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iwassupremacy · 1 month

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A lady’s pleasure

Jacaerys Valeryon x fem!reader

Summary: For Jace Sex was always just duty. Get naked, be careful but quick and produce an heir. But when Aegon once again provokes him by saying his nephew was unable to please his wife it bothered him. Perhaps his uncle was right? It never occurred to him to please you or himself for that matter. Now he’s determined to learn.

Warnings: husband!jace x wife!reader, nipple play, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), fingering

Please let me know if I missed anything

“You must certainly know how to make your lovely wife feel good. After all you are the crown prince, Jacaerys Valeryon. You must have her quivering and singing underneath you.”

“Aegon, stop it at once!” Alicent Hightower urged her oldest son with a firm voice.

“With what reason? Should he feel as if I am mocking him then it could only be because I am false. Am I false, nephew?”

Jace could only stare and listen to his uncle making cruel jokes right in his face. His hands were angrily balled into fists but he remained silence.

Denying Aegon the pleasure of starting a fight about his performance in the bedroom in front of their family and worse you.

You stayed just as quiet and unreadable as he himself did and for an unknown reason it made Jace feel insecure. Did he know how to make his wife feel good? How to please her needs? Or even his own?

For him the act of it was only ever a way of making a family and producing heirs. Participating in its activity purely out of desire never occurred to him for many reasons.

For once he was terribly afraid of fathering any bastard children since he very much knew how it could feel like.

Besides he saw in Aegon how the needless pleasures and suspensions of its houses could turn a man into a beast.

But he was also an unwanted participant of a conversation between his mother and ser Harwin Strong when he was a child and realised how incredibly unfair it was for women to be the only gender having to save themselves.

For those reasons and others he kept to himself. Besides he rarely felt the need to anyway.

“Jacaerys, my apologies. I sincerely hope, you are not taking any of his unfounded claims to heart. You must be aware of how he can get” she looked away from him and at her son instead “when he is drowning in his cups.” she now angrily frowned.

Jace only sighed. “Do not worry. You might remember that I grew up around his nagging. Therefore I am quite used to this behaviour of his.”

Later when the young prince and his family arrived back at Dragonstone he accompanied you to your chambers.

“See me tonight, my prince? I am in no mood to sleep alone these days.” You whispered, putting your hands on his face in a comforting manner.

It was rather obvious that you felt quite compassionate towards him after such an exhausting feast.

Jace smiled lightly and nodded. He felt grateful for having you. And if you were honest you were very grateful for having him as well.

“Let me quickly inform my mother and the guards about my presence in your chambers for the night and once it’s done and I am ready for bed time I will be with you, my lady.”

You bit your lower lip at the tingling feeling in your stomach. He had a way of making you feel like this.

“And stop addressing me as your prince, please. I am not saying I do not enjoy it or that it is not true, I am only reminding you that you are not obligated to refer to me in such formalities. Call me your husband or by my birth name.”

You girlishly giggled. “But you are addressing me as your lady as well, my prince.” No matter how many times he reminded you of this you simply liked teasing him.

“These two are not the same at all to me. But I shall refer to you differently if you wish it.” He smiled.

“Yes please, I wish it. And I will wait for you tonight, husband.”

Jace took a deep breath as he entered the throne room and found who he was looking for. His mother’s husband and his great uncle.

“Daemon.” He called across the room.

“Jacaerys. What brings you here at this late hour?”

The young man came to a halt his face turning a bright red giving his intent right away. Daemon still awaited for Rhaenyras son to voice it.

“I am here about the matters I was so” he swallowed thickly “rudely tormented about this afternoon.”

“Boy, do not let it get to your head. You are more a man than Alicents son could ever be. Both of then in fact.“ Daemon was quick to push Jaces pride.

“I appreciate the compliment. But I have to admit that I fear my uncle might have had a point. Though I do not desire to be anything like him I have to admit I don’t know much about“ he paused “a womans body.”

“So you came to me to ask for advice on these affairs?”

“I am afraid so.”

You were comfortably sitting in your bed waiting for your husband in the light of your many candles while reading a book about Aegon the conqueror and his sisters.

He was taking suspiciously long for simply informing his guards about his stay at your chambers but you let him be since even a gentleman like your husband was were allowed to have a wounded pride.

You carefully manoeuvred your body out of the huge bed which was nice and warm but felt a little lonely by yourself.

Your night gown was of a light blue and thin which was not an unconscious decision. You liked to be a little cold at night so you had a reason to ask for your husband’s embrace.

You carefully approached the big door of your room. You only wanted to peak. Maybe you could spot him coming for you down the hallway.

And just as you reached for the handle of your wooden door it opened and you were met with the dark brown eyes of your husband.

“Jacaerys~” you let out.

“My love” he whispered “I am terribly sorry to had you waiting for me too long. There were some urgent issues I had to discuss with Prince Daemon.”

This new nickname send shivers down your spine and for a second you could only stare at him before regaining confidence.

“It is quite alright. Come on in. I have warmed the bed for us.”

You took his hand in yours and lead him to the bed. Once you were there both of you stood on opposite sides of it. You couldn’t help but notice his staring. Especially of your upper region.

“Are you tired yet, my love?” He sheepishly asked.

“Not quite. Is there something you want to discuss with me, husband?” You innocently wondered resting your body with your hands on the bed and stretching your face in his direction, subconsciously biting your lips.

“First lesson, boy. Get her excited for it first.”

He only chuckled at that which made your stomach tingle again. “The way you’re asking me is almost tempting, my love.”

He did the same as you pushing his face and upper body in your direction until you could feel his warm breath fan over your face.

For several minutes the two of you just looked at each other from opposite sides of your bed and even though you didn’t say or do anything and he didn’t either your breath heaved.

The silence got interrupted by his chuckling again and then he touched your cheek with his right hand.

“Have I ever told you how incredibly beautiful you are?” he whispered to your lips. And then, only lightly and almost unnoticeable, he bit it. Barely scraping your lower lip with his teeth.

Your breath hitched. “You- you have. On our wedding night.”

“I remember. Almost two moons ago. I should have told you every single day since then and I shall tell you every single day from now on.” He pecked your cheek. “Come, my love. Lay down.”

You did as he asked you, crawling into the middle of the bed and lying down on your back. His stares burning in your skin.

This was so different from what you knew. So far you only ever got into bed, shared a kiss and did what had to be done.

Of course he was gentle and looked after your well being but it was still always quick and a little uncomfortable.

But this? This was exciting. This made you feel things. New things.

Once you were comfortable Jace climbed on top of you, settling between your legs.

He smiled at you brushing the strands of hair out of your face. “Are you alright?“

You brushed through his wild curls as well and muttered “of course.“

He leaned down to you his breath fanning your face once again. “Good. Tell me if anything changes.”

He leaned down to you and kissed you tenderly, his plush lips pressing against yours. Carefully you returned his gesture but he didn’t stop there as usual.

Suddenly you could feel his tongue brushing over your lips which made you tremble and remove yourself from him. “What-“

He didn’t let you finish. “Do you trust me, my love?” You quickly nodded your head.

“I shall lead you then. I have waisted far too many weeks keeping you dissatisfied. I plan on making up for my mistakes tonight.” He whispered to your ear.

“You don’t have to, dear husband. I am happy as is.” You whispered back.

“I most certainly have to. Let me do this please. I no longer desire to be mocked by my uncle and feel he is right. I shall have you quivering and singing underneath me.”

You couldn’t help but whimper at that.

“Second lesson. Worship her body. I mean kiss her, touch her, feel her up. Not only down under but everywhere. Even her tits. Especially her tits.“

“Jacaerys~”

“Call me Jace, my love. Everybody does so.” He breathed down your throat and kissed the lobe of your ear.

He started to scatter kisses all over your shoulder and the bending of your neck as well, going lower and lower.

Driven by the desperate need to hold onto something your hands went up into his hair and slightly pulled at his unkempt curls.

Your body was now acting on its own needs and without realising you threw your head back and pushed your hips up against him.

As a reaction to the friction he received from your movement Jace unwillingly bit into the softness of your cleavage.

You let out a surprised hiss and pulled on his hair even harder.

You lightly pulled his head back until he was looking at you through lewd eyes. Your pupils were slightly dilated and your eyes blown wide with wanton which only made him grin boyishly.

“Fuck. My apologies, my love. Seems like you will have to wear dresses with a rather high neckline for some time. I left quite the mark there.“ he chuckled.

Your walls clamped, your slick gushing out. You had never before seen him like this let alone heard him swear so freely.

Without a second thought you pulled him down again and kissed his lips. Once again he was licking your lower lip but this time you didn’t pull away,

Instead you opened your mouth granting him entry.

His tongue found yours quickly, circling and sucking it. It practically had you rolling your hips and this time Jace pushed back, accommodating his rhythm to yours until the two of you were mindlessly grinding against each other while your tongues were almost doing the same.

One of his hands was resting next to your head, holding your face while he held his weight up on his arm. The other hand was brushing your sensitive skin with his fingertips, sometimes tickling a little.

Until this hand finally had a purpose when it wandered straight to your breast. Your mounds were hardened, peaking through the thin layer of clothing

Jace tested the waters by only gingerly pinching one of them. When you broke the kiss to push your head back into the pillow and softly moan he immediately twisted and pinched a little harder which resulted in your eyes squinting and your hips stuttering.

Jace bit his swollen lip and groaned at the sight before him. How could he have possibly missed out on this up to now?

He let go of your breast and stopped his movements all together. Your eyes opened and when you saw him grinning down at you with a raised brow, you blushed and tried to look away.

But he didn’t let you and instead used his now free hand to grab your chin and make you look at him.

His stare was stern and intense and you were struggling with holding it but you didn’t look away this time.

“I would like to undress you now if that is okay with you.“ he said while caressing your skin and hair.

You nodded. You always liked your husband, even back when he was only one of many suitors you long preferred him over anybody else but this night might just make you fall in love with him.

“Yes, Jacaerys, it is more than okay for me.“

His hands let go of you as he sat up on his knees to balance himself and they now grabbed the inside of your thighs which made you gasp and close them.

You looked at him through apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, my prince.”

He raised his brows. “Do not apologise or call me your prince. What is the matter, my love? It is not as if I have never touched or seen what hides between your thighs before.“

You blushed and looked away. “I know you have. But this- this is so… different-“ you stuttered quietly.

“How so?“ he wondered and you just knew he was being ignorant. He knew, he only wanted you to tell him.

You whined, pouting a little and looking back at him through innocent eyes but when he did not budge you sighed.

“Because this is more intense. More intimate.“ your face was burning up so much you had no desire to know how you looked like right now.

For Jace on the other hand you looked really adorable right now. He chuckled, freeing you from your suffering. “I see. Shall I undress first then?“

You only nodded and looked him up and down which made you realise something you payed no attention to so far. He was still wearing what he wore to the feast.

“You’re not wearing anything fitting for the bed.“ you noticed, brushing over his tunic.

“I was not planning on wearing anything when I sleep over at your chambers tonight, my love.“

Your breath instantly hitched. He was panning for this?

Carefully you tucked at his tunic. “Take it off. Jace~ please.”

He only slowly started to unbuckle the belt around his waist, unbuttoning his tunic even slower.

You whined. “Stop being a tease~ please.”

He smirked and got out of bed and up entirely brushing his tunic off his shoulders.

You sat up and stared at him through blown eyes. It was not as if you had never seen his body before but you had never mustered him so extensively.

His skin was tanned and his shoulders broad. His chest was beautifully shaped and there was a little line of hair going down to where his sex was.

Your eyes wandered up to his meeting his intense stare once again and it made a shiver run down your spine.

Jaces big hands went to his trousers and just as before he removed them tauntingly slow.

You whined again, this time louder. “I told you not to be a tease!”

Without another word he let his trousers fall to the ground and your eyes automatically shot down again. He was simply perfect.

It was standing up, touching Jace’s stomach. Tip colored in a dark red color and leaking and it made you feel almost proud.

Naked and as the gods formed him Jace stood before your bed still staring down at your small frame.

Your legs were angled up, your knees touching your chest while you rested all of your weight on your palms.

“You cannot tell me what to do or not do, dear wife. I am your husband after all.” He reminded you, getting your attention again and though you knew he didn’t mean it, you frowned, feeling sorry.

Without another word he nakedly climbed on the bed, crawling towards you.

Once he was face to face with you smiled again as he did too.

“So I” he kissed your forehead “can only tell you what to do.”

Your eyes closed at the touch of his lips with your head. “What shall I do, my love?” you whispered, your hand touching his chest, caressing his defined muscles.

Jace groaned at you using this nickname as well and your touch and harshly pressed his lips against yours.

Again your hand went in his hair straight away, brushing it out of his face, clinging to it.

He moaned to your lips. “I love it when you do that. Keep your hands in my hair, love. Do not remove them, no matter what.”

“Third lesson. Use your tongue on her, boy. Eat her cunt like a man starved. Women do love that.“

Finally he took your night gown in his hands and pulled it over your head in a swift movement.

Without shame he starred at you, his hands squeezing your breast which made you whimper and lay back down.

“I should have appreciated your body much sooner. Only ever doing what was necessary. My poor, poor lady wife. Must have felt so frustrated and unsatisfied.”

He openly mocked you and all you could get out was a pathetic whimper.

“All of it will end tonight.” he whispered in your ear, biting the lope.

Without realizing your thighs spread wider at his action and you pulled his hair. “Jace~”

Jacaerys looked down at your legs, biting his lips and smirking at your subconscious reaction. “You are the most perfect woman I have ever laid eyes upon. I dare even say the most perfect human.”

“Jacaerys, please.” You pleadingly looked at him through blown eyes. “T-touch me.”

Your face became of a deep red color but you still held his intense stare. You couldn’t quite believe what you had just asked of him. No woman of your class should ever beg for such lewd doings.

Or even desire them at all.

Jace could do nothing but chuckle at your embarrassed face and take it in his hand “Where do you desire my touch the most, my love?”

“Perhaps” he whispered “here?” His thumb lightly brushed over your bottom lip.

“Or maybe” his fingertips tickled your neck and down your shoulder to your hand “here?”

Softly he took your hand in his.

And then suddenly not so soft anymore he pinned it over your head, down onto the mattress which made you yelp in shock.

“Perhaps you don’t even want me to touch you with my hands at all? Would you rather I use my mouth, my love?”

Your eyebrows knitted and right when you wanted to ask him about the meaning behind his questions his mouth went straight down to your breast.

Your back arched when you gasped and tried to pull his head away with your hand that had remained in his hair.

“Oh~” you sighed, having no other choice than finally relaxing at his touch when he didn’t move away.

He licked and bit your mound, sometimes even sucking as if he were a babe.

Oddly enough it felt amazing and you couldn’t stop arching into him and letting out shallow breaths.

“Fuck~ so sensitive here, my love. Perhaps someday I could make you cum just by paying attention to your tits.”

You gasped at his vulgarity, it made you shiver and pull his head up to look at him. “Fuck~ never stop pushing and pulling my hair.”

You giggled girlishly and brushed through his wild curls. “I would never.”

Quickly he got back to his work but this time switched sides, paying attention to your other mound until your loud breathing turned into whining from all the soreness.

Once again he switched sides, teasing and testing you and never touching down were you needed him most.

Not even when you started to push your hips up, desperately trying to get some friction. “Jace~ enough, please. ‘m s-so sore.”

He detached himself and stared for a few seconds as if in awe, lightly biting it one last time, making you whimper.

Without another word he spread your legs as far as he could to comfortably settling between them and kissed his way from your stomach down.

Every once in a while he bit your skin which had you squirming in anticipation. He certainly knew how to take his time.

