#I was literally shaking in the theater | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

Text

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 1

You're struggling a bit to comprehend the fact that you really did agree to this whole week-long thing with him. Luckily for you, Jungkook knows exactly how to ease you into things. But wait- why is he naked?!

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, non-sexual nudity, safeword discussion, Corruption kink, some backstory on JK, Shibari, wax play, Dom/Sub dynamics (beginner/introductory), minor sub-drop, slight angst, dry humping, cumming inside underwear, massages, mentions of primal play, mentions of pet play, very light orgasm control, hinted praise kink, JK in nothing but dark grey Calvin's for like... 90% of this, hinted big dick!JK, they both in love it's kinda cute,

Shibari: a form of artistic bondage using rope to create visually appealing patterns on the skin.

Wax play: the use of body-safe candles to drop wax onto someone's skin.

Corruption kink: gaining pleasure from corrupting a seemingly innocent person.

Length: 6k words

-> Masterlist

A/N: I'll include a short definition of the kinks in every chapter because I just know someone's gonna ask/complain that I don't explain things enough in my works haha. Also my smut writing is kinda rusty I've noticed, so I apologize for that as well...

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"So.." You say through your food, chopsticks seemingly aiming for any piece of meat that could be done next on the barbecue in front of you on the table. "..do we like, need some fifty-shades-of-grey-type contract?" You ask Jungkook, who rolls his eyes.

"Absolutely not." He shakes his head, drinking some water. "Don't tell me you saw that movie too." He asks, and you shrug.

"Saw it with Jimin and Yoongi back when it was in the theaters." You say. "Yoongi said there was a lady who literally masturbated in the front rows, but I don't believe that. Who would do that in public?" You cringe to yourself, and Jungkook watches you for a second.

He's gonna put a no on voyeurism for you then, judging from that reaction.

"I'm surprised Yoongi went." Jungkook chuckles.

"Me too. Wasn't really sure why he did." You tell Jungkook, snatching a piece of meat for yourself. "He just complained over it the entire time anyways."

"Yeah, well-" Jungkook says, reaching for the scissors to cut up some meat. "-he's in the same scene as I am, so I'm not surprised he thought the movie was dogshit too." He explains, and your eyes widen.

"Wait, Yoongi ties people up too?!" You hiss, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head, laughing to himself.

"That's the tamest thing he does." He laughs. "Yoongi actually.. showed me most of the things I know." Jungkook offers, putting the scissors back to the side to instead pick up his chopsticks again. You wonder what he means by that.

"Like.. what?" You ask him, unsure- but you can't deny the curiosity inside of you. You had a hunch about Yoongi for a while now- and in a way, you can see him being in the whole scene a lot more than Jungkook. Jungkook is your fluffy buff but cute best friend- Yoongi has this odd aura to him that feels almost like a warning that he's hiding more of himself than he shows.

"I'm a Dominant person, right?" He asks you, and you shrug. "I like to be in charge, command and take the lead during.. scenes."

"Yeah, that part-" You say, stuffing a steaming piece of meat into your mouth, almost burning your tongue, "-I know about that stuff. Like, dom and sub, top and bottom all that." You nod, and he acknowledges it too.

"Good. Then you probably also have read that the best Dom's have been sub's in the past." He simply tells you.

"… so Yoongi tied you up before?" You ask, and Jungkook lets his head fall for a second.

"You're so cute sometimes, you know that?" He shakes his head, before he continues. "No, he actually didn't. I learned that part all by myself." He explains gently. "But before I could take charge, I had to learn. Someone had to get me into this stuff somehow, right?" He shrugs.

"So you and Yoongi were a couple at some point?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"Yoongi and I had something similar to.. us, one could say." He explains across from you. "Simple exploration, nothing more than that." He tells you, before his chopsticks reach out to steal a piece of food right from between yours- and when you look up, he's staring right at you. "So now that I think of it, Yoongi and I had nothing like we do." He says.

"H..how so?" You ask, slightly intimidated.

"Because I don't just want to explore and leave you be after this week." Jungkook says. "I hope you know that I'm aiming for something entirely different here."

"For what?" You wonder, and he leans back, crossing his arms, grill in between you both sizzling loudly.

"Your trust." He shrugs. "Your love." He offers.

"What if I can't love the same as you do?" You say, a little defeated. You know Jungkook likes you- it's no secret. And you know he knows that you like him too- because it's no secret either.

"Then we'll search until we find what works." He responds.

"But-" You start, but he reaches out instead, a warm hand over yours cutting you off in midst of your sentence as he speaks to you, voice just as warm as his skin.

"I won't give up without trying first." He tells you. "And neither should you."

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"Why here?" You ask, as he adjusts the couch into a makeshift bed for the time being. You'll be staying the entire week with him, and you'd agreed to that, because you've stayed over a lot of times before. Jungkook's apartment is nothing new- it's familiar, like a second home, warm and comforting.

"Because my bedroom is too intimidating-" He starts, tucking in a bedsheet in the corners of the couch. "-and I don't want to ruin your own with memories that might be unpleasant." Jungkook offers.

"Oh." you simply say, unsure. You've not yet thought about the possibility of him doing something you.. don't like. What happens then? Will you have to leave, or will the week end before it's even begun? Will it make things awkward, and weird?

"Hey." Jungkook calls out softly, holding out a hand. You look at him confused. "The blanket?" He asks, and you remember now that you're holding one for yourself to sleep under tonight, giving it to him. He puts it in a corner for now, same with the pillows, before he pats the couch for you to join him on. "Are you scared?" He asks, and you shake your head- albeit a little unsure.

"Just.. nervous." You say. "It'll be weird."

"Maybe." He admits. "A lot of things are weird first time. Nothing wrong about that." He shrugs.

You sit down on the makeshift bed next to him, when he chuckles, and brushes your hair over your shoulder. "I'll go shower real quick, alright? You just get yourself comfortable." He tells you, and you nod, watching him as he leaves to walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

It's clear that he's taking his time in there, because even after an hour, he's not yet returned. Or maybe longer? You're not sure, because you know you've somewhat dozed off on the bed when you feel his hand on your shoulder, simple strap top giving him access to a lot of bare skin there. He smells nice, and when you reach out, his skin is warm.

Wait- skin?

The moment you open your eyes you're greeted with his bare legs- he's only really dressed in some… dark grey, very form-fitting Calvin Klein's that pretty much hide almost nothing, really. It makes you sit up suddenly, body having to take a moment for a second after the rather sudden movement, a chuckle heard from Jungkook who seems entirely unbothered by his almost-nudity. "Sorry I took a bit longer. I had to get some stuff." He explains, sitting up properly himself.

"Why- why are you naked?" You ask, unsure where to look. In his opinion, you're so.. adorably shy just from the mere sight of his bare skin that it makes his inner desire stir a little. The fact that he's gonna be the one to really help you discover some of your hidden fantasies gives him chills- the good kind, of course.

He can't wait for what you might be hiding.

"I'm technically not." He raises his brows playfully, before crossing his arms- noticing the way your eyes focus on them for a good moment. "And considering why you're here, you'll soon have to get undressed too." He shrugs.

"Oh.." You hum yet again today, looking down on your body. You didn't really think about that. Compared to his toned body, you're.. an embarrassment.

"A body is just a body." He tells you. "I know you don't like yours, but I promise you it doesn't look the same to me as it does to you." He reassures you.

"Do I have to.. like.." You mumble, and he understands.

"You don't have to do anything." He promises. "We can just forget about this whole thing-"

"No!" You deny, shaking your head immediately. You do want this. You do want him to.. love you the way he does love others. Or maybe you want to somehow make him love you in a more.. special way. You're not sure- you don't really know what exactly you want right now, but you do know that you trust him.

You trust him.

"I trust you." You say out loud, grabbing the hem of your shirt- when he reaches out.

"..can I?" He wonders, and you nod, raising your arms without thinking so he can easily pull the item of clothing over your head. It's cute, the way you already feed into his own interests and kinks, without even knowing- and is that a piercing decorating your belly button? "Good girl." He purrs, lifting your shirt over your head, before slip out of your leggings, sitting back down. His hands move around your back slowly, fingers easily finding the clasp of your bra to undo it, letting the piece of underwear fall down easily from your shoulders and into your lap. "Hey-" Jungkook says, and you look up at him. "-you're fine." He smiles, and you nod.

You're fine.

"You can keep on the rest." He says, referring to your panties. At least you chose some cute ones, you think to yourself a bit relieved, as you nod. "I know you said you can't imagine it-" He starts, grabbing some pale pink and rather… delicate looking rope from the side. "But I'd like to try it, still." He asks, and you nod. "I won't restrain you this time. I'll only show you what it feels like, so you can decide for yourself if you enjoy the sensation or not." He says, and again, you only quietly nod. "But before that.. we have to address this first." He chuckles, looking at you. "I need.. verbal responses from you. Not just somewhat of an answer."

