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nicksolemnlyswears · 2 months ago

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JUST TEASIN’

summary: you call joel an old man…amongst other names

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 4.4k [i need to learn how to keep things concise]

warnings: 18+, cursing, spanking, p in v, fingering, oral (male receiving), age gap? totally legal though, joel's in his early 40s and reader is in her early 30s, joel is an ass guy which is strange cause i always make my men boob guys, idk i guess this is pretty tame

a/n: as a joke i tend to call pedro and joel peepaw cause he’s older and a total dilf but i love these men so fucking much. i'll be the first to get on my knees

thought i’d make a sweet oneshot about how they’d react to you calling them old. it’s a mix of fluff and smut. a little something for everyone!

also don’t judge me, this is my first time writing for joel 🥺

there’s a little nudge to another favorite fictional men of mine

i want to thank @yxtkiwiyxt for providing me with all the pedro pascal pictures and gifs and movie trailers and for ranting with me all day every day about how amazing this human is… if anyone is to blame about this oneshot it’s her ❤️

It’s one of those lazy Sunday mornings where everyone sleeps in, leaving the Miller household at complete ease. There are no responsibilities to tend to and nowhere to go.

You’re the only one awake, singing quietly under your breath and flipping pancakes until they’re nice and golden. Joel will come seeking you out soon, missing the warmth of your body and Sarah will follow when Joel cracks her door open to let the sweet smell of batter waft into her room.

No matter how hard you try you’re always the first one up. Sometimes you stay in bed with your husband, tracing figures on his bare skin until he pulls you into him and kisses your head good morning, raspy voice begging you for five more minutes.

But most of the time you decide on getting up and having an early start to your day, which includes making breakfast and sorting through your work emails.

The puppy Sarah adopted a couple weeks ago, sits on your feet, licking your legs as if begging for the fluffy sweetness of the pancakes. He had a taste of it when batter dripped on the floor, he licked it up before you had the chance of cleaning it.

Lost in your little world, singing to the tune of Lana del Rey you fail to notice your husband coming down the stairs. Joel leans against the kitchen island admiring you in your distracted state. The loose brown curls in a disarray at the top of his head.

His eyes scan you from head to toe, noting your messy hair pulled up to a half ponytail half bun thing he can’t begin to explain. Down they go to the cropped tshirt with his company’s logo on the back. The frayed edges are the byproduct of your use of kitchen scissors to crop it yourself.

Joel bites his lip as he ogles at your ass and thick thighs framed by the tiniest cotton shorts he’s ever seen. They fail to cover the bottom of your butt cheeks, exposing a sliver of the indigo panties and the crease where thighs meet butt.

Unable to stay away, Joel wraps his warm arms around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. He squeezes you to him, bodies pressed flushed to reveal the stiffness in his pajama pants.

The puppy wags his tail in the presence of his favorite human, standing on two legs to call his attention. The man didn’t want him in the first place but was out voted by the females in the household.

“Morning,” Joel murmurs, placing kisses all over your cheeks and down your neck until he finally presses a warm kiss on your shoulder where he rests his chin to look over at the stovetop.

“Morning old man,” you say with a giggle as his scruffy beard tickles your skin. Your lips press against his in a quick kiss, muffling his sigh of disappointment.

“Don’t start, sweetheart,” he warns. His lips brushing against your ear. Joel’s hands find themselves under your tshirt, his thumbs ghosting over your underboob. At the same time the fingertips of his other hand teasingly dip on the waistband of your shorts.

“Or what?” You say with a bite to your lip, flipping over the last batch of pancakes. Couple more seconds and they would’ve burned—that’s how much he distracts you.

“It’s too early for this!” Sarah’s high pitched voice yells. “Not in the kitchen and not in front of the baby, please!”

The puppy scrambles over to Sarah, jumping into her arms. He recognizes she’s the one who will cave and give him scraps of food.

Joel, startled, takes his hands off of you, facing Sarah with an apologetic smile, not that she sees it as she covers her eyes with a hand. “Are you decent? Can I look now? I’m really hungry if you don’t mind.”

You laugh loudly, shaking your head at Sarah’s dramatics. She takes after Joel and is well on her way to beat him at his own game.

“We’re not doin’ anythin’,” Joel mumbles, sitting on one of the kitchen island stools and petting the pups fluffy head, and the ear that flipped over cutely.

“Not yet,” you whisper to him as you place his stack of pancakes in front of him.

“I heard that!” Sarah yells, covering her ears this time. Joel laughs, nudging her shoulder and telling her to pass the syrup.

You lean across from them, grabbing a sliced strawberry to plop into your mouth. Sarah takes over the conversation as you and Joel share a glance. This is far from over.

Later on the day you head outside with a tray of lemonade and pie in your hands. You’ve gotta take care of your dear husband before the Texas heat gets the best of him.

You nudge Joel’s leg with your foot. He’s under the beat up truck, fixing some odd part. He has the means to replace the old thing but he likes to remind you that ‘Betsy,’ as he’s named his truck, is a part of the family and will never be replaced.

“Thanks, darlin,‘“ he drawls, wiping his dirty hands on a random rag he found on the bed of the truck.

Joel takes a second too long to get up from the floor. You see the hesitance in his eyes as he tries to think the best way to stand without hurting or pulling a muscle.

This is your chance. “Need help there, grandpa?” You pipe up, resting the tray on the portable table scattered with tools.

Joel openly glares at you while you smile broadly at him. It’s not often you make fun of his age, or rather, the age gap between the two of you. It’s only when you’re feeling a particular sort of way.

The age gap between the two of you isn’t the craziest but it’s large enough for people to notice. Joel is easily through the first half of his fourth decade, while you are barely entering your third.

“Watch your mouth,” Joel warns you, standing up quickly despite the cracking of his knees and the ache on his lower back.

Your eyes spark when he grabs the glass of cool lemonade and begins chugging it. The drops of sweat sliding down his neck and into the damp collar of his shirt stealing your attention and any innocent thought you’ve might’ve had about him. They weren’t many to begin with.

You clench your thighs together as you imagine licking that same trail, tasting his salty skin. Say what you want but you love a man that works with his hands and gets all dirty and grimy.

Joel catches onto the glazed look covering your eyes and grasps your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. His body gravitating towards yours as if nature demanded it.

You’re overly conscious of the motor oil covering his hands if not you would’ve sucked his thumb into your mouth, reminding him just exactly you can do with your tongue.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, darlin’?”

Him. It’s all about him. He’s always interrupting whatever sane thought you have. Scenarios of you being bent over the hood of the truck as he sinks his aching length from behind. You riding him in the front seat as you’ve done on more than one occasion, fogging up the windows. The time he was knuckles deep inside of you, teasing fingers drenched during his lunch break.

“How good gray looks on you,” you reply, diverting the conversation somewhere else entirely. A delicate fingers wraps around the charming curl that constantly falls over his forehead, twirling it around.

Joel doesn’t take kindly to your comment, rolling his eyes and clicking his jaw as he lets go of you to return to the truck. Your hand which had been playing with his curl drops to your side as you cock your hip to assess him.

He’s much too aware of the age gap, it makes him insecure. Like you’ll one day realize you’re with an old man and leave him for someone younger.

Except in your eyes he’s the most perfect man alive. The grey streaks of hair that mix with the typical brown of his curls give him an air of authority, making him look dashing in all ways. A silver fox. Strong muscles from working manual labor most of his life are now covered with a healthy layer of fat but remain strong nonetheless. Warm brown eyes that sweep you off your feet every morning as soon as they open.

That man is aging like fine wine and he doesn’t begin to realize it. You feel extremely lucky to be the only one to enjoy it…squeaky joints and all.

Joel is experienced and mature and loyal. He simply wants to have a nice life with his family. A family you’re now a part of. It’s all a woman could ask for.

“You know I love you,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around him as he leans over the hood.

“Love to torture me,” he scoffs, taking hold of one of your hands affectionately. He can never stay mad at you.

“I don’t know what you mean? I brought you lemonade and even that apple pie you love so much,” you feign innocence, pressing a kiss to the middle of his back.

Facing you with a sigh, he lets his heavy hands fall on your hips, “What’re you playing at?”

“Me? Nothing,” you say with a wicked smile, “I’m gonna go with Sarah to the mall to get her homecoming dress. Will you be alright here with Ghost?”

He’s quickly distracted by the words Sarah and Homecoming. His babygirl is growing too fast, starting High School and going on dances with boys. She hasn’t told him yet if she’s been invited by someone and he hopes it stays that way.

There’s no way he’s letting her go with a date and you can’t convince him other wise. If she wants a date she can take the puppy she adopted, Ghost. Joel is determined to teach the ball of fur how to defend his daughter.

“Here,” he says, pulling out his wallet to hand you his credit card.

“No, it’s my treat!” You say, pushing his hand away.

“Take it,” Joel insists, trying to slip it into the tight pair of jeans you’re wearing. Fuck. How didn’t he notice until now.

It should be illegal to wear jeans that make you look THAT good. The blue material hugs your thighs tightly and lifts your perky ass to heaven—not that you other wise need it.

He doesn’t hold back and slides his palms on your back pockets, giving you a firm squeeze. You stumble, falling onto him with a weak protest.

“‘M so fucking lucky you’re my woman,” he groans, taking another feel. Temporarily forgetting the conversation at hand, yet another comment directed at his age snaps Joel back to reality.

“Honey, I know I married an older man but it wasn’t for your money,” you tease again, patting his cheek and removing his hands from your pockets—credit card and all.

A sharp slap to your ass, startles you, eliciting a cheeky giggle. All this teasing and you’re leaving him home alone with the mutt.

You don’t apologize, you’ll never apologize for teasing him. Unless it’s in the right circumstances…in his bed.

Towards the end of the night you finish pushing him to the edge of no return. Remember, opportunities are always around when you’re determined.

“Dad, can you sign this for school?” Sarah comes into the living room where you and Joel are watching a movie. Ghost’s head is plopped on his lap, where Joel had been ‘forced’ to pet him.

“What’s this for?” Joel tries to read the paper but has to keep it at arms reach to be able to read it. Failing, he searches for his glasses until Sarah points at his head where they’ve been resting for half the night, nestled between his curls.

You stifle a laugh as you think of what to say. “Sorry Sarah, good old peepaw needs his glasses to read.”

It’s clear you’re pushing it far as Joel freezes only to glare at you. If looks could kill you’d be six feet underground. Sarah laughs until her belly hurts, repeating the word peepaw between breaths.

“You two are bullies,” Joel shakes his head in disbelief, signing the permit and handing it to Sarah who is wiping her tears away.

“I’m heading to bed, goodnight old man,” Sarah tells a pouting Joel, kissing his cheek and running up the stairs. “Come on, Ghost. Bedtime!”

“Peepaw? Really?” Joel raises his eyebrows at you when both Sarah and Ghost are gone.

You shrug feigning innocence, hiding your smile with the edge of the blanket. ”Yeah, peepaw. It’s cute.”

“It ain’t cute,” Joel kisses his teeth before turning off the TV and standing from the couch, leaving you behind.

“Where are you going?” You call after him.

“To bed,” he dryly responds, shutting off the lights and climbing the stairs. He only leaves the lamp by the couch on. How considerate of him.

“What? Joel it’s barely 10!” Hiding your satisfaction is difficult. Joel’s ticked off, a day of calling him old will do that. It’s exactly what you hoped for.

“Guess that’s what old men do, darlin,’” Joel says sarcastically half way up the stairs.

With a hand over your mouth, you follow him, “Honey, come on. Don’t be angry, it’s harmless teasing. Are you really heading to bed?”

Joel turns at the top of the stairs, glaring down at you, “You really think I’m an old man?”

“Technically speaking you are an older man,” you quip, scrunching your nose cutely.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Joel crosses his arms, reprimanding you for your cheekiness.

“I dunno why you get like this, you should know I love my older men,” you say sultrily, although it falls on deaf ears as Joel retreats to the bedroom.

When you step into the bedroom you’re instantly pressed against the door, slamming it shut. Joel’s sneaky hands lock it. “You’re playing a dangerous game, darlin.’ Don’t make me bend you over my knee and give you a spanking.”

The thought alone makes you shudder in delight. Wetness instantly seeping into your underwear. You’ve finally succeeded. You have him right where you want him.

With your hands braced on his chest you deliver the final blow. “You sure your knees can take it?”

Disbelief flashes in Joel’s eyes, “That’s it!”

Grabbing your arms Joel leads you to the bed where he sits on the edge. He roughly pull down on your jeans, panties and all, leaving them pooled on your knees, limiting your mobility.

With another tug he lays you face down on his lap, holding your wrists behind you in a tight grip. Joel shakes his head at your upturned ass that’s waiting a little too eagerly for his touch.

Delight bubbles out of you and Joel is determined to take you down a notch or two. Let’s see how you handle this after fucking with him all damn day.

The first swat comes without warning, eliciting a gasp from you. It’s sharp and borderline painful. A red handprint magically appearing on your left butt cheek.

Joel massages and paws at the skin, getting ready to deliver another one. “Cat got your tongue?” He questions at your sudden silence.

You try to look over your shoulder and say, “Is that all you got?”

A sarcastic chuckle leaves Joel’s mouth. Then, three fast slaps are delivered, successfully earning him a whine from your pretty lips. He rubs on the sweltering flesh, easing some of the sting.

Finding their way to your thighs his fingers dig between them to cup your pussy. It’s no surprise that it’s warm, messy and slick. Clear strands extending from it to the inside of your thighs and covering his digits.

You’re a fucking vixen who loves to torture him for your own fucking pleasure and he’s the damn fool who falls for it each and every time.

“Touch me,” you huff, wiggling on his lap to grind on his hand, hoping to gain more contact with his coated digits.

“Touch you? Oh, darlin’ you’re not getting off the hook so easily,” Joel mentions darkly, retrieving his hand and landing yet another smack to your ass, making it ripple from the impact.