When he finally was eye level with your core, he didn’t came to a halt and instead started to kiss down your inner thighs as well.

“Jace~ my love, please. Please do not do this to me. You are being mean. I- I need your touch. Please.”

You panted, trying to pull him up by his hair, not caring about any decency anymore.

“So impatient. Do you not want me to enjoy this as well as you?” He said, his hot breath hitting your wetness while talking, making you gasp.

You quickly nodded “Yes, of course I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Very well.” He mumbled, distracted by the sight in front of his eyes. “But I won’t make you wait any longer.”

He sticked out his tongue, flattening it and then took a long lick up your cunt, now having eye contact with you.

“Oh~ Gods~“ you moaned, arching your back. “What-“

“I need you to relax, my love. I promise you will like it.” he murmured against your core. His hot breath making you shudder.

“I- I already liked it. It was only much of an sur- OH” he experimentally sucked on your little bundle of nerves he so far had barely touched before, rudely interrupting you and making you yelp.

Your hand that was still im his hair gripped it tightly, making him groan in the process. The vibration of it got you to clench your thighs around his head.

“Respectfully. You talk too much.” he murmured once again. “Simply enjoy.”

You pathetically whimpered, not mustering any more than a nod. He could only smile at that.

He licked with his tongue again, circling your clitoris with it. Your breath fastened, free hand desperately searching for something to hold onto as well.

Silently Jace took it in his, squeezing lightly. He didn’t part from your core though, still feasting on you as if you were his most favorite meal.

You imagined your slick to be smeared across his chin and lips by now and it made you embarrassed and excited all the same.

Suddenly grabbed your thighs, putting your legs on his shoulders, your feet touching his back. His hands now holding your hips.

Your again free hand went up, fisting the cover of the cushion. His tongue was now flicking your bud in a fast motion.

You couldn’t help but stretch your lower half in the air, putting it right in his face. “Jace~”

His name left your lips like a prayer. Whispered, moaned, whined and whimpered. Your eyes wandered down, meeting his intense stare.

And then one of his hands left your hip, brushing the inside of your thigh. While he was still sucking at you, two of his fingers were now prodding at your entrance.

You gasped “Jacaerys- what-“ but he again interrupted you this time by pushing his fingers in, your walls welcoming them.

“So wet and warm. Tell me how you are feeling, my love.” He now parted from you, messily cleaning his face with the back of his other hand.

All the while his fingers were moving slowly in and out of you, making it hard to answer properly. “Good~ oh I~ I feel good.”

His previous cleaning was to no use when he simply chuckled and dived right back in getting back to work immediately.

It was as if he could not get enough of it.

“Fourth lesson, the most important one, you cannot and will not enter her before she isn’t as slick as a snail. Best if you have her finish at least once before you even attempt to your own pleasure.”

His fingers were moving at a rapid pace now, keeping a steady rhythm with his tongue, making you wonder if it wasn’t tiring for his muscles.

But you couldn’t really worry about that, your head being to full of Jace. His scent, his body against yours, his hair tingling your thighs.

Out of reflex you brushed it out of his face, his wild curls stickig to his forehead and neck.

Suddenly your entire body tightened when he hit a special spot inside of you. You moaned loudly “Jace~ stop it.”

But he didn’t. Instead he looked at you through thick lashes, fingers curling and massage said spot, mouth sucking.

“Jacaerys. Please~ hah” you were now trying to crawl away from him, his hand moving across your stomach, pinning your hip down as good as he could.

“I feel weird. Let us take a break OH GODS” your legs practically suffocated him, squeezing his head. Again he did not stop, still looking at you.

You were wondering if perhaps he was searching for any actual discomfort on your part, because even though you were begging him to stop you also felt you might cry if he actually did.

A strange sensation was building up inside you, stomach tingling, muscles tightening and most importantly your core was almost itching.

It felt as if you needed to get rid of this itch, grinding up on him to soothe the feeling.

“Your cunt is clenching so much, I have trouble believing you want me to stop.” Jace whispered against your core.

You couldn’t even answer, only violently shaking your head and welcoming the relieving feeling that washed over you.

You were whining so loud, you wondered if everyone could hear but you did not care. The only thing you cared about was him. Between your legs. Making you feel things you had never felt before.

And then it was all over. Your back arched one last time, thighs squeezing your husband incredibly tight. A wave of pleasure washing from your head down through your body to your tows.

Pretty much immediately it was all too much. His touch was now burning and you were practically pushing his head away.

“S’ too much.” You slurred. Your eyes were heavy, as was your breathing. Your legs now felt sore and weak.

Carefully Jace took them in his hands, removing them from his shoulders. He gently put them down on the mattress, coming up to you.

When he was eye level with you, he took in your figure. You seemed quite overwhelmed, one hand still very loose in his hair, which he also carefully removed, holding it in his hands.

Your other arm was hanging over your forehead and closed eyes. Your face was flushed and Jace couldn’t help but grin.

“How are you feeling, my love?” he whispered, pecking your lips. Weakly you returned his favor.

“Quite well I think.” you laughed breathlessly. “Tank you.”

Jace could only chuckle at you for thanking him. “Feels good, does it not? Have I never had you do that before?” he asked, a frown adorning his face.

Your face was flushed, cheeks red and breath still heavy. “Do what?”

He shaked his head the tiniest bit almost unnoticeable. “Finish. Have I never had you finish before?”

“I- I am unsure of it. So far I was not told a woman could even do that, my love.” you admitted lowering your arm and looking at him “Is that offensive to you?”

“No! Gods no. It should be to you. I have been ignoring your needs.”

“I was not aware I had those needs, Jace. Do not beat you up on it. I beg you.” You lifted your head up, looking in his saddened eyes.

“Which was my fault. I should have introduced you to all the good sides of a marriage. I failed. My uncle-“

“Your uncle is a drunken fool.” You interrupted his doubting “I doubt he has ever done to any Lady what you have done for me tonight. He has a loud mouth, I believe most of his talk is untrue.”

One of your hands brushed through his hair, stroking his cheek while the other held your weight up.

“Besides I decide whether or not you are a good husband and I decide that you are. I am content, I am happy, Jacaerys, I am pleased.”

Slowly you got fully up, pushing him down by his chest, swinging a leg over him and putting your weight on his thighs.

“What exactly are you doing?” your husband wondered, his hands automatically grabbing your hips.

Without answering you took his sex in your hand and slowly stroked it. “Ohh~ oh gods. What-“

“I am returning the favor, my love.”

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mcdynamite · 6 months

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Kissing has never done all that much for Steve, if he’s honest.

It's just not really something he's ever given much thought to before - the way someone kisses - despite the fact that he's locked lips with plenty of people. For him, kissing has always been something nice, but not particularly special. It's never been earth-shattering. Never taken his breath away, the way people talk about in movies and books. It's just a way to be closer to someone, and it's nice, but it's never anything more than that.

Then, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time, and suddenly he gets it.

They're high when it happens, laying side by side in Eddie's unmade bed while the weed sinks into their bones. Steve loves the way it seems to slow down the world around them - makes everything syrupy and sweet, so he feels every brush of Eddie's fingers against his own in every inch of his body as they pass the joint back and forth.

The casual contact makes him long for more, and when he's high, Steve just...gives into the longing. He lets himself drift closer until they're pressed together so closely that Eddie can hide his face in Steve's uncharacteristically messy hair when he's trying to cover up a snort of laughter in response to Steve's deranged weed-induced musings.

Tonight, they meander their way through a directionless conversation - as they so often do when they get high together - until the joint is so small it nearly singes their fingertips. When Eddie finally sits up to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table, Steve tries not to miss the feeling of Eddie's body against his own too much, knowing it'll be back soon enough.

"I'm thinking of handing over the DM throne to Will for the next oneshot, after we finish this campaign," Eddie says, speech slow and thoughtful as he puts out the blunt. "Think he'll be good at it."

Steve just hums, eyes heavy-lidded, gaze fixed on the curls he wants so badly to run his fingers through, just to know what it feels like. He's high enough to not care about the consequences when he decides fuck it, and reaches out to feel the soft ringlets beneath his fingertips.

"You're good at it," he muses - a delayed response to Eddie's comment. If Eddie is bothered by the way Steve is carefully petting his hair, he doesn't show it. Instead, he turns back to look down at Steve with a soft smile that makes Steve's insides feel all gooey.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, a hint of a smirk overtaking the softness. "You ready to admit that you like watching me play my little nerd game, Harrington?"

Steve blames the quiet whine that escapes his throat on the weed, along with the way he honest-to-God pouts in response to Eddie's words. He tugs on a lock of Eddie's hair petulantly. "Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie's face does something strange then, and Steve can't quite parse out what it means with the weed making his brain all foggy. He looks...surprised? Fond? Maybe both?

"Sorry, Stevie," he replies, teasing but somehow genuine at the same time. Steve smiles dopily, an expression that Eddie returns. "That better?"

Satisfied, Steve nods. Hums in affirmation. "Yeah. I like that one."

And it's true. Steve loves when Eddie calls him Stevie, because Eddie always sounds so fond when he does, and it makes Steve's heart feel too big for his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, still grinning as he leans down until he's propped up on one elbow, hovering just over Steve on the bed. "What else do you want me to call you, hm? Stevie? Steve? M'lord?"

The last one makes Steve laugh and close his eyes, happy to bask in the sound of Eddie's voice as he floats along with their conversation.

"Sir Steven? Sweetheart?" Eddie continues, and Steve's heart jumps just a bit at the second one. Then, Eddie murmurs, "Baby?"

And Steve's eyes fly open.

Steve stares at his friend with wide eyes - lips parted as a soft, punched-out oh escapes him - and it's weird, is the thing. Because Steve has been called baby before, lovingly by his grandmother when he was still a little boy causing mischief while his parents weren't watching, meanly by boys on the playground when he cried over something silly like a scraped knee…and when he got older, teasingly by the girls he took on dates.

It's not a new name for him, but it feels groundbreaking nonetheless.

Because the word sounds so much better coming from Eddie's mouth than anyone else's. It's soft, and fond, and knowing, and...

It's longing.

"Yeah,” Steve croaks. "Yeah."

"Which one? Sir Steven?" Eddie asks playfully, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. He grins maniacally when Steve huffs and shakes his head in disappointment. "No? Which one was it, then, that you liked the most?"

"Eddieeee," Steve complains, burying his flushed face into the pillow and avoiding his friend's gaze. "You know which one."

Eddie shakes his head in an almost scolding manner and Steve is convinced he must've moved closer, because Steve can feel Eddie's breath against his skin, and the air in the room feels about a hundred degrees hotter.

"Nuh-uh, Stevie," Eddie says, poking him playfully in the ribs. "You gotta tell me which one."

Steve hesitates, feeling more and more self-conscious by the second. He sort of wants to hide, but he also really wants Eddie to call him that again. It's probably thanks to his intoxicated brain that he allows himself to answer truthfully. "Baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically shy.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, voice and smile softening in tandem. "You like when I call you baby, Stevie?"

Steve stares up at him with wide eyes, hardly able to believe this is really happening, and nods. "Yeah. That one."

Eddie is so close, now, that Steve can feel the warmth that emanates from his skin; can see the flecks of gold in his eyes amongst the molten chocolate brown. He's got freckles - Steve realizes. Tiny little dots across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks that form constellations on his skin. Steve thinks, maybe a bit deliriously, that he would be perfectly happy spending hours tracing them, the way astronomers of old once traced the stars.

"Eddie..." he breathes, heart pounding as he begins to feel more and more desperate for...for something. Anything to let him know that he's not the only one succumbing to the gravitational pull between them.

Eddie blinks slowly, and his eyes widen as though he's just realized something important. Steve watches his throat bob nervously before Eddie finally whispers, "Yeah, baby?"

Steve inhales sharply through parted lips - a soft, plaintive gasp that draws Eddie's eyes to his lips, and-

Oh.

That's what Steve wants, isn't it?

"I-" Steve tries, helpless to stop his own gaze from falling on Eddie's lips - pink and parted and just a little bit chapped, and so, so close.

"Baby," Eddie says again, and this time it's different. Unintentional. Like Eddie said it without meaning to. And maybe it's just the weed, but Steve swears he can feel the word burrowing its way into his chest and settling around his heart like a blanket. It makes his whole body feel warm - something only made worse by the hot coal of desire that begins smoldering low in his gut.

He's so lost in it all that he can't even bring himself to feel embarrassed when he whispers, "Please."

Steve waits with bated breath until finally, any remaining nervousness retreats from Eddie's eyes, and Eddie smiles in that way that makes Steve's stomach flutter. It's such a pretty smile. Steve can only watch as it grows closer, going cross-eyed for the briefest moment in his quest to to stare at Eddie's lips until suddenly his eyes are fluttering shut, because...because...

Because Eddie kisses him with lips still curled into a smile, and Steve thinks - utterly nonsensically - that feeling Eddie's lips against his own is so much better than just looking at them. The thought makes him giggle, just a bit, and he finds himself grinning into the kiss, too.

They part for a moment so Steve can let out another quiet giggle, and Eddie seems to pause for a moment, smiling down at Steve with poorly concealed affection. "Baby," he murmurs reverently, and then he's leaning down to capture Steve's lips in another kiss.

This time, Steve is ready for it, but it draws a muffled whimper out of him nonetheless. His nose fills with the scent of weed and cigarettes and cheap cologne - the smell of Eddie - and it's so overwhelmingly good. He lets his lips fall open on a gasp...doesn't close them when Eddie tentatively brushes his tongue against Steve's own. He shuts his eyes, because the press of Eddie's hand to his cheek and Eddie's chest to his own feel like so much more like that.

Eddie breaks the kiss to gasp in a breath, and inexplicably, that's what really sends every last bit of restraint in Steve's brain packing. It's so simple, so ordinary - the soft, quick sip of air Eddie takes in. It's a breathy little sound that Steve has heard from countless others before, but maybe that's why it puts him in this unfamiliar chokehold of wanting.

This isn't just anyone.

This is Eddie.

And Eddie is making those quiet, lovely little sounds because he's kissing Steve, and Steve is very rapidly realizing that he is utterly incapable of being normal about any of this.

He feels his cheeks go hot as he forces his heavy limbs to move so he can tangle his fingers in Eddie's curls, holding him close (because Steve thinks he might die if Eddie stops kissing him, now). And it's bliss. It's addictive. It's ruinously tender, and Steve feels himself unraveling from within. Feels the knots in his heart - left behind by absent parents, cruel friends, and distant girlfriends - turn to dust at the gentlest brush of Eddie's lips.

He whimpers into Eddie's mouth and clings to him even tighter, feeling his throat grow strangely tight as his eyes sting at the corners, and when Eddie pulls away he's got a small furrow in his brow, just under his bangs.

"Stevie?" Eddie murmurs. His eyes dart to Steve's cheeks, and when he brushes his thumb along the skin just under Steve's eye, it drags a bit of wetness with it. Only then does Steve realize...he's crying.

And Eddie is wiping away his tears.

"I..." Steve croaks, eyes wide and spilling more tears with every blink. He drags his hands down from Eddie's hair to rest on his chest, beginning to curl into himself as the embarrassment sinks in.

Christ, he's crying. And all they've done is kiss.

Eddie's frown deepens, but he doesn't pull away completely. Instead, he lets their noses brush and breathes, "Baby..."

Steve's breath hitches.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Eddie continues, still brushing Steve's tears away with gentle fingers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Steve gasps hurriedly, because as far as he understands, it's the truth. "Nothing's wrong, I just..." He closes his eyes. Swallows the lump in his throat and admits with a trembling voice, "I didn't know it could be like this."

He opens his eyes and sees Eddie's expression soften, but the concern remains. "What do you mean?"

