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harryspet · 18 days ago

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rough hands, soft chains [1] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!grey!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, future smut, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: This is an au I'm trying out where Kildare County is actually in Montana and all the pogues and kooks exist within a ranching community. Hope you enjoy!! I would really appreciate feedback, reblogs are most appreciated!

In which your dying father struck a deal with Ward Cameron, he promised the family land in exchange for your safety. But protection comes with a price, and that price is Rafe Cameron.

word count: 5k

rough hands, soft chains masterlist

After the funeral, you flopped down on the old leather couch in your living room, absently twirling a lock of your hair as you stared up at the cracked ceiling. Your black dress, meant for the sweltering summers, fell just below your knees. You’d paired it with a shawl you found tucked away in your mother’s dresser, a pretty, soft thing with little patterns you didn’t understand, but it smelled like her, so it felt right.

People at the funeral said you looked “so grown up” now, which filled you with a sense of pride. They said nothing about the dirt under your nails from wandering around the yard barefoot earlier that morning or the way your mascara smeared from crying too much. No one ever took you seriously anyway.

The quiet of the house was deafening, pressing in at you at all sides. The lack of his presence weighed on you. He’d built every corner of this house, your mother painted every wall, and you were grateful for the life they’d built you. Three bedrooms, a wrap-around porch where you’d once dreamed of watching your children play in the yard as you rocked in your chair, and the old, red barn that had weathered time alongside them. You knew you couldn’t lose it, but you weren’t sure how to keep it either.

A loud knock at the front door made the house shake and snapped you from your daze. It was not the knock of a kind neigbor delivering a sympathy caserole, the knock was firm and authoritative. You half expected the sheriff to be behind the door but instead found yourself staring back at Ward Cameron.

You pushed back the curls that had fallen into your face. He stood before you, tipping his finest black cattleman hat with deliberate grace, lifting it from his head and placing it over his chest in a quiet gesture of respect. His square jawline was sharp, his striking blue eyes unflinching, and though the gray streaks in his hair hinted at age, they only added to his rugged handomenss.

“Miss,” he greeted you smoothly, his voice as sharp as the crease in his shirt. He looked out of place here, too clean, too polished for the worn edges of your family’s ranch.

Your anxiety peaked, “Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You gripped the handle of the door tighter than you expected.

“I think you know why I’m here.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s time we talked about your father’s arrangements.”

Arrangements? You shifted nervously, trying to make sense of his words. You knew your dad had debts, but it wasn’t like he told you all the details. You knew that a significant amount of your father’s debt was to Ward. It humiliated your father to lease the Cameron’s grazing rights but he only did it to keep the ranch afloat. Money and paperwork were never your thing, and your dad always said not to worry about it. “I—I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I’ll figure out how to pay you back, okay?”

Although Ward wasn’t the tallest man, most people towered over you, and as he leaned in the doorway, you knew he had your stature in mind.

Still, his smile was empty, “Why don’t we discuss this in your father’s office, hmm?”

“Um, no thanks,” you said quickly, shaking your head. But before you could shut the door, his hand pushed it open with way too much ease. You stumbled back, your cheeks heating with embarrassment as he walked in like he owned the place.

“Excuse me! You can’t just barge in here!” you squeaked, hurrying after him, his expensive boots, tapping against the creaking floor of your home.

He made his way down the downstairs hallway, barging into the room that not even your father wanted you to step in. Immediately as you stepping inside, a coldness touched you. he heavy oak desk sat like a monument to your father’s stubbornness, papers scattered across its surface in disarray. Just looking at it made your brain feel fuzzy. Ward moved behind it as if it were his own, his hands brushing against the chair’s worn leather.

“I offered to come speak to you, before all of this drama, but your father insisted I wait until he was gone,” Ward gestured to rickety chair that sat in front of the desk, “Sit.”

You ignored him, crossing your arms in stubborness, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you know how much exactly your father owes me? How much you’d be taking on?”

His words, like they had certainly intended to, made you feel stupid. Your father made sure you were uninvolved in the ranch’s finances and he had just passed this week, you hadn’t thought about entering his office and disturbing his things.

You blinked, your mouth opening and closing. “Well… um… I know he owed some money, but he didn’t really tell me how much.”

“It’s more than the farm is worth, Y/N.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, thickening the already suffocating air in the room. You clenched your jaw, refusing to show any sign of the panic tightening in your chest. The farm, your father’s legacy, your mother’s dreams, was supposed to be yours to save.

“That can’t be right,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “My father would’ve told me if it was that bad.”

“Would he? It’s nothing you should’ve worried your pretty head about,” Ward continued, his eyes sharp and assessing, “We parents try to protect our children. But he was too prideful. Pride doesn’t pay the bills and banks don’t wait forever.”

“The bank–”

“The bank would’ve taken the entire property if your father hadn’t already signed the land over to me.”

Your heart sunk into your stomach at Ward Cameron’s words. Your breath hitched as you stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. You shook your head in disbelief, “He wouldn’t do that.”

The land was the only piece of your father that you had left. A hundred acres that your family and only a few ranch hands tended to.There were dwindling amounts of livestock, mounting debts, but it was your home. Humble in comparison to the Cameron’s thousands of acres but it belonged to your family. Even if you were the only one left.

“This all would’ve been easier for you if your father had explained all of this to you before. I think he was scared of you hating him.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ward’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, he looked almost bored with your responses, “We came to an agreement a year after his initial diagnosis. Instead of losing it to the bank, he would sign it over to me.”

“I promised to take care of you.” Ward’s words were slow, deliberate, as if he were explaining something to a child. “You’re unmarried, no prospects, and this place is a sinking ship. Someone was bound to take advantage of you eventually. You don’t have the resources to rebuild.”

“T-take care of me?” you stammered, your face scrunching in confusion.

“You’ll come live with my family for the time being. And eventually you will marry my son, Rafe.”

Your eyes went wild, “Are you crazy?”

Ward’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked even more smug. “This arrangement keeps the land in the family, ensures your safety, and gives you a future. You’re not equipped to handle this ranch on your own, Y/N. Your father knew that. I’m offering you a way out.”

You gaped at him, your thoughts spinning too fast to make sense of anything. “I… I want to talk to a lawyer or—or see his will or something!”

“You’re out of options. It’s either this arrangement or being out on the streets. I’m tossing you a lifeline.”

“I didn’t agree to this,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“No,” Ward admitted, standing and adjusting his cuffs. “But your father did. And a Cameron always honors their agreements.”

You wanted to scream, to tell him to leave and take his deal with him, but the weight of your father’s decisions pressed down on you. The debts, the ranch, your future—it was all tangled up in a web you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow to pack your things,” Ward said, placing his hat back on his head. “Rafe will come by to collect you.”

He turned and walked to the door without another word, leaving you standing alone in the office. The walls seemed to close in around you, and although you’d be crying for a week, you cried again.

You thought that if you weren’t at the house when Ward’s oldest son came to collect you, they might just give up and leave you be. Maybe you’d slip through the cracks of their plans, vanish into the quiet of the countryside. You could disappear for a little while and return in a few days. It would be rough surviving outside but you could make it on your own. You’d packed a small bag of essentials and took Juliet, the chestnut-colored mare that had belonged to you since your fourteenth birthday.

“Okay, Jules, we’re gonna go on a little adventure,” you whispered as you fumbled with her saddle.

Her large, liquid-brown eyes blinked at you with trust as you led her down the south path, the one behind your family’s ranch, overgrown from years of neglect. You left before the sun had a chance to rise. You didn’t want Ward Cameron or his scary son to find you, after all.

You tried to dress for comfort. Your long jeans would keep you warm, and you layered a jean jacket over a soft white cotton shirt. Perched atop your head was your trusty white cowboy hat, its wide brim offering protection from the sun, taming your unruly curls, while keeping your face shielded.

Juliet made a snorting sound, and you patted her neck. “Don’t worry, girl, we’ve totally got this. Like, what’s the worst that could happen?” You glanced back at the ranch, its dark outline fading behind the trees.

You mounted Juliet after deciding the direction you were going to travel in. You wanted to be much farther away by the time the sun came up. The air was cool and crisp, a reminder of the coming morning. You looked behind you although you were sure no one was following you yet.

The path twisted and turned. “Okay, so if we head toward the old fishing shack by the river, we can stay there for, like, a day. Nobody’s used it in forever.” You spoke out loud, pretending that Juliet could respond. “I think it’s... that way.”

You continued down the path in the direction you remembered the fishing shack to be located. The sun rose slowly, bringing light to the dark path. The shack was tucked away on the outskirts of the ranch, sitting in the bend of the river, most of it shielded by tall grass. The water flowed gently, the sound caressing your ears, it’s hues reflecting the red in the sky.

A clearing sat nearby covered in wildflowers, the bright colors splashed against the muted landscape. You hadn’t ventured this far out since the previous spring and were surprised to see how the flowers had held their vibrancy, defying the chill of the cooler months.

You hopped down from your saddle, taking Juliet’s rein before you tied her to a nearby tree, allowing her room to graze. The shack was small and weathered, and you rested on a rickety cot that you had to clear of cobwebs. It felt safe. At least for now.

If only staying still was your strong suit. A few hours later, boredom quickly got the best of you. You could only talk to Juliet for so long and you’d failed several times to nap inside the dirty shack. The silence pressed in on you. You decided to wander out into the wild flower fields, tugging your cowboy hat low over your curls. The vibrant colors were calling to you.

An hour later, you held a thick bundle flowers in your arm and a crown of daisies wrapped around your hat. Before you knew it, the shack was almost out of your sight and you faced a long trek back to Juliet.

You didn’t hear him at first.

“Hell of a hiding spot.”

The deep drawl froze you in place. Slowly, you turned, heart pounding, your eyes landing on Rafe Cameron sitting tall on his horse a few yards away. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, though the tight line of his jaw hinted at something darker.

Rafe’s quarter horse was even more intimidating. It’s coat was midnight black, sleek and imposing. There was a wild, untamed quality to him, a fire in his eyes that mirrored Rafe’s own.

“I… I was just…” You stepped back without thinking, the urge to drop your bouquet and bolt creeping up. You’d seen Ward’s son from across a room before, but no one had ever bothered to introduce you. Still, you knew enough from the whispers and rumors. He was wild, always getting into trouble with the Kildare County police, and everyone said he was gonna take over his dad’s power and influence one day.

He was older than you remembered, more rugged, and definitely more muscular. His black button-up shirt clung to broad shoulder and his sleeves rolled up to reveal sculpted arms. A baseball cap sat atop his head, the bill slightly bent, with the Cameron Ranch sigil stitched on the front—an emblem of a stallion rearing. His light brown hair peeked from beneath it, slightly tousled.