“Ow!” You flinch yet remain in the same position, expecting more. You fucking love when Joel gets rough with you. It’s a shame you have to gauge it out of him like this.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted? Hm?” Joel’s asks and when he doesn’t get a response his hand flies down once more. “What was it you called me?”

There’s a beat of silence before his hand strikes, this time aiming towards the middle. “Gra-grandpa,” you stutter at the small burst of pleasure.

“Mhm, what else darlin’?” He prompts again. His middle finger tracing the slit of your pussy, feeling you grow impossibly wetter. His pretty little wife is always so reactive to his touch.

“Old man.”

The stinging in your skin grows warmer, no doubt turning a considerable shade of cherry red. Yet the ache in your cunt obscures it all. The scraps of attention only makes your arousal worse.

“I think there was one more,” Joel hums, urging you on. His slick finger teasing your weeping entrance.

“P-peepaw,” you gasp when Joel pushes it in until his knuckle meets your delicate skin.

“That’s right, peepaw,” Joel repeats absentmindedly, pushing his middle finger in and out. Listening intently to the squishing sound your pussy makes.

He’ll have you calling him something else by the end of the night.

Tight walls grip his finger like a vice, refusing to let go. Soft puffs of air tumble out of your mouth and he knows your eyes are closed as you concentrate on the minimal pleasure he’s providing you with. It’ll never be enough to make you cum but it’ll keep you bothered.

“Get up,” Joel orders with a softer smack to your bottom, wiping his slick covered finger on your skin. He helps you up from the restrained position he kept you in and makes work of taking off your clothes.

Joel pulls and tugs on your shirt roughly, throwing it mindlessly across the room. He palms your tits briefly, pinching one of your nipples to make you whine his name. With cracking knees he kneels on the floor to help you out your jeans and underwear, kneading your thighs with his big strong hands.

He catches a glance of your reddening skin and feels a prickle of pride at the mark he left. Most of it will fade by morning but you’ll feel it nonetheless.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed he wordlessly motions you to get on your knees. A wicked smile spreads on your cheeks as you do as you’re told, kneeling between his spread legs.

Eager hands grasp his belt, undoing the worn leather to get to the button of his jeans. He provides no help, leaning back on his hands and simply watching you with hooded and expecting eyes.

You pull down on his jeans and underwear, revealing the happy trail that comes down his navel to the patch of brown at his pelvis.

His hard cock springs free once you’ve worked his pants down enough. A throaty groan coming from above you at the release of tension.

“Mmm,” you hum, grasping his length in your fist. His eyes meet yours when you look up to press a kiss to the tip, your hand pulling the thin skin back to reveal it.

“Stop with the teasin,’” Joel growls audibly, chastising you.

You rolls your eyes obnoxiosuly, “You’re no fun, g-“

A hand flies to your hair, gripping the roots tightly. Your eyes fly open, starting up at Joel. “You sure you want to finish that sentence, babygirl?”

“Maybe not,” you shrug with a pout, your hand mindlessly pumping his length.

“That’s what I thought.” Joel keeps his grip on your hair, pulling it back to see every detail of you taking his cock into your pretty mouth.

Your tongue goes flat against the underside of his shaft, tracing the vein that runs along his length and letting saliva drip all down and into your fisted hand. Joel watches intently as your lips wrap around the angry red tip of his cock.

You start off slow taking more of his length with each bob of your head. Your eyes never leaves his face, observing every small reaction he makes. The sharp intake of breath when your tongue grazes his tip, the furrowing of his eyebrows, the bobbing of his adam’s apple as he fails to keep his moans in.

The sudden jerk of Joel’s hips causes your eyes to water and screw shut. The initial intrusion of his cockhead unexpected yet welcome. Joel throws his head back, “That’s a fucking good girl.”

Those magic words make everything worth it as you messily continue to suck and lick every inch of his cock. Neither the tears in the corner of your eyes nor the saliva dripping down his length stop you from tasting him.

You swear you’re dripping on the floor as your pussy flutters at his pleased words. You could touch yourself but all your energy and attention goes to pleasing the man above you.

The pain of kneeling hard wood floor for an extended period of time doesn’t bother you and the ache on your jaw is barely noticeable because all your concentration is on Joel and making him feel good.

Joel continues to set the pace, his grip tight on your scalp. “Fuck, just like that,” he moans when you tease the crown of his cock expertly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Joel’s voice lilts in a reprimanding voice.

A string of saliva connects you to the tip of him as your hand continuing to work on the rest of his length.

Joel takes note of your red rimmed eyes and flushed nose as well as in your swollen lips and moussed hair. The picture of you completely filthy and sexy.

Joel cups the back of your neck, bringing you up to his height. He brings you into a sloppy kiss consisting of teeth and tongue and saliva. Joel loves that can taste himself in your mouth. A job well done.

You straddle his lap so his cock grazes your dripping pussy, tugging needily at his tshirt. “Take it off,” you beg. Your lips separate for a brief second as the shirt comes off before they smash back together.

He complies but quickly reminds himself that this all started because you were calling him old. He can’t be quick to reward you.

You foolishly believe that’s it and you get to have him. Eagerly you try to sink into his cock but he holds you still, not letting you take him to the hilt.

“Who’s the tease now?” You pant against his lips, stealing another long kiss before whispering in his ear begging him to take you, to use you.

“I like to see you begging for it.” That’s Joel’s response as he pushes you off of him.

You protest but fall silent when he removes his remaining clothes. God you’re like a teenager desperate to fuck with clothes and all.

It drives Joel nuts the way you look at him with lust filled eyes. You bite your lip as you take him in all his glory, hands reaching to touch his chest.

He pulls you back to him, his cock wedged between the two of you. The saliva covering it, sticking to your skin. He cups your face, “You have something to say?”

“Nope.”

Joel to cos his head in disappointment, pushing you into bed and maneuvering you till your head is buried in the pillows and your ass is high in the air. It’s tinged a dozen shades of pink and red from his hands.

You wiggle your hips offering yourself to him. Air hits your pussy, giving you an idea of how aroused you are. That’s what happens whenever you have the pleasure of going down in Joel.

Joel grips himself, spreading his pre before pumping his hand. Smack. His hand flies down to strike your ass once more. Your back arches when Joel teases your entrance with the tip. He runs it up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. He lightly pushes into you so only the tip is inside before he pulls out again.

“Please fuck me,” you plead breathlessly, attempting to rock back to get more of him inside you.

Joel laughs. “Now you’re nice and polite. Is there something else you want to tell me?” He asks expecting an apology.

“No,” you repeat stubbornly.

He’ll get you soon enough. There’s no way you’ll resist.

Joel’s cock brushes against your clit, making you jump and moan. He does it again and again. Your pussy clenches desperately wanting him inside of you.

“You sure? You don’t want to apologize?” He gives you another chance. Sinking his cock deeper into you to give you a taste before he pulls out.

You huff and pout but you can’t take it anymore. You need him. “I’m sorry!”

“Now, was that so hard,” Joel grunts, pushing his length all the way in, rewarding you.

You bury your head into the pillow, stifling the guttural moan that rips from your throat. You could die like this suffocated and blissfully impaled on Joel’s cock and be happy.

With a tight grip on your waist Joel fucks into you at his own pace, watching how easily you accept him, covering him with your essence. It feels fucking fantastic.

His skin slaps against yours rhythmically. You swear you can cum at that moment but Joel knows all your tells and he slows his pace, pushing into you only when the tip remains. Long, slow strokes keeping you from cumming.

“I wanna cum,” you cry out frustrated but he ignores you, edging you.

“If you want to cum tonight you have to stop calling me old,” Joel grits. This is torture for him as much as it is for you.

“I said I’m sorry,” you sob into the pillow, your back arching as you try and take matters into your own hands. Smack, another spank, warning you to stop.

“Will you stop calling me grandpa?”

You have the audacity to fucking hesitate. He’s serious about not letting you cum but he’s confident he’ll get you to cave in.

Joel pulls out his cock when you refuse to answer. He instantly misses the warmth and tightness of your walls. His cock is soaked with your slick, a creamy white substance covering him from root to tip.

Licking his middle and ring fingers he replaces his cock, feeling your walls clench around them. He pumps them angling them downward to reach that spot inside of you, his other hand pressing on your lower back so you arch more.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp when this thumb presses on your bud. An orgasm quickly building. “Please Joel.” You wanted to cum around his cock not his fingers but at this point you’ll take anything you can get. Your mind is completely clouded and years for release.

“Did you reconsider what you wanted to call me?” Joel curves his fingers, quickening the pace.

“Yes,” you whine as your hips grind against his hand.

“And what’s that?” His fingers are sticky, your essence dripping down his hand.

“Please, daddy,” you cry abashedly, hiding your reddening face in the pillows.

“I didn’t hear ya’ darlin’. How about you look at me when you speak?” Joel dares to say while his fingers continue to drive into you.

Fuck, your legs are shaking and the knot continues to tighten in your belly. You have to say it or Joel will stop. You turn your head to meet his eyes, “Please, daddy.”

“That’s more like it,” Joel’s raspy voice says, removing his fingers when you’re at the cusp once more.

You audibly groan in frustration but it’s interrupted when Joel eases his cock back into you Fucking you just as you want it, hard and fast.

The bed sheets are fisted in your hands as you hold on. Your nipples brushing against the bed with each thrust. It doesn’t take long at all for you both to titer over the edge. Your pussy squeezing tightly around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

When Joel pulls out you fall to lie on your stomach, catching your breath. He lies beside you doing the same. Sharing a glance you both start laughing.

“Next time you want it rough just tell me,” Joel shakes his head at you. He knew all along and yet it still pissed him off.

“It’s not the same, honey,” you sigh, kissing his shoulder. The nearest part of him you can reach without moving too much.

The following morning you wake up with a kink in your back and Joel being the ever loving husband brings you painkillers to bed where you’re lying still, “Take these grandma. They’ll make you feel better.”

He won’t ever call you ‘grandma’ again. The daggers you sent him were fucking terrifying.

listen...typically i'm not the biggest fan of the daddy kink...but when it works, it works

#fanfiction #nicksolemnlyswears #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months ago

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Blood Sugar II

England Lionesses x Teen!Reader

Summary: You go on Bake Off

"This time, on the Great Stand Up To Cancer Bake Off, it's Lioness time. Four of the England Lionesses brave the tent in the name of charity to tackle three challenges in the hope of securing, not the Euros trophy, but the star baker apron. This week's celebrities are: Leah Williamson, England captain and defender, Alessia Russo, goal scorer for England, Keira Walsh, England's midfield maestro and y/n l/n, England's youngest star."

You stand in front of your countertop, drumming your fingers against the wood as you look at all of the ingredients in front of you.

"Now, for your signature challenge, Paul and Prue would like you each to make a baker's dozen of sugar cookies," Noel Fielding says and you contemplate slamming your head onto the counter.

You knew agreeing to be on this was a bad idea.

"Each cookie must be hand-shaped," Alison Hammond continues," And made with love. You've got one hour. On your marks."

"Get set."

"Bake!"

"So," Leah says suddenly," Is this a good time to mention I don't know what a baker's dozen is?"

You've never really been a bigger baker. It wasn't really your speciality like a lot of other things like cooking your own meals and doing your own laundry.

There was also the added thing of the fact that no one in your family baked because you couldn't eat it. Well, you could, but it would send your sugar levels through the roof and you hated injecting more insulin than normal because it always stressed you out.

"Less!" You yell out," How much sugar is too much sugar?"

"I'm not helping you!" She yells back and you stick your tongue out at her.

"This is discrimination!" You declare as you start pouring your sugar in, hoping for the best.

The judges leave it ten minutes or so before they start walking around.

They got to Leah first, congratulating her on captaining the team to victory which she graciously waves off before getting way too competitive over a baking show.

Keira is next and it's hard not to be endeared by Keira, clearly the only sane person in the tent.

Alessia ends up accidentally breaking the electric mixer and tries to get everyone to ignore it by throwing a dish towel over it.

Then, it's your turn.

"So, y/n," Paul says," Do you have much experience with baking?"

"No," You reply.

"Did you prepare at all for this?"

"No."

"Do you have much hope you'll win?"

"What I'm hoping for is someone else does extremely badly so I don't come last."

Prue laughs. "Well that's honest of you. So, you have done no preparation at all?"

"I'm planning on just winging it," You admit," I'm diabetic so I don't really eat sugary things so I'm just hoping that they're edible."

"So you're not going to be tasting as you go?"

You eyes go wide. "Am I meant to do that?" You hand goes to cover your mouth. "No, are you joking? Am I meant to be doing that?"

The judges have a little laugh as they back away.

"Wait! Don't go! Am I meant to taste as I go?!"

Even though you don't taste as you go, you don't end up losing the challenge (not with plain tastebuds Leah Williamson in the running) but you don't win either.

Clearly, Keira's just good at everything.

The technical round is a disaster for everyone involved, even Keira and somehow, after burning her first set of fondant fancies, Alessia manages to win.

Leah continues to be the worst, which is what everyone expects so even though you don't taste anything, you're not the worst and, honestly, that's what you're aiming for.

You're here to provide the jokes and not to humiliate yourself on national tv and, you know, also to show that diabetics can bake too - not that you really knew that was a big issue until you signed up for this but apparently it is.

The only one that you actually practiced for was your showstopper.

'Your Biggest Triumph' was the theme and you'd had to practice for this one.

"Leah!" Keira shrieks suddenly and you whip your head around to see Leah with her hand in Keira's bowl of batter.

"I'm sorry Kei," Leah says, sounding not very sorry at all," But you're going to win if I don't sabotage you. I'm sure you understand."

You hold your breath as Keira's eyes dart towards Leah's bowl of unsupervised batter, leaping over the countertop to do the same.

"Wait, Kei! Keira, stop!"

Keira doesn't stop and you notice from the corner of your eyes Alessia moving as well.