"I just..." Steve tries, sniffling and letting out a quiet, distressed laugh. He slams his eyes shut again and rubs them roughly with his palms, trying to force the tears back into his body. "Jesus, this is fucking embarrassing, man."

"Steve..." Eddie murmurs. He sounds sad. Conflicted. Like he's not sure what to do or how to help - if he should stay or go - and that just won't do, because Steve is certain he'll drift away on the breeze without Eddie to ground him. He's got to try to explain, even with his thoughts still feeling syrupy slow from the weed.

He wants to tell Eddie that he's kissed dozens of people before, but kissing them never felt like this. He wants to explain that he's used to taking the lead, and that it's nice having someone else set the pace, for once. He wants to tell Eddie about the way most people he's kissed have done so - frantically...lustfully. Kissing has always been a simple means to an end. And it's never made Steve feel like this.

What he actually manages to say is slightly different, though.

"No one's ever kissed me like they love me, before."

His eyes are still covered by his own hands, so he can't see what is surely a stunned expression on Eddie's face, but he can hear the way Eddie gasps in response to Steve's words.

It’s too much, he thinks. He's said too much, fast-forwarded too far into the movie. It's too early to be talking about love. Steve knows this. It's just...

His stupid, floaty little brain can't envision a world where someone kisses the way Eddie does without being hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

"Shit," Steve breathes after several minutes of silence. Or maybe it's several seconds. He really doesn't know. Time feels funny, when he's high. "I know that's, like, way too much. I'm too much. I don't know why I-"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts, and Steve snaps his mouth shut. He feels Eddie's hands wrap carefully around his wrists to pull them from his eyes. Eddie is being so careful with him...like he can't see that his tenderness is exactly the thing that’s ripping Steve apart at the seams.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to drag Eddie back down and kiss him until he can't breathe. Until Eddie's sweetness becomes warm and comforting instead of feeling like the scalding heat of jumping into a hot tub after a dip in the cold waters of the pool.

"Baby, look at me," Eddie says softly.

Steve is helpless but to obey.

Eddie's gaze is sad but kind when Steve finally meets it with his own. He's got the barest hint of a smile on his pretty lips - the same ones Steve so desperately wants to feel against his own, again - and Steve feels his stomach swirl with something he can't quite describe.

"It's not too much," Eddie continues, voice steady. "And neither are you, okay? You, Steve Harrington, are never too much. Not to me."

The words settle over Steve like a blanket, and he can't decide whether it's comforting or suffocating. He just wants to stop talking about things so they can move on. He just wants Eddie.

"Eds..." he rasps desperately. "I don't- I just want-" He cuts himself off with the hitching breath of what may be a sob. He's not really sure, at this point.

"What can I do, honey?" Eddie says, and he really needs to stop with the pet names, or Steve might genuinely fracture into pieces. "What do you want?"

Steve is sunk too deep into the syrupy slow feeling of the weed - too desperate to feel Eddie pressed against him again - to do anything but tell the truth.

"Just want you," he says.

Eddie smiles - eyes crinkling at the corners - and Steve breathes the sight in like oxygen. "You have me, baby," Eddie murmurs. He's rubbing small, comforting circle into the sensitive skin of Steve's wrists now, and it's perfect. It's wonderfully, disgustingly perfect.

"I do?" Steve asks dumbly. His brain feels fifteen seconds behind everything, but he thinks that's probably okay. Eddie seems to be just fine waiting for him to catch up.

"Yeah, Stevie," Eddie chuckles quietly. "Had me for a long time, now. Just wasn't sure if you would want me the way I wanted you."

"You want me," Steve says breathlessly, more to himself than to Eddie. "You wanna kiss me."

Eddie's resulting laugh is a bit louder, a bit brighter, this time. "I do," he says. The sadness is fading from his eyes, giving way to something that looks an awful lot like elation. Steve remains still and watches, entranced, as Eddie carefully hauls himself up until he can swing a leg over Steve's to straddle him.

Still smiling broadly, Eddie leans down until their faces are mere inches apart, studying Steve with those big, brown eyes. "You gonna let me?" he asks Steve, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Steve nods, lips parted in surprise he can't quite seem to shake, and Eddie's expression softens.

"Gonna let me kiss you like I love you, Stevie?" Eddie whispers.

Steve's not sure when, exactly, his tears had begun to dry up, but he knows they must have at some point, because they're returning with a vengeance, now. "Please," he breathes.

Eddie shifts, and Steve expects Eddie to go right back to kissing him, but that's not what he does.

Instead, Eddie releases one of Steve's wrists and cups his cheek tenderly. This time, the feeling of his thumb brushing the tears away is a familiar one, and it makes Steve smile dopily.

"You know the reason I kiss you like I love you?" Eddie asks. Steve shakes his head and tracks Eddie's gaze as it drifts towards the place where his fingers are still wrapped around Steve's wrist. His lips quirk into a smile as he uses his grip to pin Steve's hand to the mattress, right beside Steve's head, and laces their fingers together.

Their noses are brushing, now, and Eddie's hips are resting on Steve's, and Eddie's hair has fallen around them like a curtain to keep the rest of the world out, and it's so much. Eddie is everywhere, and he's everything, and Steve is completely, unquestioningly in love with him - probably has been in love with him for ages, now, and just never let himself think too hard about it.

"I kiss you like I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie breathes, and their lips brush as he speaks. "Because I love you."

And the thing is…Steve has spent his entire life wondering what it would feel like to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was loved. It's something that's eluded him for twenty years.

So it's all the more miraculous when Eddie kisses him again, and suddenly, Steve knows. He knows that Eddie Munson loves him. He feels it in the way Eddie kisses him slowly and deliberately, like it would never have crossed Eddie's mind not to. He feels it in their linked hands, in the way Eddie squeezes his hand when Steve makes a desperate, wanton sound into his mouth.

He feels it when Eddie brushes the hair out of his eyes and smiles before kissing Steve's forehead, then his nose, and then his lips again.

Feels it when Eddie's lips begin to wander down his neck.

When Eddie sucks a mark into the thin skin above his collar bone, just because Steve begs him too.

When Eddie pulls Steve's shirt over his head with careful hands, then lets Steve do the same, because Steve needs the intimacy of skin on skin.

He feels it when Eddie stops Steve's wandering hands from venturing too far south with a firm grip and apologetic eyes, because Eddie wants him - of course he does - but not when they've been smoking. Not when there's even the slightest chance that Steve might wake up and regret it in the morning.

And he hears it, too, later that night when they're laying in Eddie's bed exchanging soft, sleepy kisses, unwilling to drift off and let the night end, just yet.

Their legs are woven together - bare, aside from their boxers - and Steve has lost track of how long they've been tangled up in each other like this. He doesn't particularly care, though. He's pretty sure he could happily spend the rest of his life exactly like this.

"Love you, Stevie," Eddie whispers against his lips. They both smile into the next kiss, and Steve's heart is full to bursting, because he believes it. He knows, now, what it feels like to be loved...to be adored.

"I love you," he murmurs in reply, relishing in Eddie's sharp intake of breath. He giggles a bit, for no reason other than the pure joy that's been coursing through his body all night. "God," he laughs. "I fucking love you, Eddie Munson.

Eddie is quiet for a moment before his face splits into a grin that could rival Steve's own, and he's so goddamn beautiful that Steve almost feels like crying again.

He doesn't cry, though. He just watches adoringly as Eddie smiles and nudges Steve's nose with his own. "Yeah, baby?" Eddie teases.

"Yeah, Eds," he answers simply.

And he's pretty sure Eddie knows - is pretty sure Eddie can feel it - because Steve kisses him for the umpteenth time that night, and he pours every ounce of his heart into it.

Steve kisses Eddie like he loves him, because he does. God, help him, he does.

And Eddie?

Eddie kisses Steve like he loves him back, and Steve gets it now, because it’s more than just a kiss.

It’s perfect.

It’s earth-shattering.

It’s everything.

Shout-out to @lyphyshard for the beta!

For more of my Steddie blurbs and one-shots, check out my masterlist!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #soft steddie #steddie fluff #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #first kiss #cw: weed #stranger things #i'm so normal about them

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riki-dazed · 3 months

Text

Best friends can kiss, right? -- PART 1

3:00 AM -- Finding Hope · part 2 · fluff · wc: 792

"I'm so tired," You sigh, watching Riki search for another song on the computer that he's currently sat in front of.

The both of you had spent the last couple of hours together in his personal studio, turning the tight space into a full blown karaoke room. All that you hoped for tonight was that no one would come knocking at the door, considering that Riki already had to sneak you into the company building.

Your body falls backwards against your sofa, yes, your sofa. The tiny, barely-seats-two one that Riki had cramped into the corner of his studio, just so you'd have somewhere to sit, or sleep on, when you'd visit him. You loved that about your best friend the most, his overly thoughtful and sweet nature. To Riki, your comfort and happiness has always been at the top of his priorities list.

Your gaze stays on Riki as you watch him scroll through one of his spotify playlists, your head resting on your arms in which are slumped over an armrest. Eliciting a hum of approval, he finally decides on a song after a few moments. The slow, soft melody that engulfs the space causes your eyes to flutter closed. It was a familiar sound, one of your favorites. You hear your best friend humming along to the tune, the sound of his soft tone further pushing you into a sleepy trace. It's about time the both of you finally took a second to calm down, to breathe.

Baby, it's three AM, had you on my mind...

"Here," A deep voice cuts you out of your trance, you blink your eyes open, "Lean on me, it's comfier,"

You glance over your shoulder towards the direction where the voice was coming from, suddenly finding Riki's body sat beside yours on the little sofa. You give him a small smile as you pick yourself up and off the uncomfortable armrest, you nuzzle yourself into his side. His body's warm, the fabric of his hoodie soft against the skin on your face.

He smells good, too.

"We should probably go home soon," You murmur against him, your eyes closing shut yet again. Who knows what the time must be, though, you're too comfortable and cozy to even care about it at the moment.

"Later," The boy beside you replies, his voice barely above a whisper as his hand snakes its way around to the side of your waist. He pulls you into him.

You nestle closer into Riki, enjoying the warmth of his embrace, and the comfort of his presence. Every other irrelevant thought within your mind fades away as you focus on the soft music playing through the speakers. The feeling of contentment envelops the both of you.

Cause baby, if I find a way, I'm sure of it, this love won't stray...

"..just give me a chance to say I love you, and I need you, now are you here to stay," Riki sings along quietly, his deep voice is as soft and as smooth as a cloud.

Despite the late hour, you have nowhere else that you would rather be than right here.

Wanting you more and more, I can't help but think of what we could be...

Without a single thought behind your actions, the lyrics suddenly cause you to lift your head off him. As you meet Riki's gaze, you find yourself getting lost within his sharp eyes, seeing a reflection of the emotions swirling within your own chest. Neither of you exchange a single word, yet a silent understanding engulfs the space between the both of your bodies, a mutual recognition of something unspoken, yet deeply felt. You feel the weight of the lyrics echoe within your mind, and stomach, in the form of a hundred butterflies.

As you continue to scan your best friend's face, you see a vulnerability in his expression. It's as if he's laying bare his soul before you, offering you a glimpse into his unspoken feelings.

"This feels dangerously intimate," You murmur out of the blue, the sudden seriousness had caused you to almost start feeling awkward. You and Riki were barely ever a serious pair when together, you needed to lighten the mood somehow..

Riki can't help but shake his head over your sudden remark, he lets a chuckle escape his lips. You smile at his heartwarming reaction, yet you can't shake the feeling that had just engulfed you moments prior.

You can't help but realize that perhaps the both of you had been dancing around the edges of something more profound than mere friendship.

"Best friends can kiss, right?"

Your eyes grow wide as Riki catches you completely off guard with his sudden question, your smile drops off your face.

...

#enhypen #niki #riki #niki imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #riki-dazed #enha #enhypen scenarios #enha x reader #enha niki #riki imagines #nishimura riki

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middlepartmatt · 2 months

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Passing Time

“have you all on top of me, acting like it's not that deep. boy, you can take it out on me” — YOU RIGHT, doja cat ft. the weeknd

SUMMARY: you and the triplets are driving around boston in the middle night, as you often do. matt and nick suddenly decide that they want snacks, leaving you all alone in the minivan with chris while you both wait for his brothers to return.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, riding, car sex !!!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: who doesn't love a bit of asshole!chris? also thank you for almost 200 followers already that's insaaaaane :)

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"I'm kinda hungry guys," Nick says suddenly. You'd all been singing along to Dominic Fike just a moment before, when he'd suddenly decided to announce his hunger. You turn to look at him from your spot in the backseat next to him, nodding your head in agreement. The four of you have been driving around Matt's car for what feels like hours now and you could use a snack.

"Should we go to CVS or something?" Matt asks, and Nick nods enthusiastically. He swerves the car around, so that you're driving back in the direction of the closest CVS.

It only takes a few minutes for you all to get there. The parking lot is empty save for two other cars, and Matt pulls into a spot right in the back corner.

"Why'd you park so fucking far away?" Nick complains, and Matt rolls his eyes.

"Just come help me get snacks, moron," he replies. Nick huffs in frustration but agrees, opening the back door. Just as he's jumping out of the minivan, he turns back to look at you.

"You coming?" he asks, but you shake your head. You want snacks, but you're feeling kind of lazy, since it's so late at night. You'll just pay the triplets back tomorrow or something.

Nick closes the car door and you watch as the two brothers walk off towards the store, before sighing and leaning back in your seat. You look at Chris in the passenger seat, sitting there stone-faced with his arms crossed.

It's no surprise that neither of his brothers even bothered to ask him if he wanted to go with them into CVS. He's been in a terrible mood all night, having barely said a word despite usually always loving your late night drives. Most of his favorite songs have been played but he's not been singing along, and you have no idea why.

"Do you wanna put the music back on?" you ask quietly, just to break the awkward silence forming between you two. Chris turns around in his seat to look at you, with probably the most bored and annoyed expression on his face that you've ever seen.

"Eh, if you want," he shrugs unenthusiastically, turning back around to fiddle with the Spotify. Dominic Fike's calm voice resumes flowing quietly through the speakers, but you can barely focus on the music since you're now so preoccupied as to what's gotten Chris in such a shitty mood tonight.

You swallow nervously. There's a strange atmosphere in the car now, one that you've never experienced with Chris before. All your life, you've been best friends with the triplets, the four of you closer than ever. You're not sure why Chris has been distant tonight, and also in the past couple of weeks.

Now that you think about it, he has been bailing on you guys meeting up pretty frequently. He'd always be down to hang out with you, whether it was in a big group or just the two of you alone.

His change over the past few weeks has piqued your curiosity, and you can't resist asking: "Chris, are we okay?"

His eyebrows and he turns around in his seat to face you. Chris shrugs, turning back. You roll your eyes, annoyed at his unwillingness to respond to your question. Sick of him ignoring you, you clamber from the back into the driver's seat, forcing him to look at you.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You give him a knowing look, folding your arms across your chest.

"Trying to get you to answer me," you shrug. "So... what's going on?"

"Nothing," he quickly retorts, unable to make eye contact. You continue looking at his face, before sighing loudly and averting your gaze.

After a moment of silence, Chris huffs in frustration, which catches your attention. You turn to look at him and find him already looking at you. His expression is stern but you can detect a bit of... sadness in his eyes?

"It's just... annoying," he says vaguely. You tilt your head to the side in confusion, urging him to continue. His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows nervously. "Being with you all the time," he continues. "It pisses me off."

"What?" you exclaim, taking immediate offense to his words. "You don't like hanging out with me?" you ask thereafter.

"Nonono, of course I do," Chris says quickly, now realizing his mistake. "I just- it's... not in the way that I want."

