently peeled his boxers down. Just enough to have his cock slipping out for you as you eagerly wrapped your pretty little manicured hand around it and gently pumped it.

His cock twitched in interest but it was a bit too dry for your liking, so you leaned down to wrap your lips around the tip. You tongued at the slit and softly moaned at the musky taste, he had you arching for no damn reason with your ass in the air, swaying side to side to cool that little ache you felt in your poor little pussy.

Jungkook stirred a tiny bit in his sleep with his face scrunching up in pleasure. You were a tiny bit worried he’d wake up so early into the surprise as you desperately wanted to wake him up right at the good part. Your eyes fluttered closed and you happily fell into a calm tempo, bobbing your head slowly as you coated every inch of his fat cock with your saliva.

He hit the back of your throat a few times making your eyes water occasionally. You noisily swallowed around his cock, causing him to moan in his sleep whenever your throat constricted around him. Your cunt ached to be filled with something and you were beginning to lose your patience, bobbing your head faster and sucking a bit more harsher.

Jungkook groaned low and started shifting, making you panic a little as you pulled off his cock with a wet pop and waited. Jungkook settled back into sleep and you let out a soft sigh of relief. “Mmm.. not fair.” You mumble out as you go back down, slobbering all over him as you slurped pretty loudly.

You pulled away after a few more seconds and started crawling up his body, tossing both thighs over him as you straddled him. Jungkook’s eyes fluttered open in confusion as he blinked, “y/n?” He rasps out as he slowly lifts the blanket off of him, a bit worried about the lump lingering over him.

“Hi.” You softly say as you pop out with glossy lips.

It takes him a few minutes to realize that a.) his cock is out, b.) it’s wet, and finally c.) he’s fucking rock hard. His eyes drop down to where your pretty tits hang before him, sitting in your silky pink robe threatening to spill out with a hint of nipple. Your eyes are glossed over and your lips are pouty as you rest your chin on his chest.

Oh you’re going to be the death of him.

Jungkook lets his head fall back on the pillow with a sigh, a tiny smile formed over his lips as he runs a hand through his hair. “So it wasn’t a dream then.” You give him a cute “mm-mm” in return, making him chuckle out loud, “Baby it’s like, six in the morning.”

“I know, I wanted to wish you a happy daddy’s day.” You reply softly as you sit up and smile down at him.

“You mean father?” Jungkook says in amusement as he runs his hands over your ass and plays with the waistband of your pretty thong, occasionally tugging upwards on the flimsy fabric, feeling how it accentuates your fat ass cheeks.

“No, you’re not my father, you’re my daddy.” You softly say and roll your hips against his, “Are you not?” You breathily ask as you lean down to gently kiss his lips and then trail light feathery pecks down his throat and neck.

Jungkook groans low and tightens his grip over your ass cheeks, groping them and then landing a hard slap and squeeze. “You’re out to kill a man aren’t you sweetheart?” He says as he looks up at you, “Waltzing in here in that slutty little robe callin’ me daddy and shit.”

You whine softly, “Does Daddy like it? I picked it out myself, all for you.” You softly say and grind down harder on his cock, “C’mon Daddy, don’t you wanna? Feel so empty without your cock in me.” You whisper and reach down between the two of you to rub his slick cock against your pussy covered slit, pressing the head against you and smearing his precum all over the fabric.

“Fuck, you know I do baby.” He adjusts you on his lap and licks his lips, “C’mon baby, turn around for Daddy. I wanna watch you bounce that ass on my cock baby.” He says as he lays back.

You eagerly scramble to face the opposite side of him, arching your back and getting into position for him, “Like this daddy?” You whisper, dipping low on the bed so your ass was perfectly presented to him.

“Just like that.” Jungkook whispers as he runs his hand over your smooth ass, “Ride me baby, it’s my day afterall.” He smirks.

You eagerly lift your hips up and pull your thong to the side so you can position the head over your pussy. You begin to sink down slowly with a low muffled moan, toes curling as his cock slowly pops inside filling you so deliciously he has you pushing down for more. Your ass meets his hips with a wet slap as you sit on his cock, panting quietly under your breath.

Jungkook slumps against the sheets and sighs in pleasure, “God you feel so good baby,” he runs his hands over your ass and shoves the robe up, “never gonna get enough of you.” He reaches over for his phone, immediately recording as he runs his ring covered hand over your ass and jiggles the cheek in his hold.

You slowly start bouncing in his lap, using his thighs for leverage as soft little moans slip past your lips. Jungkook captures every single little bounce, zooming in on the way your cheeks slap against his pelvis. He shivers whenever your thong brushes up against his shaft, it feels so fucking good he stops recording and throws his head back on the pillow.