"Like.. do I need to call you sir, or something?" You ask, and he smirks.

"If you want to, you can." He smiles. "But you don't have to. A simple yes or no works just fine for me. And-" He adds on, undoing the neatly folded nylon rope in his hands as he speaks. "-We need a safeword."

"A safeword?" You repeat, and he nods.

"Something other than stop or no that you say to end a scene and get you out of whatever position you might be in." He explains. "Preferably something odd, that you wouldn't normally say during sex, so it won't be used by accident."

"So like.. Tiger?" You ask, not really thinking about it, and he nods.

"Tiger it is." He agrees, tapping your folded knees. "Turn around for me, yeah?"

"Yes." You say, moving to sit in front of him, making him chuckle.

"Cute." He comments under his breath, before he positions the rope right under your chest. "Tell me.. what do you usually do?" He wonders, and you don't answer for a moment.

"Like.. when I do it myself?" You ask, and he hums an agreeing reply.

"Yes. I'd like to know." He tells you. "So I'll have somewhat of an.. idea what is safe and comfortable for you." He explains his reasons, while he moves and adjusts the pale pink rope around your torso. You've almost instinctively moves your hands to hold onto your neck so your arms are out of the way, and he can't help but grin about that.

So much to 'I can't see myself enjoying that'.

"Uhm.. I don't know-" You begin, unsure how to really talk about that. "I have like.. toys, n' stuff, and I usually do it in the bathroom cause I get the bed dirty otherwise.." You explain.

"Toys?" He asks, pulling the rope snug in some places- and while it's tight, it doesn't bother you at all, surprisingly. You understand when he said that some people feel some sense of security from it- it feels actually quite nice, even the knots you can feel dig a bit harsher into your skin.

"Yeah like.." You take a deep breath, somewhat to test if that's still a possibility- and you can, while his fingers seem to adjust some knots in the back. "..a normal… dildo." You cringe at saying it out loud, moving on quickly. "And a vibrating.. thing. I don't use anything else." You admit, and he chuckles, as he taps your butt.

"Sit up for a second." He commands, and you do so, letting him guide the two ends of the rope in between your legs before he helps you sit down again. "So other than that, I guess you just use your hand, am I right?" He assumes, and you nod.

"Yes." You add on quickly, squirming a bit at the sensation of the rope between your legs. You have to control yourself. It's clear that he said he doesn't want sex- yet.

"You're free to get.. turned on, by the way." He tells you, teasingly pulling on the ends that run through your legs as if to underline his statement. "After all, this is about you."

"But-" You complain weakly, trying not to move to much. "-What about you?" You ask, and he shrugs, something you cannot see.

"I'm getting my satisfaction, don't worry." He explains. You're not sure how that would work- but you don't question it either. Say.." He starts, tapping your elbows. "How do you feel, right now?"

"Good." You nod to yourself. "It's.. surprisingly comfortable. It feels nice." You say.

"It looks nice, too." he offers, hands moving over your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. "Very pretty." He praises, and you decide you don't care if he's just speaking about his work- you take this praise for yourself, using it to fuel your own emotional state in this moment. He runs his hands over your arms that are now comfortably down, hands holding yours for a second. "Let yourself go." He chuckles. "You're still tense."

"I can't help it.." You complain weakly, unsure what to do. It does feel nice, you want to move- but in a way, it's not quite right yet.

"Then maybe I can help.." He offers, hands testing the waters it seems like as they run over your thighs, just touching, nothing else. "Would you want that?" He asks, and you nod, eyes closed. "Words, darling." He demands, face close to yours while his fingers suddenly dig into your skin, gentle punishment for not following what he'd told you to do at the beginning.

"Yes.!" You almost gasp out, when one of his hands moves to grab onto the back of the artistically tied harness, pulling you, arching your back for you as he forces you to rest your upper body against his arm. You can practically feel the way your underwear soaks up your arousal, rope suddenly moving a lot more easily with the help of it between your legs.

"Show me how your hips can move." He hums into your ear, and what should feel weird comes naturally. Like in a trance you follow his words, let yourself fall because he's basically seeing all of you right now anyways- and he's seen much more before, so how bad can it really be? You trust him.

You trust him.

You can hear his breathing right next to your ear, and your hand starts to wander- before it stops. "Can-" You begin, swallowing down before you can continue. "can I touch you?" You ask, unsure if the same rules that apply to you apply to him as well. It's only fair if they do, right? It's only fair to ask him for permission, right?

"Yes." He answers, and with that, your hand blindly searches- finds his knee, moves up his thigh, warm skin underneath your rather cold fingertips earning a change in the pace at which he's breathing in. You hold onto his leg for a moment, feel the muscles move underneath the skin for a good while, as you become more and more desperate for a release of any sorts. You want to touch him too, but you don't know how- so you just leave your hand where it is, not moving any further.

His head, meanwhile, leans down into the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses there, while the hand that's not holding onto your harness moves over your chest, grabs onto the soft flesh with almost rough motions. You can only imagine the sight of his inked hand holding strongly onto your skin, thumb running over your nipple as your breathing hitches, legs moving in any way you can imagine to adjust your position.

But it's not enough.

Only when his hand sneaks between your underwear, the rope and your skin do you finally make any progress, breathing heavier as his fingers seem to play around with you just the way you like it. And it doesn't take long for you to come undone, back arching more, eyes clenching shut as he helps you ride it out for as long as you can.

You notice after a moment or two how he has already begun to untie you- and in a way, you're confused.

"What're you doing?" You slur a bit exhausted, surprised yourself how much energy this seemed to have taken out of you.

"Untying you." He chuckles, continuing to undo all the knots while he holds you close to him.

"Yeah but.." You mumble, moving a bit so he can reach your back better. "What about you?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"This isn't about me." He declines. "And I've had my fun, don't worry about me." He reassures, gently pulling out the rope from between your legs, making you cringe as you feel how wet you are down there. "There we go." He softly hums, running his palms over the red skin where the rope has left it's mark here and there. It doesn't hurt- though you do have to admit that your back and neck are kind of sore now. "How do you feel?" He asks, and you shrug- hissing when it stings.

"I think I pulled something, dunno.." You say, sitting up as he rolls up the rope again, setting it aside, before he helps you sit properly for a moment. "I'll go wash up.. sorry for the uhm.. sheets.." You mumble as you see the damp spot where you've sat on.

"No problem." He shakes his head, getting up as well to help you up. It's only when you enter the bathroom and Jungkook is still behind you that you suddenly question what's going to happen next. "What?" He chuckles, amused.

"Uh.. I need to.." You struggle, unsure how to tell him what you want to say. "I wanna shower?" You question almost, and he laughs.

"I know." He confirms. "And I wanna make sure you're fine." He tells you, and you look at him confused. "You might feel fine right now- but once that adrenaline goes down-" He tells you, a finger gently tapping your collarbone. "-you might not be."

But you cross your arms, stubborn as you are. "I'm fine." You tell him, and he smirks suspiciously, looking at you with his arms now crossed as well. "You said a no means no and I'm saying no right now." You huff, and he reacts at that-

though not in the way you thought he would.

Because he simply nods, uncrosses his arms, and sets some towels out for you to use. "Don't worry about running around naked, I'm not bothered." He simply snickers, before he leaves you alone, a moment of silence soon interrupted by him moving around in the living room, presumably changing the sheet over the couch. You slowly take off your pretty soiled panties, putting them in the hamper to wash before you get into the shower to clean up.

And much to your own dismay, Jungkook seems to be right, because suddenly, as the water runs over your skin and you're almost done cleaning up, you're not fine anymore.

Dark, rather upsetting thoughts suddenly grow inside your head, making you feel not shame- but something almost like regret. You should have insisted to do something for him, right? Maybe he wanted to shower with you because he felt like you were abandoning him.. just because he is a guy, doesn't mean that he's without any feelings. Did you upset him? He probably won't tell you even if he did.

A knock on the bathroom door is heard, and you're busy trying to pull yourself together, when Jungkook's still bare arm reaches out to turn off the shower, before he wraps a towel around you. Quietly he dries your hair with a towel before he leads you to your makeshift bed, now with new sheets, where you sit in silence until he returns with brush and hairdryer. Everything goes by in a blur, until you feel Jungkook's hands on your shoulders, his legs next to yours as he holds you close to himself.

You're waiting for the 'I told you so'.

But he doesn't say it.

Instead, he simply silently sleeps on the couch with you, letting you cling onto him throughout the small nap you take in the middle of the day as much as you want.

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A few hours later, when you wake up, things are.. weird. Just like you feared.