"Huh?" you say, dumbfounded. You have no clue what he's trying to say.

"Don't you get it?" Chris asks, a smirk now forming on his lips at your innocence. He looks down at his lap and you follow his gaze, eyes widening as your line of sight aligns with his crotch, a clear tent shape formed in his sweats.

"Oh, u-um..." you stammer, unsure what else to say. You feel your heart racing, honestly unable to fathom what you're looking at. Chris is hard... because of you? It doesn't make any sense.

You don't have time to contemplate this any more, because his hand snakes over and rests on your upper thigh. Your eyes widen further and his face suddenly turns apprehensive as he loosens his grip.

"Is this okay?" he asks quietly. You nod rapidly, feeling heat pooling in your core. Chris' smirk only grows as he cocks his head to the side. "Alright, you gonna help me out with this?" he asks you, referring to his obvious hard on. Despite yourself, you grin, and climb onto his lap so that you're straddling him, your chest flushed against his.

His hips immediately buck upwards into your heat, causing a quiet gasp to escape your lips. He practically groans at the sensation, before grinning and leaning forward to kiss you.

It isn't a kiss that tells you he wants you. No, it's a kiss that tells you he needs you, and that he's probably needed this for a while now. You open your mouth and swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, before his brushes lightly over yours. The kiss quickly turns more passionate, both you desperate for more.

You feel Chris' hands slide down your back and pull you closer to him. His cock throbs against you, and you rock your hips back and forth for more friction. He moans into your mouth, before sliding his fingers down your legs and between your legs.

He doesn't waste any time and pushes two fingers inside of you. You moan against his mouth as he pushes them deeper, breaking the kiss and moving his tongue down your neck. His teeth scrape lightly on your skin before he gently bites down. At this, you cry out, unable to help yourself.

"Fuck, Chris," you say, and he smiles against your skin at the sound of his name.

Chris then pulls his mouth from your neck to your breast, taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. You arch your back, needily rocking your pussy harder against his fingers, which are still working inside of you.

"Shit, ma," he hisses, clearly unable to wait any longer as he pulls his fingers from you and licks them clean. "Need to be inside of you," he pants, more to himself than to you.

He sits up a little straighter, creating even more friction between the two of you that has you dripping, before shuffling down his sweats and boxers a little. His cock springs free, the tip a needy red and already leaking precome.

Using your knees, you push yourself upwards slightly so that he has the space to place the head of his cock against your wet opening. You hold your breath as you lower yourself down onto him, his dick stretching you out as he fills you completely.

"Chris, you're so big," you moan as you start rocking your hips back and forth.

"You can take it," he responds casually, grabbing your ass and squeezing tightly. You lean in to kiss him once again, tasting the remnants of your juices on his lips from where he sucked it off of his fingers. Putting your hands flat on his chest, you ride him harder.

Just as you feel his cock start to twitch inside of you, Chris mumbles a quiet, "I'm so close, baby." You nod in agreement, feeling the tight knot in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel.

Chris is beginning to lose all control now, his thrusts into your becoming harder and more desperate. You don't mind though, the way he's pounding into you harder and harder sending you closer and closer over the edge.

"C-Chris, I'm gonna-" you whimper as you feel your orgasm beginning to unwind, not even able to finish your sentence due to the immense of amount of pleasure.

"Do it," he tells you. "Come for me, ma."

You do, your whole body shaking as you moan loudly. He continues to thrust into you, rubbing further on your clit. Chris then lets out a load groan, his cock twitching more inside you. He quickly pulls out, jerking himself a couple of times before he finishes, cumming all over your shirt.

"Chris!" you exclaim, looking down at the mess he's made.

"Shit," he chuckles, shaking his head. "My bad, baby."

The nickname makes your heart flutter, and you remain seated on Chris' lap while he reaches past you, opening the glovebox and pulling out a packet of tissues. He gives one to you to clean yourself up before wiping the cum from his dick and scrunching up the tissue, shoving it into the pocket of his sweats. He also attempts to rub some of his seed from your shirt, but when he realizes there's no use he pulls off his hoodie and hands it to you.

"Wear this," he tells you, and you give him a thankful smile as you pull it over your head.

"Thanks," you mumble quietly, pulling yourself off of him and pulling your pants back up.

"Looks so pretty on you," Chris mutters, eyes fully fixated on you. "We're doing this again, by the way."

You nod in agreement, about to say something else when Chris' eyes suddenly widen in shock as he looks just past you. "Fuck!" he says. "They're coming back. Quick, get back in your seat!"

You do as he says, clambering from the driver's seat back to where you were originally sitting. You fall back into the seat with a sigh, exhausted from fucking Chris not even five minutes before.

You both sit in silence for the short time it takes Matt and Nick to get back. They climb back into the car, Nick holding a large bag of snacks in one hand.

"The line was so fucking long, sorry guys," Matt apologizes as Nick begins emptying the bag. He grins at the packet of mini gummy worms he presumably bought for himself.

"All good," you answer. "Chris and I just listened to music while you were gone."

"He stopped being such a miserable cunt, then?" Nick questions, a tad skeptically. You chuckle and Chris just rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbles, his eyes locked with yours.

You can't wait for the next time you see him.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE PT. 2: can you tell i like the word baby lol. also i feel like i never have any dialogue in my smut LMFAOOOO i get too carried away w them fucking byeeee

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo #chrissturn #chris #mattsturniolo #sturniolo smut #chrissturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicksturniolo #nick sturniolo

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

05. sharing a bed series ; skz ; han

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 5/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: han jisung/reader content info: dom!reader. sub!jisung. sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. past misunderstandings, grudges, bickering. femdom feat: face slapping, face sitting, hair pulling, choking, riding, denial-n-cumming-anyway, kneeling, more pussy eating. this one is a little longer. teehee :)

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight…”

Chan’s voice message crackles through your phone speaker but you can barely hear him over the bustling airport. You wait until you are outside in the pick-up zone to try listening again. It is marginally quieter out here, cars coming and going, light snowfall brightening the winter night. With your luggage at your feet, you replay his voice mail.

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight. Something came up at work and I’m not gonna be able to pick you up. I’m really sorry ‘bout it, mate. Jisung is on his way to get you. I know, I know, but he’ll get you home, yeah? If you’re still mad tomorrow, I’ll take you to lunch and you can kill me there. Buh-byyeeeee!”

Oh, that son of a bitch.

The message ends just as a pair of headlights flash over you. You can see through the front window but despite the direct eye contact Jisung still feels the need the honk the horn not once, not twice, but three times.

You stand there with your arms hanging helplessly at your sides. Snow falls on your head and a frown darkens your whole face. Jisung just smiles and waves like an idiot, honking the horn again.

I am going to kill Chan, you think to yourself.

Jisung loves putting you in situations where you are the unrepentant supervillain of his life, so ignoring him and getting in a cab would just play into his horrible little hands. He might look unassuming in his puffy coat and backwards cap, might look soft and friendly with his fair hair and plushy pink smile, might look innocent with his big brown eyes peering at you with cartoonishly saccharine enthusiasm, but in reality none of that is true.

Han Jisung is the worst.

Han Jisung is your nemesis.

Han Jisung honks the horn again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shout. You roll your eyes and heft your luggage over your shoulder, stomping with an incredible degree of petulance for a woman of your age. You toss your bag in the trunk then slide into the passenger seat.

Jisung honks again.

“Hello, hello, welcome to Flight H.A.N with Jisung airlines, this is your pilot speaking—”

You turn on the radio to shut him up. You are not in the mood for his shenanigans.

Jisung cringes with theatrical chagrin.

“Yikes,” he says with a bubbly laugh. “Tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”

“Yes, mistress, right away, mistress, Jisung lives to serve his mistress, please don’t hurt Jisung or leave him out in the cold tonight—”

You thunk your head against the headrest, glaring ahead as Jisung smoothly joins the traffic flow despite his nonsensical rambling.

You vaguely remember a time when Jisung was shy, back before he made it his life mission to send you hurtling into an annoyance-induced death. You also vaguely remember a time you liked him, him and his quietness, him and his quirky humour, him and his big, stupid, brown eyes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Jisung sings along with the radio so you flip the station to one with talking. He strums his fingers on the steering wheel, lips pursed and eyebrows lifted. He casts you a few side glances that you pointedly ignore. When you see him open his mouth, you hold up a finger.

“Do not even think about it,” you say. “Whatever you were about to say or do… Don’t.”

He presses his lips together and makes an obnoxiously loud pop.

“Kk,” he says. “This should be a fun half hour.”

The airport is outside of the city, a half-hour drive to your downtown apartment. Usually. The weather has traffic horrifically backed up. Half an hour comes and goes and you are barely out of view of the airport.

“We could play a game,” Jisung says, looking at you sideways. “I spy with my little—”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He nods, strumming the steering wheel again.

The radio blathers on, you barely listening. You scroll through your phone until there are zero notifications, then you scroll through your photo album just for something to look at. Jisung hums to himself and you try not to get annoyed all over again. You exploding at something so inconsequential would give him way too much satisfaction.

The snow comes down harder. It pulls your attention from your phone to the blustery world outside. Everything is a harsh grey, the dark night foggily illuminated by the white snow. Even Jisung is concentrating now, his brow furrowed as he stares through the front window.

“Shit,” he says.

He changes stations to catch a road update. Your jaws drop in unison when the reporter mentions a thirteen hour delay on the main bridge into the city.

“Thirteen fucking hours?” you say. It comes out wheezy. “It’s winter! Why are they always so surprised by the fucking snow! God! What the hell are we gonna do?”

“We’re not going anywhere near the bridge, that’s what we’re gonna do,” Jisung says, flipping the car into reverse and immediately changing course.

“How else are we getting downtown?”

He looks at you like you’re so stupid that he can’t believe it, his eyebrows jumping up his face.

“Uh, hello, welcome back to town, it’s snowing here,” Jisung says. “We’re going downtown tomorrow when it won’t kill us or trap us in a car—”

“I want to go home—”

“Do you want to spend thirteen hours in a car with me?” Jisung asks. “Because that’s what going home will involve right now, k?”

He sounds terse. You feel a little better when he acts short with you too, more justified in your own rudeness.

“Fine,” you say. “What are we doing then?”

A ten minute trip turns into an hour long drive with traffic delays, but eventually you are rolling into the snow-covered parking lot of the only motel with a vacancy sign. You and Jisung do not speak, stepping out of the car and crunching along the snow in silence. The motel parking lot is washed a golden colour, the yellow balcony lights beaming over the white snow. It holds the promise of warmth. You hurry inside.

You shake yourself off in the tiny entryway while Jisung dings the desk bell. Someone appears to check you in.

“You’re a lucky couple,” she says. “Lots of folks have stopped because of the weather. We have exactly one room left available. It’s a nice cozy double bed. Sounds good?”

“Ummm…” You join Jisung at the desk, a million frantic thoughts running through your brain. “Hold on, we’re not—”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jisung says with exaggerated fondness, because he can’t help but taunt you. “We’re a lucky couple. Isn’t that just our luck the only room available has one bed?”

You step on his foot deliberately and he yelps.

“Is there really no other option?” you ask the attendant with some degree of desperation.

“No, sorry.” She gives you a funny look but shakes her head. “I doubt you’ll have better luck finding a room anywhere else tonight. You can have this one or enjoy a car nap.”

“My beautiful wife and I are happy with a double,” Jisung says, already holding out his credit card. “Right, baby?”

You smack his ass, hard and swift. His eyes widen. You smirk.

“Right, baby,” you say with a snarl.

Tonight’s only saving grace is the hot water; you enjoy a long shower before changing into sleep shorts and a camisole. You join Jisung in the room, finding him sprawled on the double bed with air pods in his ears. He tossed his hat somewhere and is laying there in jeans and a t-shirt – remarkable, as you thought he might strip to his underwear just to be annoying. But no, he lays there peacefully. His fair hair is darker at the root, neatly framing his unfortunately handsome face. He has one arm flexed under his head, the muscle more pronounced than you remember it being. His eyes are closed as he nods along to the music.

You grab a pillow and thwack him in the gut. It startles him to attention, a strangled sound leaving his throat.

“You stay on that side of the bed and you do not move, got it?” you say.

He sticks his tongue out at you.

“Very mature,” you say.

You lay down with your back to him. After twenty minutes, he still has his bedside light on so you snap at him. He whines like a little baby but turns it off, leaving just his phone beaming at his face. You can hear his music but say nothing.

You can’t sleep. You want to roll over but you absolutely refuse to face him.

His phone screen finally goes dark after god knows how long and he puts it aside. There is a long stretch of silence in the dark. You swear you have never been so uncomfortable laying on this side in all your life. Knowing you will not be able to sleep without turning at least once, you decide to roll over. You figure Jisung laid down with his back to you anyway.

He didn’t. He is staring right at you, his big eyes making him look like a pathetic little lemur gawping at a human in the dark.

“Why don’t you like me?” Jisung says.

“Oh no,” you say, immediately rolling onto your back. “Absolutely not. We are not having a heart to heart.”

“Oh come oooon, please,” he whines. “This is the time and place—”

“It really isn’t—”

“It’s a classic story, a boy, and a girl—”

“I don’t like stories—”

“Forced to share a bed and share their secret feelings—”

“Those feelings are disgust, hatred, and revulsion—”

“Opening their hearts and—whoa, wait, what? Hatred? You hate me?” Jisung pushes himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face.

You try to ignore him and his stupid expressions, glaring at the ceiling as if it can do anything to save you. Your heart is beating fast but it doesn’t feel good. The pounding is coupled with a nauseous turn in your gut.

It is open knowledge that you do not like Han Jisung one bit, but you seldom vocalize it so explicitly. Certainly not to his face. Certainly not beside him in bed.

“That can’t possibly surprise you,” you say.

“Well, it does actually!” Jisung says. “I knew you didn’t like me but hate me? How could you hate me? I’m delightful.”

Even now, the clown is trying to joke. Because that’s all it is to him, isn’t it? Everything is just a joke all the time. Everything and everyone is a punchline waiting to happen. But you aren’t laughing. Your hands close into fists and you dig your nails into your palms to keep your frustration in check. Your neck feels hot and your stomach is still turning. You feel embarrassed about things you haven’t even said yet. Your tongue feels swollen somehow, your throat lined thickly. It takes several deep breaths before you can speak.

“Well,” you say bitterly, “I guess I just can’t help being a massive bitch. The worst you’ve ever met, right?”

There is a beat of silence, then Jisung flips on the bedside light.

You slap your fists down on the bedcovers and glare at him.

“Turn off the light,” you say.

“No way, you were just talking in a voice. What did you mean? Why do you--”

“Jisung, I swear to god, if you don’t turn off that light—”

“Look, can we just—”

You shove the covers down and climb on top of him without thinking, trying to reach the light yourself. He grabs you by the arms and pushes you back. You end up tussling ungracefully, you wriggling around like a worm and Jisung clearly in control but just as clearly trying to go easy on you. It puts you at an impasse. With an angry huff, you push away from him.

“If I said something—” he starts.

You laugh, a joyless cackle.

“If,” you repeat. “You’ve said a lot of somethings over the years, Jisung.”

“I—I didn’t mean it if I—I don’t even know what I—”

You look at him. He seems to be genuinely confounded and more than a little miserable, his eyes darting around as he racks his brain, his brow furrowed with obvious upset. His hand is frozen on his head, a clump of hair feathering through his fingers.

He meets your gaze and you roll your eyes. You feel hot and uncomfortable again, the source of your nausea climbing up and up and up until it is clawing its way past your lips and—

“The day we met,” you say, finally, after years of stamping down the humiliating memory, “you said I was a massive bitch, the worst you had ever met. And it—”

You are not sad. You refuse to be sad. This pain is years old now and it does not hurt you anymore. But you are angry – with him, with yourself, with this whole shitty circumstance, and the angrier you get, the more tears stab at your eyes.