“Shit.” He moans out.

The bed starts creaking as you pick up the pace, your pussy’s fucking drenched and starts making these lewd noises everytime your ass meet his hips. Your moans are breathy and high, head thrown back with your eyes closed in bliss as you use him to get off.

“Mmm, Daddy,” you whine, “ ‘s not enough.” You roll your hips in small figure of eights, panting quietly as his cock rubs up against your g-spot from this angle.

Jungkook bites his lip and smacks your ass harshly, “Fuck turn around for me.” You obey quickly, slipping his cock back inside your warm pussy as you both moan out loud. He grabs your waist tightly and uses it for leverage to fuck up into you.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as he plows into you from below. Jungkook’s cock drives in deeper, hitting your g-spot repeatedly over and over again. His balls slap against your taint, a creamy white ring forming around the base of his cock making a complete mess out of the two of you.

“J-Jungkook..!” You gasp out.

He slaps your ass hard with gritted teeth, “Wrong.” He replies.

“Daddy!” You squeal out and fall face first into his neck, moaning loudly as you struggle to get a good grip, “G-Gonna cum..!” You whimper, “Please, please, please,” you sob out as your clit tingles.

Jungkook spanks you repeatedly, the burn feels so good it has you keening, “Cum for me baby, make a mess for daddy.” He gasps out, pace never faltering as he pounds into your battered pussy from below.

You cry out loudly and tense up, pussy gushing around his cock as your slick squirts around him. Jungkook groans loudly at the heavenly feeling of your cunt wrapped around him so tightly. It’s merely impossible to keep going with how tight you’re gripping him.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” he whispers as his eyes fall closed in utter bliss. He cums hard and slams his hips up one last time to get every drop inside of you, cock throbbing intensely as his heart erratically beats. “Holy shit..” He sighs out, laying flat on the bed with his hands on your ass as he gulps, trying to catch his breath.

You turn your head a little and softly sigh, “I made pancakes.” You quietly say out of nowhere, “I cut up some fruit too.” You eagerly scramble out of bed and grab the breakfast tray, bringing it into bed as you smile, “See?”

Jungkook groans and lifts his head, “Happy Father’s day to me.” He tosses an arm over your waist and holds you close.

“We’re supposed to say that! Not you!” You pout in confusion.

+

Moonbyul and Juno both screamed and squealed together as they made a run for it towards Jungkook. Jungkook smiled softly and crouched down with open arms, “Hi babies.” He coos out, grabbing both of his kids and wrapping them up in his arms.

“Happy father’s day daddy!” Moonbyul says as she digs in the pocket of her dress and takes out a crumpled up card she made, “I made this for you.” She smiles widely. “Do you like it daddy?” Juno babbled loudly as she messily smooched Jungkook's cheek and tried to get his attention.

Jungkook hums, “Hold on baby let daddy put you down and open the card.” He says as he sets both girls down, “Okay let’s see: ‘Happy Father’s day daddy, I love you very very much, have lots of good days and please buy me a unicorn’.” Jungkook reads as he chuckles, “Only a unicorn?” He teases, squeezing her cheek.

Moonbyul shyly smiles as she nods, “And lots of glitter too?” She pouts.

“Lots of it princess, I promise.” He gently kisses her cheek and hugs her tightly. Oh how he wishes she’ll never grow up, his precious little Moonie.. Juno whines and smacks him, “No I didn’t forget about you Juno, calm down.” He snorts and brings her in for a tight hug.

“Daddy, where is Mommy?” Moonbyul frowns.

“Oh, Mama went out to get some stuff because we’re all going down to the beach remember? Grandpa is even coming, are you excited baby?” He says as he brings both girls to the living room and has them sit down, “Also how was Grandpa’s? Did you guys enjoy the sleepover?” He comments as he plays a random Barbie movie and then does some light cleaning around the living room.

“It was super fun daddy, I got to see mommy as a baby and then we went out for ice cream and had pasta for dinner.” She says as he settles in to watch the movie, “Is it true you and mommy are going to make another baby?” She tilts her head.

“Where did you hear that from?” Jungkook nonchalantly says, trying not to sound awkward.

“Because my friend Mina from school said so, I told her we were going to stay at grandpas and then she said whenever her mom drops her off at her grandma's it’s because her mommy and daddy are making babies.” She innocently says.

Jungkook shakes his head, “Mommy and I were watching movies all night, we even played some board games too.” He softly says. Thankfully Moonbyul buys it as she ends up shrugging and just watching her movie without another hassle. He definitely needs to have a talk with this Mina girl and her parents. The audacity.

.