You snatch your bowl up before she can grab it, sprinting to the other side of the tent.

Alessia follows you until you're backed up against the fridges.

"Less, Less!" You shriek, voice panicky as Leah and Keira wrestle at Leah's counter," Don't do this! You don't have to do this!"

"I'm sorry." Like Leah, Alessia doesn't sound sorry at all. "But it's for the greater good."

"Greater good! This is pure selfishness!"

"This is baking!"

"This is sabotage. Stay away from my bowl!"

"Come on. Don't make this hard than it needs to be."

An almighty crash sounds as Keira and Leah accidentally knock a mixer off the table and in the confusion, you manage to shove Alessia away to pour your batter into the pan.

The carnage continues throughout the time limit, only dampening when a truce is called so you can all decorate your cakes. Apart from that, it's a free-for-all as you find yourself standing on Leah's countertop, throwing wooden spoons at Keira and Alessia whenever they try to approach the pair of you.

"Alright, y/n," Prue says at the end of the time limit," Tell us about your greatest triumph."

"Okay." You point at the various decorations on your cake. "So this cake is a representation of my Dexcom. I know everyone else is choosing football stuff and all that but when I was six, I started feeling really bad. I couldn't focus and I was sweating and I couldn't really move well and I felt tired. It went on for a few days."

You point at one of the little marshmallow figures you made.

"I was playing in Alessia's garden with her and I threw up everywhere and she insisted on having her parents take me to the hospital. I'd developed DKA and was about an hour or so from going into a coma. The doctors ran tests and stuff and found that my pancreas had shut down. So, my biggest triumph was being diagnosed with diabetes."

You give a little shrug, pointing out the way you'd shaped your cake to look like your Dexcom and how on top you'd decorated it with marshmallow versions of you and Alessia and the doctor that you still went to get check-ups from.

"That's a lovely story, y/n," Paul says," But let's see if the actual cake tastes good. What kind is it?"

"Victoria Sponge because it's my mum's favourite."

Each judge takes a slice and you hold your breath.

Paul holds his hand out to you.

Your eyes go wide. "Are you serious?"

"Shake my hand."

You do that gleefully. Getting a Paul Hollywood handshakes means a lot.

"I mean, there's not much I can say," He says," The sponge is perfect. The filling is perfect. The flavours work well. The story to go with it is fantastic."

"And you never tasted any of it?" Prue asks and you shrug with a grin.

"I'm on a strict diet."

"Well...I mean if football doesn't work it then baking certainly will."

The Star Baker Apron you win at the end hangs up on your wall with your Euro's medal.

#woso x reader #england lionesses x reader #england lionesses #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

610 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 1 month ago

Text

happy coincidences

18+. smut. mdni. modern au.

day four of spooky week back with steve who meets reader at robin’s halloween party, only, you may have more than just costumes in common

a/n: in honour of joe saying he thinks that modern steve would have a swiftie girlfriend.. i had to make r a swiftie

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Louise had called it off.

Again.

“I think you just need to get the fuck over it and get the fuck over someone else,” Robin states plainly, continuing to decorate her scarily bright orange pumpkin cookies.

“Rob,” he sighs, dipping his finger into the leftover batter, “it doesn’t work like that.”

“But it does,” ignoring his pleas of despair, “I’ve seen you break up with hundreds of women and not once have you been so pathetic about it,” snatching the bowl from his reach, “we’re going to get you laid and if you’re still sad about it after then I’ll take pity on you.”

Steve frowns, a deep set crease between his thick brows. Sex would’ve normally cheered him up, no doubt. But Louise was different.

They’d been on-again, off-again for almost a year now, too far gone for some meaningless pussy to fix.

“No fucking way,” Robin exclaims, grabbing his hand and tugging him off towards the other side of the kitchen, “this is perfect! Perfect!” muttering along to herself as Steve's heels dig into the floor in protest.

“What’re you doing?” he spits, almost knocking her over when she stops abruptly in front of him.

A group of girls sit equally as confused on the couch, smiling up at Robin with a shared baffled look in their eye.

That’s when he sees the hat, pink and sparkly, slowly trailing down to the matching costume. So that’s why she’d dragged him over here. You were unintentionally matching with him. The perfect Barbie and Ken duo, a fitting part in Robin’s master plan to get him over Louise.

“Can you believe you’re matching?” she fusses, fingering the details of your jean jacket, “I don’t think you two have met before? How crazy is that?” pinching Steve's arm, nudging him to say something.. anything really.

You hum, smiling up at him from underneath the brim of your cowboy hat, “you look great,” eyeing the tassels around his pecks, the vest that now felt a touch too much.

He felt stupid before but now, he felt utterly idiotic. Realising quite how extravagant and completely unnecessary the costume was.

“Thanks,” he nods, receiving another sharp pinch from his best friend, forcing him to cough up a real reply, “yeah.. you do too.”

Your eyes fall back to Robin as she backs slowly away, “I’ll let you two get to know each other, okay? i’ve gotta check on my.. cookies! Yeah! My cookies!”

A bare-faced lie. Those fucking cookies had been out of the over for hours at this point. Steve had taxed a few for the inconvenience of her pestering him all night.

You flash him a thin-lipped smile, clearly as interested in this as he was. “Your girlfriend make you dress up as Ken, huh?” your own friends shuffling to the other side of the couch, away from the awkward conversation.

“Oh! No.. no, Rob made me,” unsure of whether you were implying the massive lesbian that had forced him over here was his girlfriend or if there was another lady in his life.

Neither would be true.

Robin hollers from across the room, “he’s a liar! He wanted to be Ken all on his own!” before disappearing into the kitchen to check on her cookies.

Your smile grows, “hey.. I don’t judge,” taking a slow sip from your glass, totally undeserving of having Robin force Steve onto your night.

God he needs a drink. Or five.

Maybe after a couple beers he’d have the confidence to talk to you properly.

“I really liked the movie, okay? it was fun,” deciding to lean into it, slowly but surely. “And you know, Barbie’s hot.”

Oh.

He doesn’t just mean Margot Robbie either.

Your cleavage spills out of your shirt, only really visible from this angle he was leering from.

“She is,” you laugh, “I’m sorry- what was your name again?”

“Steve,” offering his hand for you to shake. Why did he do that? You aren’t agreeing on a new marketing strategy for fuck sake.

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” rabbiting your name as if his brain would do anything other than call you Barbie all night. “You look like you need a drink.”

He nods, chuckling under his breath, “I do.”

“Well,” you stand, unexpectedly a lot closer than probably intended, “let’s get you a drink, Steve.”

The party thumps on, you and Steve still reluctantly circle around one another, both too awkward or maybe just unwilling to take it further.

Robin makes it known that Steve would be a colossal fucking idiot for not immediately trying to win you over, making it very obvious as she sidles up next to him at the makeshift beer-pong table.

“What is your problem?” she hisses, shoving a cup of liquid courage into his chest, “make a move before someone else does, idiot.”

“I dunno,” exhaling pathetically, “I just don’t think I’m ready yet,” eyeing you from across the table, too engrossed in the game of beer-pong to care about his whining.

Robin’s sharp elbow connects with his ribcage, “don’t be so fucking stupid,” snarling loud enough for him to hear over the music, “I think you should go for it. God knows I’m sick of hearing you cry over Louise.”

He truly wants to be offended, even opening his mouth to offer a rebuttal, though nothing comes out.

Regrettably, Robin was right.

Louise had made it clear that she no longer wanted him, so why was he still so hung up over her? It was exhausting. Not only for Robin, but him too.

The ping pong ball lands in Steve’s drink with a loud plunk, pulling him out of his head to find you already smiling back at him.

“I think that means I win,” rocking on your heels, a syrupy sweet smile sticks to your lips. You deserved far better than the lacklustre night he was giving you, that’s for sure.

Steve nods, downing the rest of his drink and attempting to hide his grimace as the liquid burns his throat. Robin had slipped him pure ethanol or something, her grin made her ill intentions very clear.

You continue to beat his ass for a while, Steve was better at basketball than beer-pong that’s for certain. He didn’t care anyway, the new-found haze in his head was welcomed, sidling closer and closer to your side as his chest warms up.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” he whispers, lips practically touching your ear, this was the bravest he’d gotten all night, perhaps he wasn’t such a lost cause after all.

He stumbles into the bathroom, finding his balance against the cold wall when his phone buzzes against his thigh.

what r u doing tonight?

The message reads, sending a sinking feeling through his chest.

Louise, making sure than even though they’re not together anymore, he can’t move on.

Why does she even care?

Why does he care enough to respond?

He stews on it, using the bathroom to buy himself some time to figure out what he should do. Slinking off into the hallway after a moment of consideration, finger hovering over the call button for an embarrassingly long amount of time until he just does it.

It rings. And rings. And rings.

“Hello?” Louise’s voice echoes into his ear.

“Hey.”

There’s an empty sigh down the line, “I didn’t mean.. that text wasn’t meant for you.”

“Oh.”

Another dagger to his chest, piercing through his thumping heart. The confirmation he needed that not only did she not care about him but that she had moved on.

“Steve I’m-“

The tone beeps, not allowing her to take up any more of his time. She didn’t care, he shouldn’t care. That was the end of it.

He slinks down onto the stairs, eyeing the door. He could be out of here before you even remembered he existed, sulking in his room like he’d wanted to in the first place.

The music gets louder, light creeping in as the door creaks open, your face soft as your eyes meet his hunched over frame, like a pathetic little weasel.

“I thought I should find my Ken again,” chuckling awkwardly.

Your Ken? That was a little presumptuous of you.

He’s immediately sorry.

Soured by the conversation with Louise. An unnecessary hindrance to his entire night.

“You okay?” you pry, no doubt noticing his glum demeanour, coming to sit on the cramped step next to him.

Steve sighs, looking at the blank phone screen in front of him, deciding whether to impede all of his misery onto you or to not ruin this entire night.

Remembering Robin’s, albeit harsh, words.

He goes for the latter.

“Yeah.. I’m good,” knee knocking into yours, “are you?”

You nod, smiling softly, “I’m gonna head home now, I just wanted to let you know that it was really nice to meet you, Steve,” standing from the staircase, leaving a sudden, cold ache to his side, “I hope your.. girl problems get better soon.”

they would, almost immediately, get better if he just stopped acting like a pussy.

You weren’t exactly being inconspicuous with your flirting either. This was on him and him alone.

He’s not shocked Robin had divulged to you all about his lingering annoyance of a relationship, no doubt trying to sell him to you at the same time too.

So Steve does something he never does. He thinks on his feet.

“Let me walk you back,” jumping up, “it’s dark and i can’t let you walk home alone,” a contained smile, the previously empty confidence now coming back.

You pucker your lips, tilting your head to the side, all the while Steve prays to God that you’ll give him one last chance.

“Sure,” shrugging coyly, as if you weren’t banking on him volunteering anyway.

“Alright,” he grins, enthusiastically nodding his head, “I’ll just say goodbye to Rob and then we can.. go,” faltering now that he’d made the leap into uncharted territory.

Steve had been a master at one night stands, only that was two years ago and Louise had served a harsh knock to his confidence. Besides all that, you were worth more than just one night.

“I’m gonna walk this one home and then head home myself,” announcing your departure to the dwindling room, heads spinning to watch the door.

Robin contains her grin, only just. Sipping on her drink to keep her blathering mouth occupied, she’d put in the work to even get him here in the first place, now all he needed to do was not fuck it up.

A chorus of goodbyes ring out behind you, stepping into the cool October air, he suddenly wishes he was wearing a little more than just his rhinestone shirt.

“This one?” you tease once out onto the street, wrapping

your arms around yourself.

Steve inhales, staring at the star filled sky, fully embracing his cringe, “don’t.. don’t talk about it.”

“Why?” you laugh, stumbling into him as you traipse down the road, “you don’t remember my name, do you?”

“Of course I do,” blowing the air out of his cheeks with full confidence, “your name… is Barbie,” so certain that that’d work on you.

You scoff, stopping dead in your tracks, “you fucking forgot,” in complete disbelief that he’d even attempt to bullshit his answer, “you’re unbelievable Steve,” really making your point, only slightly pissed off.

“Don’t do that,” unable to hold the smile from his face any longer, “I can’t help that you’re the best Barbie I’ve ever seen, you know?”

Your eyes roll back, striding past him but not without reiterating your name again, perfectly clear and right into his ear. You’re not really annoyed, at least he doesn’t think so. Steve’s sure he’ll remember your name forever after tonight, one way or another.

He expertly changes the conversation for the rest of the duration of the walk back, asking about your job and not-so-discreetly slipping your name into every other sentence.

“Well, this is me,” you smile, stopping just before the house with the extravagantly decorated door, a plethora of pumpkins litter the steps all as badly carved as the other.

He marvels at the display, the dedication to the holiday, Eddie would laugh in his face if he ever suggested carving pumpkins for their house. “Alright.. it was really nice to meet you tonight,” standing with his arms tucked neatly behind his back, “I’ve had a really nice time with you.”

You nod, slowly ascending the steps to the door, “you too, Steve. Are you.. close to here or..?” weighing up whether inviting him inside was a sane idea.

“Oh no,” shaking his head, once perfected hair now falling into his warm face, “I live like.. two miles that way,” pointing in the direction you’d walked from.

“And you decided to walk me home? Why didn’t you say something?” falling into a fit of laughter. He didn’t blame you, really, it would be crazy to anyone else.

“Because I’m a gentleman,” smiling sweetly, “it’s not a big deal,” he shrugs, though he really doesn’t anticipate having to actually walk home.

“Well thanks a lot,” unsure of the sarcasm twinge to your tone, “I didn’t realise Ken was such a gentleman.”

“Of course I am,” bowing down to tip his imaginary hat, a total performance all just to earn a sweet giggle from your mouth.

You turn, just before opening the door, your eyes low and dark, “you wouldn’t wanna.. come in, would you?” shivering under the moonlight.