You swallow down a lump in your throat and take a steadying breath. You stare at the wall because his attentive, earnest gaze is too much to bear.

“I know I’m a little awkward when I first meet people,” you say. “I’m shy and weird and sometimes… sometimes people think I’m a bitch when really I’m just quiet. Chan introduced me to you because he said that you were kinda the same, and that we had lots in common, and he thought we would get along. And then we met and—”

“We did,” Jisung says softly.

Your vision is blurry now. You sniff hard, wiping your arm under your nose.

“Yes,” you say. “We did. We got along amazing. We were quiet for a second and then it was like… like we were already friends. As if we always knew each other. I’ve never spoken like that to someone so quickly. It’s like I just forgot to be shy. I was so happy and then—”

“I remember all this,” Jisung says, still sounding confused. “I don’t get it. It was Changbin’s birthday, right? We were talking all night and it was great but then you just left without saying bye. Then the next time we met you already hated me—”

You finally look at him, hitting him with the full force of your emotional expression. He clearly was not expecting the tears because he literally jumps at the sight of you.

“I left after overhearing you talk about me in the kitchen to one of your stupid friends,” you snap. “’That woman is without doubt a totally massive bitch. The worst I’ve ever met.’ And you were laughing. Just… just standing there laughing about it, about me. And I had no idea why. Why? What had I said or done? It was humiliating. And it hurt, and the reason it hurt so bad was because it came from you.” You jab him in the chest, trying to sound angry because your tears are falling now and it just makes you feel pathetic. “It hurt, Jisung,” you say, “because it was you. From anyone else I wouldn’t care. But you were the one person I expected to understand me. The one person who got what it was like. So to hear you saying those things—god. I never wanted to see you again, but then you and Chan started your stupid projects together and I couldn’t get away from you. And you just got more and more in my face no matter what I did—”

“Oh my god.” Jisung slaps both hands to his head. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he is hearing. “Hold on,” he says, abruptly getting out of bed. “Just… just hold on.”

He runs away. You sit there more confused than anything, your face wet, your breathing uneven. He is gone long enough for you to get angry again, glaring at him when he gets back in the bed.

“Here,” he says, giving you the tissue box he evidently retrieved from the bathroom. “Just… here.”

He takes a tissue and awkwardly dabs at your cheek. You snatch it away from him, frowning.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. He gets off the bed again, hovering awkwardly at the side while you wipe your face clean. He waits until you are composed, swaying where he stands, clasping and unclasping his hands. When you stop sniffling, he lets out a huge exhale. “Okay,” he says. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m really, really fucking sorry. And I want to explain, I really do, but… but if I explain, I think it’s only gonna make you upset.”

You give him a very sarcastic look.

“I’m already upset, you stupid jerk,” you say. “Just spit it out so I can go to sleep.”

“Right.” He runs his hand through his hair again. It falls softly down and flutters when he exhales. “God. Okay. This is gonna sound so stupid. But, yeah, okay, I do remember saying that actually. I didn’t know you heard me but… but that’s not an excuse. I know. I shouldn’t have said it at all. I totally do know that. But also… I said it, but I didn’t. What I mean is, what you heard me saying, I was not actually saying.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

“What,” you say, “the fuck?”

He waves his hands around defensively.

“What I mean is,” he says, “and stay with me… but… I actually meant it as a compliment.”

“A compliment,” you say. “A compliment? You called me a massive bitch as a compliment?”

“Yes.”

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” you shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him.

His reflexes are fast. He ducks and the pillow sails over his head, whacking the blinds with a clatter. He looks there then looks at you, just in time for you to throw the tissue box. He dodges that too, ducking down again. The box hits the radiator and thunks to the ground.

“Okay, listen—” he says.

He is not fast enough when you chuck the second pillow.

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he says, holding the offending pillow up in surrender. He tentatively approaches the bed with it, eying you as he gently lays it back down.

You glare.

“I promise I can explain,” he says. “And you’re gonna love this explanation, because it is going to completely and totally humiliate me and you will have something to hold over my head for the rest of your life.”

“I’m listening,” you say. You feel embarrassed about crying so the least he can do is embarrass himself too.

“Thank you,” he says. He gets back on the bed, kneeling and tipping his head back. It looks like he’s praying, gathering the strength to admit whatever he is about to admit.

You cross your arms. You are annoyed he is taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely want to know. Han Jisung has no problem blurting every stupid thought that crosses his mind, at least when it comes to you, so you cannot begin to imagine what dark secret he can’t bring himself to speak out loud.

You are halfway convinced he is trying to come up with a lie when he finally throws his arms out as if in supplication.

“I’m a fucking freak!” he says, with all the verve and jubilation of hallelujah. He closes his eyes and nods his head. “I’m a pervert and I think with my dick like ninety-eight per cent of the time. The other two per cent of the time I am honestly probably thinking with my prostate, though I haven’t really worked that one out yet completely—”

“What?” Your whole face screws tight with bewilderment. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I love bitches. No wait.” He shakes his head. “That came out wrong. Hold on. I love… well, yeah, no, bitches. Mean girls. Bullies. Catwoman.”

“Catwoman.”

“That whip… t-cha.”

“Jisung—”

“Look I was telling my friend about you because Minho’s an even bigger freak than me. He’s the only one who knows my secret and—”

“Your secret,” you say slowly. “That you… like bitches?”

“That I love bitches,” he says. “When I told him that you were the biggest bitch I ever met, it was because we both knew that what I meant was: holy shit dude, I just found my soulmate, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, I’m getting married tonight, and if she asked me to tattoo her face on my butt right now I would do it.”

You hate that you laugh, but the comment is so unexpected that it sputters out of you.

Jisung smiles, releasing a pent-up breath of relief.

“You were… are… funny, and smart, and yeah a bit quiet but you still don’t let it stop you from defending yourself or someone else when something is wrong. Remember when you told off that creep at the party? The one who was bugging Felix? You don’t take anyone’s shit and then you just move on quietly like it was nothing. I was obsessed with you from the second we started talking. Then I was a stupid horny pervert and opened my big stupid mouth and now you hate me.”

“I’m still not sure I really get it,” you say, admittedly flustered at his admission. You had no idea Jisung saw you that way. The woman he’s describing does sound pretty amazing, and he sounds sincerely infatuated. When your heart starts skipping beats again, it feels different than before. “Explain,” you say.

He slaps his thighs in a motion of surrender.

“Yup,” he says. “Okay. Fine. Cool. I like when women boss me around. I like when they are mean to me. I like when they hurt me and make me cry. It… it gets my dick hard, okay? I love bitches. I LOVE BITCHES—”

You reach out to slap a hand over his mouth, remembering it’s a motel in the middle of the night.

Jisung’s shoulders jump and he laughs into your hand, clearly embarrassed as he remembers where he is. You laugh in spite of yourself, lowering your hand.

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply.

Oops, you misunderstood your eavesdropping.

Oops, Jisung never hated you.

Oops, you find yourself staring into his eyes for way too long.

“So just to clarify,” you say. “You’re into, like, female domination stuff, and you called me a bitch as the highest form of compliment in your crazy brain, and then you spent the next two years being as annoying as possible because…”

“I thought you were just, like, crazy edging me or something,” Jisung says, making you laugh helplessly into your hands. He laughs too, even while looking a little pained. “I did! I was like shit, she’s so nasty, she’s really taking me for a fucking ride. I would have kept doing this for the rest of our lives if this conversation didn’t happen. I would’ve been at your wedding like damn, she’s really got me going this time—”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, pushing at his chest without any real animosity.

“I know, I really am,” he says. He draws an X over his chest. “But cross my heart and hope to die, everything I have told you is the complete truth. I’d tell you to slap me because you definitely deserve it but honestly, it would give me a boner and I don’t think either of us wants that since we’re stuck in the same bed all night.”

He says it jokingly, of course. But you can hear the twinge of flirtation and truth under his just kidding.

And maybe you’re still on an adrenaline kick. Maybe your emotions are right at the surface. Maybe you hated him so much because deep down you liked him, and you hated that you liked him because of a misunderstanding.

And maybe, just maybe, those big brown eyes have drawn you in from the second you first saw him.

“Slap you,” you say, as if in deep contemplation. “Slap you where? Your face?”

This clearly catches him off guard. He opens his mouth and a garbled sound comes out. He thumps a fist on his chest.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Sure. Whatever, you know. You know.”

“Mhm.” You move so you are kneeling too, facing each other. You watch as he swallows hard, the gulp going down his throat. All the adrenaline you built up earlier is suffusing into the race of your bloodstream. Heat simmers below the surface of your skin. “And you like that? Getting slapped when you’ve been bad?”

“Oh my god,” he says. “Are you.. are we… is something happening right now? Oh my god. Hold on.” He says that but then all he does is stand up and sit back down again, rekneeling in the exact same position. “Right, okay,” he says. “Slap away.”

You snort, rolling your eyes but smiling. You lift your hand but he is staring at you so expectantly that it just feels weird, not sexy, and you laugh giddily with amusement.

“Aww, come oooon,” he whines, but laughingly too. “Don’t get shy. You were so good at it.”

“I’ve had years of bitchy practice, I guess,” you say with a quirked eyebrow, making him grin. You shake your head. “I dunno. Just. Do something to earn a slap I guess. It’s too weird to just smack you out of nowhere.”

“Do something?” he asks. “Uh, I dunno. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never done anything in my life to earn a slap. I’m seriously the most charming and funny and perfect guy ever and I—”

Your slap him across the face. The sound startles you because it sounds harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Jisung looks genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, his jaw falling open. He blinks himself back into focus and you are about to ask if he’s all right, then he looks at you in a way he has never looked at you before. The desire and desperation of his gaze moves right through you, gathering hot in every intimate place.

“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice a little gravelly as it drops low.

“I don’t know,” you say softly. You reach out to touch his chin, a delicate touch that makes him shiver. You turn his face to look at the faint redness on his cheek. “Can I try again to be sure?”

He nods and swallows again.

You don’t ask for build-up this time. You pull your hand back and bring it down sharply on his cheek.

This time it makes him whimper. It flushes you with heat.

“Oh my god,” you say. “What else?”

“Uh, oh, fuck, um.” He touches his cheek and sucks in a breath. He pushes his hair only for it flop back in place. “Um,” he says. “Choking. F-fingers? Fingers in my mouth... Um, haha, I can’t think. Bondage? Yeah. Erm, denial. Overstimulation. Puuussy… yes, um, pussy. On my face please. Uhh… Punishment. Pulling my hair… Oh, hello.”

You take hold of his shoulders and push, guiding him to lay on his back. He is already panting when you straddle him, his eyes wide when you lean down.

“Do you still hate me?” he asks when you are millimetres away from his mouth.

You pretend to think about it.

“Hm,” you say with obvious theatricality, stealing a page from his book. “Yeah. I hate you so much. You’re my worst enemy. Sorry, baby.”

“That’s hot,” he says with a nervous little giggle. “You’re hot. You know I think—mmmf.”

You interrupt whatever long-winded joke was incoming. He does not protest this interruption as it involves a kiss, a good kiss, a deep kiss, one that pushes his head into the plushness of his pillow, one that has him moaning into your mouth. He lifts his hands to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your bare thighs when you seize his wrists. You shove them into the bed, pinned on either side of his head. He bucks under you, his mouth opening under your kiss. You bite at his bottom lip and drag your teeth, making his hips move even more.

You break away quickly and just as quickly slap him. It knocks a surprised breath out of him, his eyes a bit watery when he looks up at you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby,” you say. “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh my god.”

You try not to smile but Jisung makes it hard. You feel flushed with excitement, hot with power and anticipation. You squeeze his hips between your thighs and push the hem of his shirt up and over his chest. He whimpers again but doesn’t move, his eyes closing when you hold down his wrists and duck your head.

“Fuck, oh god,” he murmurs, a constant stream of mumbled expletives as your mouth runs over his chest, kissing and licking and biting, teasing him until he can’t help but buck his hips for friction. When you feel him fully hard in his jeans you lean back, smirk, then climb off him. “Oh god, you’re too good at this,” he says, keeping his hands where you left them and gazing at you with wanting eyes.

You blow him a kiss and shimmy out of your shorts and underwear. Thoughtlessly he swings a hand down to touch himself, squeezing his dick through his jeans and groaning.

“Did I tell you that you could—” you start, but he puts his hand back beside his head before you can finish. His smile is far too innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say.

“Am I?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” you reply, getting back on top of him. “I still hate you.”

“Oh god, yes,” he says. His hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest. “More.”

“I hate you,” you say, moving until your legs are on either side of his head. “ I hate you so much, Han Jisung. I’m going to ruin you.”

“Fuck.”

He already has his mouth open when you lower onto his face. You grip the headboard and rock yourself over his tongue, back and forth until he finds your rhythm and takes over. What he lacks in precision he compensates with eagerness, licking at you without any care for the mess it makes of him, wet and sloppy and hot as his tongue moves inside you then up and down your pussy, circling your clit, sucking, flicking, back and forth, around and around—

“Oh my god,” you say, looking down at where you can see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he works, as he moans, as he squeezes your thighs in his hands and drags his tongue all over you. You grip the headboard tight when you come, throwing your head back and grinding down against him.

You lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs. You shuffle back and sit on his abdomen so you can see him, his eyes wide and wet mouth open as he pants. He licks his lips and murmurs please, please, please in a hoarse voice.

“Please?” you repeat, a little out of breath as well.

You swirl your fingers over his bare chest and fiddle with the t-shirt still bunched under his chin. He moves his face wherever you push it, tipping his head back, tilting it to the side. He goes cross-eyed when your fingers dance in front of him, touching his lips. His mouth falls open and his eyes close when you slide two fingers inside his mouth.

“Please what, Jisung?” you ask, slowly finger-fucking his mouth. “What do you want?”

He can’t speak around your fingers so he just whines, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh,” you say. Your giggle is filled with genuine delight, even while your voice is rough. “I see. You want to put your dick inside me, baby? Hmm? You wanna say you’re sorry and that you’ll be good and let me ride you?”

“Good, so good,” he says, drooling around your fingers when you slide them out. He swallows hard, choking on nothing, then nods his head. “Please, please. Yes.”

You lean down and kiss his wet mouth, a chaste peck. You rub the corner of his lips, smiling at his closed eyes and wrecked expression.

“Okay,” you say. “Get ready for me then.”

You have a string of condoms in your luggage, always tucked in the pocket in case of emergency. Emergencies like a snow storm trapping you in bed with your former worst enemy turned lover.

When you get back to him, Jisung is laying there completely naked, flushed and stroking himself as he watches you. He lets you take his hand off his dick, holds you obediently when you guide his hands to your waist. He kisses you when you lean down, a hot and heavy kiss as you straddle him again. It ends when you push him flat and sit back, already grinning because you know you are about to short-circuit his brain.

“Wanna see a trick?” you say, and proceed to put the condom on him with your mouth. You laugh when you see his face after, his mouth hanging open as he blinks at you.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, but laughs a little.

His head thunks back into the pillows when you guide him inside you. You put your hands over his, holding them to your hips as you rock over him. His chest lifts and falls and his eyes close as he concentrates on not rushing your pace. He keeps holding your waist firmly when you slide your hands over his chest.

“Look at me,” you say.

He blinks his eyes open. You smile.

“Good boy.”