Jungkook couldn't keep his eyes off of you, you were sitting so pretty on top of a towel under an umbrella with Juno in your arms. Juno was pretty fussy because she hated the beach, she had spent the last five minutes whining and crying until you calmed her down. You stroked her little cheek gently and softly whispered ‘I love yous’ to the little one.

“Baby pass her here, your dad said he’s going inside the house to rest. Said it’s too hot for him out here.” Jungkook opens his arms for the little one.

“Make sure she’s tucked in bed okay? She needs her nap anyway.” You softly say and hand her over. Jungkook goes and comes back, making sure Moonbyul is still in front of you guys playing with the sand, his eyes are glued to your plush thighs and soft little tummy you have on display under that black bathing suit you got on. You look like the epitome of a milf/teenager’s wet dream wearing that tiny little bikini and black cat-eye sunglasses, holding a magazine in your hands.

“Baby.” He grumbles as he goes over and lays himself back on top of you, head sitting right on your soft tits as he lays between your legs.

Your manicured nails immediately come up to gently stroke his hair and scratch his scalp. He sinks in further and sighs in bliss, “Are you getting in the water baby?” He calmly asks with closed eyes.

“Maybe, Moonie said it was cold earlier when I got in there with her. Stupid waves almost took my top!” You whine softly, “My thingy untied and it started floating away.” You sadly pout.

Jungkook snorts softly as he stands up again, “C’mere,” he grins and wraps you up in his arms, “up you go.” He begins carrying you down to the water ignoring your squeals and cries as you try to wiggle out of his arms.

“Let me go!” You giggle out and throw your head back.

Jungkook laughs as he sets you down in the water with him, watching you hiss from the coldness as your arms come up to wrap around him. “Not even that cold you big baby.” He laughs and leans down to kiss you.

You happily stand on your tippy toes and wrap your arms around his neck, “Your baby.” You mumble softly as you kiss him back.

Jungkook hums as he slips his hands down to your ass, gripping both cheeks in his hands as he continues gently moving his lips against yours. Jungkook opens his eyes in confusion when he feels someone wrap their arms around his leg, “Moon?” He laughs.

“I love you mommy, daddy!” She smiles happily.

You smile softly at her and gently reach down to pull her into your arms, “I love you both baby.” You softly reply, smiling up at Jungkook as he pulls the both of you closer to him.

‘I love you too.’

+

The fireplace dimly lit the entire room, you had opted to keep the double doors open so that you could look out at the sea and watch the waves hit the shoreline. The night was so beautiful, everything was just so perfect.. You, Jungkook, everything.

Jungkook had you cradled in his arms, body pressed up against yours as he rocked his hips into yours at a slow gentle pace. You felt so safe and warm in his embrace, you hugged him close to you and whined softly against his lips as your cunt squeezed around his cock.

The sheets were wrapped around his waist making shuffling noises every so often. He was quietly moaning and whispering soft praises and gentle little remarks here and there. “Fuck you’re so perfect,” he whispers softly as he pulls away from the kiss to watch your face, “my perfect little baby, always so beautiful for me.” He cages you in and presses another kiss to your lips.

You softly whine at the praise and gently dig your nails into his back, “Mmm.. I love you,” you whimper out, “so, so much.”

Jungkook buries his face in your neck and pants softly, “Love you too baby, love every little thing ‘bout you.. Gave me two beautiful babies, all I could ever hope for.” He sucks some marks into your skin. Your heart skips a beat and you bite down on your lower lip.

Jungkook doesn’t stop there however, “My strong baby, did so well for us,” he says and gently cups your tummy, “I just love you so fucking much baby.” He kisses you passionately and rocks his hips a bit more forcefully, “Wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

You grow teary eyed and wrap your arms tightly around him, soft little moans slip from your lips as you hold him. “M-Me too baby,” you quiver, “wanna always be with you.” You shakily cry out.

Jungkook brings you in for another kiss and sneaks a hand down between the two of you to thumb at your clit. He rubs it in gentle circles, groaning softly when he feels your cunt tighten around his cock. He slides in a bit faster, watching as your brows furrow in pleasure and your breath hitches. “J-Jungkook,” you whimper.

“That's it baby, doing so well for me. Go ahead and cum.” He whispers as he rubs your clit faster and faster. You weakly moan and arch your back, coming undone underneath your husband. Jungkook lets you rest as he continues thrusting inside of you until he’s coming too with a low moan.

“J-Jungkook,” you softly say as you bite your lip.

“Hm?” He slowly pulls out and lays by your side, arm immediately coming to wrap around you. “Are you okay baby? I didn’t hurt you did I?” You shake your head and point over to the nightstand, “What?” Jungkook looks in confusion and reaches over, “This?” He holds up a tiny gift box.

“Yeah, ‘s for you.” You smile sleepily, “Open it.”