“Do you? Want me to come in, I mean,” Steve can’t really think straight at all, he’s been so preoccupied with Louise to even think about the possibility of anything more happening between you two.

But now he’s here, he can’t stop his dick from twitching in his pants. You are pretty, gorgeous really. He’d be an idiot to say no.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to,” scoffing quietly.

“Well I wouldn’t want to upset you now,” cocking his grin to the side as he makes his way up the steps.

You shake your head, unmoving when he reaches the top, your bodies inches apart. The tension thick, as it had been all night. only now he was able to really feel it. Had you been looking at him like this all night? With your features pinched and your chest heaving.

Steve doesn’t think so, but then, he was so oblivious that it wouldn’t surprise him at all.

Excitement and slight intoxication courses through his veins, an excitement he hadn’t felt in months. Louise was never this happy or eager to have sex with him, it felt something like a chore most times.

You spin, breaking the tension abruptly, unlocking the door to your dark house and ushering him inside.

“You live alone?” he asks, wondering if any nosy roommates would be interfering tonight.

“Nope,” flicking the light on, “they’re all still at the party,” it’s obvious now, in the light. Pairs of shoes strewn across the floor and pictures of grinning girls line the walls, his gaze is drawn to the one of you in the summer, beaming from ear to ear as the sun beats down on your face.

Not to mention the cherry red bikini peeking out of the bottom of the picture.

“That’s.. good,” twisting his lips into a shrouded smirk.

“Oh yeah?” kicking your shoes off, the tense atmosphere made slightly softer by your nonchalance, “why’s that?” you level with him, the space between you shrinking with every step.

“I just meant.. it’s good that you don’t live all on.. your own,” struggling to make sense of his rambling with your eyes staring up at him like that, glittering while ever-so-slightly judging.

You laugh, loud and sudden, “I think you should just stop talking and kiss me,” teetering on your tiptoes as you wet your lips, an entire night of dancing around one another had led to you barking instructions at him.

He needed it, to be honest, completely fumbling around, his nerve shot and depleted.

Soft skin meets his cheek, making the first move while he stands buffering, only snapping out of his trance when your thumb grazes his lip, pressing his lips to yours in a haste. Steve had wasted too much time overthinking every move, decidedly trying not to fuck this up all night.

He can feel your smile grow against his lips, taking the control over the kiss back by finding your waist with his cold hands. Opening up an entirely new world, the metaphorical sparks fly from your skin, a passion unfelt for far too long.

You pull back only just, still brushing against his lips with your eyes pressed shut, “should we go upstairs?”

Steve thinks the answer is obvious, his grip on your waist gave that much away for sure. He nods anyway, for good measure, letting you take his hand to lead him up the cluttered stairway, almost sprinting as the urge to get you out of your clothes explodes.

“Ignore the mess,” you warn but he’s not paying any attention to anything other than you, drinking in your hips and the way they sway.

He knocks the hat from your head, hands finding solace on your back as he pulls you in again, this kiss more fiery than the last, grabby and hungry making you hum in shock. Eager to satisfy the ache in his cock, even if it were just by making out.

Your fingers work at the buttons on his shirt, brushing against his chest as his tongue moves between your lips, a fervent battle with your own. There had been no this with Louise, that was certain, a vanilla love affair that often ended in disappointment for the both of them.

The cloth leaves his shoulders, hitting the ground with a soft thump to welcome your hands around his neck, clammy as they grasp his skin. He’s a novice now, once filled with an overbearing confidence to now, a fumbling mess.

His hands feel around for your bed, laying you back across the mattress tumbling on top clumsily. Unbuttoning your waistcoat with a trembling hand, you take the reins even from underneath, sliding your legs up against his waist, further closing the distance.

Your lips unlock, allowing him time to take in a much needed breath. You’re braless underneath your costume, shimmying the fabric off and tossing it to the ground all the while actively ignoring Steve’s gawping.

“It’s rude to stare,” you jest, though you don’t attempt to hide at all.

Steve’s gaze flickers, once to your eyes and back down again, eyes wide and adoring, “I’m not sorry,” he quips back before resuming the kiss, focused on getting your pants down.

Your panties already soaked, legs opening to welcome him inside perfectly, he sits up on his knees, mouth slack as he admires the view laid before him. There hadn’t been any thought in his mind that this was how you’d end up tonight, but he’s sure glad he’s here.

His hands glide up the soft skin of your thighs, squeezing gently for good measure, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, taking his time to slide them down your legs. The tight feel of his pants suddenly becoming too much, his leaking tip pressed against the shoddy costume fabric.

“I haven’t.. it’s been a while,” he warns, a subconscious effort to turn you off as if you weren’t glistening before his eyes, pupils blown and aching for him.

“I don’t care,” you huff in response, tightening your calves around his waist.

Steve swallows the lump in his throat, in awe of your vigour, struggling to get his own pants off with the newfound tent in his crotch. Clambering back over to hover above, his dick straining against his boxers.

Your hands come to find his shoulders as his boxers come down, “you’re.. Jesus Christ,” you remark, looking down at the space between your bodies.

It was no secret that his dick was on the bigger side, that was made clear very early on in his life.

“I’m not.. not quite,” laughing to himself, the pressure easing only the tiniest bit as he fists his cock, guiding his fat tip to your weeping hole, sliding between your slick folds before easing himself inside.

Your breathing stutters in synchronicity, digging your fingernails into the sweaty skin of his neck. “Fucking.. shit,” Steve splutters, fisting the pillowcase with an almighty need to not cum right then and there.

Quickly finding his rhythm, kept in time by your in heady moans and the slight rut of your hips against his. You were an entirely new experience, your pussy drinking him in immediately and with every stroke he loses brain cells.

You whine, needily bucking your hips to meet his, sending shivers up his spine when your fingertips graze his scalp alongside the gentle tugging of his hair.

He’s grateful you’re alone as the mattress creaks inconspicuously in time with his hips, one night stands had been his forte a few years ago and he’d been caught out by rusty bed springs more times than he’d like to admit.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, jaw slack, allowing your sweet wails to escape. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Steve gushes, a bumbling mess transfixed by your warmth.

You breathe airly, cracking a smile at his blown out eyes and furrowed brow, “not while they were inside of me no,” sliding your calf up his side, allowing him deeper.

“They should’ve,” he pants, unsure of where this was even coming from. He feels giddy, like this was always meant to happen.

You brush back the loose strands of hair from in front of his eyes, clung to his sweaty forehead, “thank you, but I kinda need you to move,” his cock stilled while he babbles on.

“Yeah.. yeah,” Steve nods, leaning down to lazily connect your lips, drawing a dulcet whimper from your throat when he sinks back into your cunt.

Warmth arises from his stomach to his chest and almost back out of his mouth, his head turning to complete fuzz. You taste like sweet wine and peppermint, your tongue dancing between his lips to battle with his. If your plan was to make him fall in love, you might’ve just succeeded.

“Shitshitshit,” you mumble, leaving the kiss to press your lips to the stubble on his jaw instead, vibrating the skin with every desperate curse and plea.

His fingers grip the space around your head, moving over to gently stroke your cheek, slowly losing his stature as the knot tightens in his stomach. “I’m gonna.. shit, I’m gonna cum,” rushing the words out before they lose all meaning in his noisy brain.

“Yeah?” lips twitching upward, “just.. just not inside,” making sure to get your very important point across before the line was blurred forever.

Pulling out of your pussy in record time before he shudders, hot ropes of his seed paint your stomach, Steve’s brain collapses in on itself before he has time to move himself. Sputtering a half-assed apology before collapsing onto the mattress next to you, breathless as he reels.

“Holy shit,” panting softly, reaching over for some discarded item of clothing to clean yourself up, letting him recover with his face pressed into your pillow, his deep, heaving breaths eventually slowing.

“Sorry for uh.. that,” glancing downward, hoping you wouldn’t now make him walk home in his costume and acres of shame.

Instead, you throw the blanket over him before snuggling in closer, a particular shine in your eye before delving into your barrage of thoughts about the night.

The sun beats through your blinds, forcing him awake far too early.

You don’t stir, still peacefully asleep on the pillow next to him. Steve couldn’t even remember falling asleep, one minute asking about your major to waking up with your legs intertwined.

The sound of his phone vibrating against the bedside table shocks him fully awake. Robin probably thought he was dead. Five missed calls and the barrage of texts definitely solidified that.

are you alive???

steve

this is serious now can you reply to me before i call the cops

He reaches down, swooping the pink bejeweled hat off of the ground and lazily placing it on his own head. sticking his tongue out at his phone before snapping a quick picture, his thumb immediately sending the picture to his, no doubt, curious best friend.

She replies almost immediately, making sure to heart react to the image before going on her tangent.

i fucking knew it!

i knew ot!!!!!!

how was it?

do u like her??

His phone vibrates in his hand, afraid he’d wake you with the incessant sound.

great

and

yes

Steve replies, leaving everything to her wild imagination.

you bastard tell me more

i knew you’d like her!

why don’t u ever trust me

He sighs, knowing that once again Robin was right.

shut up

dinner later?

She pings back instantaneously.

yes.

He clicks his phone shut, placing it back on the nightstand, the bright pink hat still perched on his head. He wanted to wake you, hoping you’d still like him the same now that you were sober.

Black streaks of your mascara are smeared across your under eye and cheeks, hell, Steve was definitely wearing it too. There’s glitter everywhere, scattered across your bedsheets and his tan skin and almost certainly his hair. His eyes slide around your cluttered room, the pictures and Taylor Swift posters that adorned the walls, piles of unfinished books on your desk. He’s particularly interested in the shelf of vinyl records, though he could fathom a guess as to what they probably were.

You rouse from your slumber next to him, sighing softly as you awaken, “nice hat,” mumble from the pillow, squinting at the sight before you, he probably looked a mess. Sure as shit felt like one.

“Oh shit,” Steve laughs, forgetting he even still had it on, “Robin was just making sure you weren’t a murderer,” tossing the hat back to the floor, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet red.

“Not a murderer,” you chuckle, “but I might murder you for an aspirin and some fries though.”

“I think I could make that happen without you having to kill me,” he smiles, volunteering to venture into the depths of your scary house for an aspirin.

“Please do, and quickly,” grumbling from your perch on the pillow, suffering worse than he was.

“You just wait here and I’ll be back in no time,” he’s just about to clamber from the bed when the door swings open, hurriedly grabbing the blanket to keep his dignity intact as some girl he quickly identifies as your roommate bursts in.

“Oh woah,” she exclaims, pretending to cover her eyes while she peeks through the middle two, “so that’s where you went! We weren’t sure if you were dead or not,” not so unfamiliar with his snooping friends.

You groan, shuffling around your cocoon to face her, “I feel like I’m dying,” your voice gruff in comparison to the angelic tones ringing in his ears last night. He still absolutely loved it either way.

“That’s a shame,” the girl sarcastically pouts, “I was just about to ask if you and your friend would like to join us at Flannery’s tonight but if you’re dying…”

Your head perks up ever so slightly, “oh really? I think I could get myself together enough to come..” turning back to ask Steve, “what about you?”

He nods in a rather overzealous manner, “yeah, yeah I’ll be there.”

“You should invite your friend Robin I think, I mean- it’d be cool if she was there too,” shrugging her obvious pining off before flouncing out of the room in a cloud of curls and sickly perfume.

He looks over to you, your eyes already staring back, glinting with a withheld laugh, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.. I’m sure you and Robin have something way better to do.”

“No!” far too enthusiastic a response for an invite to some college town bar, “I mean, I’m sure we could show our faces.. if we really had to,” Steve wasn’t blasé about anything ever, much less confirmation that you just might like him too.

You beam, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, “okay.. good, because.. I’d really like you to be there.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #chelseeebespookyweek

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msgexymunson · 11 months ago

Text

The Code

Description: Your very first day at your new school and you've already managed to find a dealer. Not only that, but he is fine. Maybe living with your mom might not be too bad after all.

Warnings: Making out, fingering, male and fem oral receiving, p in v unprotected sex

A/N: I just wanted some desperate, clingy ‘I need you’ sex so here we are. I loved writing this so much I think this is going to end up in a whole universe just about these two.

6.2k words

Masterlist

This must be the spot.

You walk out into the little clearing in the woods. It's private, encircled by trees, with a picnic bench right in the middle. As you wonder who the hell put it there, you take in the quiet. It's bizarre; a minute ago you were surrounded by loudmouth jocks and giggling girls, sneakers squeaking and lockers slamming, but here? Silence, except for the twittering of birds and whispering wind in the trees.

Perching on the slightly mildewed table top, you dump your bag and jacket on the seat, crossing your legs and picking your fingernails to pass the time.

A rustle of leaves makes you snap your head up, and you see who must be the most gorgeous guy at this school. Tall, long hair, a narrow little waist you want to wrap your legs around, and judging by his clothes, he's a metalhead too.

“Hey, you leave me a note?”

He looks around nervously, circling the table before walking over to you.

“Yeah, you OK?”

He smiles, and you rethink your previous statement. He must be the most gorgeous guy in this whole town. Such a pretty mouth.

“Sorry, it's just last time I got an anonymous note in my locker I got jumped by four jocks.”

“Oh, well you know what they say, when a boy bullies you they really just have a crush on you.”

He laughs, tipping his head back.

“Well these guys must want my fuckin’ babies or some shit!”

Giggling, you look down, covering your mouth girlishly. Eddie takes the small opportunity to check you out. You look like you've wandered in from a dream. A very wet dream. Little black Mary Janes on your feet, thigh high white socks, and a black and white plaid skirt. The strip of thigh on show is making his pants tighter by the minute. The white t-shirt is a work of art; it seems so innocent, but it's tight enough to accentuate your obvious curves, and the outline of a black bra is peeking through the thin material. He's sure it's purposeful; who wears black under white and doesn't think about it showing?