Jungkook is still sleeping heavily, right behind you with you laying on one of his outstretched arms, biceps serving as a surprisingly comfortable headrest. He smells nice, his body is warm, and he looks relaxed as he still slumbers away.

And yet, you feel odd.

He just quietly took care of you after.. what you did a few hours ago, but you don't understand why you actually felt that way. You know that it was irrational of you- nothing had happened, everything was fine, you made a decision that you felt most comfortable in. So why were you so distraught over it later?

Well, he told you that you might end up like that. You just didn't listen.

He slowly stirs behind you, waking up as he watches you already sitting on the couch, wide awake. He's careful but not overly cautious as he slowly gets up as well, simply observing for a minute or two before he decides to speak up.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, and you shrug. You're not sure. You don't know it yourself.

"I don't know." You answer because of that, because you can't give him anything than that.

"Hm, I can imagine." He hums simply, running a hand through his chaotic bedhair. "I knew you'd drop, but I also knew.. you had to experience it yourself." He shrugs, watching you with still sleepy eyes.

"Drop?" You wonder, and he nods leaning back on his hands.

"Think of it as.." he thinks for a good example, "when people go to concerts. And they end up crying afterwards. It's the same principle, at its core." He says, and only now, as you turn to face him, do you realize you're only wearing panties- just like he's only wearing his boxers, making you snatch up the blanket to cover yourself. You earn nothing but a chuckle from him. "What we did together gave you a rush. And without any aftercare, people crash down from it." He explains softly.

"So that's why.. you wanted to shower with me?" You ask. "Aftercare?" You wonder, and he nods.

"Its important. For everyone involved, not just the.. one receiving it." He offers.

"Were you.. upset?" You ask, and he shrugs his shoulders.

"A little." He honestly replies, and you're thankful for that. It only adds to your reasons to trust him.

"I'm sorry." You say, pulling the blanket a bit closer. "I didn't know."

"Now you do." He simply chuckles, a hand on your back as he gets up, and walks into the bathroom, getting some things you assume before he emerges again. He's still almost naked as he walks back to you, smiling in a friendly manner as he sets down a towel, and tells you to lay down on your stomach on it. You do as told- determined not to push him away this time.

He notices that change in your behavior almost immediately- and he can't help but feel excited about it.

You're swaying your legs a little as you watch him light a candle close by, setting it on a table for now before he leans back and watches you it seems like. You realize it's one of those he'd received in that package earlier today- and you're curious. "What're you doing with that?" You ask, chin on your arms.

"I'll.. let some of the wax drop onto your skin." He says, chuckles when you tense up. "Dont worry. They're body safe, very low melting point. I'm only using things I believe you can handle." He offers, when you feel something drop onto your back- right between your shoulder blades.

True. It's hot- but not unpleasantly so. Maybe like the warmth of a cup of tea maybe.

"After all…" he hums, one more drop under the last falling down. "…You're not only getting to know me.." he continues, voice almost.. sensual as he speaks, another two drops falling in quick sucession of one another onto your skin, straight on your spine. "…but I'm getting to know you, too." He tells you with amusement, free hand softly running over your back. "Your body is talking to me a lot more openly than you do, darling.." he purrs teasingly, and only now do you notice how dark it is in his apartment. How long did you two sleep? It must be almost nighttime by now- led lights and flame from the candle illuminating the room enough to see comfortably, while he runs his fingers over your skin, another set of drops falling down the length of your spine.

It's almost agonizing how slow this all is. Frustrating, even. But you try and stay composed, maybe that'll earn you praise?

It's only when he sets the candle aside, and starts to dig the heels of his palms into your muscles that you sigh out in pleasure, feeling how your sore neck and back relax. Of course he'd know everything about massages. Sometimes, you're convinced he knows everything.

It feels childish to think like that, but sometimes, you've caught yourself looking at Jungkook as if he's the answer to all your problems. As if he can just pick you up and whisk you off your feet, hold you close and fight all monsters like a knight in shining armor ripped straight out of cheesy romance novels. He makes you feel like that, at least. And maybe it's time to let him prove if he can be prince charming.

"There we go." He praises suddenly, hands still moving as he sits behind you, legs pulled over his thighs while he continues to push out the knots in your neck and shoulders. "Let yourself go." He mumbles to you, as if he's hypnotizing you. If he does, it's working, weirdly enough. "I'll take over from here, hm?" He asks, no, states, and you simply sigh, closing your eyes.

"Yes." Is your answer, and you can't see the way his lips twitch.

His arms push your legs closer to him, manhandles you gently to have your core right over what you assume must be his own length, barely contained in his underwear. You wonder what he looks like. You've been told you can't take much- how will he make it work? He feels strong, big- maybe too much to handle. But you want to learn, maybe there's a way. You want to take him, even if it hurts. You've never felt like that before- it had never been something.. attractive to you. But you want him to make you take it. You trust that he will, now that you think about it.

You don't even question if he will. You know he will- the anticipation lays in how.

Are you already realizing it? What you could have with him? Probably- maybe. Or maybe it's just the way his bulge feels pressed against your core that's making you dizzy in the head. Yeah. That could be it, too. The way it's hot and hard, giving you nothing but a teaser of what he's got hidden away from you. How cruel he is. You want to see him.

"So needy.." he hums, chuckles, as his hands move with the help of the oil from the candle, fingers sliding easily down your back, to find their way around your waist to hold you. "Poor thing.." he mumbles towards you, grabs a bit more harshly at your flesh as if to test, and you want to whine-

But you swallow it down, making Jungkook tilt his head a bit with a smirk.

Not quite there yet, he thinks to himself. But I've got six more days to go to make you mine.

"Tell me what you're thinking." He asks- demands, because there's no question about this sentence you notice. It makes your spine tingle, a sudden urge to please and voice out your thoughts boiling up in your throat, as you let out a breath first and foremost, and he can't help but be affected by it, length in his underwear twitching impatiently at the sight of you so lost in pleasure. Oh the things he'd love to do to you make him greedy almost, mind coming up with scenario after scenario he'd love to see you in.

How long could he edge you until you'd cry and beg for him to let you have your release? Or how often could he make you cum until your body would give up?

How far would you go to please him?

Would you let him hunt you down like nothing but prey, just to feast on you, sex all bite and scratch and nothing but primal urges needing to be satiated? Or maybe you'd rather play his pretty little pet, loyal at his feet, patiently awaiting his command?

There's so many ways he can think of to corrupt you.

And he wants to try them all.

"You-" you answer his earlier question, hiding your face in your arms as you move your hips, grinding over his crotch on the hunt for your release. He'll be easy on you today, won't tell you no, will let you have it if you so desire. "I'm.. thinking-" you stutter a bit muffled into your arms, "-of you..!" you press out, and he can't help his smile from forming as he leans back his body, pulls you a little more roughly over his groin, unable to hide his growl as you become more and more shameless, moving erratically to gain any form of friction from him.

"Good." he sighs out as an answer to you, hands grabbing at your bottom, the urge to hit the soft flesh at least once agonizing- but he controls himself, holds back, just as to not overwhelm you too much at once. Instead, he presses you down, helps the movements of your lower body, earns a whimper as payment for it, and he can't help but be affected by it as well. "The only thing you're allowed to think of is me, understood?" he tests out, and much to his delight, you nod.

"yes-!" it feels like you almost want to say something else- and he wonders what your choice would've been, but he doesn't pry. He's got enough time to find out about it soon, after all- and he can be surprisingly patient, especially when it comes to things he's passionate about.

And god, is he passionate about you.

Suddenly, he wants to know. Wants to test you, despite his earlier choice of wanting to take is soft and slow- as his hands reach out, arms hooking underneath your thighs, suddenly lifting you up, leaving you with nothing before he turns you around onto your back, hands on your hips pressing down, preventing any movement. "Please-!" you beg, and he watches in interest how you struggle against him.

"Please, what?" he asks, acting nonchalant. "What do you want?" he wonders as if he doesn't know, and you look at him like you're searching for something, or maybe you're just collecting courage. For what, he doesn't know- yet.

"Please- let me.. cum.." you try, but it's not quite right for him. You also don't seem uncomfortable with the situation- you seem more like you're holding back, like you're unsure, hesitant.

"Hm, that won't do."he shakes his head, leaning further away, though his hold on you still keeps you still. "Try again." he tells you, and you close your eyes, like you're bracing yourself.

"Please let me cum!" You repeat, though this time with a lot more confidence, and he grins at that, one of his hands taking the front of your panties into it, before he pulls it up, fabric slipping between your lower lips, already drenched in your arousal.

"Go ahead then." he tells you. "Give me a good show, yeah?" he almost sings, and you immediately move, frantically so, hips rolling in desperation as he watches, muscles in your thighs stuttering especially when he helps you assist, pushing you towards your orgasm a lot faster than you anticipated.