“You’ve been wandering around all morning. Half the town’s already seen you,” Rafe leaned forward slightly, eyeing you curiously, “If you were gonna run, thought you’d go a little bit farther.” You gained the courage to finish your sentence, “I wasn’t running …or hiding. And you can’t tell Mr. Cameron that.”

“Why do you think he sent me?” He smiled devishly, “I’m the one you gotta worry about, darlin’.”

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe watched you take another step back. His jaw clicked before he swiftly hopped down from his horse. His heavy boots hit the dirt with a thud that seemed to echo, and you couldn’t help but notice the sheer size of him. Though he wasn’t much older than you, it was clear he towered over you, his presence demanding attention in a way that made your knees feel weak.

“I’m not coming with you,” You stated with all the strength you could muster, “It’s not right. You can’t make me.”

He stared back at you. Where Ward was bored by conversation with you, something about your Ward’s made Rafe’s eyes fiery, “And I guess you’ll make your living by what … selling flower crowns?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. You hadn’t considered that an option. In fact, you hadn’t dwelled long enough on what you would do once Ward gave up on this arranged marriage nor did you have any idea of how to make the ranch profitable again. The idea seemed wrong. Flowers weren’t the key, were they?

“I’m kidding,” Rafe spoke again after a moment of watching you reflect, “That’s a bad fucking idea. You know…I think your father might’ve been right about one thing in his life. You do need someone to look after you.”

“You don’t know me,” You looked away, your face heating up with embarrassment, “And I don’t want to go with you.”

A yelp escaped your lips as he started to close the distance between you, his long strides closing the gap in a matter of seconds. His smirk widened at your reaction, and quickly, you dropped your bouquet and made a run for the fishing shack. Rough hands easily snatched you up by your waist, lifting your feet off the ground, and making your head spin, “You’re real cute, darlin’,” Rafe drawled, hardly breakin a sweat as he dragged you back towards his horse. His grip on your waist was firm, unrelenting, and no matter how much you kicked or squirmed, it didn’t matter. He only hoisted you higher.

Heavy boots crunched against the dirt. You could hear your breathing and the sharp pounding of your heart in your ears. You lost your hat and subsequently your flower crown in the struggle. Scared that you might spook Rafe’s horse, you found yourself succumbing to his force, letting him lift you onto the saddle.

“Please, let me down,” You whispered, tears beginning to fall. Rafe was next, hoisting himself onto the black stallion, squeezing himself behind you. You were pressed against him so much that you could feel the flexing of the muscles of his stomach. An arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

Rafe shushed you, and surprisingly, you felt him settle your hat back on your head. You hadn’t even seen him pick it up. You were never supposed to ride without a hat, that’s what your father had taught you. You barely had time to process it before he urged the horse forward, the powerful animal's hooves pounding the earth beneath you as Rafe held you tightly, “M-My horse, Juliet!” You remembered, panicked, “I won’t go without her, Rafe!”

“I didn’t forget your horse,” He spoke calmer than you expected, though his tone still had an edge to it, “She’ll follow. Unlike you, she seems to have a decent amount of common sense.”

He kicked the horse into a gallop, the powerful animal responding instantly, the sound of its hooves hitting the ground like thunder in the otherwise still air. The wind whipped through your hair, stinging your face. You gripped the saddle tightly, to anchor yourself, despite knowing that Rafe’s grip was strong enough to keep you from flying.

This wasn’t the escape you wanted. Not even close.

Sure, he’d heard the rumors that you were a little …daft. And maybe that was true in some ways, but you were more than he had anticipated. He followed you, watched as you handled the horse with ease, and found himself intrigued. Your confusion, innocence, even your stubbornness drew him in like a moth to a flame.

The last thing Rafe wanted was a wife. He resisted the way his father felt like he could stll make decisions for him. Rafe was losing with this arrangement. Your father’s hundred acres was nothing in comparison to what he family already had and would acquire. But perhaps his father had seen exactly what Rafe was seeing now. You were raw, so unpolished, and that meant you could be shaped.

Once you were under the Cameron’s roof, Rafe had the power to do whatever he wanted.

Proving himself to Ward was a constant battle, every choice scrutinized, every misstep noted. To run the ranch one day, Rafe needed to show he could manage it all, the land, business, and now a wife. Building a home and keeping you in line was just another test.

That morning, Rafe had never expected to chase after you on horseback. He had arrived in his truck, scouring the house for any sign of you, only to realize you were already gone. In frustration, he called John B., one of the Cameron ranch hands, and sent him to bring Trigger, his horse, to the Y/L/N ranch.

When you both returned, John B. was already there, waiting. Thunder cracked above, a sunny morning turning into a dreary afternoon. Rafe barked orders to ensure Juliet and Trigger were both stabled at the Cameron’s ranch.

He lifted you down from the saddle, his grip firm on your wrists before you could bolt. It only took a second for him to realize the urgency in your voice as you spoke, trying to talk to John B., who was already taking Juliet and Trigger’s reins. “She gets nervous when she’s in new places. She doesn’t like to be rushed,” Rafe overheard, catching the panic in your tone.

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow with her,” John B. assured her although Rafe only glared at the worker, jaw tight.

“Come on,” Rafe pulled your arm, “We’re leaving.”

Your small hands grabbed where he’d wrapped his hands around your arm. You dug your boots into the gravel in front of the house, “Wait, I don’t have everything. I-I need to grab some things,” Rafe’s gripped only tightened as his irritation grew.

“You should’ve thought about that before you made me chase after you,” He took one more look at your teary-face before he snapped. Taking you home should’ve taken thirty minutes, not four hours. Without warning, he scooped you up over his shoulder, ignoring the surprised gasp you let out.

Your legs kicked in the air, “Hey! Please put me down!” Rafe didn’t spare your house on John B. a second glance as he trudged over to his dark, blue truck. Please, that made Rafe brow furrow. Rafe took the opportunity to cop a feel, of course, he had to know exactly what he was working with. You were his future wife, after all, “Rafe! I don’t like being upside down!”

“Scream all the way there for all I fucking care,” He muttered under his breath, his voice cold as he finally reached the truck and tossed you into the passenger seat.

Rafe sped off moments after he pressed start engine on the vehicle. You went quiet and he hoped to be alone with his thoughts, soothed by the soft pitter patter of rain on his windshield. Fifteen minutes down the road, he heard your breath hitch. He looked over to see you were staring straight head, eyes wide and wet with tears. Smudged mascara beneath your eyes. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and you clutched your hands tightly in your lap. Your lips were shaking, moving as if you were whispering something to yourself.

Your legs began to jitter, restless, and Rafe looked away. He managed to tune out your obvious panic for nearly an entire minute. He had a rare feeling. One he didn’t fully understanding. The angel on his shoulder was telling him to reach out, to try and comfort you. He thought about what Wheezie might think if this was the disheveled state he brought his future wife to meet her in. He let out a quiet sigh, knowing it was only going to get worse as the reality of your situation set in.

“Hey,” He spoke without that sharp edge, channeling a voice he might use with his youngest sister, “I didn’t mean you’d never get your things. We can come back, when you’re more settled …And I’ll send someone to get all your keepsakes. Okay?”

“Okay, okay, okay,” You repeated though your voice sounded empty, “Okay.”

He thought those would be the magic words but you hadn’t even turned to look at him. You were doing the same thing, shaking like a leaf, barely taking in enough breath, “Fuck,” Rafe cursed. He pulled over to the side of the road with a sharp jerk, the gravel crunching under the tires as the truck slowed to a stop. Without thinking, he shifted into park and turned to you.

Rafe needed to be more deliberate in his actions. He had eyes on him, his entire immediate family, and he wouldn’t have them thinking he couldn’t handle you.

He tried to calm you, squeezed your hand, told you to breathe over and over again. Nothing. You were spiraling, letting your thoughts consume you. Rafe had been too rough. It was all too much too fast for you. He wanted to mold you, not break you.

He leaned in, taking your face in his hands, and pressing his lips to yours. You went frantic but he only deepened the kiss. He held your hand and slowly felt your tension lesson. He entwined his fingers in yours and slowly felt you move your own lips against his. You tasted like cherries, dark red, and perfectly ripe. His hands moved to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing lightly, urging you to focus, to let go of the panic.

He pulled away only when you stopped your heaving.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay now. Breathe with me.”

He waited for you to come back to him, cradling you there. You had no one left, Rafe realized in that moment, the truth settling heavily in his chest. And maybe that was why he couldn’t bring himself to be cruel.

No, taking care of you wasn’t just an obligation, it was an important responsibility. One he’d shoulder completely. Whether you liked it or not, Rafe would make sure of it.

Rafe Cameron tasted like whiskey, with a faint hint of mint that lingered now even as you stood in the foyer of your new home, Tannyhill Ranch. The white house was sprawling and pristine, situated amidst of sea of green fields. Windows sparkled even in the storm that was coming down, and although the roof’s shingles were weathered, it was hard to believe the property had been there for more than a century.

Workers, chefs and maids, bustled by but no one spared you or Rafe a glance despite the dry tears on your face and disheveled appearance.

The interior was grand, the hardwoods polished until they shined, and the ceilings were higher than the ones at church. Everything screamed old money. You felt a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the grand entrance hall and then up one side of a grand staircase. Portraits line the walls, serious faces, Camerons and previous owners of the estate.

Their eyes watched you, “Rafe, where are we going?” You asked him quietly.

“To your room,” He spoke low and firm. There hadn’t been any rough grabbing of your limbs or unwanted rides on Rafe’s shoulder since your kiss in the car. You hadn’t fully let you guard down but you preferred when Rafe was calm, and so you remained calm too, “You can settle in.”

Rafe led you down the upstairs hallway, stopping at one of at least six bedroom doors, and pushing it open. The room was breathtaking, a four-poster bed draaped in white linens, oak furniture, blue-white toile patterns, and large windows that overlooked the property. It was beautiful, yes, but none of this belonged to you.

Your fingers absentmidnely traced the fabric of the bed’s comforter before you got a grip, turning around to say something in protest, “Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe interrupted, hands tucking into the front of jeans as if to give off a non-chalant appearance. The position emphasized the silvery belt buckle that sat on the middle of his waist.

“I don’t want to live here,” You spoke softly, your voice still weak from all the crying.

“I know,” Rafe continued, sounding exactly like his father, “Your father did though. You still love your Daddy, don’t you?”

Rafe’s words made you think. Really think. Of course you loved your father. He was a smart man and he always did right by you and your Mother. However, deep down, this all still felt wrong. You stood there, caught between the beauty of the room and the unease of what you felt.

You nodded, “But–”

“But this is what he wanted, darlin’,” Rafe spoke in a way that carried a sense of finality. Rafe stepped closer and suddenly his body was a brick wall keeping you from leaving the room. His lips pulled into a smirk and he leaned down to speak in your ear, his breath fanning over your cheeks. Whiskey and mint, “You always did what your Daddy said, right?”