He makes a noise that sounds more pained than when you slapped him. It lights up inside you like fire and you move faster, take him deeper. You get a bit dizzy with how good it feels, his dick curving up to drive against the softest, most sensitive part of you, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm. You rub yourself at the same time, looking down at him as he gasps and moans, as he holds your hips and fucks you back.

You bring your hand to his neck and gently circle it, rubbing yourself harder when he whines with chest-deep desperation.

“I—I’m gonna—oh god—” he says, squeezing your hips so tightly that you think it might bruise.

It feels so good, his rough hands coupled with his dick hitting perfectly inside you. Your whole body draws taut for its crest.

“Don’t,” you say, laughing a little, not even to be mean but because it feels so good that you feel giddy. You squeeze his throat and his hips get erratic under you. “Not yet,” you say. “Me first.”

“Oh my god,” he says, looking up at you with frantic eyes. “I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Jisung,” you say, squeezing his throat harder so he makes a choked-up sound that goes straight to your pussy. “Are you gonna be good or bad?”

“I’m—I’m—oh god.”

You stop touching yourself because you know he doesn’t stand a chance outlasting you. You ride him through his orgasm, choking him as he spasms and moans and cries out. His head lifts for a second, his eyes closed and brows furrowed, then he flops back down with an exhausted heave.

His eyes open again, watery and huge.

“Oh fuck,” he says, voice like gravel as you release his throat. A deep breath shudders out of him. “Oh… fuck,” he says, dreamily, smiling, then pouting. “Oh! Fuck!”

You giggle at him managing to say the same thing in three different voices.

You slip your fingers into his hair and tug, yanking his head up. He follows with a gasp.

“I should hit you again for that,” you say.

You slide off him, carefully. He sucks in a ragged, tearful breath when you touch his dick to deal with the condom. After, you rub your palm on the oversensitive head of it, making him grab at you and cry out. It squeezes a tear out of him and you kiss it away.

“Come on,” you say, grabbing him by the hair again. You get off the bed and drag him to follow. “I’m not done with you.”

He is a little shaky and boneless from coming. His footing is unsteady from the moment he touches the ground, moving with thoughtless obedience. He thumps down heavily onto his knees. When he sways, you straighten him. He blinks up at you, on his knees, already nodding.

You put your leg over his shoulder and draw him in. For the second time, he gets you off with his mouth, his hands on your ass and his face buried in your pussy. You sink your fingers in his hair and let it wash over you, humming happily when you are finished.

You lower your leg off his shoulder. Jisung slumps backwards, leaning against the bed and breathing hard, his face and hair a mess.

“Wow,” he says. He looks up at you. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You laugh, feeling hot and flushed but satisfied.

“Me too,” you say, making him smile.

You help him back into the bed because his legs seem a little numb. You lay beside him, rubbing the inside of his thigh as he kisses all over your face. You giggle then fall into a proper kiss, winding around each other affectionately.

“I’m gonna send Chan a gift basket,” Jisung says, making you snort. “I am! Thank you for having a family emergency, your timing couldn’t be better.”

You tip your head and look at him with confusion.

“Family emergency?” you say. “He told me he was working?”

“Working?” Jisung furrows his brow. “Huh? We don’t have anything coming up at work. He phoned me from the road and said he was heading out to visit family? He said he wouldn’t be back all week-end.”

“He told me he was stuck working and would see me tomorrow,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you slowly put two-and-two and together.

“I didn’t even know why he was asking me and not Changbin or something,” Jisung continues to muse aloud. “He said you were wanting to talk to me, though, so I figured—”

“I never said that! I mean, I’m glad we did but…” You sit up, glaring at the wall.

Jisung bursts into laughter, covering his mouth as he looks at you.

“Did Chan hustle us?” he asks.

“He threw us together in a snow storm so we’d be forced to reconcile!”

“I don’t think Chan can control the weather—”

“Oh, he definitely can. I bet he delayed the bridge himself—”

Jisung laughs some more, kissing the side of your face lovingly while you continue to glare contemptuously at the wall.

“Well,” you say, looking at him. You kiss him sweetly on the nose and he smiles at you. “That’s fine,” you say. “A vacancy for my sworn enemy just opened up. Looks like I found a replacement.”

“I’m good with that,” Jisung says. “But… you’re not allowed to enemy-fuck him like that. That’s just for me, right?”

You settle in his arms, forgetting about Chan for the time being, forgetting to glare, forgetting about everything that happened before tonight. You smile at him, brushing a bit of hair off his sweaty forehead. He is still flushed and beautiful, his hopeful eyes locked on yours. He smiles back.

“Yeah,” you say. “It’s only ever been just you, Jisung.”

He visibly melts, his laugh a breathless thing. He leans in and kisses you and you hold his face, kissing him back. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you smile too.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x dom!reader #sub!jisung x dom!reader #skz x reader #sub!skz x dom!reader

5K notes · View notes

luveline · 2 months

Note

omg I just saw your post about Steve where you asked which Steve we wanted. I'm missing KBD Steve so bad rn. Anything like a family movie night would really just heal my soul rn! (love your writings so much btw)

ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 1k

“Did you play guitar?”

Steve slinks further down into the corner of the couch, Avery too big but exactly where she’s meant to be in his lap. She’s affectionate from years of the world's most ridiculous parents, he assumes, so he could have Avery sit beside him rather than on top of him, but why bother? She’s gentle about how she sits despite her long limbs, swinging one arm behind his neck as she gets comfortable against his chest.

“Did I what?” Steve asks.

“Play guitar?” She points at the TV. “Uncle Eddie plays guitar.”

“I can play a little bit, nothing like Uncle Eddie,” he says. “Just enough to serenade mom. I’d sing her all her favourites.”

“So you had a guitar? Where did it go?”

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe in the attic? There’s not room for all our stuff sometimes, so me and mom box it up and put it up there.” He looks at her knowingly. “Why, do you wanna try?”

“Can I?” she asks.

“Not tonight, but tomorrow? Is that okay? I’ll have to get the ladder from the garage, and we’re gonna watch a movie soon.”

Avery’s pretty easy, as kids go. When Steve says tomorrow she doesn’t whine. In fact, she gives him a grateful, shining smile, the arm that’s laid across the front of him curling tighter as she presses her face into his neck. “Thanks, daddy.”

He thinks that it’s because he’d guessed what she wanted. But that’s his job, to understand her and make her happy. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he loves her and he’s feeling quite loved up by her hugging and the feeling of her hair under his chin, he drops his voice into some rare parentese for her, “I bet you’ll be great at it. It takes some patience, but you have so much of it, and then you can play anything.”

She giggles. “Like the song from The Neverending Story?”

Steve’s heard enough of that song to last him a lifetime. “What about that song you and mom like? Have you seen her?” He’s tempted to sing it, and he figures it won’t hurt under his breath, “So fine and pretty, fooled me with her style and ease–”

Dove interrupts with a laugh as she tries to join in. The words escape her, but her passion makes up for it. She climbs up from her seat across the couch, sending the jellybeans she’d been holding in the lap of her nightgown careening across the living room floor.

“Dove!” Avery says.

“It’s okay, I’ll get them,” you say, standing just in front of the doorway with a towel around your shoulders.

Steve hadn’t known you were there, you were gone so long for your shower he honestly forgot what you were doing. He groans as Dove drops her face into his jaw, what a disaster, but she doesn’t cry so he brushes it off while you clean up.

“Dove’s gonna help,” Steve insists. “Aren’t you, babe? Ow. You’re gonna help mom pick up your jellybeans. Ow, baby, don’t step on me.”

“No,” Dove says with a giggle. “Sing again, daddy.”

Beth jumps in behind you in fresh pyjamas, her hair damp and water wetting the neck of her t-shirt. That’s why you’d taken so long —your shower had been commandeered. It’s nice to see you both in some comfy pyjamas, better to see his lovely Beth feeling better. She’d been sick for so long it was starting to make him depressed; seeing her invigorated after a good shower and chasing down jellybeans with a mischievous smile makes his night. “I got them!” she says. “I got them, mom. There’s like, seven.”

You hold out your hand. “Thank you. I think you got all of them.”

Steve misses the rest of your conversation, a chubby palm smushed to his nose that he attempts to throw off. Avery giggles at his misfortune as Dove says, “Sing! Sing!”

“I can’t sing, I can’t breathe,” he says.

Dove pulls her hand back. She’s as close to rolling her eyes as she can get. “Sing.”

“Now I can’t, Dove, you’re making me shy.”

“Dad!”

“You sing,” he suggests, leaning back, shielding Avery from her younger sister’s volatility with his arms.

“We’re gonna sing so much.” You beam as you unveil the VHS tape for tonight’s movie. In time, your three girls gasp aloud. “Daddy’s favourite movie, the Little Mermaid!”

“It’s not my favourite movie. That movie is my enemy. It makes all my babies cry.” Even Dove ends up in tears, though she usually cries when Ariel’s upset, rather than during Part of That World like her sisters do.

“It makes you cry,” Beth says.

“Beth, do we have a problem?” he asks. “Are you trying to get into a fight with me?”

Beth grins and runs across the rug to climb up on the couch where Steve’s being submerged. She sits down by Doves’s feet, wrapping her arms around Dove’s little tummy, squishing herself to Steve’s side. “No, dad. I love you.”

“I don’t believe you. I think you know you’ll lose if we wrestle.”

You snort. Steve steals a glance at you between all the little arms, your hip pressed to the TV stand, your lip between your teeth as you click the wrong button. It’s not like you’re stupid, just the TV is old, and half the buttons don’t do what it is they say they do anymore. Your nose wrinkles and you backtrack, and Steve wishes he was standing right there to smooth it over with his thumb. After a few seconds of searching (and harassment on his end, Dove’s fingers dangerously close to his ear) you click the right thing and the tape that the girls were watching before dinner pops out.

You smile to yourself at a job well done. Steve smiles at you, though you don’t see him doing it.

“Your moms kinda pretty, huh?” he asks Avery.

“Not kinda, super.”

“How’s the baby?” you ask.

Steve gives the baby monitor on the table by the couch a tap with his finger to make sure it’s still on. Feedback whines. “She’s hasn’t made a peep since your shower, honey.”

“Maybe I’ll go see if she’s okay before the movie comes on. Miss the previews.”

He can’t wait for you to sit down. “Okie dokie. Give her a kiss for me.”

You raise your hand in scout’s honour. As you’re walking up the stairs, Avery shifts in Steve’s lap and asks, “You smile at mom all the time, does it make your cheeks hurt?”

He sews a hand behind Beth’s back. “Nope. I have strong cheek muscles.”

517 notes · View notes

biteyoubiteme · 18 days

Text

busy signal

fem!reader x huening kai x choi yeonjun

synopsis: yeonjuns away on a trip and sends you a suggestive photo leaving you needing the help of your other boyfriend kai to take care of you.

warnings: 🔞!! established relationship, trouple/poly, phone sex, breeding kink if you squint, size kink if you squint, praise, nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms (f!rec), oral (f!rec), unprotected sex, creampie, use of the name baby, love, and the word slutty is used once.

wc: 4.7k oops

an: this is my first post on tumblr and first time writing anything with k-pop idols. feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

in the middle of class your phone gave a deafening jingle in the silent room. for the better part of the day your phone had not gone off meaning you didn’t know the ringer was waiting to interrupt your lesson. waiting for the perfect time to make you flustered as you tried to dig it out of your over-cramped bag to shut it off.

by the time you grab it, the class is watching as your cheeks turn pink stitching it to silent. the professor clears their throat to catch everyone’s attention again as you look at the message that embarrassed you.

thinking of you <333

the photo attached is enough to make your blush burn your ears. Yeonjun had an away game this week in Chicago. Kai and you were unable to make it because of your class schedules, and every time he went away with the hockey team he made sure to fill your phone with lude photos and audios. in his words to “make sure you don’t forget about me.”

so now you were not only embarrassed for the outburst but feeling needy all at once. Yeonjun was leaning back shirtless on his hotel bed fisting his hard cock through the thin material of his underwear.

you clicked your phone off as fast as you could hoping no one saw the photo and if they did it had been too quick to know exactly what it was. but you knew instantly because it was one of Yeonjuns favorite poses and he knew it was one of your favorites.

You still had thirty minutes in class left and a bike ride home where you were sure to call Yeonjun to chew him out knowing he has your schedule memorized. for now you slumped in your seat pushing your thighs together to relieve yourself, if only slightly because as class went on the only thing you could think about was Yeonjun and his teasing.

when you do call Yeonjun he chuckles over the line “I’m sorry the time difference has me all messed up,”

“I was so embarrassed,” your tone is on the edge of a whine and you can practically hear Yeonjun smile.

“Did I make you all hot and bothered in theoretical physics?”

“junnie,” you drag the name out and he chuckles again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you can hear one of his teammates calling for him, “I’ll call you tonight maybe I can walk you through your little problem,”

“I don’t have a problem,” but it’s a lie and he knows it. your bike ride having made it all the more obvious how needy you really are, the seat pushing the seam of your jeans right against your clit uncomfortably.

“liar,” he sings, “if you can’t wait until tonight you do have Kai waiting at the apartment. he could fix your problem,”

“I don’t have a problem for anyone to fix,” you say, making it to your apartment and locking your bike up. “and kai is busy you shouldn’t be making me his to handle when you did this to me,”

“So you admit it,” grin in his voice.

“Yeonjun-“

“yes yes I know no teasing you cross country but hey you have two boyfriends for a reason. now I have to go, I love you!” he hung up before you could reply.

kai, Yeonjun, and you have been a trouple since high school and friends for far longer. it was not unusual in your relationship for Yeonjun to pass you off to Kai seeing as both of you tended to be a bit shy around each other when it came to sex unless it was the right circumstances i.e being drunk or just being extra clingy. kai and you are always cuddling and close. you love it when he touches you but Yeonjun is usually there to guide the two of you together, that one extra push to set the two of you in motion. you mostly think this is because the three of you started this way in the first place making it the norm.

you push open the door to your shared apartment kicking off your shoes and handing your keys on the hook. Kai's penguin keychain is already in its place showing he’s home. The only light coming from the office down the short hallway, the curtains closed against the setting sun. Padding your way over to the office you see Kai with his rumpled brown hair typing on his keyboard. He had a long paper due by midnight and had been working on it the past week, even last night he had only made it to bed around two in the morning.

you toss your school bag next to your empty desk on the opposite side of Kai’s before leaning over his seat to wrap your arms around him in a hello. “working hard huening?” you ask, pressing the side of your face into his hair. He tilts his chin in a way signaling to peck his check all without him taking his eyes away from the screen.

“nearly done,”

“Have you been staring at the screen all day?” you ask, taking in his squinted eyes and dark circles. “Did you eat anything since I left this morning?”

“some jelly I found in the fridge,” he nods.

“You can’t survive only on jelly,” you press on more kisses to his cheek before pulling away, “I’ll order takeaway for dinner but for now I’m going to try and nap,” he nods away, never leaving the essay the entire time. you are halfway out the door when he speaks up, “Did you talk to Hyung? Did his game go well?” and you’re brought back to the photo on your phone. kai would have been able to see how red you had gotten if he had looked your way. you weren't wearing a bra under your sweatshirt, your tank top being sufficient enough but your nipples are hard and uncomfortable against the martial.

“His game was good, he um, interrupted my class with his messages,” your voice was weak but unnoticed by Kai.