It leaves you gasping for air, hips stuttering as you try and catch your breath, core clenching around nothing for a good while. The moment you open your eyes you're greeted with the sight of someone more akin to a demon, a predator, Eden's sin recreated as a human person- the sweat on his skin making him look as if he's glowing, eyes sharp and pupils blown wide, one hand carefully running over your thigh while he other is on his-

oh.

Oh..

There's a clear and surprisingly big stain on his dark grey Calvin Klein's, and you turn red as you realize what that must be. It gives you an odd boost of confidence, knowing that the sigh of you had done that to him- had helped him get to this point, even if just a little. It still counts, you still take it- as he smiles, and leans down to gently kiss your cheek.

"Good girl." he praises quietly, and this time you don't mask your whimper of pleasure, this one of different nature as you bathe in the praise clearly directed at you, you, and only you.

You feel drunk.

But this time, you happily let him move you around, pick you up and carry you into the bathroom, where he helps you step out of your underwear, your state leaving no room to feel shy about your nudity in front of him it seems like. He's used to it- it's nothing new to witness, but considering it's you in this state, he's even more gentle than he would usually be in a situation like this. how can he be with anyone else after you?

He doesn't know. And for now, he won't think of that.

All he knows is that underneath the shower, and later on on the couch where you'll sleep for the entirety of the week, he's got you.

And he'll do his best to keep you at his side forever.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #dom jungkook #dom!jungkook #bts jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic

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tortillamastersblog · 12 days ago

Text

Back To You - Epilogue | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Sam is back for good and Ghostface is gone. Now the two of you just have to deal with the aftermath of what happened. . .

Previous Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

A fleeting touch on my hand makes my eyes flutter open. It’s bright and even though it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the light, I know from the smell of hand sanitizer and the sound of a heartbeat monitor next to my head that I’m in the hospital.

“Hey. . .” A soft voice to my right makes me want to turn my head, but unlike back at the theater I can’t even do that anymore.

My chest tightens at the thought over never being able to move again, but then Sam’s face appears above me, a soft look on her face despite the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hi,” I say, my voice barely even a whisper.

She’s here. She’s actually here.

Six years ago I was in this exact same situation, but back then I was alone.

I was alone and my parents had just died, but now no one else is dead and she’s here.

“H-How are you feeling?” she asks, touching my cheek and taking a seat on the bed next to me.

I’m not in any pain, but I can’t move and I feel like I could sleep a thousand years.

“I dunno,” I answer honestly despite the tears suddenly welling up in my eyes. “I’m— I don’t. . . I can’t move. My head. . .”

“Your head? What about your head?” She furrows her eyebrows and brushes a strand of hair off my forehead.

“I can’t move my head,” I say, my voice breaking. A tear escapes my eye and rolls down my cheek, but Sam is quick to wipe it away with the pad of her thumb.

“Well, yeah,” she say. “You’re wearing a neck brace.”

I blink and swallow, only now realizing she’s right. I am wearing a neck brace. I can feel it pressing against the underside of my chin and into my shoulders.

“I—“ don’t know what to say. But luckily I don’t have to say anything because Sam shifts closer, bumping against my hip before bending down and brushing her lips against my forehead in a fleeting kiss.

“You. . . broke your back, but the doctor said the surgery went well and if everything goes as planned, you should make a full recovery,” she says with a watery smile.

“What?”

“You’ll be okay.” She takes my hand and laces our fingers together and I can’t stop a sob from escaping me when I realize I can feel it.

It dawns on me that I already felt her touching my hand when I woke up and that I felt it when she bumped against my hip.

I can feel it all, which means I can probably also move.

I hold my breath and focus on our intertwined hands before closing my fingers around hers. It works, and even though I have to concentrate a lot to do it, it works. I can also wiggle my toes ever so slightly which makes me close my eyes as unimaginable relief washes over me.

“The doctors say you have a long recovery ahead of you, but you’ve done it before and I’ll be by your side every single step of the way. . . Literally,” she says and I can’t help but smile and open my eyes again despite the tears now freely streaming down my face.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Sam shakes her head and rests her forehead against mine. “Don’t thank me you idiot. It’s the least I can do.”

I scoff playfully. “Who are you calling an idiot? I saved your life.”

“You’re right,” she smiles and I manage to brush a tear off her cheek, “I’m sorry, My Love.”

I smile, too, and trace the edge of her jaw with my finger, making her shudder. “Mmm-hmm that’s better.”

When she dips her head and kisses me carefully, I’m not at all surprised, and I kiss her back with my heart fluttering in my chest, but then she pulls back with a weird look on her face.

Her lips are pressed into a thin line and there’s a familiar crinkle between her eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Is it Liam? Or Gale?”

She shakes her head and exhales shakily, her breath hitting my cheek. “No, no. They’re both fine. They’re both out of surgery. Anika and Kirby are okay, too.”

I raise an eyebrow and wait for her to go on.

“It’s— Your back. . . The doctors said—“

The door flies open, making me look up as Sam whirls around.

“You’re awake!” Tara exclaims, and the sight of her in the doorway makes me smile.

“Hey, Sprout.”

Her face breaks into a smile and she rushes to my side, grabbing my left hand while Sam slides off the bed and takes a seat on the chair next to the bed without letting go of my right hand.

By the strained smile on her face I can tell that she’s upset that we were interrupted, but she doesn’t seem ready to say what she was going to say with Tara in the room, so she stays quiet while Tara asks me how I’m feeling.

“I’m okay,” I reassure her.

“You sure?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not in pain?”

I chuckle softly and squeeze her jittery hand. “I’m sure. I’m on some pretty hardcore drugs.”

That makes her smile turn into a grin and out of the corner of my eye I can even see Sam’s lips twitch ever so slightly.

“Yeah, I bet. Man, I was so high last year when they gave me painkillers. . . Are you high? Oh you’re probably so high right now, I’m jealous,” she rambles, making me roll my eyes.

“I’m not high,” I argue playfully, “I’m just tired. I think the kind of drugs you got were different than what I’m getting right now.”

“Ah, that’s a bummer.” She pouts but shrugs and it all happens so fast, Sam shoots her an incredulous look.

“Tara, what the—?”

“I’ve had like five coffees since we got here,” Tara cuts her off and I suppress a laugh when Sam’s eyes widen.

“Five?” she shrieks and Tara just shrugs again, her eyes darting back and forth between me and her sister.

Well, I guess that explains why she’s so hyper active.

“Where did you even get all that coffee?” Sam asks and I can’t help but smile at the way she sounds like a parent scolding their child. “The hospital’s cafeteria is closed.”

My eyes dart to the clock on the wall.

It’s seven in the morning.

Less than twelve hours ago we were at the theater. . .

I shudder at the memory and force it to the back of my mind and focus back on Tara who takes a seat on the edge of my bed, swinging one of her legs back and forth. She’s still dressed in her clothes from yesterday, but she seems to have cleaned herself up somewhat since getting here because her hair is pulled into a ponytail that matches Sam’s and there’s no more smudged mascara under her eyes.

“There’s a vending machine in the hallway,” she explains, her hand squeezing mine absentmindedly. “And Paige and Jackson brought coffees for everyone when they got here.”

Wait, what? Jackson’s here?

I knew that Paige was coming, but I didn’t know he was coming, too. How did he even get here? Did he drive? No, probably not. I’m sure after he found out what happened he managed to convince Paige to pick him up in Boston on her way here.

Sam scowls, unimpressed by Tara’s caffeine intake, but before she can scold her for it, the door cracks open.

Ah, speak of the devil. . .

Paige and Jackson peek into the room and when they see that I’m awake, they step into the room completely.

“You’re awake,” Jackson notes with a small smile, his eyes flickering to Sam’s hand in mine before adding, “And I see that the girlfriend finally knows that she is the girlfriend,” he teases which makes me blush furiously.

“Shut up,” I hiss, ignoring the way Sam is looking back and forth between us with raised eyebrows and pink cheeks.

Jackson just laughs and high fives Tara before dragging an empty chair to the side of my bed and plopping down on it.

“Yeah, shut up, Jack,” Paige says playfully, coming to my defense with a knowing look before turning serious and taking a seat on the end of my bed.

Boy, this room is really getting crowded.

“You know, I’m getting sick of visiting you in the hospital all the time,” she says with a frown.

I cringe and tighten my hold on Sam’s hand. “I know. . .”

“Do you though?” she asks with a pained expression. She places a hand on my leg and squeezes it through the thin blanket. “You keep on almost dying, and it’s stressing me the fuck out. I swear, I’m aging prematurely because of you.“

I want to laugh at that, but I know she’s being serious, so I don’t. “I’m sorry,” I say honestly. I want to sit up and give her a hug, but I’m still too weak to do that and the neck brace would just be getting in the way. “I promise, I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Paige smiles sadly and gives my leg another squeeze. “I know, but it still sucks every time I get a call that you’ve been hurt again, and now Liam, he—“

“How is he?” I cut her off quietly.