“Yes,” You answered too honestly for your own good.

“Now you’ll do what I say. That’s how it works. A young lady belongs to her father, and one day, after she grows up, she belongs to her husband,” He straightened up and you blinked your big eyes up at him. Slowly, your eyes traveled down to his lips, “You’ll thank me, one day.”

Gently, he tucked a finger beneath your chin, lifting it even higher. You held your head exactly in the place he placed it, making something flicker in Rafe’s eyes. A heat bloomed in your core. You could only think about that kiss, your first one, despite the fact that he was one of the men completely ruining your life.

“You ever seen someone break a wild horse?”

His question caught you off guard, and your brows furrowed slightly as you searched his face for meaning. The smirk on his lips deepened, and his hand dropped from your chin.

“Takes patience. Takes strength. Takes knowing exactly when to push and when to pull back. But eventually, the horse figures out who’s in charge.” His blue eyes darkened, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place, ”Out on the ranch, when we get a wild one. It’s my favorite thing to do. Watch em’ go from fighting you to starting to trust you. Really, there’s no point in fighting. The one’s who don’t submit, we don’t keep em’ around. They’re dangerous.”

“Oh,” You managed to say, shifting uncomfortably, “That sounds … hard.”

Rafe chuckled in response, “Hard? Yeah, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Rafe’s smirk returned, sharper now, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You want me to kiss you again. I can tell.”

His words sent you stammering immediately, “No!”

“Tell you what,” Rafe interrupted smoothly, ignoring your denial as if it hadn’t even registered. “If you settle in, get all dolled up for dinner…” His voice dripped with false generosity. “I’ll give you another one.”

You stared, dumbfounded and frozen until the young rancher casually turned and walked out of the room. Your fists clenched at your sides as a storm of emotions swirled inside you, anger and fear. One emotion simmered quietly beneath the surface, unwelcome and disorienting. Anticipation.

part two

#dark fic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #black!reader #ward cameron #outer banks smut #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron smut #outer banks

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kamaluhkhan · 1 month ago

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ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember.

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers.

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.”

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.”

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control.

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.”

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top.

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you.

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips.

“why’s that?” you ask.

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go.

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins.

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?”

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being.

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults.

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world.

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!”

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them.

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac:

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work.

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor.

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?”

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs.

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do.

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party.

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke.

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways.

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow.

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says.

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out:

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi.

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with.

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you.

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.”

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws.

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….”

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time.

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?”

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again.

so, you do remember.

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years.

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue.

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure?

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses.

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave.

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating.

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun.

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision.

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try.

“you know powder’s graduating this year?”

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision.

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely.

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed.

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.”

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…”

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.”

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge.

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.”

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you.

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please.

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice.

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd.

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand.

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock.

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you.

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile.

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace.

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you.

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out.

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —”

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?”

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying.

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry.

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21.

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house.

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass.

“you remember.”

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.”

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be.

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours.

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp.

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —”

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder.

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor.

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego.

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you.

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers.

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart.

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time.

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to.

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.”

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work.

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door.

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying.

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear.

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear.

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her.

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl.

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes.

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake.

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek.

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away.

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone.

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move.

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath.

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs.

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin.

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head.

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open."

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer.

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit. you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple.

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess.

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving.

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream.

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers.

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another.

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash.

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before.

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?”

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand.

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday.

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back.

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.”

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling.

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours.

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.”

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.”

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round. “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.”

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder.

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye.

“i better go.”

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room.

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later.

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s.

i’ll see you later. love you!

2K notes · View notes

eppujensen · 1 year ago

Photo

Lovely Ikea hack: the plain Rast dresser into an apothecary-style nightstand by Deborah Bitton at Hip & Humble Style.

#Ikea #hacks #hacking #upgrades #updates #modifying #bedrooms #nightstands #chests #dressers #drawer units #wood #white #DIY #stain #woodworking

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bloatedandalone04 · 2 months ago

Text

TikTok Trends

➪the one where drew is a little clueless in regards to your love for tiktok, and even more confused every time he finds himself thrown into another trend.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, drew being confused for 90% of this, mentions of smut, size difference, slightly younger reader (3 year age gap), there was going to be smut, but i am saving it for another fic.

Word Count: 3.2k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Drew was laying on the king sized bed he shared with you, his sweatpant covered legs crossed as he lounged back on both his pillows and one of yours. His phone was in one of his hands, his thumb scrolling through the latest game results he missed last night when he was too busy fucking you into this very bed.

He was oblivious to the way you were rummaging around in the dresser, though his eyes would occasionally flicker over to you as he scrolled. Tonight was date night, and he knew you would take a lot longer to get ready than he would, so he was staying in his sweats and hoodie until you were ready since he’d just throw something on and then be out the door within the same minute. You were being awfully quiet, and Drew was also oblivious to the way you had propped your phone up behind a picture frame, just out of view.

Drew’s free hand ran through his hair, his recent haircut making his scalp feel a little itchy, but he wasn’t complaining, because this haircut was what had you begging him to fuck you every night this week, so clearly it was working for you.

“Hey, babe,” he murmured, not looking up from his phone. “Where do you want to go tonight? Anywhere you want, I don’t care, I just want to know if I should call in beforehand.”

You bit your lip as you adjusted your phone, your eyes shining with mischief as you moved away from the dresser. “I’m not sure,” you answered as you walked into the closet and grabbed the dark blue dress you were planning on wearing tonight. “Haven’t really thought about it.”

You had to hide your smile as you walked back into the bedroom and set the dress down on the bed next to Drew’s legs, and you had to ignore just how sexy he looked right now as you glanced over at your phone.

Drew had never been one to be very active on social media in the two years you’ve been with him, so you knew for a fact that he would have no clue what you were about to spring on him.

Reaching for the hem of your shirt, you bunched the material in your fingers before pausing, “Hey, baby,” you laughed, poking his knee as you swayed a bit on your feet. When Drew just let out a grunt, you continued, “Can you leave for a few minutes while I get dressed? I’ll be quick.”

You watched as Drew’s eyes flickered all over his phone’s screen before he hummed, moving to sit up. Just as his legs swung over the side of the bed, he seemed to have finally fully processed your words, because his eyes narrowed before he looked over at you. “Wait, what?”

A laugh threatened to escape your mouth, but you managed to compose yourself before he could realize this was yet another trend he was currently being forced into. “Can you, like, get out for a sec? I need to get ready for tonight,” you asked again, gesturing to your shirt and sweats.

One of his brows raised and he glanced down at your current outfit before looking over at your dress. “Uh, why?” he asked, sounding so genuinely confused, you almost cackled. “We live together, baby. I’ve seen you naked, like…a million times now.”

You covered your mouth and crossed your arm over your chest as you tried to keep this going for as long as you could. “Just…please?”

Drew’s brows furrowed as he locked then set his phone down on the bed beside him, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, reaching for your hand. His voice was so deep but so sweet right now, you felt yourself caving in already. “Tell me, baby.”

“It’s nothing,” you say, but your voice sounded unconvincing even to you. “I just don’t want you in here while I get changed.”

Drew narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the pillows once again, clearly making no move to get up and leave. “Babe, come on,” he mumbled, giving you a pointed look as you tried to keep up the act for a little longer, but he was the actor, not you. “We’ve lived together for half a year now. I’ve seen you take off clothes in front of me more times than I can count. What’s so different now?”

You had a sneaking suspicion that he was catching on, and you knew the act was pretty much up. Still, you tried to go for a little longer, “There’s no difference…” you trailed off, then saw the look of realization flash in his pretty blue eyes.

“Oh, I get it,” he muttered, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he looked up at you. “This is another TikTok thing, isn’t it?”

You furrowed your brows and shook your head, but he had caught you. “No,”

Drew grunted and nodded his head, “Uh huh, where’s your phone?” he asked, glancing around the bedroom as you tried to think of a way to salvage your prank.

“It’s not a TikTok thing-”

“Come on, where is it?” he cut you off, his tone light and relieved as he now knew that nothing was wrong and this was just him falling for another trend going around on an app he didn’t even have installed.

With a huff, you nodded towards the dresser, and Drew shifted a bit so he could see your well-hidden phone behind the picture frame.

“I fucking knew it,” he laughed, rubbing his hands over his face as he leaned back again. “Why do I keep falling for these things?”

“Because you’re old and refuse to use social media,” you mumbled, reaching for your phone and ending the video.

He scoffed from behind you, reaching over to wrap his hand around one of your thighs. “I’m only three years older than you, brat,” he muttered, pulling you towards him. “I’m not nearly old enough for you to call me that.”

“Three and a half,” you hummed, your attention quickly slipping from your phone as you let him turn you around and pull you to stand in between his legs. Your free hand caressed his jaw, his stubble pricking your fingertips as you gazed down at him, “Can’t forget the half.”

Drew hummed, leaning in to press his face against the front of your shirt. “Mm, right,” he rasped, leaning back on the bed and pulling you with him so you are straddling his waist. “Can’t forget the half.”

You dropped your phone onto the bed next to his, both devices quickly being forgotten about as you braced your hands flat on the sheets on either side of his head, your lips finding his in a deep kiss that quickly turned into something a lot more heated.

“You’re not doing it right,” you whined, pushing your boyfriend away from you as you walked towards your phone to restart the recording.

After finding a trend that would actually involve Drew participating in it, you decided to give him a break from all the prank trends you pull on him and asked if he wanted to try this couple trend you saw all over your for you page. Surprisingly enough, he agreed to. You assumed he was probably tired of falling for the pranks all the time, so this way he could be fully aware of what was happening.

With that being said, even though he was an amazing actor, he fucking sucked at following directions.

“What do you mean I’m not doing it right?” he asked, holding his arms out as he watched you set your phone back up against the TV stand. “I’m picking you up, am I not? Is that not what I’m supposed to do here?”

You rolled your eyes and bit back a laugh as you stood back up straight and moved towards him. “No, you’re supposed to flip me upside down,” you said, “Did you even watch the video I sent you?”

“I watch all the videos you send me,” he mumbled, glancing over at your phone before stepping closer to you. “Just tell me what to do, okay?”

You grinned and moved to stand in front of him, and you reached behind you to take Drew’s wrists in your hands. “Just hold me here,” you instructed, placing his big hands on your hips as you both faced the camera. “Then lift me and turn me upside down.”

“That’s it?” he asked, giving your hips a teasing squeeze as he dipped his head down and pressed a firm kiss to your temple. “What if I drop you?”