You clear your throat and his eyes flick upward to your face guiltily. Not saying anything, you let your little smug smile and raised brow do the talking for you. This looks like it's going to be a lot of fun.

After a few seconds of letting him squirm, mostly to see the blush flowing to his cheeks, you give him your name and explain.

“I'm new here, some girl told me you're the one to go to for weed. Eddie, right?”

“Guilty as charged,” he replies, bowing at you. Rolling your eyes, you beckon him forward with one finger. His grin widens as he stands right in front of you, eyes darting to your lips and back up.

“So, you got something for me?”

Eddie plants his hands either side of you on the table, close enough to smell your perfume. It's heady, laden with spice and promise, not the sweet scent he expected. That just intrigues him even more.

Your heads spinning from him crowding your space. His eyes are otherworldly, deep brown, full of such depth and soul that it takes a moment for you to remember to breathe.

“For you? Of course.”

He winks, he fucking winks, sending a swarm of insects in a whirlwind in your stomach, then sits down at the bench, slamming a battered tin lunchbox down. He gestures at the seat in front but you swivel on the table to face him, legs crossed an inch or so away from his hand.

“So, I'll do you a half ounce for… twenty. Cool?”

He wags a baggy at you and you make a pass for it, but he holds it at arm's length.

“Twenty?”

Huffing dramatically, you lean far back to grab your bag from the opposite bench. Eddie holds an arm out, one thrown over his eyes.

“Cover your, er, modesty sweetheart.”

You realise he means your skirt that had ridden high on your thighs, exposing a triangle of your panties. It was only for a moment, but he saw. He thinks it'll be ingrained on the inside of his eyelids, burned into the back of his brain forever. They're baby pink, yet another surprise. You seem to be full of them.

“Such a gentleman.”

Plopping your bag in your lap, you rummage through it to find a note. Eddie's eyes widen yet again. Your little denim backpack is covered in patches; Megadeath, Anthrax, Saxon. Just when he thinks he's got you figured out, you throw another curveball at him.

“Here, twenty.”

He takes it and exchanges it for the bag in his hands. Squirrelling it away, you smile.

“Thank you. Fancy a smoke?”

“Sure, why not.”

You move to get your newest purchase out again but he waves a hand.

“This one's on me sweetheart. For the er, pleasure of your company.”

“Well, aren't I lucky.” Smirking at him, revelling in the pink tinge on the apples of his cheeks, you watch whilst he rolls.

“So, you're new? When did you start?”

“Today. Moving in with my mom and my brother for a little while whilst my dad cools off.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles, licking the paper with a pointed precise tongue.

“Yeah. I got suspended, he freaked. Mom wanted her little girl back, so here I am.”

“Oh really? What did you do?”

You bite your lip as he passes you the lit joint, and take a couple of hits.

“What didn't I do?”

He laughs loudly with you, eyes darting to your chest as it jiggles. Fuck, he's already down bad.

You make some chit chat, surface level stuff, but it shows you just how easy he is to talk to. He's confident, bordering cocky, but it's belied by the way your flirtatious comments make him blush.

The joint is long gone. Eddie stands up, getting ready to leave. You want him to stay, you need him to, just a little longer. It emboldens you, enough to make a move.

“Eddie, what's your policy on kissing clients?”

He's mid standing when your question gets through to his brain, entirely short circuiting it for a second.

“Huh?”

“I said,” you beckon, and Eddie's legs move on their own accord, “what's your policy on kissing clients?”

He's grinning then, standing in front of you by the edge of the table. As you uncross your legs, his smile only widens, slotting his narrow hips between your thighs. You take one of his hands in yours, examining his rings, before you place it gently on your leg, silently giving him permission to touch you.

Eddie feels dazed, half expecting someone to jump from the bushes with a camera, declaring this all some elaborate prank. The bare skin of your thigh is so soft, silky smooth. His fingers dance just underneath the hem of your skirt, testing the waters, but you let him. You let him.

“My policy? It probably goes against the Holy drug dealers code.” He shakes his head sadly, but he's still smiling, and still not pulling away.

“Drug dealer code? What like, don't get high on your own supply?” You respond cheekily, nodding at the butt of the joint stubbed out on the table.

Your hands snake around his neck autonomously, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves infinitesimally closer, head bending a little.

“Yeah, like that. But the thing is,” he says as he moves even closer, whispering, “it's more like… guidelines.”

“Yeah?”

It's all you can manage out, breathy and weak, practically quivering at his closeness.

His nose rubs against the side of yours, mouths almost brushing, as he whispers again, even more quietly, the breath of it diffusing over your parted lips.

“It's a good thing I like to break the rules.”

Then his lips are crushed against yours, your strawberry lip balm surrendering itself, finding a new home on his full lips. Your tongue licks into his mouth thickly, laced with want. Eddie responds, exploring your mouth as the kiss turns dirtier by the second. Your chest is smashed against his, thighs gripping onto his hips.

Eddie's head is reeling at the taste of you and the feel of your body desperately pressed against him. He winds his hand under your skirt to grab your perfect round ass, jamming you even closer. To his delight you moan in his mouth, lips sliding against his, slicked in spit.

Your heart is thumping so loudly you can feel it in your throat. Or is it his? It doesn't matter, the kiss tearing any rational thoughts away. Snaking an arm around him to dig painted nails into his back, you roll your hips into him, an ache settling into your bones.

The other of Eddie's rough hands travels audaciously to your chest, palming it over your clothes. You don't pull away, in fact your back is arching, searching for more.

It's only then that he notices the time on his watch.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, taking in the way your chest heaves, how your eyes are half lidded, as if you want to devour him whole.

“Fuck, I'm sorry but I'm late, I really gotta go.”

Huffing, you pout, and the plumpness of your bottom lip almost makes him say fuck it, screw Hellfire, but he knows he can't.

“I really, really don't want to go, for the record. Last thing I want to do is walk back into school with a hard on right now.”

You giggle breathlessly, risking a little look down. He's not lying. And he is packing.

“Do you wanna come to mine later?”

It's out of your mouth before you even think of the words, tongue working of its own accord.

“Are you- for real?”

You nod comically fast. He just shakes his head, stunned.

“You know, I'm waiting for a Carrie moment or some shit.”

“Eddie, I'm not gonna dump a bucket of pig's blood on you, I swear.”

“Swear? On what?”

“On, I dunno, on that code thing?”

He laughs, hands rubbing up and down your sides as if he doesn't want to let you go.

“You can't swear on that, we just broke it!”

“Alright then, scouts honour?”

“You were a girl scout?”

“No.”

He laughs again as you purse your lips, deep in thought. Suddenly, your eyes widen, and you hold your hand to your heart, the other forming the devil's horn sign.

“I swear on Ozzy.”

Fuck, Eddie thinks he must have made you in a lab.

“Alright, alright, you best not be using his name in vain.”

You rummage in your bag, grabbing a scrap of paper and scrawling an address on it.

“Here. My er, my mom's out for the weekend and my dweeb brothers got some silly club thing then he's staying at a friend's, so…”

Eddie's eyebrows raise and disappear into his hair. If this is just some fantasy and he's finally lost it, then he can deal with that.

“Right, I will be there. I promise. Wild fuckin’ horses couldn't drag me away.”

You scrunch the paper into his waiting hand, and he presses another kiss to your lips, before he's apologising again, having to run back to school before the guys send a search party.

********************

He only gets a chance to look at your hastily written note when Hellfires finished, a hell of a lot quicker than his usual sessions. The guys are put out, complaining about only managing to go for a supply run and deal with some bandits, but for once he doesn't give a shit.

In his van, he's reading and rereading your note. Maybe he's got it wrong, your messy handwriting is difficult to read after all. Or maybe he was right before and this is all some joke at his expense.

Hope is what gets him there, that and the traces of strawberry lip balm that still linger on his lips. He pulls up to the house and knocks on the door.

You answer, still in your clothes from earlier, though Eddie notices immediately that you've taken off your bra. It throws him for a moment, the shape of your nipples singing a melody directly to his dick, but he recovers.

“You live… here?” He asks, completely surprised.

“Yes?” The way he says it you almost question if you're the one in the wrong house.

“And your last name is…?”

“Henderson.”

“Fuck.” He laughs it out, biting his lip.

“Is that a problem?” You're entirely thrown by his reaction, but gesture at him to come in, closing the door behind him.

“Dustin’s your little brother.” He says it like a known fact.

“How do you know Dust for Brains? Wait-”

You step backwards, both hands held to your mouth in shock.

“You're Eddie?? The Eddie??”

“The one and only, sweetheart.”

“Shit, Dustin does not shut up about you. I thought, well I thought you'd be some nerdy, awkward loser.”

“Well, I'm a lot of things.”

Laughs erupt from you in an unstoppable volcano.

“Dustins gonna kill me.”

Eddie shakes his head.

“No, Dustins gonna kill me. How come he's never mentioned you?”

“He's not exactly my biggest fan. Plus, he probably wanted to avoid- this.”

Eddie deflates a little, the hope of kissing you again dwindling by the second.

“If you want me to go-”

“Oh hell no,” you grab his hand, keeping him there with you, “this is hilarious, he's gonna freak. I can't wait. You wanna drink, or something to eat? Or we can just-”

“Wait, you seriously don't care?”

“Nope. You're too hot.”

Eddie blushes, not used to girls being so brazen with him. Smiling, you tell him to take a seat and grab some beers from the fridge. He takes his jacket off and throws it on a chair. When you return, you're laughing yet again as you hand him his beer.

“How the hell did I miss that?” You point. He follows your eyes, to the Hellfire t-shirt he's wearing.

“Too busy staring at my pretty face?” He suggests, winking at you.

Settling down next to him, you flick the TV on to some random b movie. Nonchalantly, you place a hand on his knee, stroking the little bare patch of skin as you look at the film playing.

“Maybe I was too busy thinking about what's underneath it.”

You say it offhand, a casual statement, but it's got Eddie nearly choking on his mouthful of beer.

“Shit you are nothing like your brother, are you?”

Turning to smirk at him, you respond, “I fucking well hope so.”

Then Eddie's thoughts fly straight out the window when your hand lands on his chest, nails raking him through the fabric. Suddenly, the temperature of the room is stifling, or is it just the feel of your body against his? He reaches tentatively to cup your cheek, rubbing a calloused thumb on your chin, eyes boring into yours for confirmation. Breath hitches in your throat; you lean in closer, gaze flickering to his perfect mouth and back up.

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me, Eddie?”

You smirk, but it's wiped from your face immediately by his mouth smashing into yours. It's so forceful you have to fight to keep upright, hand fisting into his shirt as some sort of anchor.

As you pull away, his eyes widen, wondering if he did something wrong. He looks like a little puppy.

“Easy Eddie, we've got all night.”

All night? Eddie has decided that he must have got hit on the head today. Maybe he was jumped after all, and now he's in a coma, playing out some elaborate fantasy.

He settles back into the cushions, swigging his beer and failing to focus on the movie playing, his leg restlessly bouncing.

You look perfectly at ease, knees curled up on the seat. What he doesn't know is that your heart is pumping blood so fast that you're starting to feel a little dizzy from it, purposefully slowing your breath to keep your calm.

Once your beer is finished you've decided that enough is enough. A part of you wanted to take this slow; he seemed like such a nice guy, as well as being into your kind of music, and hot as sin. Unfortunately, it seems your pussy has other ideas, already banging its own heartbeat like a dinner bell.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He tries to make it sound casual, but he's wound so tight it's almost a strangled noise. Nursing a semi since he saw you in the woods earlier, now it's straining against his jeans in a futile attempt to be near you.

He looks so damn nervous, and it gives you the confidence you need to swing your leg over his and straddle him. Eager hands land immediately on your hips, thumbs pressing hard to keep you there.

This time, you lean in. Your kiss is fire, tongue burning hot and heavy in his mouth. Eddie groans into the kiss, rolling desperation from his mouth to yours. He's breathing so hard it's whistling through his nose, clouding your cheek with condensation.

It almost feels like a competition, both tongues duelling, determined to unravel the other. Lips swollen and blood filled, your mouth tries to keep up with his, spit gathering at the edges. You'd be self conscious about it if you weren't so damn turned on.

Eddie's hands roam all over, grasping at your ass under your skirt, slipping inside the thin material of your panties at the back, until he runs a thumb just next to your underwear but this time dangerously close to your sex. You moan onto his tongue, your own hands winding into his hair, pulling harshly to spur him on.

He can't concentrate on the hard tingle your fingers cause to run all over his scalp, not when slips his fingers past the cotton barrier and he runs them up and down your slippery slit. Mind entirely encased in a pink fog of lust, you realise your mumbling in his mouth.

“Please, please, please-”

The corners of his mouth turn up at the sound, thumb seeking out your clit to rub circles on and around it, your arousal causing it to slip and slide. You're dizzy, hot all over, pussy aching for something inside.

Eddie's obsessed with the feel of you, the heat emanating from your cunt, but most of all with the sounds you make. They'd be pornographic, if they weren't so fucking real. Needy, hoarse moans, peppered with little gasps and whimpers that are making his cock twitch with each slip of his thumb.

Gliding a finger inside, he watches as your head rolls back, a strangled groan falling from your kiss bitten lips. You're practically riding his hand, bouncing your tits so close to his face that he's in a trance. As if you can hear his prayers, you pull your shirt off, fighting with the tight material until you can shake it off your arm.

He sees the glimpse of a tattoo, a snake wrapped around a dagger directly in your cleavage, which he momentarily thinks is really hot, but then he's gone. Your bare chest is a masterpiece, perfect tits jostling with each bounce of your thighs. He latches his mouth to a nipple, tonguing and sucking on it like he needs it to breathe. In fact he almost forgets to, pulling his mouth off to take a gasping breath and latch onto the other.