“oh good,” and you rush to your room to pull off your clothes. first the jeans digging into you then your sweatshirt. but as you lay down in your empty bed you can’t find anything to calm your racing mind. you grab your phone from the nightstand trying to scroll aimlessly but you keep thinking about the photo.

tossing and turning you end up on your stomach too hot to be under the covers even in only your panties and tank top. you open the text chain with Yeonjun and it’s the first thing you see. the sly little “thinking of you” message eating you alive. it was so unfair that he was so easily satisfied when away from you but you couldn’t get off by yourself and not that you hadn’t tried many times before. your hands weren’t the right feel, too short fingers, too soft, too much to think about. but you needed to get off now, looking at him with the veins in his hands showing off. you were uncomfortably wet and aching. you hadn’t even noticed the small whines you were letting out as you rolled over to your back pulling your knees up to rub your thighs together.

you wanted to call Yeonjun and beg him to walk you through an orgasm, wanted to beg Kai to take over with his mouth even if he was exhausted. but you dug your grave earlier and wouldn’t hear the end of it from Yeonjun if you fessed up to being so turned on by the photo.

This conundrum leads you to the file you had saved with all the previous photos Yeonjun had sent for this very purpose. there was no forgetting him now and not ever when he made you feel this way hundreds of miles away.

you hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting, how the room was dark and you were still stuck lying in bed looking for a release you couldn’t give yourself. and not for the lack of trying you just couldn’t make it to the end. Every missed orgasm made you tear up your soft whines suddenly pulling Kai’s attention from the other room.

The office has an adjoining wall and he was too focused on his paper to see what time it was or to see that the only light now was from his screen. He hit submit flicking off the monitor to hear your soft whimper.

he remembered you saying you would be taking a nap and then ordering food. but now seeing the time you had slept for way longer than you usually napped for after class and he would know because it was one of his favorite after-class activities to nap right along with you.

he picked himself up from his desk making his way into the dark hallway following your desperate whines. When he made it to the dark bedroom the three of you shared he flipped the switch that only lit the far corners lamp. and There you were with your hand in your pale pink panties eyes screwed shut, skin hot and flushed. you gave a weak sob before tugging your hand back still unaware of Kai in the doorway.

Kai was frozen, face turning all different shades of pink. He was tired before but now he was awake, the swell of his cock clearly seen through his gray sweatpants. He has always reacted easily to the sight of you and he was fast to try and push those feelings away. He was needy and always believed himself to be too needy and he wanted to keep you from that. Let Yeonjun take over sexually and let Kai take over emotionally.

but now here you are teary and writhing in the bed. your phone is next to your head and without warning it rings startling both you and Kai, who you finally notice.

both of you are still as the ringtone sings alone in the silence. “answer it,” Kai’s voice is thick in his throat and you lean up on your elbows to grab the phone, shutting your knees to try and hide the wet spot on your panties as if he hadn't already seen it.

“I almost didn't think you would pick up,” is the first thing Yeonjun says, the sound of his crinkling sheets on the other line telling you he was tucking in for the night.

“I was…” another tear sliding down your cheek, eyes locked on huening who gives nothing away. “busy,” the phone pressed to your ear.

“busy? working out the problem I gave you?” he says it as a joke but you’re already too needy to take it well. your voice shakes ready to burst into tears, “You’re the worst you already know I can’t do it myself,” you blink up to the ceiling trying to hold back any more tears from slipping and to avoid Kai’s gaze.

“Where is kai? I left you in perfectly capable hands,”

“he was busy and I didn’t want to bother him,”

“But where is he now, you said was, so he must be done. His deadline was a few minutes ago,” you peek over to huening, his arms crossed still standing in the door watching you, eyes trying to see right through your legs. “He's here,” you whisper shyly.

“put me on speaker,”

“junnie,”

“put me on speaker,” no room for argument. you follow instructions balancing the phone on your knees so you can rest your elbow back down on the mattress. “I leave for three days and you guys can’t live without me?”

“Hyung-“

“huening we’ve been over this before if she needs to be taken care of she gets taken care of,”

“I’m not a house plant,” you quip, “ and I don’t need to be forced onto any-“

“you’re never forcing me,” Kai cuts in, “if you had asked I could have…” but he shakes his head not knowing how to continue.

“use your words,” Yeonjun pushed after Kai trails off, “You both get nowhere without asking, again we've been over this. kai you know what you're doing and she likes it, loves it, hell we both know she likes your fingers over mine,”

“junnie,” your blush is all down your chest now made to look worse by your white tank, your nipples are straining against the fabric. you don’t know why you always felt so shy around Kai, maybe it was because he was so much bigger than you even if you were a little older. he stood over you, took up space in the doorframe, and completely wrapped himself around you when you hugged, that added with the fact he too was shy only worsened the effect you had on each other. even after knowing each other for most of your lives.

Kai had already made it to the bed sitting right on the edge close enough to hear the phone better. “Pick yourself up, use your words, and ask for what you want. if I can’t even see you and I know exactly what it is you want then it should be easy for the two of you to grasp,”

“But what if…” Kai starts and you know he wants to bring up the one time he didn’t make you finish. It was years ago in high school when the three of us were still new to sex. Yeonjun was there to make you cum but it made Kai scared ever since and it only worsened his fear of repeating that night when Yeonjun wasn’t here to make up for him.

“huening that was like six years ago and I’ve seen you make her cum so hard she couldn’t form words before. Do you need me to walk you through it?”

Kai placed a hand around your ankle at the question sending a bolt to your core. your knee jerking in response sending the phone flying from your knee and onto your stomach still face up. “could you?”

“What's she wearing?”

Kai drags his hand up your calf and you clamp your knees together. “hardly anything,” his voice is throaty, his pupils blown. “the blush pink panties and a spaghetti strap tank,”

Yeonjun hums over the phone approvingly. “Summer always makes her dress so slutty,” he groans, “not fair I don’t get to see,”

“facetime?” Kai asks leaning over to place a feather-light kiss on your knee.

“you guys won’t be able to hold the phone the way I want to see,” he shuffles again in bed. “is she wet?”

you whimper at the question keeping your knees pinned together but Kai already knows the answer, “soaked even though she’s trying to hide it,”

“am not,” and Kai raises his brows but doesn’t push it, only lays another stomach-fluttering kiss on your knee.

“always wants to deny deny deny,” and Kai chuckles,” Pull her legs open I’m sure you will have to hold her thighs down,”

Kai follows his instructions, butterflying your legs to either side, hands eating up your thighs. Kai pulls himself onto the bed fully laying down to be level with your clothes core. you can feel his breath through the wet fabric and you try to wiggle away.

Kai squeezes the meat of your thigh again in warning. “take your time before taking her panties off,”

kai blows cool air onto your clothed wet center making you buck your hips so sensitive from the strain of the day. Kai keeps you pinned before leaning in to rub his nose over the sodden fabric, the tip brushing your clit sending a chill up your spine. He gives a little smile at your reaction, your teeth digging into your lip.

“I want to hear you baby,” Yeonjun took the words right from his mouth. Kai needs to hear your moans now with your tears drying on your cheeks, your desperate whines turning into desperate pleas.

Kai gives the smallest kiss to your clit and you try to chase the sensation. “Kai,” your pout is unheard as he lifts a finger to pull back your panties to reveal you to him.

and no matter how many times he’s faced your pussy it will forever be his favorite sight. your puffy lips begging to be sucked, clit swollen, and you never fail to be drenched and glistening. He licks his lips, you had mentioned him needing to eat and now he’s faced with his favorite meal.

“slow huening you always give her what she wants so fast let her wait,”

“junnie please, I’ve been waiting all day,” you try to roll your hips to meet Kai’s face but he pulls away keeping his finger hooked in your panties. it’s hard to completely move with his chest on your feet but it doesn’t stop you from trying when he latches onto your thigh leaving a trail of kisses and bites.

“Please,” you breathe and the chorus of both of them moaning makes your stomach flutter, they always make the prettiest noises.

Kai quits his teasing and gives you one last clit kiss before suddenly licking a path from your entrance to your clit where he latches on and gives a harsh suck. the sensation makes your knees jerk up and you reach a hand out to tangle in his hair, tugging hard. “oh fuck,” are the only coherent words Yeonjun can make out over the phone.

in Chicago, he’s spread out on his bed phone in one hand and his cock in the other. gripping the base to relieve some pressure but not jerking off just yet.

kai works your clit just the way you like and you can feel your impending orgasm building with how close you’ve been all night. kai let’s go of your thigh with one hand before gathering up your slick and prodding your entrance. your back arches giving him better access and you moan as he slips a finger in and then another.

“She's close,” Yeonjun breathes. He and Kai both know the change in your whimpering.

kai nips at your clit and you cry out as he presses the sweet gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. you cum hard enough to have tears leaking again, your hand pulling Kai down harder on your clit before it’s too much and you have to let him go.

kai pulls away but not before licking you clean leaving you twitching. your pussy was swollen and he couldn’t wait to feel you strangling his cock the second he got it in you.

“See I told you that you didn’t have to worry,” Yeonjuns light laugh from the phone is followed by a weak moan. “legs up, fold her in half,”

Kai doesn't follow his orders first, picking up the phone and placing it on your chest. you were already spilling out of your tank so he took the opportunity to tug the straps down and reveal your tits to him. Kai bites his lip before leaning down to give you soft pecks all along your chest. “I didn’t even kiss you first I'm so sorry baby,” he mutters into your neck kissing up your jaw and to your mouth.

before you can say anything in return his mouth is in yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue. Now with him hovering over you your legs are free to wrap around him. tugging his sweatpants-covered cock closer to your entrance. He moans into your mouth before his large hand takes hold of your breast tweaking your nipple. “huening,” you moan, throwing your head back when he ruts into you. He leans down to latch his lips around your untouched breast, nipping you as he rolls his hips forward again.

the phone is close to Kai’s mouth and Yeonjuns breathing is labored on the other end. “I can’t wait any longer,” Yeonjun spits into his palm giving himself one loose tug, “I want to hear her cum again,”

Kai nods even if he can’t be seen over the phone and he pulls away from you tugging off his shirt by the back collar and throwing it behind him. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, a wet spot where he has been rubbing against you, tugging them down to let his cock slap his stomach. The release makes him moan, knowing just like Yeonjun he couldn’t wait and he needed to hear you moaning again. he wastes no time in tugging your ruined panties down your legs before placing his hands in the pit of your knees and bending you in half like Yeonjun suggested. your ankles are on Kai’s shoulders and he has the perfect view.

your hair all over the pillows, eyes half-lidded, you had taken over with tugging on your nipples, your tank top now a makeshift belt around your center, phone stuck to your chest from the sheen of sweat you now had.

you watched Kai drag a hand over his cock, hard and red waiting for you. He almost buckled at the feeling, his free hand wrapping around your thigh to pull you open. “Look at you,” he whispers, taking the tip and dragging it through your wet folds. the sound is loud and Yeonjun chuckles “She sounds ready,”

but Kai’s not moving to slide into you he’s now back to teasing, running the head of his cock back and forth from your entrance to your clit without enough pressure. you roll your hips whining, “Hyuka please,” he shudders at the nickname before notching the mushroom tip of his cock inside you. it always amazed you how he could fit all of himself in you when before you had always believed you would never be able to take all of him. but he proves you wrong again as he pushes in inch by inch both of you moaning loud enough for Yeonjun to buckle all the way in Chicago. “fuck fuck fuck you sound so good,” he’s trying to go slow with the rhythm he tugs but he can’t keep himself in check the way you do for him.

kai bottoms out leaning forward and bending you properly in half before burying his nose into your neck to try and catch his breath.

you can feel him so deep you can’t think straight. his arms hugging your legs to him as he places an open palm over your ribs, the heat of his skin on yours letting you sink into the mattress. kai kisses the swell of your collarbone before pulling out an inch and pushing back in. You whimper at the sensation, weaving your fingers in his dark hair and pulling the strands. both of your boys loved their hair to be played with during sex or just resting next to each other.

kai pushes himself up placing his free hand next to your head for leverage, holding you still by your side with the other. he pulls out almost all the way and you try to chase him making him giggle, “Patience love I’ll give you more,” he slowly inches in and you hum arching into him. “look at you, how did I get so lucky? hum?” the praise makes you preen and Yeonjun approves, “so willing for us,” he grunts the soft sound of his hand slapping heard.

kai picks up the pace to match the sound, he's knocking the cradle of your legs, heavy balls matching the beat on your skin. ”deeper,” it’s a throaty ask from your lips but Kai hears you and sinks his hips, elbow bending slightly as his other hand tugs on your tank top using it like a handle. and he goes deeper and you swear you can feel him in your throat, your moan not even sounding like you anymore. kai is now pounding into you finding the heady rhythm Yeonjun set with ease, fucking into you so well that the phone slips from your chest into the crook of your neck pressing the speaker into your ear. Yeonjuns moans are louder making your toes curl your second orgasm building heavy in your stomach. “I want it hyuka please cum in me,”

Kai’s movements falter at your plea, his arm holding him up buckling from his stutter. “Beg,” Yeonjun mutters knowing exactly what Kai needs, if anything Yeonjun thinks huening has a thing for hearing you beg and whimper and that’s why he holds out so long when it comes to you after you both have overcome your shyness. but jun knows that when you both get to this point in the night Kai needs you to beg for him.

“Please I can take it,” Kai’s head falls to your ear, his moans in one and Yeonjuns in the other, “please I’ve been good,”

“no she hasn’t,” Yeonjun groans, “she was looking at dirty pictures in class,”

Kai almost can’t take the accusation, the trembling in his arm traveling down his spine, he wants to cum, knows it’s going to happen at any moment but he wants you there with him. “p-pictures?” He can hardly get any words out.

“I wasn’t,” you shake your head before crying out as Kai delivers a powerful thrust.

“she was and I don’t think she should cum now since she’s denying it,”

“Yeonjun please,” you have tears threatening to spill. your hand in Kai’s hair pushing him closer to your throat your other one scratching at the back of his neck, “please hyuka I wasn’t, please I want to cum please please pl-“Kai takes his thumb and shoves it into your mouth to quiet you, your tank top now forgotten as you suck his finger. “promise to take it all,” he’s breathless hot air fanning over your skin.

“I want it please hyuka,” you whine when he takes his thumb back to wedge between the two of you to press on your clit. you jolt at the contact and somehow he sinks deeper between your legs, both of you trying to chase the feeling again.

you can feel him twitch inside you, the sign he’s about to cum. “junnie?”

“I’m right there baby,” his breathy moans growing louder by the second.

Kai presses down on your clit stilling inside you as he cums. his moans pressed into your ear. The heat of him as he gives weak strokes to ride out his high triggers your orgasm right after your head falls back into the pillows, legs shaking as your pussy flutters around Kai. Yeonjun follows right after, his curses stained.

the room is silent as Kai finally lets his arm go, letting his full weight lay on you. your legs are numb as you feel Kai's light kisses behind your ear. “you did so well,” your happy sigh is enough to make Kai grin against your skin.

“I made a mess,” Yeonjun mutters, “I wish I had my girl to come lick me clean,”

“junnie,” the image making you pulse around Kai’s softening cock, it wouldn't be the first time Yeonjun had made you follow the trail he left up his stomach.

kai finally rises back up letting your legs fall as he pulls out. the steady leak of your combined cum warm and staining the sheets.

you’re completely limp in the bed as huening moves to grab a wet rag to wipe you up. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow night,” Yeonjuns smile heard over the line.

“I can’t believe you told Kai I was looking at dirty pictures,” your hand falls over your eyes as you feel huening spread your legs, the warm rag soothing to your heated flesh.

“you did look at my dirty photo”,

“It was like a flash bang i wasn’t expecting it while in class,”

“So you were looking at dirty pictures in class,” Kai laughs, kissing your inner thigh before guiding your legs into a new pair of clean panties. He had already put on new briefs himself before tugging off the soiled comforter to toss in the wash later. He was always so meticulous in picking up after sex where Yeonjun could easily have snuggled in dirty sheets and all.