You look over your shoulder at him and raise your brow, “Well, don’t,”

Drew laughed, the deep sound rumbling against your back as you looked at your phone. “Alright, ready?” he asked, and you nodded. Drew bent his knees slightly, ensuring he had a good grip on you, before he straightened back up again and easily lifted you off the ground.

That was the easy part though, but after a few seconds, he managed to turn you upside down so your legs were by his shoulders and your head was by his knees. “Yay, baby!” you squealed, holding onto his arms tightly as he dangled you above the floor.

Drew let out another deep laugh as he held you securely in place, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist. “Is this it?”

“Yes,” you answer, helplessly swaying in his hold as you look at your phone from your upside down angle. “I hope it turned out well. I don’t want to do this again.”

“Why not?” Drew asked, locking his arms around your thighs as he swayed you even more, making another quiet squeal leave your lips. “Now that I know what to do, this is easy.”

Your grip tightened on his arms as you held on for dear life, a soft whine escaping your mouth. “Drew,”

He laughed and stilled before managing to guide your legs down until you were upright again. “Alright,” he grinned, steadying you with his hands on your waist. “Are we good?”

You nodded and leaned into his touch for a few seconds before moving away to grab your phone. After ending the video, you clicked on it to make sure it came out okay, and as you did so, Drew came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“How’d it turn out?” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder as he glanced down at your phone as well.

“Good,” you answered, playing the video and watching with a dumb smile on your face as your boyfriend effortlessly picked you up and managed to do the trend rather successfully. Turning your head, you pressed a quick kiss to his chin, “Thank you.”

Drew hummed, kissing you properly as his hands splayed across your belly. “‘Course,” he mumbled, kissing you again before looking back down at your phone. “You look so small, baby. Send that to me.”

You grinned and nodded as he stepped away from you and towards the doorway. “You could see it on my TikTok if you actually had the app,” you pointed out as you sat down on the couch.

“Not happening,” he called over his shoulder before giving you a teasing smirk and leaving the room.

As you watched the video again and matched it up with the song it would go with, you bit down on your lip, because Drew looked really hot in it, and it was extremely obvious how fit and strong he is since he lifted you up with ease.

You could only imagine all the comments you’d get, and all of them would be girls thirsting over your boyfriend.

The ‘calling your boyfriend friend names’ prank was all that was currently on your for you page on your TikTok, and you knew after watching the first one that you were going to do it to Drew.

Your poor, unsuspecting boy who was really never safe as long as you had access to the app, or any app for that matter, because he was just too easy.

Drew was laying back on the bed, one arm propped behind his head as he browsed through various movies on Netflix, his gaze fixated on the TV that was mounted on the wall above the dresser.

He looked so focused as he tried to find something to watch, and you knew he was looking for something that you would like since you and he had very different tastes when it came to movies. You almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Dude, just pick a movie already,” you laughed from your spot on your side of the bed, discreetly angling your phone to capture his entire upper body without making it look obvious.

Drew’s head turned in your direction, one of his brows raising as his thumb paused on the remote. “I’m trying to,” he muttered, squinting his eyes at you, “Dude.”

You held in your snort and shook your head, looking back up at the TV. “I don’t care what we watch, man,” you mumbled and felt him shift next to you, but you kept your eyes locked on the screen. “Just pick something.”

The remote was set down on the bed between your body and his, and when you glanced up at him, he was softly glaring at you, “I will, once you call me by my actual name instead of dude or man,”

You actually laughed, but this one fit in well, “Okay, Drew,”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he groaned, moving towards you and dropping his head to your chest. He presses his face against your cleavage as you reach over and prop your phone up on the nightstand. “Call me what you always call me.”

You grinned as you draped your arms around his shoulders. “Aw, buddy,”

Drew’s head had never snapped up faster than it did when you said that. “Why are you calling me that?” he asked, placing his hands flat against the bed on either side of your hips as he pushed himself back up so he was kneeling beside your still reclined form. “Baby, what’s going on?”

You pressed your lips together as you reached up and cradled his pretty face in your hands. “Nothing,” you answered, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs.

Drew gave you a skeptical look before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. His big hands found your hips as he deepened it, his tongue brushing against yours, and you returned his kiss like you always do. “Are you sure?” he murmured against your mouth, and you knew your knees would’ve buckled if you were standing up from how deep and sexy his voice is.

But you couldn’t think about that right now, and you realized you would have to edit that intense kiss out of the video so TikTok didn’t flag you, which would suck. “I’m sure,” you confirmed, then fucked with him further, “Everything’s all good, pal.”

Drew gave you a look of disbelief as he pulled away and sat back on his knees again. “Pal? Did you seriously just call me pal?” he gaped at you, his brows drawn together in confusion and something that looked a lot like betrayal. “Babe, what the fuck did I do? I know you’re mad at me, you keep calling me all these random names. Tell me what I did.”

You laughed and shook your head, pushing yourself up so you were sitting in front of him. “You didn’t do anything, Drew,” you assured him, but could tell that your words had very little effect on him. “I promise.”

His eyes narrowed as he glared at you, moving back to his original spot on his side of the bed. “Then stop calling me dude or pal,” he muttered, picking the remote back up and lifting his arm so you could cuddle against his side.

You actually did snort this time as you crawled over to him, “Okay, bro,” you mumbled as you slid under his arm, but as soon as the name left your lips, Drew was standing up from the bed and looking down at you with his hands on his hips.

“Bro? Bro?” he echoed, “No, something is definitely wrong here. What is happening right now, Y/n? Are you breaking up with me or something?”

You let out a loud laugh as you rolled onto your side. “No,” you answered, shaking your head as you looked up at him. “I’m not breaking up with you, Drew. Why would I do that?”

He sounded a bit desperate now as he braced one knee on the edge of the bed and asked, “Then why are you calling me dude and bro and pal? You’ve never called me those names before,” he rambled, “That’s what you call a friend, baby, not your boyfriend.”

“I know,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows as you looked up at him, and after getting another look at his handsome, yet so obviously confused face, you caved. “That’s what the prank is, babe. I call you names I’d call a friend.”

Drew’s brows furrowed, then he was looking around the bed for your phone, and when he glanced at the nightstand, he let out a loud groan. “Oh for fucks sake,” he grunted, rubbing his hands over his face as you laughed and moved to retrieve your phone. “I thought we were breaking up or something. Why do I keep falling for this shit?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Guys are just so easy,” you answered, “And unless you cheat on me or something, I’m never breaking up with you.”

Drew dropped his hands to his sides as he joined you back on the bed. “And I’m never cheating on you,” he rasped, straddling your thighs as he placed his hands on your waist. “But how many more times are you going to do this to me? This one was fucked up.”

You laughed as you ended the recording, then gasped when you felt how hot his skin was. “Drew,” you say with wide eyes, “You’re, like…sweating.”

“I know I am,” he said, his fingers pushing up your shirt as his hands ran along the skin of your stomach. “I told you, I thought you were breaking up with me. I was panicking.”

You smiled up at him, letting him take your phone from you and toss it onto the end of the bed. “I would never,” you promised, and Drew wrapped his fingers around your wrists, guiding your hands up to rest on his chest as he gazed down at you with an intense stare.

“Good,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against yours, and it was clear that the hunt for a movie to watch was now postponed. His eyes were even darker when he pulled away, his nose bumping gently against yours. “I love you.”

You whimpered quietly as you slid your hands up into his hair. “I love you too,”

Then he was pressing himself against you completely, and soon enough, you were sweating too.

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lovebugism · 4 months ago

Note

for your smut request ☺️ eddie seeing the love marks he left on reader and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place 🫶🏻

thank u for requesting :D — the one where eddie realizes quitting smoking would be a whole lot easier than quitting you (established relationship, allusions to smut 18+ | 0.9k)

You lie in the center of Eddie’s bed, trying hard to catch your breath, while the boy rolls off the squeaking mattress on tingling limbs.

You hear him chuck the used condom into the bin by the nightstand as he goes. He tugs plaid boxers up lanky legs, then fishes for the pack of cigs left in his discarded jeans in one fell swoop. His movements are so practiced now they seem almost fluid. Or maybe that’s just the honeyed haze leftover in your heavy eyes.

Eddie opens the window with one hand, then brings the other up to his mouth. He plucks a cigarette from the carton with his lips and leaves the rest on the sill. A midnight breeze billows past his flushed cheeks and wild curls before finding you. It feels like silk against your buzzing, bare skin.

He cups a hand over his mouth to light the stick. The amber flame makes his face glow. Suddenly, everything smells of sex, nicotine, and midnight air.

You writhe under the thin sheets to stretch your aching limbs before mustering a small smile at the boy across the room. “Smoking after sex is so cliche,” you joke in contented slurs.

“Well, it’s your fault,” the boy insists as grey smoke billows from his rosy mouth. He flicks the filter end of the cigarette to dispel the ash in the ceramic tray, then stretches his arms over his head. It leaves his milky white torso on display for you. Your mouth waters with the urge to run your lips over each of his fading tattoos.

“Is it?” you hum.

“Mhmm,” Eddie nods wordlessly. He sticks the cig back in his mouth and mumbles through it. “If you weren’t so needy, I wouldn’t be smokin’ so much.”

A beam tugs at your lips, threatening to fill the lamplit bedroom with sunshine. You cage it between your teeth because both of you know Eddie was the so-called needy one no more than ten minutes ago –– panting in your ear as he fucked sloppily into you, and leaving his pathetic little whimpers there, too.

“Please cum,” he begged against your skin as his thrusts lost rhythm, weighed down by his own need for release. “Please cum for me. I need to feel it. Need to feel it so bad, baby. Please.”

You watch the memory replay itself in Eddie’s faraway gaze. The notion makes your chest go warm. “Well, you have my deepest sympathies, Eddie Spaghetti,” you murmur in response, soft and sarcastic.

Eddie lifts a pale shoulder in a lazy shrug. “It’s okay,” he mumbles back, cigarette bobbing on his bottom lip. “I can just bill you for all the packs I’m goin’ through.”

“Or we can just stop having sex?” you offer with a knowing lilt to your voice, rising to sit further up on the pillows. You clutch the sheets to your bare chest and look at the boy beneath your lashes. “That’s free, at least.”

Eddie nods, eyes squinted in feigned curiosity. “Hm... That’s definitely an interesting proposition,” he hums with his head angled towards the window to blow smoke out of.

“I mean, I have plenty of toys to keep me occupied––”

“And by toy, I assume you’re talking about Steve The Hair Harrington?” Eddie tries to joke, though his poorly concealed jealousy goes unentertained.

“––But I think you’ll get tired of your right hand very quickly.”

“Hey,” Eddie pouts. “You know I’m ambidextrous. I can switch it up.”