Silence settles around us for a moment, and Paige averts her eyes when she finally says, “He’s awake, and in good spirits, but he lost two fingers fighting off Ghostface and he has a pretty big scar on his face. Almost lost an eye, too.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and nod absentmindedly, taking all the information in.

He lost two fingers and he’s going to be traumatized for the rest of his life. . .

How brutal was that attack? And how did Quinn even know about him? How did she find him?

It must have been she who did it because Bailey and Ethan were accounted for when the attack happened.

“It was Quinn, right? Bailey’s daughter?” I ask and to my surprise, Tara’s the one who says yes.

“The police went through her phone and found messages she sent to Bailey on the night of the first attack,” she explains, her leg still swinging back and forth. “She said she’d overheard you talking to someone named Liam while Sam was on the phone with Bailey and that it would be a good idea for Bailey to find out who he is and target him.“

“B-But, why?”

This time, Paige answers.

“They wanted to hurt someone close to you so you would be too preoccupied to help Sam and Tara,” she explains and the thought that Liam was used as a pawn in their twisted game makes me feel sick.

I chuckle mirthlessly and close my eyes momentarily. “Jokes on them, that didn’t work. I still helped Sam and Tara.”

Everyone hums in agreement, and a tense silence settles around the room until Jackson straightens up in his chair with a smile playing on his lips.

“Liam might have lost two of his fingers, but do you know what he said when we went into his room and saw him for the first time?”

I want to shake my head, but because of the neck brace I can’t, so I say, “No, what did he say?”

Paige and Jackson share an amused look before Jackson answers.

“He said, at least I can still do this.” He raises his hand and flips me off with a grin and I can’t help but smile and scoff playfully.

“Of course he did.”

Everyone laughs, and the mood lightens a little.

Who else but Liam would joke about almost being murdered, right after almost being murdered?

I glance at Sam to find her already looking at me with a fond look in her eyes and smile shyly.

She’s here, and she’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

Bailey is dead, and so are Quinn and Ethan.

They’re revenge plan didn’t work out after all, and I’m sure the media has already covered everything that happened last night, finally clearing Sam’s name once and for all and sending an indirect message to everyone out there who thinks they can fuck with us—no matter what anyone tries, we’ll always come out on top.

I have yet to see Mindy, Anika, Chad, Gale and Liam, but I know they’re fine and that’s all I need to know right now.

“Sammy?” I ask tentatively, touching her hand.

She’s once again sitting on the bed next to me, but this time her head is resting on my shoulder and it seems like she’s fallen asleep because for the last ten minuet she hasn’t moved or said anything.

I can’t imagine the position she’s in is very comfortable because her legs are dangling off the side of the bed, but she hasn’t complained about it yet, so it must not be as uncomfortable as it looks.

Tara, Paige and Jackson left a while ago to go out and find some breakfast, leaving us alone once again.

It’s peaceful and quiet, but I still want to know what she wanted to say right before Tara came in.

“Yeah?” she whispers, confirming that she has not yet fallen asleep.

I intertwine out fingers and run my thumb over the back of her hand. “What were you going to say before Tara came in?”

“Oh. . . Uh.” She sits up slowly and looks at me with sad eyes, her free hand coming up to rest on my chest. “The doctors— They—They said. . .”

I squeeze her hand. “They said. . .?”

She sighs and averts her eyes for a second. “They said after this surgery, your spine is pretty fragile. Yes, they put in screws and rods and stuff, but another bad hit could paralyze you permanently,” she whispers and I instantly know what she’s trying to say without actually saying it.

No more hockey. . .

I bite the inside of my cheek before tugging on her fingers to get her to look at me again.

“It’s okay,” I say quietly.

“What— No, it’s not. Hockey is your whole life and you worked so hard to get to where you are right now and—“

“It doesn’t matter,” I cut her off gently. I let go of her hand and trace a finger over her eyebrow and down the side of her face. She leans into the touch, and her eyes soften, but it looks like she’s about to protest again, so I go on. “I knew I wouldn’t be playing hockey forever. That’s why I got a masters degree. It’s okay, really. I’m alive, and I’m not paralyzed. That’s all that matters.”

Her eyes search mine for any doubts, and when she doesn’t find any, she gives in with a small nod and a sad smile. “Okay. . .”

“Besides,” I say lightheartedly, “I kind of already have a new job, if Liam is to be believed.”

“What?” Amusement and disbelief flashes across her face and I can’t help but laugh and tap her on the nose.

“When I called to warn him about Ghostface he said something about his boss wanting to hire me and how he already gave him my resume,” I explain which makes her laugh as well and rest her head back on my shoulder.

“Unbelievable,” she mumbles when our laughter dies down.

I hum in agreement and start running my thumb over the back of her hand again.

After a while, I’m pretty sure she’s finally fallen asleep so I close my eyes as well, intending on getting some rest as well, but then she speaks up quietly.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

I open my eyes and lift our intertwined hands up so I can press a kiss to her knuckles.

“I love you, too,” I whisper, getting lost in her dark eyes when she looks up at me through her lashes.

“What if— what if he comes for us again?” she whispers. “Ghostface, I mean. . .”

I grit my teeth and level her with a determined look. “We fuck him up,” I say and after a moment Sam nods, determination shining in her own eyes.

“We fuck him up. . .” she repeats quietly before letting her head drop back down on my shoulder.

_______________________________________________

And that’s a wrap, everyone!

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

All your comments meant/mean the world to me and kept/keep me motivated.

Hope you all have a wonderful week!

Love,

Soph ❤️

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

#x reader #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 2 months ago

Text

Suck my candy cane

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 7

Prompt: Candy cane

Rated: T

Tags: Horny disaster Eddie Munson; Mall elf Steve; Steve in tights; Confident Steve; Gareth is a little shit; Flirting; Sexual innuendo

“Okay, I can't take this anymore,” Gareth blurts, rudely interrupting Eddie’s build-up to their next epic battle. “If I have to fight another goblin horde to the soundtrack of that Last Christmas song, I'm gonna smash something for real.”

Jeff and Frank nod in agreement.

Eddie scoffs, slurping at his lukewarm, half-empty milkshake. The visitors of the food court give him disgusted looks.

“Gentlemen, we've been over this. We can't use the drama room while the theater nerds are practicing their play. We won't all fit into mine or Gareth's bedroom, Frank's mom is having his aunts and cousins over for the holidays, and Jeff's parents won't allow our godless heathen game anywhere near their home. So, unfortunately, we must make do.”

“Yeah,” Jeff says. “But the mall? Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with the mall?” Eddie asks, throwing out his hands and almost hitting a plastic Christmas tree.

“It's loud,” says Gareth.

“It's crowded,” says Jeff.

“It's the very embodiment of everything despicable about capitalist America, especially around a commercialized holiday such as this,” says Frank. “Your own words.”

Eddie glares at them.

"Okay, noted,” he says, “But we can't be picky. Think of it as an exercise in holiday spirit. Did not the virgin Mary herself birth our lord and savior in a humble stable?”

“Yeah, because she literally had nowhere to go,” Gareth snaps. “Not because she was ogling Steve Harrington in tights.”

Eddie almost chokes on his shake.

“I have no idea what-”

Jeff cuts him off. “It's okay, just admit it. Spare us the embarrassment.”

Eddie sighs, eyes flitting over to Santa's workshop, where the subject of their discussion is handing out candy canes to excited children. He's wearing the same silly elf costume as all of the other unfortunate souls selling their workforce and their dignity for minimum wages around the mall, complete with the hat, pointed shoes and cheap, green shorts. They ride up as he bends down to talk to the kids, revealing more of his perfectly shaped thighs. Thighs clad in long, skin-tight stockings, red and white like the candy canes in his hand. Eddie wants to lick them. The thighs, not the candy canes. Which is probably weird of him, but he never claimed to be normal.

“Was I that obvious?”

Frank gives him a deadpan stare. “Jeff cheated on several of his rolls and you didn't notice because you were so busy staring- ow, what the fuck?”

Jeff lowers the fist he just punched him with. “Oh, as if you didn't!”

Eddie gasps.

“Betrayal! Seems like we are the only ones left with any respect for the game, Gare- … Where's Gareth?”

Gareth's chair is empty. Jeff and Frank swivel their heads in the direction of Santa's workshop. The very workshop that Gareth is just approaching with brisk steps.

Eddie feels the color drain from his face.

“No,” he croaks. “What is he doing? He isn't- … Gareth, come back!”