He drags his mouth away when he feels you tightening impossibly hard around his fingers and leans back just in time to see the show. Your climax is violent, grinding into his fingers hard and rough until suddenly you're screaming his name, nails breaking the skin of his neck as you cling on for dear life. Your release engulfs your body in a flash of fire, singeing each nerve and causing you to convulse in his grip. Eddie can barely move, his fingers straining hard to work you through your orgasm, so much so that the tendons of his arm hurt, but he doesn't care. He keeps on curling them until you physically grab his arm to still him.

His dripping fingers are released with a sucking sound as he grins at you smugly. Not for long though, not with your chest heaving like that and the way you're biting your lip. You yank at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and relishing in the exposed skin by lathing your tongue over his collar bone.

“Nice tats.” You breathe onto his skin between sucks and nips.

“Same to you,” he stumbles out in a gasp as a particular sharp bite to his neck shoots a lightning bolt of heat down his spine.

“You haven't seen all of them,” you reply, nibbling at his earlobe.

He's never wanted to hunt for tattoos more in his whole life.

“Fuck, you are a dream.”

His teeth bite down on your shoulder and you whimper, grinding down on his rock hard bulge. Enveloping his lips in another urgent kiss, and another, until you can break away long enough for one word.

“Bedroom?”

“Jesus fucking Christ yes.”

He stands, still holding you, knocking a beer bottle to the floor. You cling to him with your legs as he walks backwards, sending a table lamp flying in the process. It's inconsequential; your head is fighting through a cloud of need, nothing can find its way through but touch and taste.

In the hallway, he slams your back into the wall, pressing you hard against it as he writhes his tongue in your mouth again. A picture frame falls, you just about hear the tinkling of glass but it's not important. That's tomorrow's problem.

Unhooking yourself from his clutches for a moment, you drag him by the front of his jeans and yank him into a doorway, gasping for breath, grasping at flesh. You practically punch the lightswitch to turn it on, the thought that you need to see him just about making it through the horny mist. Once inside he barely has a chance to take in his surroundings before you're falling to your knees and undoing his belt with impatient fingers.

“Woah, baby, you don't need to-”

“Shut the fuck up Eddie I wanna blow you.”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and then compulsively strokes his neck just to keep some composure. If he thinks about your words for a second longer he's sure he'll bust right in his pants.

You work his fly and pull his jeans and boxers down swiftly, his turgid cock flying free and whacking his stomach, decorating it with a pearl of precum. It feels heavy in your hands as you rub him up and down, watching the soft skin move with each pass, like silk wrapped around a steel bar.

Taking him into your mouth, you twirl your tongue around his head, licking up its salty sweetness, sucking lightly. Eddie groans, torn between covering his eyes and holding you in place, so he does a bit of both, until you start taking him deeper and deeper without gagging.

His eyes snap open to see you staring straight at him, nose nestling in his coarse pubic hair, eyes wide and wet and innocent, mouth stretched full of him, and he feels his balls tighten.

“Fuck stop stop, please.”

He practically bends in half to get you off of his dick. Giving him a smug smile of your own, you delicately wipe the spit gathered at the corners of your mouth with a thumb.

“You OK there champ?”

“You are gonna kill me sweetheart.”

He's heaving, trying to control his breath, eyes darting from your face, to your bare chest and back up. Standing up, you unzip your skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor, leaving you in your tiny pink underwear with a very noticeable wet patch, and your thigh high socks. There's another tattoo hiding just out of sight, playing peekaboo over the top of your panties.

Something about seeing you so innocent and yet so naughty flicks a switch in his brain. Before he can think he's pushing you backwards and you hit the mattress behind with a thud, legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

Which is fucking perfect in Eddie's opinion because he needs to taste you right now otherwise he might die.

You both fight to take your underwear off, but he covers your hand in his own when you start rolling your socks down.

“No. Leave them on.”

It's husky and dominant, a steely look behind those soft brown eyes you haven't seen yet. Well. Filing that away for reference. You lay there sweetly, propped up on your elbows to watch as his tongue squirms against you, making out with your cunt just as passionately as he kissed you.

He takes your clit in his mouth and sucks and for a moment you can see God.

“Holy fuck! Eddie!” He groans back, lost in the taste of your cunt. He wants to write a poem about it, a song, a fucking haiku, anything to immortalise the prettiest pussy with the sweetest flavour.

“Eddie, get up here!” He's not listening, licking and sucking, almost getting as much pleasure as you are, but you need him inside you right now before you combust; you're sure of it.

In the end you grab a chunk of his hair and pull him upward, sliding him over your trembling body, and you hold his face an inch from yours.

“Eddie, I need you to fuck me, now.”

His leaking tip is rubbing against your swollen clit; he takes it in his hand to line it up, when somewhere out of the pussy drunk haze he remembers something important.

“Do you have protection?”

“I'm on the pill, is that-”

It clearly is OK. It's possibly the best four words Eddie's ever heard.

Your unfinished sentence morphs into a drawn out moan as Eddie pushes inside you, stretching you out until he's fully sheathed. As you whimper and whine at the feeling, Eddie stops, just for a moment, to hold your cheek and press a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

For some reason that takes you entirely by surprise, eyes wide and wet at his honesty.

“Yeah? You're really handsome, Eddie.”

The smile he shoots you is warm and genuine, lighting up that animate face of his with an inner glow. You roll your hips upward and take joy in the fact that he wasn't expecting it, eyebrows knitting in shock as a litany of swear words spill from his mouth.

Your smirk is short lived when he hikes your leg around his waist and starts thrusting devastatingly deep, so deep it's like he's in your guts trying to root out the source of the burning desire at the pit of your stomach.

“Holy- oh God, Eddie!”

Moaning loudly, you press hot, cushy kisses to him between your stream of noises, forehead resting on his. Eddie's smiling, he can't help it. Just the joy of being with you like this, the feel of you losing it because of him, and the tightness of your pretty cunt have him in paradise.

“Feels- feels so- oh fuck- so good, inside you, sweetheart. So fuckin’ tight, I-I can feel you shaking, you close?”

Words escape you. All you can do is cling to his back and nod, nails clawing into him with shivering intensity. Eddie thrusts into you harder; all you can do is cling on for your life, arms and legs nearly suffocating him. The telltale tingle of your release is nearly burning your skin, prickling over each downy hair making it stand on end.

The heat is immense, tension gripping your legs as you quake, and writhe, and whimper, until your climax flies out of you, shooting out of every pore and forcing tears from your eyes. Your vision turns bright white for a moment, until all the tension leaves your muscles and you flop back on the bed.

Eddie doesn't understand how you keep on getting hotter, but it doesn't matter. You let him inside of you, raw, and his head is still reeling from that. Each little sound, each flex of your constricting walls is pushing him to ecstasy; in fact he's staving it off so he can enjoy you like this for a little while longer.

Getting up on his knees, he pulls you toward him by your thighs, guiding you to roll your hips as he pumps into you. This angle is so much better; he can see all of your incredible body laid out before him, tits bouncing with each thrust. Your small hand finds his forearm, just holding it lightly, as you whine.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

It's high pitched, mumbled and nearly incoherent. He's not even sure you know you're doing it, but it's what pushes him over the edge. He feels the tightness in his balls as his length grows impossibly hard.

“Sweetheart, where-” He manages through gritted teeth.

“Please cum in me.”

Eddie's four new favourite words. He grips hard to your thighs, hard enough to bruise, as he groans and swears his release out. You feel it deep inside, throbbing out of him, when he finally collapses forward. You hold onto each other, tongues rolling into each other's mouths, kissing and kissing and kissing. You kiss until it hurts, until your mouth is chapped and sore, until you need air, and water.

“Fuck, Eddie, that was… sorry, if I er, came on a bit, strong?”

Eddie just laughs, pressing his body as tightly against yours as he can.

“Please don't ever apologise for wanting to fuck my brains out.”

You laugh, kissing his cheek.

“When you put it like that, fair enough. Right, get off me, I need to clean up.”

“I can take care of you-”

“Yeah, and I'm a grown woman who needs to piss, so please?”

You roll your wrists, flinging your hands in desperate circles. He surrenders, pulling off you and rolling onto his back, more than happy to watch your naked form sway out of the room.

Eddie does a little wiggle dance when you leave the room, punching the air with glee. He starts looking at your room, since he had no time to see it earlier. There's a tin on the bedside table that looks remarkably similar to what he has at home, and an honest to goodness lava lamp next to it. Unable to help himself, he flicks it on at the plug, waiting for it to warm up.

“Sweetheart, you mind if I roll?” He calls out.

“Sure, my shits on the side table, just light the incense on the dresser.”

Eddie seeks his boxers out and puts them on for his modesty, though it seems you may be a little, lacking, in that department. Not that he's complaining, far from it. He's obsessed with your demeanour, your confidence.

Once the incense is lit, he rolls a joint, fussing over it to make sure it's perfect for you. Just as he pulls the little twisted paper end off, you walk back in.

You'd taken the time to go to the restroom, clean yourself up, and find his t-shirt that was abandoned in the TV room. The hellfire logo is tight across your chest, the shirt barely covering your sex where you stand. The smile you shoot to him is absolutely smothered in sin.

“That's, fuck, you do not play fair, sweetheart.”

Eyes wide, eyebrows round and innocent, your mouth falls into a perfect o.

“I have no idea what you're talking about baby.”

Eddie can't speak. If he does, he'll give everything away. How wonderful you are, how that tightrope of dirty and sweet that you walk with ease twists his insides up. How he never wants to go home.

Instead, he passes the unlit smoke to you, and holds out his zippo like a sacrificial offering. You sit side saddle on the bed, knees together, barely covering your throbbing core, as you take the rolled joint gratefully and spark it. Once you've had a few tokes you pass it back.

“So, this was…” He widely gestures his arm, like it can encompass everything he's felt over the last few hours.

“You wanna leave, Eddie?” You ask. A genuine question, cocking your head to the side, as he takes a few pulls of the smoke and hands it back.

“I thought, well, I thought you'd want me to go.”

“Eddie, I said we had all night. If you're done with me then-”

“Oh, oh fuck no, I thought you'd be done with me!”

You giggle and climb into his lap as he grasps at the flesh of your ass desperately.

“Then stay. Stay with me.”

Your mouth presses kisses to his jaw as your hand winds itself into his boxers, seeking out his hardening length. Eddie hisses through his teeth.

“Fuck, I'll stay, as long as you fuckin’ want, w-whatever you want, Holy shit!”

Laughing, you puff on the smoke with one hand, and tease him relentlessly with the other.

For the second, third, or maybe even fourth time today, he's thinking he's in way over his head, but he can't find it in him to care.

********************

Eddie blinks hard, squishing his eyes shut, then opens them again. Nothing has changed. There's still an unfamiliar fabric hanging on the ceiling in front of him; some rainbow tie dye mural with a painted mariguana leaf in the middle of it that he's never seen before. When he turns his head, he sees a lava lamp, still on, running bubbles of fake lava up it too loose and fast, and then he remembers.

Flicking the switch to stop the lamp's heat, he turns over to see you. You're snuggled into the crook of your own elbow, face perfectly at ease. Your pretty mouth has the hint of a pout to it, daring him to plant a kiss.

He wants to do something for you. Anything. Right now, he'd throw a parade, organise a concert to sing to your cunt, hold a benefit to make you believe how hard he's fallen for the colour of your eyes, but maybe making you a coffee in bed will do.

So he wiggles out of bed in his boxers, and puts his jeans on for good measure in case your mom decides this is a good moment to turn up, and starts busying himself with the kitchen appliances. There's an ancient coffee maker that shakes and sputters to life. Whilst that is going on, he takes a slug of milk out of the carton in the fridge.

That is, until he sees Dustin from the side of his eye.

Dustin looks very confused. His eyes trail from the messed up couch cushions, to the beer bottles on the floor, the out of place lamp, and the broken picture frame, and finally land on Eddie, still bemused and befuddled.

“Eddie… did you… break into my house?”

Dustin clearly doesn't believe his own conclusion as his eyes scout across the available options and still come up empty.

“Sup, Dust Buster!”

Dustin swivels to see you exit your new bedroom, still wearing Eddie's hellfire t-shirt and a pair of panties. You perch nonchalantly on the kitchen side as Eddie grins, making his way between your knees.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me! Eddie!”

“Henderson, honest, I didn't know until-”

“Until you were in my fucking house???”

“OK fair, but it was a bit… late then. Sorry dude.”

‘Sorry? What about the code?” Come on, she's my sister! And you!” He says, pointing at you accusingly, “you were in school for one day. One! Then you sleep with the one guy I look up to!”

“The codes, more like… guidelines. Don't shit your pants, you've still got Harrington, Jeez.”

“Well, you shouldn't be such a- a scarlet woman! A hussy!”

Uncaring, you shake your head back and away, laughing at the names. Eddie, however, is not having any of it.

“Hey, Henderson, you better show your sister some respect.”

“Yeah? Or what?” He dares, forgetting who he's talking to.

“I might be fucking your sister, but I'm still your DM. You want your green adventurers running into Tiamat next session?”

The way he curves his lips, the confident stance he's giving, it stirs tiny fires in your gut and dares unthought of kinks to come out and play.

“Alright, alright, don't TPK us, I'm leaving, alright?”

Dustin turns on his heel. Before he disappears entirely, you make out the start of him begging, ‘Lucas, do you copy, I have a Code Red! Repeat! Code Red!”

“so, what now, Dungeon Master?”

“Mmph,” Eddie sounds out, low in his throat, “ whatever you want, scarlet woman.”

Taglist- If you want to be added or removed, please PM me!

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @joejoequinnquinn

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #switch!eddie #switch!eddie x switch!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x female reader #eddie x fem reader #eddie x fem!reader

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takami-takami · 6 months ago

Note

UHHHH so like Keigo getting wholeheartedly distracted from his daddy issues on Father's Day because he has a single passing thought about making you a parent and now the baby fever + breeding kink combo are beating his ass

Thoughts?

- magpie anon ✦

Keigo's hell begins over coffee.

Coffee and a mindless, paltry comment.