“So, it’s settled then?” you shrug. “No more sex.”

Eddie bows his head sheepishly, silently calculating a way to get him out of the hole he dug for himself. He snuffs the cigarette out in the ashtra, and his eyes flit to the opened box of condoms on his dresser, all but calling his name.

“Well… I mean… We still have eleven condoms left, so…”

You meet his brown-eyed look of expectancy with a cynical smirk. “You see eleven condoms, I see eleven minutes of my life I’m never getting back,” you quip.

Eddie stalks towards you on long legs, brows furrowed in a pitiful look. “Stop being mean to me. I’ll fall in love with you––” he whines playfully, leaning over the mattress with the intent to kiss you. His eyes fall to the blossoming bruises on your neck, and he stops short. “Jesus…”

“What?” you murmur in a mousy voice, eyes wide and glittering.

“Nothin’,” Eddie blurts as he raises his hand to run his fingers over your warm skin. He traces the blooming blood vessels over your collarbone, and his face screws with worry. “Do these hurt?” he wonders aloud.

“Do these?” you echo, motioning to the scratches on his shoulders he hasn’t bothered to notice until now. You didn’t even know you were leaving them there, in truth, as you held onto the boy for dear life while he fucked you within an inch of your own.

Eddie tucks his chin to his chest and tries to eye the scrapes from his peripheral vision. He spots four lines of raging red and puffed-up skin. They feel almost like battle scars –– an aching that he’s proud of.

“A little,” he shrugs, then smiles proudly to himself. “They feel good, though.”

“So do these,” you hum.

His heavy eyes fall to your neck again. His mouth waters at the sight of the lovebites littered there. “Want some more?” he offers lowly.

“I thought we had a deal, Eds? No more sex,” you tease as the boy leans further into kiss you. You smell nicotine and sex on his breath, and your head starts to swim.

“We never shook on it,” Eddie insists, right before kissing you hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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simpjaes · 4 months ago

Text

REALISTIC EXPECTATIONS ― S.JY

What should have never been an option became a routine over the years. This year is different though. It’s time to face what’s been done and put an end to it for good��except your step-brother Jake isn’t ready to face it, and your little boyfriend isn’t going to stand in the way of getting what he wants either. or the one where you made a bad decision in fooling around with your step-brother during your early college days and he refuses to let you put an end to it.

leave feedback and reblog to support me please!

minors do not interact.

WORDCOUNT― 8.9k

PAIRING― step-brother jake sim x afab reader (ft. boyfriend sunghoon)

WARNINGS ― step cest, dub-con/non-con, blackmail, nonconsensual phone sex

NOTE― MIND. THE. WARNINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALSO, shoutout to anon for giving me this idea.reminder that this is not a representation of me or the idols as real life people. anyway, not proof read.

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― non con/dub con, normal size dick jake and mentions of bigger dick sunghoon, implications from jake that sunghoon is actually gay for him, camera use, fisting, degradation, manipulation, phone sex-ish, choking, suffocation, cum stuffing, cream pie, unprotected sex, forced blowjob, crying, break-up implications

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“You’re being ridiculous.” Jake scoffs, leaning against your bedroom dresser with his arms crossed. “We did it last summer, why is this year any different? We always do it.”

You roll your eyes at him in an attempt to hide the guilt you feel, holding the blanket tightly to your chest in case he tries to pull them off of you again. Jake knows damn well why. Not only should it not have happened last year, or the year before that, or the year before that, but to actively and truly believe it’s something that can continue is something only a mad man would think.

Not to mention, you have a boyfriend now. A real boyfriend, one who matters in your life.

“Sunghoon have anything to do with this?” He questions you now, reaching for the blanket and tugging. “Come on, playing around isn’t gonna hurt anything. It’s not like anyone is going to know anyway–”

You huff, yanking your blanket up a bit to pull it from his grasp again. You get why he’s asking and why he’s confused because, well, last summer you were all over the idea like usual. You knew he would expect the same this summer, but honestly, it has to stop. Things have changed. Things needed to change.

“Jake, we can’t be doing that stuff anymore.” You say as if it’s fine, a bite to your voice that hits him right in the gut.

In all honesty though, you really do feel guilty. Like you’ve led him on all these years with his sweet, borderline boyfriendly words. You lived in the fantasy with him for a while, like it could work out despite the family ties. There’s a reality though, one that you found yourself living in upon meeting Sunghoon, and there’s a fantasy that you need to pull Jake out of. You feel awful, especially knowing there’s a part of you that would if you could. But…you can’t, nor can he.

Never again.

Jake feels singled out at this moment. Like he’s the weird one for even asking when you were the one who came onto him when it happened the very first time. All those talks of “we aren’t blood related, it’s not that bad.” and “If our parents divorce, maybe someday we can go on a date or something–” Do they mean nothing now? You’re going to blame him for expecting it?

“Why the fuck not?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Gonna act like you weren’t the one who tried to fuck me at Jay’s party last summer? Acting all high and mighty now, like suddenly it’s so wrong?”

You look away from him, feeling worse because he’s right. Given, the guilt should have hit you after the first time, but it didn’t. You had your fun pushing boundaries but now that graduation is coming up it’s like..it doesn’t feel right. Did he really just expect the two of you to keep fucking well into adulthood? Did he expect you to get married to someone else and still get on your knees during family Christmas parties?

Did he expect to be the one marrying you?

“We have to grow up.” You finally say, shifting your eyes back to him. “This is starting to feel really—gross.”

“Hey–” He looks at you now, almost pleading. “It’s not gross, we aren’t gross.” He takes two steps towards the bed in a fit of desperation, leaning with his hands now palm-down on your mattress. But…when he tries to follow up on his words, he knows you’re serious.

Realistically, despite having been your step-brother since the beginning of high-school…actively choosing to fuck each other as soon as college started was maybe not the best idea. Hormones were high, the freedom to fuck was blatant, and well…it’s not his fault you’d walk around in all those slutty little pajama shorts and try to jump his bones every time you found yourself alone with him. If anything, you’re the one who pulled him into this. He really did think it was gross at first, but thinking with his dick outweighed that, and then his heart decided to play a part in all of it too.

He really does think there could be something here if the two of you worked for it. After all, you’re entirely his type, despite marriage ruining it. The breaking of morals eventually became the best part for him, having what his father wishes he could have solely because you’re just a younger, hotter, version of your own mother.

You even said it yourself all that time ago when it first happened. “It’s ok jakey, you’re a guy. guys have needs.”

Well, what about his needs now?! He was so happy to be able to come home and see you again. He misses you so much when you’re both away at your respective colleges, and he thinks about you all the time. He should have known that something was changing all those months ago when you stopped texting him back as much as you usually would. Now what? He just has to accept that you’re done?

“You’re seriously not going to give it up?” He pushes his hands under the bottom of your blankets, quickly running his fingers up your legs just to try and encourage a giggle, or a smile from you.

That’s when he notes how you haven’t even shaved your legs. Which, it’s not like he gives two fucks on whether you do or not but like…you always shave. Your skin was always so smooth, plump, soft, and moisturized when you knew you’d be wanting to play around with him. And clearly, you don’t expect to be getting fucked this summer.

Ah, he’s starting to resent you.

“Does that boyfriend of yours know about us?” He finally says, standing tall at the end of your bed and looming much darker than his usual, bright persona.

You stare at him, eyes widening.

“Excuse me?” You furrow your brows. “Jake, what the fuck are you sayi–”

Before you can even finish or get a response from him, he’s leaving your bedroom and slamming the door behind him.

Already you know this is going to be a long fucking summer.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake knew you were a smart girl. You always believe everything he says, but never once has he used that against you until now. That little mention of Sunghoon seems to have made you panic, and he can’t help but find it endearing that you took his threat so easily. Each time he comes home now, from hanging out with your boyfriend, you’re always sitting on the couch like a cute little puppy greeting him with a wagging tail.

If at all, he knows you’re doing it to try and butter him up. To distract him from what you’re taking away from him. Dangling yourself like nothing has changed but denying him time and time again of it. You’re nice, but never this nice. Offering to hang out, watch movies, go out. You’re promising just about everything to him except for the one thing he needs from you.

He’s thankful though, with all circumstances considered, that the good ol’ parents don’t notice a shift in how you’re acting solely because the two of you have always been close. Even before the sex stuff. You were his best friend. He protected you from highschool bullies, potential assholes trying to steal your first kiss, virginity, and even the first experience of sneaking out.

Back then, it’s not like Jake ever wanted to be your first kiss, the one to take said virginity, or sneak you out to parties you shouldn’t be at. Truly, he just wanted to protect you. It wasn’t until the two of you were away from each other for the first time as freshmans in college that he felt some type of way towards you. Which, again, was entirely your fault.

Ah, he still remembers that first summer back home walking into the house and being smacked in the face with a sensual, fruity scent radiating off of you. After not seeing you for three and a half months, he was entirely shocked at how much you had changed. You looked…confident in yourself. Like you’d been growing internally and learning what you want in life. He found it very attractive of you, believing that once you get a boyfriend, they’d be very lucky to have you in their life.

Then of course, you’d bend over in those shorts and look back at him smirking. Like you only saw him as a man now, and not your protective step brother. You’d whine to him about ruined hook-ups, about the frat parties, about all the guys trying to touch you and wishing he was there to keep them off of you. All while…doing that. All while waltzing around like you’d invite him to do the same.

And you did invite him. That first night has been burned into his memory. The fear, the guilt, the disgust, the love he felt for you. So quiet in his bedroom, giggling to each other with all the lights off in the silence of his room, trying to pretend it was only a one-time thing to satiate a specific need. There was nothing kinky, nothing weird outside of the dynamic of who you were supposed to be to each other.

It kept happening after that, and each time the guilt would wash away with the sweat that always dripped onto you from his temple. You could even say it was shy at first, both of you were very generous to each other. It only started getting dirty as the summers at home continued.

And now…nothing? After all of that, nothing?!

If you think you can change so drastically over a single semester, so be it. Jake can change too, and he already has. Both of you now, entirely different compared to that first summer together. You, all jittery and freaked out, him, with all the power.

You though, truly you’re fucking panicking. If your boyfriend found out about all of this, he’d think you’re a freak. Or a slut. Or a piece of trash. Maybe all three of those things and then some. And you know, you’d think Jake is bluffing…really. Except you got a text from Sunghoon the same night Jake tried to get in your pants. You remember reading those words, the pit in your stomach digging deep. “Your bro is gonna come hang out with me for a bit, you’re coming too right?”

Nevermind the fact that Sunghoon lives an hour away from your hometown, where the two of you get to meet in the middle during active semesters on campus. What about the fact that Jake barely fucking knows him?! Through mutual friends (Jay and Heeseung) all three of you were aware of each other, but you’re the one who got the closest to Sunghoon.