Gareth doesn't come back. Instead, he taps Steve on the shoulder, who flinches and turns. Now Eddie can't see his face anymore - just Gareth's obnoxious grin as he starts talking at him. For a few seconds, during which Eddie desperately wishes for super hearing, they stay like this. Then, Gareth lifts a hand and points straight at their table.

Eddie dives for cover under the nearest tree. Fake cardboard presents scatter in his wake.

“Let's get outta here,” Frank mutters, standing and gesturing for Jeff to follow. Eddie gawks after their retreating backs.

“Where are you going? Come back, you cowards, I'm gonna kill you!”

“Pretty sure that's not a good idea, dude,” someone behind him says. “Sounds like it would land you on the Naughty list.”

Eddie dies. Resurrects again. Possibly dies again in the seconds it takes him to turn around. When he finally does, he finds himself face to face with a pair of legs. Absurdly shapely legs clad in red and white striped tights. They're somehow even more perfect up close.

“I'm up here, y’know?”

Eddie forces himself to drag his eyes all the way up, past the damn shorts (Jesus fucking Christ, Munson, whatever you do, don't get stuck staring at his crotch), and to Steve’s face. He's smiling. There's Christmas lights twinkling behind him.

“Hi,” Steve says. “Eddie, right?”

Eddie makes a noise that sounds like “uuoomph”. When he pulls his hair in front of his mouth, he realizes that there's tinsel tangled in his curls.

Steve laughs. For a second, Eddie thinks that the guy's laugh sounds like literal fucking bells, but then he notices the tiny actual bells sewn into his hat and sleeves.

“Here,” he says, holding something out in front of Eddie’s face, who goes slightly cross-eyed. “Your friend said you wanted to … suck my candy cane.”

He holds Eddie’s dumbstruck gaze and winks, slow and deliberate. Gareth is a dead man.

“Uh, thanks I guess,” Eddie mutters, but when he reaches out to take the candy cane, Steve withdraws his hand.

“Unfortunately, those are only for good boys.”

“I am,” Eddie blurts. “I'm so fucking good, man, I promise. Definitely not planning on killing any of my friends or anything. I'm a prime example of good behavior.”

Steve regards his flushed, desperate face and frowns. “I dunno. I'd love to just take your word for it, but I'm under very strict instructions to make sure.”

He tilts his head, like he's pondering their dilemma. Then, just as Eddie is about to snap, he lightens up.

“Here's an idea,” he says, reaching out to pick the tinsel out of Eddie’s hair. His voice tickles the shell of Eddie’s ear. “I'm off in thirty minutes. Why don't you meet me in the parking lot and let me see for myself exactly what a good boy you are?”

Eddie has a feeling that, if he plays his cards right, he may get to suck something way sweeter than candy today.

More holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

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fclsebnnyodair · 10 days ago

Text

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . loser stiles and his out-of-his-league pretty girlfriend.

pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader.

summary: when stiles finally asks you to be his girlfriend and you say yes, he can’t believe it —and he’s not the only one. you two come in very different fonts. but, you’re so quick to prove him and his self-deprecation that you like him, fully and shamelessly.

warnings: used of y/n… im sorry. a little fluff? reader being a menace and the end of stiles life (in a good way).

a/n: i tried my best to be funny and make it a little longer. a mother needs to feed her kids. based on this req <3

stiles stilinski had spent a solid seven-teen years being a complete and utter dork. a nerd. a disaster in human form. the kind of guy who could tell you, unprompted, that the fear of long words is called hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia but somehow still couldn’t spell “necessary” on the first try.

he was the guy who tripped over air, made obscure pop culture references no one asked for, and had a deeply unhealthy relationship with sarcasm.

so, naturally, when you—actual goddess, the prettiest face in beacon hills, social butterfly extraordinaire—agreed to date him, stiles was convinced he was being pranked.

“she said yes,” he had told scott the night it happened, voice shaking, hands gripping his best friend’s shoulders like he was trying to transfer the shock through sheer physical contact. “she said yes. to me. like, willingly. no coercion. no hostage situation. just… yes.”

scott, ever the supportive best friend, blinked at him. “huh.”

“what do you mean huh?”

“I just—” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking way too amused. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but… dude, that’s y/n.”

exactly.

you weren’t just popular. you are the cool kind of popular. the kind that made people want to be around you instead of just tolerating your presence because of high school hierarchy rules.

you had this effortless confidence, this ability to make everyone feel like they belonged—even stiles, who had spent most of his life on the outskirts of social normalcy.

you are the type of person who could go from hanging out with the lacrosse team and his girlfriends to sitting with the theater kids in the same day, and everyone would be happy to have you there. people gravitated towards you.

meanwhile, stiles had spent most of freshman year trying to convince people that his name was, in fact, not short for “stilton” like the cheese.

It didn’t make sense. and yet, somehow, here they were.

dating you was like winning the lottery, except instead of money, stiles got the incomprehensible love and affection of a literal angel.

which was great.

except for the fact that he had no idea how to be cool enough to keep up with you.

“you’re overthinking it,” you told him one day as you sat in your car, legs propped up on the dashboard.

“I always overthink it,” stiles replied. “It’s literally my defining trait.”

you laughed, and god, that laugh. It was the kind of sound that made people pause, made them turn their heads just to see what could possibly be so funny.

“okay, fine,” you said. “then tell me. what’s running through that giant brain of yours right now?”

stiles exhaled dramatically. “alright, let’s start with the obvious. I am a disaster. you are not a disaster. explain.”

you tilted your head, amused. “you really don’t see it, do you?”

“see what?”

you smirked, leaning in a little closer. “you’re kind of amazing, stiles.”

he blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“you make me laugh,” you continued, like you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his entire worldview. “like, really laugh. you make things interesting. and you care so much about the people around you. I like that.”

stiles stared at you, brain officially malfunctioning. “uh. are you… are you sure you’re not under some kind of supernatural influence?”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. “just shut up?”

and just like that, he realized something insane. you actually liked him.

not just in a “haha, he’s fun to have around” way. not in a “pity date” way. not even in a “this is a temporary thing before I move on to someone more worthy” way.

you liked him. dorkiness, sarcasm, ADHD-riddled brain and all.

maybe he wasn’t as out of your league as he thought.

still, he spent the next few weeks in a state of perpetual disbelief.

he kept waiting for the moment where you would realize you had made a grave mistake and move on to someone who, well… had the ability to walk in a straight line without tripping over absolutely nothing.

but you didn’t.

In fact, you made it very clear that you were, for some ungodly reason, into him.

like, full-on, public displays of affection into him.

which was insane.

because now, not only did stiles have to deal with his own confusion, but also the confusion of literally everyone else at beacon hills high.

It started with a completely normal lunch. stiles, scott, lydia, and you were all sitting together, as usual, while he rattled off some extremely important information about why the original ‘star wars’ trilogy was superior to the prequels.

“you just have to accept that Jar Jar Binks was a crime against cinema,” stiles was saying, mid-rant, when he felt a hand casually slip into his.

he froze.

the table went silent.

you, completely unbothered, just kept eating your fries, fingers lazily intertwined with his.

scott immediately stopped chewing. lydia raised an eyebrow. somewhere behind them, he was pretty sure he heard jackson choke on his drink.

stiles, being the mature and composed individual that he was, blurted out, “are you—did you—was that on purpose?”

you gave him a deadpan look. “no, stiles, my hand just accidentally fell into yours.”

scott made a choked sound that was very unhelpful.

“I just—” stiles floundered. “you’re—you want to hold my hand? In front of people?”

you smirked. “what, do you want me to sign a permission slip first?”

lydia rolled her eyes. “stiles, stop acting like you just won the lottery.”

“but I did,” he said, eyes still wide. “this is like if someone found bigfoot, but instead of running away, bigfoot started dating them.”

you snorted and leaned closer, whispering, “you’re an idiot.”

and then—just to completely obliterate stiles’s ability to function—you kissed his cheek.

the cafeteria erupted.

all right, maybe “erupted” was an exaggeration. but scott definitely lost all ability to contain himself, because he burst into uncontrollable laughter, clapping stiles on the back so hard he nearly faceplanted into his lunch tray.

jackson muttered something about how the world was officially broken.

and lydia? lydia just sipped her drink and said, “honestly, this might be the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

stiles, meanwhile, was still sitting there, trying to process the fact that you had just kissed him in front of the entire student body.

“okay,” he breathed. “alright. cool. totally fine.”

you squeezed his hand. “you’re so lucky I can keep up with you.”

“I strongly agree.”

scott shook his head, grinning. “dude. just take the win.”

yeah.

maybe he should.