Jungkook sits up in bed with his back to the headboard as he slowly unties the ribbon holding the box together. He slips the top off and sees a little card, he grins softly at you and leans down to smooch your cheek, “You’re too sweet baby.”

“No, no, look what’s under it Jungkookie.” You smile. Jungkook looks in confusion and lifts the card up, eyes widening when he sees what’s inside.

“Baby..” He lifts up a pair of white baby shoes, “Are you..?” He looks over at you with wide eyes. You tearfully smile and nod, “Oh my god,” he immediately brings you in for a tight hug as he laughs, “really?” He laughs.

“Yes really!” You giggle out and kiss his cheeks, “We made another baby bun!” You cheerfully yell.

Jungkook laughs and cups your tummy, “God I love you so much..”

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook

[popquizhot-shot]

STOP I LOVE YOUR PLATONIC!MIGUEL FICS <333

would you be okay with writing smth where teen!reader makes him something?? like maybe reader loves making things out of paper (like paper flowers, butterflies, tiny stars, etc.) so they decided fo make smth for miguel?

and maybe reader is nervous he won't like it?? :(

I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS<333

Origami and Suit Malfunctions- Miguel O' Hara x teen!spider!reader

See, the thing with being a part time employee of the spider society meant that you had a lot of free time compared to other spiders. Normally anyone would go back to their own universe, but yours was sadly destroyed.

Sad. Anyways, it meant that you had a lot of free time. Free time to annoy Miguel, to conspire with Lyla, to practice your techniques..... and to hone your previously horrendous origami skills.

Like, no joke, you had absolutely no talent when it come to folding paper into intricate shapes. But hey, bored and borderline insanity works wonders for the brain.

So, slowly but surely, you taught yourself to make paper stars and flowers and boats. But you wanted to make something for Miguel. Why?

Who knows? Like I said, boredom does things to the brain.

Miguel wasn't exactly an open book and he'd probably die of a heart attack if you gave him flowers. You didn't have time to make hundreds of little paper stars so that was ruled out-

"What're you thinking about?" the older man's raspy voice reaches your ears.

"How to get your suit to malfunction." you quip back.

"Why must you torture me so?" he replies in a monotone voice as he sits on his seat, opposite you.

"I'm your employee, it's my job."

"Your job is to be a pain in the ass?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Precisely." you stick your tongue out and he rolls his eyes.

After a few seconds, you clear your throat, "Hey, uh, what's your favorite sport?

He's silent for a while and you can see his eyes gloss over, his reply is shaky, "Soccer."

You nod with a thumbs up, "Thank you Bossman Bosserson."

"You call me that again, I'll throw Lyla at you." he threatens as you go to leave the office.

"Jokes on you, I'd love that!" you shout back you walk out.

-----

Finally, he thinks, Finally this mission is over. Now he can go have a hot shower and a good meal and some of the amazing chai you make and he'll be in a somewhat good mood.

When he enters his office, he stunned at the silence.

Normally he can hear the sound of your feet tapping against the floor or your humming and the the fact that he can hear nothing is unnerving.

"Kid?" he calls out, Answer me.

He swings to the top of the platform, and you're not where you normally are. You're not sitting there, zoned out with your foot tapping incessantly like a little child. You're not where you're supposed to be.

"Miguel, your heart is racing, you okay?" Lyla asks him.

"Where's my kid?" he asks her.

"Oh baby Mig's hanging out with Hobie!" she says cheerfully.

"What?" he all but growls.

"Hey! Chill! She's fine! In fact, " the AI smirks and nods towards his desk, "She left something for you."

He turns and his heart skips a beat.

There's a little paper soccer ball on his desk.

It's tiny in his palm, but it has your initials and a post-it stuck on top.

"You said you liked soccer, so this is for you :D. I would never try to screw with your suit, don't worry ;)"

The ink smudges as a tear drops onto where you've signed the post it.

"God, this spider, I swear." he grumbles and wipes his eyes.

"This spider...what?" he jumps and turns at the sound of your voice. You're standing behind him with your hands behind your back and a sheepish smile on your face.

"This spider is my kid." he pats your cheek softly, "Thank you, this means a lot."

You nod with a smile, "You're welcome."

He narrows his eyes at you, "What have you been up to? Why are you being so nice?"

You slowly back away, "Pfft, what are you talking about? I've done nothing wrong"

A hologram pops up and Miguel watches as the T-Rex bellows at Pavitr's retreating form, and his head whips to you.

"Bye! Love you!" you shriek and jump off the platform, disappearing as he tries to follow you.

With a start he realizes what you just said.

"I hate that kid." he groans and then notices that he's grinning like an idiot.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv #atsv x reader #mini miguel<33