You’re his girlfriend now. Which, apparently demoted Jake from popular-porn-trope to actual step-brother.

And that pisses him off.

So, is it weird for Sunghoon to get a sudden hang out text from a guy he assumed is just wanting to get to know him? No. After all, he knows Jake is your “brother.” What he doesn’t and hopefully will never know is that you’ve fucked said step-brother.

Is it weird that you don’t go with Jake to see your own boyfriend? Yes. Unfortunately, Jake basically demanded you “stay in your fucking place. if you wanna get fucked so bad, I’ll be home after.”

Even Sunghoon doesn’t find it weird and texts you everyday as usual. It sucks actually, that he’s so willing to let you do as you please and trusts you to an extent that he doesn’t even ask why you don’t come with Jake. Instead, he’s too busy saying you should definitely join next time, that Jake is super cool and seems to like him a lot.

The good news: Sunghoon offers no mention of knowing, so…it seems you really do have to stay at home. Empty. Wanting to be next to Sunghoon so bad but forced to deal with any oncoming feelings alone.

Since when was Jake even capable of being so awful? Since when did he hate you so much?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Jake–please.” You beg quietly, shaking his arm gently in the soft light of the morning. Everyone is sound asleep, which must be fucking nice.

It’s been two weeks now of such loneliness, such lack of sleep, such intense need to just let yourself spiral and drown in anxiety. Jake is barely talking to you now, only giving you sarcastic and evil little smiles from time to time. As if to remind you of what’s at risk. Sunghoon is normal, too normal. So normal, in fact, that he tried to jerk off on facetime last night for you and you ended up crying and apologizing because you couldn’t even get turned on.

Even if Jake hasn’t told him anything, your relationship is already starting to fall apart because of him. He fucking knows it too.

“Please,”

“Please, what?” Your step-brother's sleepy voice croaks out, turning himself on the bed towards you with a single half opened eye.

“I’m losing sleep, please stop doing this to me.”

“No.” He says now, closing his eyes again and turning away from you, nuzzling against his pillow without a care in the world.

“Please.”

“Fuck off–” He complains, throwing his arm behind himself to shove you away and surprised to find that you’ve crawled up on the bed with him.

Just like that night so long ago, the first time the two of you broke past any boundaries.

“I’ll do anything.” You nearly cry, so sleepy, so anxiety ridden, so out of your mind at this point that you genuinely would do anything to feel normal again.

“Anything?”

You feel slight relief in his interest, nodding your head aggressively with a broken voice. “Yes! I promise. I swear, anything you want. Please, just–”

“Then get the fuck out of my room.”

You know better than to disobey at this point. All you can do is sulk back to your room and hope that sleep overtakes you this time. If anything, maybe he will consider your plea in the morning.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s surprising, honestly. Jake didn’t even know he was into seeing you suffer like this, let alone having power over you. He spent so much time protecting you that he never realized how attractive it is to see you fear him. The joy that runs through him now, the orgasms he gets out of it, fuck. Who cares if it’s his own hand doing the work right now? With the thoughts of you doing “anything” like you said, being disgusting, begging, pleading, crying. He might be a little insane for you now, if he wasn’t already.

And still even today, you look so desperate for any amount of relief. Jake finds joy in the fact that you can’t even go to your boyfriend about it.

He’s never felt so powerful, truly. Especially now, watching you try to seduce him as if you didn’t deny him of it before. The slutty shorts are back. You’re not wearing bras anymore. You’ll leave the bathroom stark fucking naked if it happens to just be you and him at home.

Ah, heaven on earth. Honestly, his days are so fun now. Save for when he has to hang out with that fucking idiot of a man Sunghoon. What a loser, honestly. Openly sharing all the stuff you’ve done in bed with him like Jake isn’t your step-brother? If anyone is weird, it’s Sunghoon. Hell, Jake isn’t even sure now if the dude would care if he found out that you’ve ridden some related-by-marriage cock before.

He hates hanging out with him. Always having to hold back the scoffs when Sunghoon is drunkenly slurring out more sex acts you’ve performed on him followed by a love confession and a whine of how much he misses you. As if you didn’t do all of that for Jake first. Ugh, he genuinely can’t believe that you’re even with Sunghoon at all.

After a little while longer though, with the great days and the annoying hang outs, a nice month into summer vacation– Jake’s been ready to take what he needs. You’ve been begging for it, after all. He loves looking and seeing you so desperate for him to stop the mind games but goddamn it’s getting hard to think straight himself by now.

Thankfully, he’s thinking clearly enough whether it’s through his cock rather than his brain to come up with how he’ll go about it. He waits a little more, cock throbbing in his pants due to not allowing himself to get off in the past two days in preparation for this.

Every night when everyone goes to bed, you call Sunghoon. And every night, Jake has listened. Tonight though? Sunghoon will be the one listening.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Like clockwork, the parents have gone to bed and Jake hears the hushed muttering just a room over. He’s already standing to his feet, shooting a hand directly to his bulge to adjust it with a silent groan in his throat. Before he can even leave his room he’s rolling his eyes back with another grope of his sensitive cock, almost unable to stop touching himself after denying himself of it. He’s practically drooling at the image of having you all to himself again. The anticipation he feels inside right now is insane. He feels his skin prickle and his eyes are barely able to focus on his own bedroom door out of sheer arousal of what he’s about to do to you.

He composes himself shortly after, as best he can anyway, tiptoeing to your room and chuckling at the way your eyes light up when you see him. He’s ignored you for too long. Not a single response to anything you’ve said to him, hell, he even stopped letting you see him look at you.

Of course your eyes light up, it means he’s going to stop. It means he’s going to tell you what he wants.

And you’re happy, even with Sunghoon on the line sweet talking to you about his day like usual.

“Hoonie, can I call you back?” You ask quickly into the phone, only to see Jake take a seat next to you on your bed and shake his head at you.

You tilt your head in question, feeling your heart thump in your ears to the point you barely even hear Sunghoon at all.

“Keep talking to him.” He whispers to you now, nearly just mouthing it.

You never knew you were so good at reading lips, but you listen to him. Furrowing your brows in question and adjusting your phone against your ear.

“Nevermind, we’re good.” You say in a voice too calm for Jake’s liking.

And it’s like that for a few minutes as Jake lets you get into the groove of conversing with your boyfriend again before he makes a move. The move he makes? Leaning against you, pressing you back against your pillows, and licking your neck.

He smiles against your skin when he feels it prickle and lets out a whispered chuckle at how much he’s missed the taste of your skin. So warm, so soft. The fact that you’re letting him tells him all he needs to know, despite the way your shoulders stiffen, he knows you’re going to give him anything.

“Gonna let me fuck it again, yeah?” Jake whispers as he moves up against your ear, pinning your arms to your chest, forcing your phone closer to his mouth compared to yours. “Gonna let him hear it too.”

Ah, there she is. You, in all your glory, are already tearing up at the very idea of it.

“Jake, no.” You say, holding your hand over the speaker and body language trying to twist away from him.

“You said anything.” Jake corrects you quietly, slapping your hand off of the speaker and quickly thrusting his own hand between your legs.

He chooses not to be gentle with you this time. He’s not going to be what you’re used to, not after that shit you tried to pull with him. His finger pushes in dry, and he smiles at the way you hold your breath and try to squeeze your legs shut to stop him. Sunghoon on the other end is muffled, but still heard by both of you.

You stay silent throughout his ministrations, pissing him off further, only making him move his hand faster, forcing a reaction, daring you to stop him.

“Phone.” Jake instructs, loosening his other grip on your hands as a means to let you raise the phone back up to your ear. “Talk.”

You stare at him, feeling the burning between your legs of where your body has yet to do anything more than tighten around his fingers. Still, they drag painfully due to your body feeling no pleasure in this. In fact, you’re afraid.

You’re afraid Sunghoon will find out, afraid of Jake, afraid of showing that you like what he’s doing, afraid of realizing you’ll always like this, afraid of losing either of them solely because you can only love, fuck, and be with one of them.

And it’s obvious who the one has to be because…the other isn’t possible. It’s just not.

So, you try. You try to talk, try to relax, try to do everything Jake asks of you solely to prolong the situation enough to where you can find a way to put a proper, healthy end to it.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You finally croak into the phone, having not heard a single word from Sunghoon this entire time and trying not to focus on that same drag Jake only pushes harder into you with that terrifying smirk.

“I asked if that was Jake I just heard–” Sunghoon responded as brightly as always, bless him.

“Speaker.” Jake mouths to you, and of course you listen. Reluctantly, but you still do it, shaking fingers hitting the speaker-phone button so Jake can hear what’s being said.

“What are you guys doing? Let me hear what?” Sunghoon continues.

Jake flashes a full grin at you and wiggles his eyebrows before he’s pulling his fingers out, sucking them into his mouth, then moving back down with three before shoving them back in with even more force.

“Yeah– Tell him.” Jake says as casually as ever. “Go on, let him in on the secret we’ve been keeping from him.”

Sunghoon hears Jake all too well, but doesn’t question that it’s anything weird. If at all, he wonders if maybe you two have been planning something behind his back considering you never come over when Jake does. Which is actually weird, but he tried not to question it. He and you are practically attached at the hip during the semesters, so, this would make sense.

Of course there is a secret surprise for him!

“I–” You yelp both out of pain and unintentional pleasure, cutting yourself off in a gasp.

You can feel the pit in your stomach dig deeper and deeper, arousing you when it’s the last thing you could ever want at this moment. You know Jake feels it though, with the slide of his fingers becoming easier, and that permanent smile on his face.

Sunghoon feels so far away right now…Like, who are you kidding? He can’t get you out of this and you doubt he’d even want to if you were to ever even consider explaining it to him.

“I–I miss you a lot.” You try to come up with words, missing him being all that you can muster up right now.

Unfortunately, Jake’s scary smile is less terrifying compared to his face now, where he narrows his eyes and glares straight through you for saying such a thing in front of him. He’s trying to crowd four fingers into you now, making you squirm and squeeze your legs together again. He is quick to disallow you though, forcing one of your legs open with his shoulder and spitting directly on your stretched and pulsing hole.

“I miss you too baby–” Sunghoon says in a slightly confused voice. “What else?”

You pause, taking a moment to feel Jake between your legs and how much it…god, it feels so good. But– you’re unsure of how to balance speaking with Sunghoon and dealing with Jake right now. If you have to deal with them both at the same time…this isn’t what you’d prefer.

“I wish you were here right now.”

Sunghoon smiles on his end, assuming Jake has now left your room due to the silence and lack of hearing him now.

“Is Jake still around?” He mutters to you through the speaker, because based on your tone of voice, he knows what mood you’re in.