────୨ৎ────

now stiles had zero business being on the lacrosse team. he was only there because coach finstock occasionally needed a warm body to throw onto the field, and also because scott insisted that he “needed to be included in the team dynamic.”

that was stupid, because stiles was about as useful on the field as a drunk giraffe.

still, here he was, suited up, trying his best to not die.

you were sitting in the stands, chatting with some of the other girls on the cheer squad, but every so often, he caught you watching him.

why on earth would you be looking at him when there were actual athletes running around?

at some point, coach finstock (in a moment of pure insanity) decided to sub stiles in.

naturally, it went horribly.

he got knocked over in under a minute.

hard.

like, wind knocked out of him, stars in his vision hard.

by the time he sat up, still gasping for breath, he vaguely registered that someone was calling his name.

then, suddenly, you were there, pushing past some of the other students on the sidelines, crouching next to him.

“oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, eyes scanning him for any visible injuries.

“you,” stiles wheezed. “just—taking a quick—dirt nap.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you really shouldn’t be allowed to play this sport.”

“tell that to coach crazy over there,” he muttered.

you rolled your eyes, then—without warning—cupped his face and kissed him.

right there.

on the field.

In front of everyone.

stiles was pretty sure his soul left his body.

by the time you pulled away, he was definitely malfunctioning.

“god,” he managed.

you smirked, brushing some dirt off his jersey. “maybe if I keep doing that, you’ll actually start scoring points.”

scott, who had jogged over at some point, burst out laughing, —again.

“please don’t encourage him,” he told you.

you just shrugged, standing up. “what can I say? I like an underdog.”

stiles, still staring into the middle distance, finally processed what had just happened.

then, very calmly, he said:

“I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

────୨ৎ────

stiles finally gets it. he gets you.

It took three months of dating before stiles finally stopped expecting you to give up on him.

because the truth was, you could.

but for some ridiculous, unexplainable reason—

you didn’t want to.

and maybe, just maybe, that was the best part of all.

stiles stilinski had exactly one defense mechanism when faced with overwhelming emotional stimuli:

panic.

pure, unfiltered, high-octane panic.

and you?

you loved it.

you lived for it.

In fact, stiles was about 80% sure that her actual favorite hobby—above reading, music, and being generally awesome—was finding new and creative ways to make him short-circuit.

your weapon of choice?

kissing him.

at random.

without warning.

In the most inconvenient and socially inappropriate moments possible.

────୨ৎ────

stiles was already having a rough day.

coach had made him run extra laps for “being a distraction” (which was not fair, because technically speaking, it was danny who had laughed first).

so there he was, post-practice, dripping in sweat, hair a mess, brain still recovering from almost getting hit in the face with a lacrosse ball, when you materialized out of nowhere.

“hey, loser,” you greeted, leaning against the locker next to his.

stiles jumped about a foot in the air. “jesus—you can’t just sneak up on a guy like that!”

you, completely ignoring him, hummed thoughtfully. “you look cute when you’re sweaty.”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—what—who?”

and before his brain could fully reboot, you leaned in and kissed him.

right there.

In the locker room.

With scott and half the team still standing right there.

stiles froze.

his brain immediately short-circuited.

somewhere in the background, he could hear the distinct sounds of his teammates reacting.

jackson made a disgusted noise.

“seriously? right here?”

danny, ever the neutral observer, just snorted. “I mean, props to her, I do love watching stilinski suffer.”

scott, instead of helping, just shook his head fondly. “dude. just accept it.”

you, for your part, just smirked against stiles’s lips, completely unbothered, and pulled away with a satisfied little hum.

stiles, meanwhile, was still frozen in place.

mouth slightly open.

face burning red.

brain? completely fried.

“did I break you?” you teased, poking his cheek.

stiles let out a strangled sound.

jackson groaned. “oh god, get a room.”

you turned to him, smirking. “jealous?”

jackson scoffed. “not even remotely.”

you shrugged, looping your arm through stiles’s. “good. because I’m not sharing.”

and then you walked off, dragging stiles with you—leaving the entire locker room howling in laughter.

────୨ৎ────

stiles had one sacred rule in life:

the library is a safe space.

the library was for quiet and learning and pretending to do your homework while actually texting scott about supernatural nonsense.

the library was not for being publicly humiliated by your ridiculously hot girlfriend.

unfortunately, you did not respect the sanctity of anything.

stiles was sitting at his usual spot—textbook open, pen in hand, pretending to study—when you slid into the chair next to him.

“hey,” you greeted, voice suspiciously sweet.

stiles narrowed his eyes. “you’re up to something.”

you smiled, all innocent. “me? never.”

he squinted harder. “what do you want?”

you tilted your head. “can’t I just want to spend time with my adorable boyfriend?”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—you—stop that.”

“stop what?”

“being cute,” he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

you grinned. “make me.”

before stiles could formulate a response, you very casually leaned forward and kissed him.

and not just a quick kiss.

oh, no.

this was a calculated attack.

a slow, lingering kiss, tongue and all—just long enough to completely fry his brain, but not long enough for him to actually do anything about it.

by the time you pulled away, stiles was bright red, gripping the edge of the table like his life depended on it.

“why?” he gasped out.

you shrugged. “felt like it.”

stiles gaped. “we are in library.”

you smiled sweetly. “uh-huh.”

“In a library.”

“yup.”

“where people can see us.”

she leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I know.”

stiles let out an undignified squeak.

and that was the exact moment lydia martin—who had apparently been sitting three tables away—very loudly shut her book and said, “I’m going home. this is disgusting.”

you just laughed.

stiles, meanwhile, buried his face in his hands.

────୨ৎ────

now, there were rules when it came to dating in front of parents.

rule #1: no PDA.

rule #2: seriously, no PDA.

rule #3: do not test sheriff stilinski’s patience.

you had no regard for any of these rules.

stiles had just walked you to the door, ready to say a very normal, appropriate, and respectful goodbye, when you suddenly grabbed his hoodie, pulled him way too close, and kissed him stupid.

right there.

In his driveway.

where his father could definitely see.

and as if that wasn’t bad enough—

the front door creaked open.

sheriff stilinski cleared his throat.

you pulled away completely unbothered, turned to the sheriff, and grinned.

“good afternoon, mr. stilinski.”

stiles, meanwhile, had stopped breathing.

the sheriff raised an eyebrow. “you trying to kill my son?”

you smirked. “not today.”

and then you smiled—like a menace—patted stiles on the chest, and walked off, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.

the sheriff stared at him.

stiles stared back.

after a long, painful silence, his dad just shook his head and muttered, “unbelievable.”

then, he walked inside—chuckling to himself.

stiles, still standing frozen on the porch, groaned.

you were going to be the death of him.

and, honestly?

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf headcanon #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi smut #scott mcall #derek hale #mccall pack #fclsebnnyodair

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v1si0n · 28 days ago

Text

ch. 12: and the crowd is…concerned

Jeno stares at himself in the practice room mirror and curses under his breath. He tries to practice the entire song, then the chorus, and even one singular verse but he can’t focus for the life of him. He even tries to just stretch with music on, but his brain is in overdrive and he has no one to blame but you.

It’s been a week, no, five days to be exact, since he hung out with his friends or spoke to you. Outside of dance practice, he’s completely absorbed himself in his schoolwork and even went as far as to pick up extra shifts at the movie theater to keep his mind occupied and far away from you. However, despite his many attempts, it was almost like you carved yourself deep into the folds of his brain and he started to see you everywhere. It also didn’t help that he quite literally saw you everywhere; on campus, during practice, at the movie theater laughing and chatting it up with his friends.

Fuck this. He’s definitely going on a bender tonight.

He hastily packs his gym bag and trudges out in below freezing temperature to make his way to the nearest convenience store. When the automatic doors slide open, he beelines straight to the back and picks up three bottles of flavorless soju, setting them down on the counter with an unnecessary amount of force that makes the cashier jump.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, looking up at the younger boy behind the register.

The cashier scans the bottles quickly and bags them with a nervous smile. “Rough night?”

“I guess,” Jeno sighs quietly, taking the bag and putting two fingers up in a mock salute before leaving the store. He cracks open the first soju bottle, putting the other two in his gym bag as he walks down the street.

The first sip burns his throat and nearly makes him retch on the spot, but he pulls through and takes another immediately after. Four sips in and his mind is still riddled with thoughts of you, your laugh, and how happily you smile at his friends. He takes another, then another, and without even realizing he’s already downed half the bottle and yet he still can’t get his mind off of you.

An entire bottle and a half later, he decides that you’re a disease. No, the plague. You were a plague on his mind and heart and he’s a victim to your charms and the fatal distraction that is your effortless beauty. You bring out the worst in him, and while his mind is telling him you are pure evil in human form, his heart can’t help but yearn to be close to you.