Keigo has always been chipper in the morning, if not a little understimulated by the rest of the world taking its sweet time catching up to his trademark speed. Like most mornings, your boyfriend is a blur of red and gold, flitting about the kitchen to prepare the perfect breakfast for you two to start off the day.

Pots and dishes click and clatter around you, and you swear you see a dollop of pancake batter go flying as a stray feather does its work mixing the bowl to free Keigo’s hands to cook.

You, on the other hand, are perfectly content sulking by the coffee machine.

You take a sip. Your coffee is dark roast— a little reminiscent of the bags under your eyes, as you force yourself to keep them open long enough for the caffeine to hit your system. If they close for more than a second, you fear they won't open again.

Perhaps letting sleep take you would be preferable. You want nothing more than to crawl back under the quilted covers, to drag your boyfriend back in bed with you for ‘just five more minutes’ and bury yourself in his warmth; but judging by the way he’s bouncing off the walls today, you don’t suppose convincing Keigo is an option.

Breakfast looks practically gourmet as Keigo drizzles strawberry syrup in creative shapes. He arranges fruit slices in the shape of a heart for your plate.

You’re doing your part, though. You dunk sugar in Keigo’s coffee and rub the sleep from your eyes.

“I’m bored,” Keigo suddenly asserts.

“Mm,” you hum, warming your hands against the mug.

“We never do anything this time of year,” Keigo says.

“Do you want to,” you respond, with a raised brow.

Keigo hums. He gets it. You both do. Still, every year, something unknown itches and claws at the back of his throat.

“Tsukuyomi asked for the day off today,” Keigo continues, almost shyly. He stares into the crackling eggs that are about to char on the frying pan and pokes them with a spatula. “Wanted to spend it with his folks again.”

“Yeah? He deserves it, honestly,” you say. “Good kid. What, are you jealous or something? Want a day off too, huh?”

Keigo shrugs. You almost snort as you make your way to leave the kitchen and set the table.

As you pass Keigo by, you push his mug into his chest and plant a peck on his cheek.

“If you’re that bored on father’s day,” you yawn. “You could always just knock me up.”

Keigo forgets to flip the eggs.

He forgets a lot of things, actually.

You could always just knock me up.

Several of his interns ask Keigo to write letters of recommendation for them at work; and his handler reminds him today is the last day of the week, so he needs to look over the particulars in the database for his agency to be sent to the higher ups.

Thus, even as he dons the visage of the hero Hawks, Keigo is confined to the torture chamber that is solitary confinement in his office with his thoughts.

He could always just knock you up.

Several chewed pen caps litter the expanse of his mahogany desk, another falling with a thunk to join its brethren among the pen cap graveyard.

I could always just knock them up.

Keigo decides to take the train ride home, opting to give his wings time to recover from a recent fight against a particularly tricky villain. He watches the scenery blaze by in a fog, pensive as the raindrops plop against the window.

He should probably just knock you up.

#💌 asks #hi magpie!!!!#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #mha smut #bnha smut

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ninetailedfoxmanchi · 21 days ago

Text

Mafia! BTS - They Want to Spoil You

Warnings: /

A/N: They realize you're not well-off or are even struggling financially and that makes them want to take care of you even more. Per popular request <3.

MASTERLIST

Jin

Jin was already lying in bed when you got out of the bathroom. You grabbed your pyjamas from your bag as he watched you change.

"Oh no ..." you mumbled when you saw that the seams in your side tore and left a gap in your top. "Can I borrow a t-shirt?" you asked as you turned to your boyfriend but you already knew the answer. You were beginning to suspect too that Jin even preferred it if you wore his clothes.

"Do you need new pyjamas?"

"No, I'll just sew this up and they'll be like new again," you told as you grabbed Jin's t-shirt from one of the dressers.

"Just get a new pair," said Jin as he sat leaning against his pillow.

"I can already barely get through the month, I can't just buy new clothes whenever there's a tear in them," you laughed as you pulled on Jin's white t-shirt. You climbed into the bed but your smile faded when you saw Jin frowning.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently and scooted closer to him.

"You barely get through the month?" asked Jin seriously. Your mouth parted and your face went blank. Your cheeks turned pink as you thought about how much less you earned compared to Jin. You had made your peace with it already when you two began dating but the difference between your incomes and savings never crossed Jin's mind.

"It's not that bad," you smiled and tried to reassure your boyfriend. "I have a beginner's salary, it's normal."

"It's not normal if you're struggling," said Jin sternly as he sat up straight and his hand cupped your cheek. "Let me take care of you." He frowned even worse.

"You don't have to take care of me, Jin, I'm fine, really," you insisted although the past few months have been really tight for you financially. Your rent took most of the money whilst you were staying at Jin's place the majority of the nights. Then there was the food and the bills, the everyday things and the public transport. Your phone was so battered that the screen had began to flicker a couple of weeks ago.

A look so determined filled Jin's eyes that it began to worry you a little.

"Please don't think about it anymore, Jinnie," you begged as you took his cheeks and kissed him. He struggled to respond at first, his mind in a storm, but he couldn't resist your soft lips.

The next day when you woke up, you reached for the nightstand blindly to check the time on your phone but you couldn't find it. You rose your head and frowned when your phone was nowhere to be seen.

"Have you seen my phone?" you mumbled sleepily when you came into the living area, finding Jin already dressed in another one of his perfect outfits. It must have been late in the morning judging by the daylight if not close to noon. Jin liked to sleep in as well but not that day. He had been up since early morning.

"Here you go, princess," said Jin as he handed you a phone.

"This isn't my phone?" you asked confused and tried to give it back to Jin. It seemed brand new so you figured he changed his.

"It's your phone," insisted Jin, his eyes still filled with the same unbending look as the night before. You frowned and tapped the screen. The background was the same as on your phone, the contacts and the apps, everything was the same but the machine itself.

You looked up and finally noticed the dozens of bags lying around on the sofa and the coffee table.

"What's all this?" you breathed, your frown only deepening.

"You bought this for yourself, princess," said Jin as he took your free hand and placed a black card in your palm.

"N-No, I didn't," you backed away but tried to give the card back to Jin at the same time. He didn't even look at your hand.

"Jin, please," you begged when you realized what he was doing. "I don't need any of this—"

"Y/N," warned Jin when he turned to you. "Not another word." His hands caressed your neck gently before they moved up to your jaw and made you look up at him. He leaned in slowly and kissed you, silencing any protests that might want to come out of your mouth.

"I'll know if you won't use the card, Y/N," he cautioned against your lips, sending shivers down your spine, but you only wanted another kiss. Jin backed away when you searched for his plush lips again. You opened your eyes, seeing the stern look on Jin's handsome face.

"Just let me take care of you, princess," he spoke quietly, his chest vibrating with the deepness of his voice. You nodded weakly, folding at the prospect of Jin's affection. True to your presumptions, he rewarded you with another tender kiss.

Namjoon

You found your boyfriend sitting on the sofa, checking something on his laptop when you took a seat beside him.

"Are you busy?" you asked quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

"No, it's just some stupid emails," said Namjoon absently, his eyes scanning through the unnecessarily long blocks of text. "What is it, baby?"

"I was just ... I was wondering if ..." You cleared your throat as you squeezed your hands nervously. "If you could maybe lend me some money," you asked with difficulty. Your cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment when Namjoon tore his gaze from his laptop and looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing into a heavy frown.

"I'd pay you back everything," you said quickly. "It's just for rent—"

"What do you mean you'd pay me back?" asked Namjoon sternly, a tempest of thoughts behind his dark irises.

"I'll get my paycheck next week and I'll pay you back every cent, I promise," you explained although the demanding look on his features gave you little hope. His pensive eyes studied your face wordlessly. "It's okay if you don't want to, I'll ask my mom—"

"For rent?" Namjoon cut you off. His frown only grew deeper as he struggled to understand what you were asking.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have asked; I know it's weird," you said quickly and took Namjoon's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You tried to get up but he caught your wrist and pulled you back down.

"How much do you make?" demanded Namjoon. His voice was gentle but no less inquisitive. Your face went blank as more heat rose to your face. You didn't even make a hundredth of what Namjoon was bringing in in your first job as a beginner with no position.

"You know I don't make as much as you do," you swallowed. Even though your answer gave little information, Namjoon realized for the first time since you began dating that you might be financially unstable. He knew what you did and you liked your job but since money was never an issue for him, he never considered it might be an issue for you.

"I'll take care of it," nodded Namjoon and smoothed his thumb gently across your cheek before he got up.

"Take care of what?" you asked wide-eyed as you stared up at him. "Namjoon, I just need—"

"I'll take care of it," repeated Namjoon and gave your forehead a kiss as he buttoned his suit jacket. He grabbed his phone and his wallet and made for the door.

"Namjoon," you called again but he was adamant and gone.

A few hours later, you were looking through the fridge to think of some ideas for dinner when Namjoon came back. He set down a brown folder on the kitchen isle with a credit card on top of it before he pulled off his jacket and came to you for a kiss. You closed the fridge blindly as you responded to his lips but your mind was on the folder.

"What's this?" you asked as you removed the card from the brown paper and opened the file. It was a title deed with your name on it as part of a property transfer. The apartment in question was your rental paid in full and written in your name. Your eyebrows gathered into a frown as your mouth parted and your stomach gave a nervous squeeze.

"I told you I'd take care of it," said Namjoon easily and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge. You stared at him, your frown as deep as ever.

"You bought my apartment?" you asked astounded.

"No, you bought your apartment," said Namjoon as he drank the cold juice from a crystal glass. His fingers sat down on top of the dark credit card and he pushed it towards you. The letters of your name were engraved on the luxurious-painted plastic.

"Are you insane?" you blurted, your chest riddled with guilt. You were used to working hard for everything you had and hated accepting things from others. Even birthday gifts if too extravagant made you uncomfortable.

"I can't accept this, I won't accept this, Namjoon," you insisted although you could see it on his face that you were shouting in deaf ears. Your boyfriend was one of the most intransigent people in the world and when he decided on something there was no changing his mind.

"It's yours," said Namjoon nonchalantly, "Whether you like it or not."

Your eyes flinched in the direction of the crackling fireplace as you held the folder in your hands. Namjoon followed your gaze and smiled with amusement.

"I have a digital copy, baby," said Namjoon as he came closer to you. "The apartment is yours and so is the card." His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you to him, his forehead almost leaning against yours whilst you stared up at him.

"I'll know if you won't spend anything," he purred a warning and came even closer. "And I won't like it if you don't spend anything." His deep voice gave you goosebumps as your eyes flicked down to his plush lips.

"I want to spoil you, baby," said Namjoon against your soft mouth. "You should let me." He closed the space between your lips and kissed you deeply enough for the folder to fall from your hands as he pulled your waist to his hips.

Yoongi

"Fuck ..." you mumbled under your breath as you scrolled through the bills on your email, your back against the foot of the sofa and your laptop on the coffee table. Your stomach was in a tight knot. You tried to calculate the priorities but even that surpassed the amount that was left on your bank account from your last paycheck.

"What is it?" asked Yoongi as he sat on the sofa behind you, his legs on each side of your frame when he kissed the top of your head.

"Nothing," you whispered and closed your laptop quickly. You looked up and gratefully responded to Yoongi kissing your lips. His hand was caressing your neck gently, the cold rings on his long fingers giving you goosebumps as they made contact with your warm skin.

"You sure?" asked Yoongi when he pulled away a little. You set your eyes forward again and bit your lip as you nodded. Yoongi's hand glided around your neck and pushed back your soft hair as he began to run his fingers through it. You leaned your head against the sofa and closed your eyes.

"Tell me what's wrong," said Yoongi. His voice was deep and quiet but no less authoritative.

"Nothing's wrong," you insisted as you shook your head a little. Yoongi frowned more and more with each second. You didn't even have to open your eyes to see his expression. You knew that he knew that you were hiding something.

"You don't trust me anymore, jagi?" asked Yoongi. His hand came down to your cheek and caressed you gently. Your eyes opened at those words and you turned around to look at him.

"Of course I trust you," you spoke feverishly.

"Why won't you talk to me then?" said Yoongi as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Because it's nothing," you lied. "And you'll worry and think that you have to fix it."

"Fix what?" pressed Yoongi. You groaned desperately and buried your face into the sofa. Yoongi seized the opportunity and opened your laptop behind your back, his eyes scanning over the bills.

"No, wait—" you tried to close the laptop when you noticed what he was doing but it was already too late. He saw everything.

"Yoongi, don't do anything," you begged as you got up to your knees and cupped his face. The look in his eyes was as hard and unmoving as a mountain and your words fell on deaf ears. He pulled the wallet from his back pocket and slid out a slick black credit card.

"Here you go, kitten, happy anniversary," said Yoongi as he offered you the card. You stood up with a frown.

"Our anniversary won't be for three months," you protested although that was far from Yoongi's point or yours for that matter. He stood up as well, took your hand and wrapped your fingers around his card.

"You can give me that card all you want but I won't spend a dime," you insisted. Yoongi turned to you slowly and took a good look at you. His eyes made your stomach dance with butterflies and fireworks.

"Fine," said Yoongi as he came closer to you. "Then I'll make you." His voice send shivers down your spine as he towered over you. He took your hand and you had no choice but to follow him. He drove you half-way across town until you arrived to a large glass building.

"Why are we here?" you questioned when Yoongi opened the car door for you. "Please, let's just go home." You took your boyfriend's hand but he wasn't paying your tugs no mind.

"Yoongi," you gasped under your breath and squeezed his hand tightly when he led you inside the Cartier boutique. It was too late to leave without causing a scene in front of the elegant saleswomen.

"Mr Min," said the older one of the two with her hair in a neat bun. "We're so happy to see you're back. It's been too long," smiled the other lady and took in the sight of you, giving you a warm smile as well.

"We have a very special thing for you," said the older lady and disappeared in the back.