Jake shakes his head at you, encouraging that you lie before focusing back on watching the hole he’s missed so much. The one Sunghoon’s probably played with before, that fucking loser.

“Nope–J–Just me!” You find yourself forcing a smile as you say it, just to hope your voice comes out in a way that sounds brighter than it feels.

“You wish I was there?” Sunghoon says now, his own voice growing deeper. “Why’s that?” He spreads his legs out wide against his bed, assuming it’s about to be a regular session of facetime fucking.

“Mhm,” You accidentally moan, a bit too obvious. “Just feel safe with you when I’m feeling like this.”

Jake rolls his eyes, slowly forcing his thumb in beside the rest of his fingers, growing more angry, more aroused, and more insatiable towards you.

“How are you feeling right now baby?”

“Empty.”

“Wish you were full of something?” Sunghoon smiles, a cheeky voice calling out to you. “Of me?”

You groan at that moment, all of Jake’s fingers stretch you open until you feel knuckles trying to force past the boundary. Your hands shake at the feeling as your eyes cross momentarily, tears prickle from the pain but it feels so…good. And only a moment goes by before you, quite literally, kick Jake away.

The sudden emptiness you get from that feels so much better, but Jake is too quick to get back up. Fire in his dark eyes as he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you roughly down the bed. There is a small sound that escapes your lips at the action, almost a giggle. You’re quick to tighten your lips though, trying to will your body to stop liking the way Jake is being with you right now. You don’t want this, you don’t like it. You never should have in the first place, and to be honest, you’re trying to force yourself to believe you’re making the right choice in continuing to deny him of this.

It’s only natural that your body wants it, just like it was natural to kick him off of you from the pain, right? And then, Jake reminds you of just how much you regret denying him the first night back home, because he's leaning over you so fast, hugging your waist and forcing all five fingers back into you.

You kick, squirm, whine, and ultimately shout out a “No, no, no!” despite your hips chasing up to let him, almost to invite him. And–oh, fuck. You forgot Sunghoon can hear all of this.

“Baby?” Sunghoon’s voice rings back in your ears. “Are you okay? You’re already touching yourself? Why do you sound so–”

Jake’s own ears are ringing watching your body fight your brain. You still want him. He can tell by the way you look at him with those tear-filled eyes, with the way your pussy is dripping for this, the way your hips beg him to keep abusing you. Who is he to deny you? He has never denied you pleasure. So, he tries to force more, more, more into you. There’s a boundary here, your pussy clenched so tight around his fingers already, but you want him to keep pushing until he breaks the boundary. You want to feel the pain of it and…finally, he does get it in. His entire hand being gripped so tightly that even he seethes out a pained moan for you.

“Fuck–” He holds his fist in place, removing himself from your waist to look at you. “You really took it all.”

There’s tears in your eyes by this point and you can’t tell if it’s from realizing how much you need Jake, or the fact that Sunghoon definitely knows something is up. No words are coming out though, you’re more afraid to speak what you feel than you are of Jake right now.

“Jake?” Sunghoon questions, confused.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Jake responds with a smile instantly, staring right at you as he begins to fuck a size far too big into you, watching you bite your tongue to keep from showing him how much you love it.

“Wait–” Sunghoon continues with a pause. “What’s going on?”

“I couldn’t help myself.” Jake smiles at you, wiggling his eyebrows again. “After all those things you told me about her, I guess I needed to see for myself.”

And then, you moan. That searing pain inside of you somehow subsides, shaking legs and hands are gripping onto Jake in his entirety now, you’re practically drooling for it.

“I guess you were right.” Jake continues. “She really can take a lot, huh? Bet your dick didn’t feel this good for her though.”

You’re truly unable to comprehend most of what’s happening right now, even the phone vibrating in your hand as Sunghoon goes silent and instead, hangs up before instantly facetiming you. You’re so hyper-fixated on the feeling of knuckles dragging against your tightly clenched walls, choking back every sound or word you want to scream out.

Jake watches as you cry a bit harder now, probably a bit too overwhelmed with the situation. Like the good step-brother he is though, He’ll take care of it for you, of course he will.

“What’s the hold up?” Jake laughs, halting his hand as he reaches for the phone and instantly answers it. He stares down as you continue to fuck yourself on it, smiling at your brief whine before he speaks into the receiver with a confident voice. “Cat’s outta the bag.”

Sunghoon is there on the screen, witnessing the way Jake angles the phone more at himself and your hole than your face. His entire fist has disappeared inside of you, glistening with a sticky mess that spills out of you.

Nothing else is said as Sunghoon stares at it. Jake being a cocky bastard and sticking his tongue out like some idiot frat boy, and then? He hears you.

“Jake, stop!” You cry out.

He doesn’t stop, in fact, he fucks his fist into you quickly making damn sure Sunghoon can not only see how your wet spurts out around his wrist, but hear it too.

“Stop what? Showing your boyfriend what you really want?”

“Hang up the phone!” You cry out again, showing Sunghoon that perhaps…you don’t miss him at all.

Jake isn’t doing anything you don’t want. You just don’t want your boyfriend to witness you be so honest with yourself.

“Awh,” Jake pouts now, angling the phone back at himself and feeling proud of the way Sunghoon appears to be entirely shocked, mouth hung open, eyebrows furrowed. “But he needed to know, baby, didn’t he?” He adds now, lying the phone down briefly to pull his cock out.

“Come on now, don’t be shy.” Jake continues with his confidence, picking the phone back up and angling it towards you.

He intentionally drags his fist in and out of you a few more times before gently pulling it out, moaning at the way it sounds, obsessing over it really. Sunghoon watches in horror at the way you squeeze your eyes shut, sadly wondering what Jake must be doing off screen for you to look so fucking guilty. The horror only grows when he has to watch Jake’s cock come on screen, pussy soaked hand jerking himself off before shoving the head right against your lips.

God, you know Sunghoon hates you now.

Jake knows it too, and doesn’t care as he uses that same soaked hand and pries your lips apart before pushing it into your mouth. He thrusts forward too quick for you to take a breath, and you feel the leaking tip hit the back of your throat in a way that makes you choke and gag around him.

Your eyes shoot open, looking up at him and barely able to comprehend the camera just inches from your face.

Sunghoon has seen you look up at him like this too. Why aren’t you fighting Jake though? Why are you willingly gagging, choking, and drooling all over yourself with such a forceful fuck to your face? You always pull off of him when he tries to thrust even a little bit…but you’re..

“I–” Sunghoon goes to say, still staring at you and the way you’re shamefully getting your mouth fucked open. “That is fucking disgusting.” He finally lets out, but he can’t look away. He doesn’t want to see this but…he can’t bring himself to hang up.

“Yeah, that’s what she thinks too.” Jake chuckles with a heaved breath, enjoying himself, now angling the phone at his face. “I think she likes it though– wouldn’t you agree?”

There goes the camera again, pointing right at your choking mouth. Jake pushes all the way in too, letting your nose rest against his pelvis and moaning loudly for Sunghoon to hear.

“Shit, see? She’s not even fighting it.”

Sunghoon can’t tell only because Jake doesn’t let him. You’re gripping Jake’s hips and trying to push him out of your mouth, but he stays in place, enjoying the way your choking and suffocating throat jerks him off better than his own hand ever could.

The best part? He knows you’re only pushing him away to breathe because you weren’t fighting at all at first. In fact, he felt you silently hum against him like you want his cock so bad. So, he’s not actually lying. He just thinks it’s polite to not let Sunghoon know how you’re suffocating right now.

Oh well.

Only after your eyes start to fog over and roll back does Jake pull out, relishing in that wet gasp you lend. He looks down at the phone now, wanting to make sure Sunghoon witnessed all of that before realizing he fucking hung up.

Who the fuck hangs up on imagery like that? Fucking idiot, is what Sunghoon is.

To be fair though, Sunghoon hung up shortly before Jake pulled out. He had to force himself to do it, because he didn’t quite enjoy the way his cock jumped at the image of his girlfriend letting her step-brother fuck her mouth like that. He’s entirely blindsided. Like, not only are you cheating on him, but he had to see it like that?! In 4k?! God, his stomach would be in knots to catch you like this with anyone, but the fact that it’s with…Jake. Of all people.

You’re fucking your own brother.

None of that matters to Jake though, nor does it matter to you at this moment as the tears continue to pour from your eyes knowing that Jake did this on purpose and for a reason. It’s insane how kind he is to you now that Sunghoon isn’t watching, actually. Lending you a deep, meaningful kiss before sinking back down the bed and resuming his previous position.

“You liked this.” He comments, seeing if his hand will still fit, and moaning when it does. “You’re so fucking wet it’s insane.”

God, you know he’s punishing you yet you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it because already you can feel the bubbles in your stomach threaten an orgasm. Proving to both Jake and yourself that…you do like it. Never have you even imagined wanting a whole goddamn fist in you before now but–you more than like it. You love it.

In fact, feeling his hand dragging in and out of you now makes you forget about the way you nearly just died with a cock in your throat. You’re already moaning again, actually.

And fuck, you promised you’d do anything to keep this a secret, and while doing that anything for him, no matter how willing, he still fucking told. He fucking showed the dirty acts to the last person on earth you’d ever want to see, hear, or know. The crying is a given, from both the anxiety, the fear, and the pleasure because you can’t stop the oncoming orgasm or the love you have for the man giving it to you either.

The way he holds you through it should disgust you, with his fist buried so deep your orgasm comes in long, drawn out and painful waves. He grips onto you though, whispering more to himself against your thigh than to you, “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you, it’s okay.”

You don’t want to melt for him, but you do. Even through your ringing ears it’s like your body instinctively hears his whispers when you shouldn’t. The words bring comfort, reminding you that he’ll still protect you even from Sunghoon and what he feels about this situation. Even from your parents, from outsiders, from everything.

The orgasm feels like it bruises your brain, a throbbing headache coming shortly after when Jake takes on a more gentle persona and pulls his hand from you. He inspects your open cunt for a moment, seeing how wet it is inside for him before it pulses closed and he averts his gaze to his hand.

Glistening, so wet. You needed that, he thinks. The reminder that he’s the only one who can love you in more ways than you truly need.

“You did so well.” He compliments, crawling up and over you to wipe those tears with the same hand.

You don’t move away, if anything you need this comfort now more than anything because you simply don’t know what to feel, or think, or admit right now. You think Jake already knows, he wouldn’t need you to say it simply because he’s always read you like a book.

“No more pretending you don’t want this.” He says now, in a darker voice. “Even with Sunghoon listening, you moaned my name. I don’t think you remember doing that, do you?”

You cry more, closing your eyes tightly and pretending like Jake’s hand is Sunghoon’s. You really liked Sunghoon, genuinely thought you could have a future with him. Even so, pretending that Jake is him doesn’t bring safety because you almost would prefer it be Jake. A hand you’re so familiar with.