He finds a playground in his slightly drunken stupor and collapses onto a swing, emptying his second bottle and tossing it into his gym bag. He fiddles with the bottle caps in his hands, twisting the metal pieces together and making hearts before placing them on the swing next to him. He pulls out his third and final bottle of soju, a slight pout forming on his lips when he realizes he would be out of alcohol soon and he’s still thinking about you.

As he twists the cap off, he swears he hears your voice and he scoffs. You’ve driven him far past insanity, to the point where he’s starting to have auditory hallucinations. He shakes his head and takes a swig from the bottle, and as his head tilts back to swallow the alcohol, he sees you standing in front of him and he laughs.

“God, I’m going crazy,” He laughs again.

He can’t believe that his thoughts have manifested into full hallucinations now, and he takes a long swig from the bottle.

“What the hell are you doing?” Your voice calls out and he puts a finger to his lips.

“You’re not supposed to talk. Just stand there and be pretty and annoying like you always are,” He slurs, pointing an accusing finger at the you-shaped blob in front of him. He tips his head back to pour another shot down his throat, but the aforementioned blob grabs the bottle out of his hand and he’s left pouting and utterly confused.

“So you’re not a hallucination…but a dream? No, nightmare. This is a nightmare…a really nice one,” He smiles lazily at you, reaching out for the bottle.

“I hate to break it to you but I’m neither a hallucination nor nightmare. How much did you drink?” You speak, crouching down in front of him.

He blinks a few times, the cold air blowing against his poorly dressed frame sobering him up just the slightest bit.

“You’re real?” He blinks slowly at you, reaching his numb hands out to poke at your slightly pink nose. When you grimace and swat his hand away, his face sours, and he hugs his arms close to his chest. “Ew. Go away.”

You roll your eyes, gently placing the bag of books you had just bought on the ground next to his gym bag. You take off the thick scarf you had around your neck and wrap it around his, pulling it up to cover his lips and nose.

“You are so stupid. Why are you in the cold in just a hoodie and getting drunk at 9pm? You’re lucky no cops have passed by or you would have been arrested for being disorderly in public,” You grumble, taking the hot packs you had in your jacket and placing them into his hands.

“Who told you to be annoying and stupid?” He blabs, giggling to himself as if he just delivered the best comeback of all time. “That was a good one.”

You unwillingly let out a laugh at his drunken antics, a small sigh leaving your lips. You pull your phone out and send a quick text to Jaemin, letting him know that you needed his help getting Jeno home.

“Why’d you drink so much, Jeno? Weren’t you supposed to be practicing today?” You ask gently, lips twitching into a smile when you see the way he whines and tucks his chin further into your scarf.

“I told you…cause you’re stupid and annoying,” His voice is muffled by the thick fabric covering his lips, but you’re able to make out every word clearly.

“Yes, I’m stupid and annoying. But what does that have to do with you drinking…” You glance down at his gym bag, then at the bottle you took away from him, “…two and half bottles of soju by yourself?”

He scoffs, burrowing himself impossibly deeper into your scarf and you suck your teeth when he mumbles incoherently into the thick fabric.

“Jeno, if you keep doing that, I won’t be able to hear you,” You scold, your cold fingers gently reaching up to lower the scarf and tilt his chin up. His eyes are laser focused on you as you do so, and you beckon for him to repeat himself.

“This is why you’re stupid and annoying,” He mumbles, his eyes half-glaring but half-full of something close to longing.

You tilt your head in confusion. “I’m stupid and annoying because…”

“Why are you taking care of me? It’s the middle of the night and you’re out here in the cold giving me your scarf even…even though I’m not nice to you.”

His words are clumsy and jumbled together due to the alcohol, but you understand every word and you sigh, a thick silence enveloping the two of you.

You clear your throat, “Well, one, it’s only like, 9pm, so it’s not really the middle of the night.”

He checks his phone and squints at the numbers 9:12PM, a laugh leaving his lips.

“And two…” You trail off, adjusting the scarf so it covers his nose again, “I guess I can understand where you’re coming from, so I can’t really hate you.”

“Understand? What do you understand about me?” He jabs a finger to his own chest, before turning it and pointing it at you, “You…you’re just a pretty princess in a pretty princess castle…and you live a pretty princess life! You don’t understand…you shouldn’t understand,” He babbles, his hands moving around to make grand gestures as he speaks.

“Well, this pretty princess definitely does not live a pretty princess life,” You laugh quietly, a hint of amusement etched in your smile as you regard him carefully.

He frowns. Even in his alcohol-induced haze, he still feels a pang in his heart at your confession, and he’s stuck between wanting to ask you a million questions or push you away again. Instead, he does neither, opting to lean forward slightly in the swing and beckon you over with his hand.

You move closer, kneeling on one knee in front of him. He motions for you to come closer, and you roll your eyes as you do so, “What do you-oh.”

He slumps forward and wraps his arms around your shoulders in a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder. Your eyes slightly widen in surprise, a strained oof leaving your lips as he rests most of his weight on you. Your hands come up automatically, mostly to keep him from falling, but also because you might have wanted to indulge yourself a bit as well.

“What’s this for?” You laugh quietly, patting him on the back as he hums and buries his face into the crook of your neck, and you’re not sure if the warmth you feel is from him or because of him.

“Just wanted to,” He slurs, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself to enjoy the closeness for once, the alcohol momentarily silencing the part of him thats afraid he’ll never be enough for you.

A call of your name makes you crane your neck to the side, and you see Jaemin jogging up to you with a disgruntled look on his face that quickly morphs into a knowing smirk when he sees the way Jeno has himself wrapped around you.

“And what do we have here?” He wiggles his brows at you two, and you roll your eyes, turning your attention back to Jeno.

“Jeno? Jaemin’s here to take you home,” You call gently, patting his back to get his attention. He whines and clings onto you a little tighter, and you let out a sigh, turning to Jaemin with a pointed glare, “A little help would be nice, Jaem.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, bending over to grab Jeno’s shoulders, “Hey buddy. Time to go home, yeah?”

Jeno shrugs him off, mumbling incoherently into your neck.

“What was that?” Jaemin’s head tilts to the side in confusion, leaning closer to try to understand what his drunk friend is saying, before a sly smile completely takes over his face. “Oh. You want to stay with Y/N?”

You balk when you feel him nod against your shoulder, an awkward laugh leaving your lips as you look at Jaemin.

“Okay, time to go home, Jeno. Up we go,” You let out a strangled noise as you stand up, lifting him up with you as you struggle to hold his weight against you, “Jaemin! Stop standing there and help me!”

Jaemin puts his hands up in apology before reaching over to practically pry Jeno off of you. Despite his protests, Jeno finally settles in Jaemin’s arms, swaying side to side as he supports himself with an arm around Jaemin’s shoulders.

“Here, this is his,” You pick up the gym bag and adjust it on Jaemin’s free shoulder, before letting out a sigh. You adjust the scarf around his neck again, and you have to physically restrain yourself from melting on the spot when he nuzzles his face into your touch.

“Text me when you guys are home,” You mumble, reluctantly moving your hand away from Jeno.

“Will do. Get home safe, yeah?” Jaemin breathes out, adjusting Jeno’s arm around his shoulder before turning to walk back in the direction he came in. “Come on buddy, time to put you to bed.”

You hear Jeno mumble unintelligibly again and Jaemin scolds him, a small laugh leaving your lips as you watch both of them walk down the street before disappearing around the corner. You turn back to the swing where Jeno was just sitting, and your eyes flicker over to the two bottle caps sitting on the swing next to it. They’re twisted into hearts, much like the ones you found in your pockets after friendsgiving.

You crouch down and pick them up, inspecting them with a smile on your lips.

“Lee Jeno,” You mumble, fingers gently tracing the heart, “Quite the romantic.”

You laugh to yourself, pocketing the caps before picking up your bag of books and beginning the trek back to your dorm, your cheeks warm despite the below freezing temperature that nips at your skin.

wc: 2.1k (im literally so sorry)

ch. 13: winter and y/n’s dorm📍

masterlistΣ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

TAGLIST: @sunghoonsgfreal @jenohyun @n0hyuck @tywritesstuff @dinonuguaegi @slayhaechan @botchedbrat @spicyryujin @jenoleeaesthetic @yizhrt @nctrawberries @meowtella @insaneanddrained @blamingontheboogie @jich3nle @flamingi @mmjhh1998 @byeonwooseokabs @qiankunslove @conwunder @sunflowerhae @lotties-readings @keeryverse @jae-n0 @hyuksworld @kukkurookkoo @4yunogf @cigsaftersuh @gomdoleemyson @bitchzitschimi @iseos1 @flaminghotyourmom @beomgyusonlywife @nahyuckers @jisungsleftcheek

NOTES: i love this chapter sm…i kept looking over and adding more and now its the length of a literal one shot help me. anyways we’re so up loverboy!jeno is COMING.

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