"Yoongi," you pleaded in a whisper as you tugged on his hand a little but his fingers were tightly intertwined with yours. Yoongi looked down into your eyes, defeating you in an instance.

"This is one of our rarest and most sought after items, Mr Min," purred the older saleslady. She placed a beautiful red box on the glass counter before you and opened it with care. "This is out Panthere Maillon Etrier necklace in 18 carat white gold. It's distinguished for its geometric shape with the center of the necklace set with brilliant cut diamonds around 2,15 carats."

Your lips parted as your face went blank in the face of the exquisite piece of jewellery. You had never even stood in a jewellery shop, much less in Cartier itself. Yoongi observed your reaction for a while before he nodded to the saleslady.

"Very good," she smiled and motioned to her assistant to take care of the payment.

You realized that the purchase was agreed to and looked up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

"Please," said the younger saleslady when she gestured elegantly at the payment terminal. Your gaze shifted between her, the astronomical number on the screen and Yoongi.

"Your card, kitten," said Yoongi as he stared down at you. You were still clutching to the black piece of plastic in your clammy hand. You swallowed before you inched the card closer to the terminal until it made a sound of approval.

"See? It's not that hard," purred Yoongi in your ear as his arm wrapped around your waist. You turned to him, your lips only inches apart. "You can use it for other things now too, kitten, and I'll know if you won't," he spoke quietly, his hot breath teasing your mouth as he slowly closed the space between you and kissed you greedily.

Hoseok

Although you have been dating Hoseok for a while now, you were never very comfortable talking about money with him. You grew up poor and even though you were just starting your first job now, you still struggled quite a lot. You didn't mind that Hoseok made a lot of money, you accepted that right in the beginning of your relationship, but you never wanted to talk about your situation because of that. Yet when you had a glass of wine too much with your dinner last week, you told Hoseok about your upbringing and how the notion of always having to save money was still rooted deep inside of you.

You shouldn't have said anything, though, because once Hoseok found out about it, he began to shower you with gifts every single day. You didn't mind him paying for meals when you went out but the gifts he was giving you now weren't anything short of luxurious.

"Hobi, I swear if you get me another thing—" you threatened when you saw the timeless Hermès Kelly on your nightstand. Your stomach twisted into knots just at the idea of how much it must have cost.

When you turned around with your index pointed at Hoseok, he was standing so close to you that the wind was knocked out of you. Your lips parted as Hobi towered over you.

"Or what?" he asked with an amused smile resting on his lips and in his dark eyes. You were at a loss for words. "Or what, kitten?" he asked again, taking another half a step closer to you and closed the space between your bodies.

"You should look what's inside, baby," Hoseok encouraged, enjoying every moment of seeing the puzzled and flushed look on your face.

You looked inside the leather bag hesitantly and found a creamy white jewellery box inside. It was already clutched in your fingers before you let it go and took a step back, your hands hugging your elbows as the corners of your eyebrows pulled downwards.

"I don't want it, you spoke weakly as Hoseok frowned at your reaction.

"You haven't even looked at it," said Hoseok but you shook your head and backed away some more.

"I don't want it - I didn't earn it and I sure as hell don't deserve it," you tried to leave the bedroom but Hoseok caught your wrist.

"Y/N," he called as he cupped your neck just beneath your jaw and made you look up at him but you were avoiding his eyes. "Y/N," Hoseok warned again and you looked at him. His frown softened when he saw the sad look on your face.

"That's the least of what you deserve, baby." He brushed his thumbs along the gentle line of your jaw. "Stop fighting me and let me take care of you." Hoseok leaned his forehead against yours, his closeness calming down your anxiety immediately. Your arms found their way around his sides as you came closer, pressing your cheek against his chest.

"It's okay, baby, you'll get used to it," Hoseok spoke gently against your hair before he kissed the top of your head, his hands caressing your back.

"Wear it to the opera tonight, baby," he said after a while. "Will you wear it for me, kitten?" Hoseok cupped your cheeks again and made you look up at him. You nodded a little. He smiled and leaned in, his thumbs caressing your soft skin as he kissed you tenderly.

When you finally found the courage to come near the bag and the jewellery box again, you were already wearing your evening dress. You opened the delicate velvet box and found a pearl necklace in 18 carat yellow gold. The letters Mikimoto were engraved in the satin interior of the box.

"Do you like it?" smiled Hoseok as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before he pressed a soft kiss on your bare shoulder.

You nodded weakly as you studied the necklace without a breath in your lungs. "It's beautiful."

Hoseok took the necklace from the box as you scooped up your hair and the cold pearls made contact with your warm skin. Hoseok fastened the clip in the back and took your soft hair from your hands, his fingers letting them fall down your back.

"You're so beautiful, baby," purred Hoseok when his hands returned to your waist and pulled you to him as his lips left tender kisses along your shoulder.

Jimin

When you got back from work, you were surprised to find Jimin already at home. It was barely the afternoon and he sometimes stayed at the office until evening.

"Hey," you greeted softly as you cuddled up next to him on the sofa. You wrapped your arms around his sides and leaned against his chest but he didn't budge. Jimin was pretending to watch the TV and refused to even say hello.

You sat up perplexed as you studied your boyfriend's sullen frown.

"What's wrong?" you breathed, your chest heavy with guilt although you had no idea what you did wrong. You took your boyfriend's hand and squeezed it pleadingly but Jimin gave no reaction.

"Jimin-ah," you tried again, your voice almost cracking. You couldn't stand having him be upset with you, especially when you had no idea what could have made him react this way. Jimin was never upset with you no matter what, which is why his reaction affected you so much.

The desperation in your voice made Jimin break his harsh facade. He turned to you frowning no less.

"Why do you think I gave you that card?" said Jimin bitterly but you were lost. He leaned forward and grabbed the bank statement from the coffee table and showed it to you.

"You promised me that you would spend money on that card, Y/N," said Jimin when you read through the humble list of meals you had paid with Jimin's card, the 30 dollars that you had spent on buying some cute office supplies and the 20 dollars you had left at the bookstore.

"But I did," you insisted, showing Jimin the bank statement that he knew by heart now. He rolled his eyes and glared at you again. You had never seen him behave like this before. His jaw clenched as his eyes narrowed at you. A part of you knew that he wanted you to spend more money but there was nothing you really needed that much. After Jimin found out that you weren't exactly financially stable, he pulled the card right from his wallet and gave it to you.

"You promised me, Y/N," said Jimin and got up. Your wide eyes followed him and your lips were parted in shock. He grabbed his car keys and waited for you to get up as well.

"What are you doing?" you asked your boyfriend.

"I'm making you keep your promises to me, sweetheart," said Jimin darkly as he took your hand and led you down to his car.

Jimin drove you to the enormous glass building where he liked to shop. You had been there with him a hundred times before but the prices made your stomach twist into knots.

"Jimin, this isn't necessary—" you tried to reason with him but he only grabbed your hand and led you straight to Tiffany & Co.

"Jimin, please," you begged him as your chest grew heavy with guilt. The salespeople knew him. He already got you a pair of their earrings before but you had only worn them once to your anniversary dinner for fear of losing them.

Jimin picked out a 20 carat diamond necklace for you since he knew you'd refuse to choose any of the items the salespeople displayed especially for him.

Your boyfriend gave you his card and stared at you. He was still angry with you and the sight of it made your heart break.

"Jimin," you pleaded but he didn't budge. The lady at the cash registry waited patiently when the five digit number appeared on the payment terminal in front of you.

"Y/N," Jimin warned when he saw you hesitate. You swallowed and gave in. You pressed Jimin's card against the terminal and felt even worse when it gave a sound of approval.

Jimin took you to Dior next, then Celine, Balenciaga and even Chanel where his card caused more rings of approval from the payment terminal. Your boyfriend's frown, however, began to melt away when he saw you try on couture and get tended to from every direction by the salespeople.

Jimin leaned against the door frame of your dressing room as he watched you put on a beautiful white dress with a black ribbon that screamed Chanel. He glanced over his shoulder before he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Jimin leaned his chin against your shoulder as he watched you in the mirror.

"See? It's not that hard, baby," he purred before he pressed a soft kiss on your exposed neck and you couldn't help but lean back against him.

Taehyung

"What's this?" asked your boyfriend as he opened his bank statement. You looked up with big wide eyes and your heart sank a little. After Taehyung found out that you weren't exactly financially stable, he gave you his card and practically threatened you to spend money on it when you refused.

"I-I just ... " you began to stutter. You had bought yourself a new bag for your laptop and for the things you needed whenever you went to study or to work and a perfume that you knew Taehyung loved. Those were the kind of treats you could only afford once in a while on your own but since he encouraged you, you got them for yourself although it made you feel no less guilty.

"You said ... You said I should get a few things," you spoke carefully as you watched Taehyung's frown whilst he scanned the contents of his bank statement before his dark eyes turned to you.

"Why didn't you?" he asked sternly, showing you the slip. Your eyes turned into a different kind of wide when he spoke the opposite of what you imagined. You took the bank statement and saw your two items on there along with a few meals that you paid for with Taehyung's card.

"What do you mean? I got the bag," you gestured towards the beautiful accessory that was sitting at the foot of the sofa. "And I got the perfume - it's Gucci." Even saying the brand name weighed heavy on your tongue with guilt. You had never owned a luxurious brand item in your life before you met Taehyung.

"Yeah, and you got tteokbokki, bubble tea, two coffees and spent 12 dollars at a pizza place," Taehyung listed the rest of the items of places where the card was used.

"Do you want me to pay you back?" you asked unsure but that made Taehyung frown even deeper.

"Come on," he instructed as he took your hand and led you to his car. You watched him as he drove you to the city center and pulled up in front of Cartier.

"Tae—" you protested but he cut you off by getting out of the car. "Tae," you tried again when he grabbed your hand and took you inside the luxurious boutique.

"Mr Kim," the elegant saleswoman greeted the moment she saw your boyfriend and you enter their exclusive shop. "We're so glad to see you return, it's been a while." She smiled a bright smile when she saw you before she brought out a collection of their most exquisite items, timeless pieces inspired by art deco.

You tried to get your boyfriend's attention and get out of there but he would not so much as budge. He chose a sapphire and diamond bracelet for you. When the lady presented a six digit on the computer screen, your face grew hot with fever.

"Tae, don't—" you tried but Taehyung glared at you so intensely that you were at a loss for words. He showed you his card - your card - and pressed it against the payment terminal. Your mouth parted when the machine gave a happy sound of approval and the saleslady thanked the both of you. She tried to hand you the velvet box within a beautiful paper bag but Taehyung accepted it instead.

"You're getting this when you pay for dinner tonight, kitten," said Taehyung to you and only you, his dark voice sending shivers down your spine as he towered over you. He handed you back his credit card and left a small kiss on your jaw right above your neck, his lips hiding a shadow of a smirk.

Jungkook

"Please don't make me do this," you begged when Jungkook took you to Calvin Klein and made you try on a series of luxurious fragrances. The prices of the items they sold made your cheeks flush red with discomfort. Ever since Jungkook found out that you weren't financially stable, he insisted you spend money on his elite black card. If you failed to meet his expectations, he made you go shopping and this was just one of those instances.

Jungkook's nose brushed against your neck where one of the wonderful perfumes mingled with your skin.

"You smell so good, kitten," murmured Jungkook, his dark voice giving you goosebumps. He pulled away, his face only inched from yours as he watched you with amusement. Your boyfriend leaned in slowly, a few locks of his dark hair brushing against your forehead. You put your arms around his neck and guided him to you but he pulled away at the last moment, leaving you wide-eyed and perplexed.

"Only after you use the card, kitten," said Jungkook and placed the black credit card into your hand.

"But ..." Your gaze flicked between your boyfriend and your palm. "Jungkook," you whined in protest.

"You should have done this on your own, Y/N," said Jungkook smoothly as he stepped closer to you and you backed away until your back hit the perfume counter. His long arms leaned against the wooden surface and trapped you there. A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat as you stared at you boyfriend but your gaze kept drifting to his lips.

"We could have been somewhere else right now," spoke Jungkook quietly as his eyes gained a dark, glossy look that made your knees go weak.

"O-Okay," you found yourself stuttering.

After you paid for the perfumes you liked, you were eager to leave the luxurious shopping center.

"Not so fast, kitten," said Jungkook as he caught your hand and pulled you inside the Bvlgari boutique.

"Jungkook—" you spoke breathlessly but the salesman already nodded to Jungkook and went to retrieve something from the back.

"Jungkook, please, let's just go," you tried to reason with your boyfriend, but this time, instead of tempting you with his kisses, Jungkook frowned at you. His eyebrows arched sharply as he caressed your cheek.

"Stop fighting me, kitten," he spoke quietly but his chest was vibrating with the deepness of his husky voice. "We made a deal."

Jungkook had made you promise that you would use the card and not just for the things you needed like meals and everyday items.

"Here it is, Mr Jeon," smiled the elegant salesman. He presented a beautiful velvet box on the counter and opened it carefully. A Serpenti Viper Necklace was sitting on the cushion made in its shape. The metal used was white 18 carat gold with so many diamonds it would take you a month to count them.

Your lips parted in awe as you looked up at Jungkook. His frown vanished behind a small smile when his eyes found yours, a playful look in his dark irises.

"Would you like to try it on, Miss?" asked the courteous salesman. You checked with Jungkook and he nodded to the employee. He didn't let the salesman put it on you, though, that was his job. You turned to the mirror whilst the salesman went to assist the person in the back and Jungkook's arms wrapped around your waist. His gaze traced the viper's tail that led down the middle of your chest.

"Do you like it?" asked Jungkook, his hot breath teasing your ear as his eyes found yours in the mirror.

"It's exquisite," you breathed, feeling the weight of the diamonds and gold against your skin. Your hand took one of Jungkook's and intertwined your fingers with his,

"Just like you, kitten," he spoke softly and left a tender kiss on your neck.

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