He had been so awful to you recently, and only now do you realize that…maybe it really was for your own good.

“You don’t need him.” Jake says now, adjusting himself between your legs.“Not when you have me. You know I’ll take care of you.” He continues, slipping his cock deep into your already loosened hole.

He’s shocked that you still manage to be tight after all of that, but he guesses that’s just how pussies work. Or how yours works, anyway. He knows it more than he knows his own cock at this point, which is insane.

Feeling him inside of you, so familiar, slightly smaller than Sunghoon– it’s…comforting. The tears that spill from you now are more for missing him than anything. You can’t help it when you wrap your legs around him or throw your arms around his shoulders, shivering and clinging to him like he’s your last line of sanity despite everything about this being entirely insane.

“Jake–” You moan at how he fucks you, so much softer than with his hand but…normal. Like the first time you ever did this with him. “I really want you but,”

Jake pauses, feeling that same pit in his stomach at how you say those words.

“What you just did to me could ruin my life.” You finally say, still clinging, not at all asking him to stop. “What you’re doing right now, will ruin my life.”

“Don’t be silly. Your life will be ruined without me, baby, you know that, right?” He says, reminding you of who has the power by quickening his hips and pointing his cock directly at your already sensitive g-spot. “You can’t say no to me, you tried and still you want me.”

You nod your head in agreement despite wishing he was wrong.

“We can’t.” You say to him in a half-groaned whisper. “I’m begging you to stop.”

If at all, you’re just begging him to stop being what you want. To stop being able to have a hold over you like this. To stop being everything that Sunghoon isn’t and still being the most desirable man in your life. To stop being your step-brother. To stop being a taboo in your life, if only to become someone you’re allowed to need like this.

“No.” Jake says, unknowing of what you’re actually asking of him. “I’ll never stop.”

With those words, you moan. He’s promising something that neither of you should feel or need, but you accept it. Shocked at the way you feel him inside of you like always, no pain, or lack of feeling from the previous size fucked into you. It’s just…Jake. Intentionally fucking you harder to punish you for words that are actually fighting more for him than against him.

“Okay.” You whimper, falling silent with your broken voice fading into nothing but cries of the inevitable.

For all Jake knows, you’re asking him to stop this. What he’s doing to you right now, not for anything else that you meant it for. For your own sake, because you know that after this, you truly may not be able to pull yourself from this fantasy with him. Technically, he’s showing you that he’s willing to hurt you to keep you. To take it from you if that’s what it takes to get what he wants. And that hurts a lot to know, a pain deep within you making you spiral a little more than you ever thought you could.

He’d really go as far as to keep going when you’re crying for him to stop? If just to show you that he…loves you? No, maybe just that he wants this, he wants you.

You want this, but it’s the fact that he just knows. Even if you say no, even if you beg or plead for him to stop, he’ll just keep going because he knows better than you that you’ll always want him in return. Even if you’re lying to yourself, even if you were able to truly convince yourself that this isn’t at all what you want. Even if it feels like Jake is committing atrocities right now, he knows he’s not. He’s not, even if you say he is.

And at the end of the day, right now. He truly isn’t.

You can feel your heart rotting at all that’s lost now. A life with someone normal. A life where you’re normal and can be seen hand in hand with the love of your life as you grocery shop, or get ice cream, or even just take the future dog on a walk. Your dreams are dying, and you can’t stop them.

You feel a burning pain throughout your body at the force of him now, seemingly trying to fuck your concern away from you. Only now do you open your eyes to look at him, he’s just shapes now. Your tears are messing up the normal clear view you’d have, but you can tell he’s smiling lovingly.

He doesn’t care that he just ruined your relationship, he doesn’t care that you’re his step-sister, he doesn’t care nor think of how the future could work if he were to keep trying to follow this path, and continue to make you realize you’ll willingly walk down it with him….not when he’s getting this from you.

Not when he knows that, now at least, he’ll always get what he wants.

You cling harder to him now, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you lift to his shoulder and tuck your face there, replacing your lip with his warm and pulsing skin. Jake is pleasantly surprised by this, after all that he did to you, he really thought he’d have to work harder to get these lips to willingly suck on his skin again without him puppeteering you.

“Yeah?” He turns his face against your forehead as you suck, still crying and tasting the salt from your tears mixed with the saliva you’re drooling onto him. “Sunghoon can’t make you feel this good?” He continues to talk himself up.

You remain silent as you try to drown out your thoughts with the pleasure he gives instead, feeling the way his normally gentle hands are rough holding you up, feeling the way your body shifts with each thrust up, hearing the way he breathes for you, speaks for you, and moans for you.

You hate to say you love it right now. Hate that you let your dream of a normal life die so easily. Hate you love him enough to let him do this to you, really.

“Jake–” You hiccup, exhausted. “I can’t believe you’d go this far.”

Only in those words do you realize how taboo and…erotic it is. To have a man willing to not only claim you as his own through forcing jealousy on your boyfriend and pain on you, but you guess the borderline sexual assault is another thing.

It’s not that you’re into it. In fact, you’re terrified of that. But it’s just…the way he knows you is attractive. The way he will protect you from any situation he caused…turns you on, even if he’s the one you need protecting from. God, the way he’ll fuck you through all the lies you tell yourself.

Shit.

“I’d go further.” He chuckles, out of breath as he chases the expanse of your clenched walls. “Would’ve brought you to his house and fucked you right there at his front door. Let everyone know.”

You shake your head out of fear of that situation at first, and then suddenly find yourself smiling and losing your mind a bit. God, that would be hot if it were like, you know, not something that would get you disowned by not only family, but literally everyone aside from Jake.

“Should’ve seen his face, baby–” Jake moans just thinking about it, loving that he has what no one else can have. “Said he was disgusted but…I think he was turned on. Really, couldn’t look away from you sucking my dick like that– God,” He cuts himself off by grabbing at you, shoving you back down and into your pillows, both hands running up your shirt and pushing it up to your collarbone. He gropes and pinches at your tits, half of his plush bottom lip caught between his teeth as sweat drips into his eyelashes.

“Couldn’t tell if he wished he was me–” A sarcastic laugh. “or maybe even you.” His moans continue to mesh with his laughter, now moving one hand to your neck and leaning down to lick against your lips with another pointed thrust. “I’d never fuck anyone better than I’ll fuck you though.”

“Gotta say, if he wanted it bad enough, he’d look pretty choking on it too. Never as pretty as you.” He continues talking, and talking, and talking.

You don’t really process his words though, or recognize if he’s being truthful or just making shit up, nor do you care. To be fair, there isn’t anything in this world left to care about aside from him now. Not yourself, not Sunghoon, your parents, or anyone out wandering the world right now.

“Stop–” You moan at the way he rubs his pelvis against your clit with his now, deeper thrusts. “Stop fucking talking about him.”

He smiles wide against your lips in victory, feeling his muscle tense up at you asking to forget about Sunghoon. And so, he listens to you for the first time since you’ve been home, he fucking listens.

Jake says nothing now, instead he focuses his hips and notes how now, your pussy feels too used. Or maybe his cock is just numb and oversensitive, he’s not sure. It’s not hard really, to reach down and shove three fingers into you alongside his cock, offering extra sensation to both his balls and the underside of his length as he continues to fuck into you with what he can only assume to be a painful stretch.

His body shivers with an embarrassing moan at that, rolling his eyes back.

“You hate him?” Jake says, but it sounds more like a plea for you to agree as he chases an orgasm far too fucking close.

You don’t respond because at this point his words are just there as fluff in your head. You’re more focused on the insecure feeling inside of you at how he’s had to use his hand to help him get off. It...feels so bad knowing that you can’t give him what he wants after all this. After you promised. And, so, you build up the courage to lift quickly, catching him off guard, and hug him around his neck.

There, his fingers skew slightly, to the point it’s painful for him to keep them in place and he’s forced to pull them back and instead, hold you up in his own hug as he spirals. God, he missed you so much. Look at you now, after trying to deny him, deny yourself of wanting this. You’re bouncing on him like you always have, frantically moving your hips with no rhyme or reason, solely to get him off.

He lets out a loud moan, not caring if your parents wake up to it. Not caring about anything but the pussy choking his cock out now. The change in position offered a new form of tightness, and he doesn’t need an extra boost of pleasure anymore. Not with you breathing against his mouth like this, still crying, except now it’s like you’re crying because he hasn’t gotten off yet.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He nods his head, lips playing with yours with each nod of his head as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Fuck, you always know what I like.”

Just like that, all of your insecurity is washed away. You feel him twitch inside of you, and the way his hands nearly bruise you in this hug feels…right. It’s what you need, what you want.

“He ever cum in you?” Jake pants out, noting the way you aggressively shake your head in an answer.

And normally, he’d pull out. Normally, there’s a condom involved in this. Not today though, even as you note the familiar sound choking from his throat, and that even more familiar twitch of his cock. You try to pry yourself away from him, palms pressing on his chest as you argue.

“Jake! Pull out, Let me up!”

He doesn’t let you though. Instead, he grabs both of your wrists and presses you right back down on the bed, overpowering you through his orgasm and fucking all of that cum right into you. Intentionally, with purpose.

“No,” He croaks out in a breath, still lost in his orgasm. “I won’t.”

You try to wiggle away from him still, despite knowing he’s already started cumming. What’s the point now if not just to still have some type of control over your own body? He, again, doesn’t let you, pressing your wrists painfully into your own stomach, forcing you to feel each pulse and spurt of him for the first time through the pressure of his hold.

He’s never done this to you before, then again, This isn’t the same Jake you’re used to no matter how much you try to relate the feelings and love to the Jake you were with last summer. And…you need to lie to yourself right now at how good it feels to have him fuck his cum into you well past his orgasm, because admitting it would be the last thing you could do tonight to really throw you off the deep end.

He makes you admit it though, still fucking his cock into you regardless of how it’s growing softer and softer by the second. Doing it solely because he knows more cum will drip out as he shrinks back down. He wants to feel each second of your walls clenching, trying to push him out and knowing it never can.

He holds you down harder now, wincing at his own sensitivity as he plays with himself inside of you, lending pained chuckles and eye rolls with each sound of disgust you make towards him for it. And only after he slips out and can’t manage to fold it back into you does he really look at you.

Tilting his head with an innocent smile on his face, he releases your hands and shoots his own up to your face, cupping both cheeks before leaning down and kissing you as hard as he can with what little breath he has left.

“I deserved that.” He says between kisses. “You deserved it.” He sounds slightly irritated saying that part, but his kiss stays gentle and sweet. “You owed me this.”

You’re not sure if he meant any of that, but you find yourself agreeing.

#enhypen smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #enhypen x reader

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