“not really,” you sit up to tug your tank top back into place pulling your phone along with you. “just hurry back already, and let’s not bring it up again,”

Kai pulls the spare blanket from the closet before pulling himself under with you. “yeah hyung hurry back the bed feels empty with only the two of us in it,”

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anothermansjeans · 1 month

Note

Heyy Idk if this is how you request but we'll see......

Could you maybe do like a singer!reader who writes like dirty af songs abt Spencer and then Penelope shows the song to the rest of the team and they all start low-key bullying him and continue making comments abt it while on a case or something like that??

<33

XOXO-

~W~

okay i don't know any DIRTY DIRTY songs so i apologize if this isn't that great 😭 let me know if you want another one that shows different songs! ALSO I IMAGINE THE READER SINGING A DIFFERENT OUTRO TO NONSENSE EVERY NIGHT JUST LIKE MS SABRINA CARPENTER

cw: implied sex, reader talks sings about getting head and being handcuffed

wc: 610

masterlist

“Oh, hey pretty boy.”

Spencer walked into the bullpen to see the majority of the team huddled around Derek’s desk with amused looks on their faces. He tentatively continued his walk, but immediately froze in place when he heard the video playing from the computer.

“This song’s catchier than chickenpox is.

I bet your house is where my other sock is.

Woke up this morning, thought I’d write a pop hit.

How quickly can you take your clothes off, pop quiz?

My man’s IQ is one-eighty-seven.

When he’s going down on me I’m in Heaven.

Handcuff me to the bed like I’m a felon.”

Her laughs could be heard from the video, and Spencer’s face immediately turned fifty shades of red.

“So, where were you last night, Reid? You know, when you said you couldn't join us for drinks.”

He rolled his lips into his mouth at Emily’s question. Everyone had an expecting look except for Penelope… She seemed guilty. “I uh, I was at a concert…”

“What concert?” JJ’s question was presented as innocent, but it was everything but that.

“My girlfriend’s,” he mumbled lowly, barely loud enough for them to hear.

“Could you repeat that?”

Spencer glared at Derek, he knew exactly what he was doing. “My girlfriend’s.”

“Well hot damn, you finally admitted it!”

“I wasn't keeping it a secret. I'm just not as open about my love life as the rest of you are.” He huffed and brought himself over to his desk.

“Well, Garcia was kind enough to show us a video she found online and we didn't know what to expect… who else has an IQ of one-eighty-seven?”

Spencer whipped his head over to Penelope with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry!” Her hands went up in her defense. “I just– I love her music and I couldn't make it to the concert in D.C last night so I was watching videos that people took and it doesn't take a genius to know who she's talking about when we know you so well.” Her words were quick, and she was huffing to breathe when she finished her sentence.

Spencer groaned and put his head in his hands.

“I think my favorite song of hers is Nasty.”

Spencer winced at Emily’s words as everyone else laughed. They definitely are going to have a field day with him.

“I love Espresso.” The humor in JJ’s voice was evident.

“So It Goes… and Guilty as Sin? might be the top contenders for me,” and Derek just has to add on. “Tell us, Reid, are scratches down your back?”

Spencer stood up and went towards the coffee machine, ignoring the laughs and references they were making. He was allowed about three minutes of solace before Penelope hesitantly tapped his shoulder with a shy look on her face. “We got a case. Everyone’s at the round table.” He gave a nod at her words and followed her, ears perking up when he heard her singing under her breath, “don't want to wait on it. Tonight, I wanna get nasty.”

He suppressed the groan waiting to come out, and sat down at the table when he felt a buzz in his pocket.

Y/N: made it to philly!! love you, be safe today. text me whenever you're free 🫶

He was about to message back before Hotch walked in, “We’re going to brief as quickly as possible. We're headed to Philadelphia.”

He knew Penelope knew the next stop on Y/N’s tour, and could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face. He was mentally preparing for the jokes as soon as they stepped out of the conference room.

songs that i imagined reader wrote about spencer:

nonsense by sabrina carpenter

nasty by ariana grande

espresso by sabrina carpenter

so it goes... by taylor swift

guilty as sin? by taylor swift

dress by taylor swift

#spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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jeonhwang · 1 month

Text

Wonwoo + bliss

pairing: wonwoo x fem reader

warnings: fluff, sleepy wonwoo, reader disturbs wonwoo's sleep, stage 5 clinger wonwoo, mentions of pregnancy, suggestive?

[ ❤️ ]

One of those rare moments, where you come home late and Wonwoo is already in bed.

No really. Wonwoo loves his games, and he plays until late night if it isn't for you dragging him to bed, clinging onto his neck.

"Another 30 minutes?"

"No! You've been saying 30 minutes 2 hours ago. Please, let's go to sleep!" He thought you were cute, burrowing your head into the crook of his neck he just couldn't help but to ruffle your hair. He wouldn't trade it for the world to cuddle with you.

It is eerily quiet when you enter the house, but you know he is home judging by the messed up throw pillows on the sofa.

You let out a giggle before you know it. This man is just so endearing, every little traces he left made you smile until your cheeks hurt.

Across the living room was the dining room, and on top of the counter was a leftover takeout. Fried chicken takeout, no doubt was ordered by Wonwoo. He did it all the times that he was alone at home. If you were at home together, it was either you cook or you'd invite Mingyu over to cook because.. why not?

Walking past the reading nook, you went straight into the main bedroom, and opened the door slowly to make as little sound as you could. And there he was, in his mustard pajamas lying on his side with the blanket between his legs.

You held to yourself and prevent from coming closer because you were still in your outside clothes, because no matter how adorable Wonwoo is, you despised it when something or someone unclean is touching the bed. So you went ahead to shower.

After shower, you put on a matching mustard pajamas, on the shorter side since you prefer it shorter than a proper, magazine style pajamas and slide onto bed. You quietly shuffle in, making sure to make less movement as possible. Wonwoo is not a light sleeper per se, but he is the kind to wake up spontaneously regardless of your shenanigans. You can be singing without a care of the world and he can still be asleep, you can also be reading quietly on bed and he will jolt awake, scaring the fuck out of you.

Then again, why not wake him up? It's still too early for him to sleep. Earlier than his usual bedtime, that's for sure.

Moving to straddle Wonwoo, you gently push him so that he lies on his back, caging him in between your thighs. Propping your elbows for support, you trace your fingers on his face, admiring.

Wonwoo sleeps with his mouth slightly open, to which you trace his lips before giving it a kiss. There are times where he fell asleep with his glasses on, and you often giggle while removing it. Some other times, he fell asleep with his book wide open on his chest, it almost hurt to see the spine broken into two. But tonight, he seems like he was playing with his phone, as you notice the gadget next to his pillow.

Leaning closer, you smell something sweet, like vanilla and macadamia. And what do you do with that information? You sniff him.

You sniff his neck, the crook of his neck, his ears, even his whole face, and eventually Wonwoo wakes up from all the sniffing. The ends of your hair makes him feel ticklish, and he slightly stretches before realising that you are on top of him.

"Hm?" Eyes squinting, you can see him scanning your face, before looking around in the room. "Oh, when did you arrive home?" His voice deep, laced with sleep.

His arms wrap around your waist naturally, hands creeping inside your pajamas and you shiver when his cold fingertips make contact with your skin.

"About 20-30 minutes ago. Say, you're sleeping early tonight?" Giving him a smile, you brush his hair away from his face. Wonwoo doesn't flinch at the act, he's used to it. And he misses you so much today. The boys kept mentioning you during lunch, saying how you've been busy and they haven't seen you in a week.

Yawning, he pulls you closer, simultaneously burrowing his head into your neck. Using his leg to reach the comforter, he laid it on top the both of you.

Letting out a contented sigh, he begins to leave a trail of kisses around your neck. You smell like oranges and peaches, and he just loves it. It's always been like this, him sniffing you out right after shower, holding you close by your waist. And you being ticklish, tries to wiggle your way out of it but to no avail.

Even right now, you can't even escape due to his strong hold. You're squirming on top of him like a worm, giggling like a teenage girl.

"Wonwoo stop!" You strech your neck away from him, trying to avoid his kisses as much as you can. When it works, you thank the heavens.

"You're always avoiding my kisses. Are they that bad? Does my breath stinks?" Turning away, he questions you with a frown, his hold loosening.

It breaks your heart to hear it, because if he stinks in the first place you won't even come near him, let alone seduce him.

"No baby! You know I'm ticklish." Using both of your hands, you cup his face, turning his head so that he is facing you. "And you don't stink, you smell heavenly." You end your sentence with dropping kisses on his lips.

Groaning, he kisses you deeply and turns your body to the side. "Mhm gonna make you a mum. You're gonna be so sexy, carrying my baby."

A giggle bursts out of you from his confession. Not exactly a confession, he mentioned wanting to get you pregnant for a while but nothing ever happened. He shares how he can envision you all round, glowing and fucking sexy when you're pregnant.

"I'm already inseparable from you now, it's gonna get a lot worse when you're pregnant, baby."

It's indescribable, what you're feeling. You know it's just his dick talking but you also don't hate the idea of having a baby. In fact, it's been your dream to be a mother. You even wrote it in your diary when you were 8;

A mother by 23.

Now you're way past that age, but it's never too late.

Tracing his high nosebridge, you ask "so do you want to have a baby, or do you only want to see me pregnant?"

Without wasting any breath, Wonwoo answers "both."

"You'll be an amazing mum. I just know it. The way you care about others is truly genuine, and just pure love that only a mother can be." Says Wonwoo, gently playing with your hair, twirling the strands around his fingers.

"And not to mention, you'll be hot as fuck! Imagine all the pregnant se—," you pinch his side before he can even finish his word. Such a naughty thought for someone who got woken up a few minutes ago.

Wonwoo only throws his head back and laughs though. Teasing you is the easiest thing! Not to mention your reactions. Pushing his other hand inside your pajama, he rubs a circle motion on your back, simultaneously making you feel sleepier and horny at the same time. You swear, just a touch from Wonwoo and you're already drenched. It's like magic.

Giving a slight peck to his lips, you ask him the most important question.

"So, is it gonna stay a dream or do you want me to take care of it."

#hazeltots #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo #wonwoo imagines #seventeen wonwoo fluff #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen #wonwoo smut #wonwoo drabble

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winkwonkwankwenk · 5 months

Note

I love how you write Alastor! Maybe you could write more about the first time he eats reader out? x

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.1k

SFW/NSFW

Your boyfriend is such a clingy lightweight. At least that's what you thought-

He can't hold liquor.

He knows he's a bit of a lightweight which is why he never joins drinking games with everyone. He was going to stay out of tonight's game too but then he saw you talking to Lucifer, his stare a bit too focused on your face. He marched over and they ended up playing beer pong.

"Shimmy shimmy yay, simmy yah~" He was slumped over the bar by his second cup, staticy voice gone and replaced with his slurred singing. "Swalla-la-la~"

You end up being the one to drag him to his room, his arm around your shoulder as if he isn't two feet taller than you. He wasn't super drunk, just a little tipsy and loving the attention you were giving him. You even started to think he's faking how inebriated he was but when you tried letting go he almost fell over. He can't stop laughing, that eerie giggle he does when he's up to no good echoing in the halls. He had already started sobering up, but he wanted to hold onto the liquid courage before it disappeared completely.

"Let's begin~" He whispers in your ear, humming. "I'm gonna make you take this twelve inch dick~"

"Al, you're going to bed." you force yourself not to laugh, "How'd you get your cup mixed with Angels? There's no telling what you just had."

You stumble into his room, laying him down as gently as you can but he's a heavy deer despite his slender appearance. He pulls you down with him, refusing to let go so you can't even close the door. You groan and give up, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck. You shiver when his tongue flicks against your skin, squirming when it trails up to your ear.

"Quit it, Al, please-"

"What's the matter, hm? Did you really think I wouldn't notice." His teeth graze your neck before sinking down, making you gasp. "You've been shying away from me all week...and I couldn't figure out why until yesterday."

Yesterday? What were you doing yesterday?! You can't think straight when he kisses you, melting in his arms. He's so impatient, pushing his tongue into your mouth and groaning when your lips suck it. Your eyes widen when he slides over you, albeit hesitantly. It's strange seeing him nervous, so focused. He pauses, beige skin flushing until it matches his hair. He hides his face in your neck again, fingers intertwining with yours.

"What's wrong?" You kiss his forehead, smiling when his ears perk up.

"I want to taste you, Darling." His eyes narrow when he says it, as if his words aren't his. He won't look you in the eyes, his voice low. "More than just your mouth. I want to touch you too...it's a strange feeling."

"Al..." You're breathless, gulping quietly. "We should wait until morning-"

"I've waited long enough." He grumbles, nudging your legs apart with a firm hand. "If you don't want this as desperately as I do, then I'll stop. Tell me to stop."

You can't, because you've also waited too long. You know you're his first everything, and you've always been quiet about your needs because you didn't want to pressure him- you were just going to wait for it to happen. Well, now it was. You gasp as his kisses get sloppy, his tongue tracing your teeth. He rips your skirt apart, fabric shredded and raining down like confetti as he slides two thick long fingers into you. He's mimicking how he's seen you touch yourself, thrusting his fingers in and out, watching your juices trickle from your needy little cunt. How were you even taking his fingers with such a tiny hole? Your hands clench in his shirt, thumbs pressing on the buttons as his circles your clit. Your friends can probably hear you downstairs, crying out when he jabs your sweet spot and all of those babbled pleas.

"I know you've been having fun without me. Why?" He murmurs against your mouth, "Touching yourself as if I can't."

"I d-didn't want to-fuck~ bother you." You manage to whine, taking sharp breaths as he tugs your hair. "Al~!"

"Bother me? Darling, you could never do that." His nose is pressed under your neck, tongue tracing it. "From now on, let's have fun together. How does that sound, hm?"

You nod, shaky and squeezing his shoulders as he spreads his fingers and stretches you open. The noises leaving your lips are embarrassing, so much so that you purse your lips together. His eyes narrow and he curls his fingers, pushing that button that makes you scream his name. Your vision blurs, low buzz filling your foggy mind as your orgasm crashes over you. Drowning, you're gasping like you've been underwater for eons. He doesn't even give you a moment to recover before sliding down and slipping his head between your legs.

"Al, wait- mmh~!" Your hips arch up as his tongue digs inside of you, hands curling in the sheets.

You're sweet, soft around his tongue. He holds you down by your thighs, squeezing when you shudder and slurping loudly. The door is still open, you have to at least try to be quiet but you can't when he's rubbing his nose between your folds. You muffle yourself with a pillow, wrapping it across your face as you mewl. His tongue is wide, long, sticking to your walls apart and stroking where you can never reach when you're alone. The pillow is snatched away from you by a dark tentacle, more of them wrapping around your lips and forcing you to stay still.

"I'm trying to pleasure you and you're hiding from me?" He looks up at you, flicking your clit. "Do you want me to stop?"

"N-No, please-"

"Then watch me, Darling." He rasps before diving back in, tongue swimming around your insides.

He's smirking, taunting you as he devours you. Your back arches, eyes rolling back as he sucks around your hole, thrusting his tongue in and out of you and gulping down every drop of your juices. He's staring straight up at you, tentacles tightening around your arms and legs when you dare squirming. They're going to leave a bruise at this point, you'll be walking around with rings on your skin. He doesn't stop until you're on the verge of passing out, face tear streaked from all the orgasms and voice hoarse. He laps up your cunt until it's clean, biting your inner thighs until his toothmarks are indented deep into your skin.

"Did you enjoy the show, Darling?"

I got too silly while writing this my bad

Like my writing? Check out my Ao3!! Reblogs appreciated!! I have an ongoing Alastor x Reader fic right now that updates weekly!

Join my discord!! This is how I announce most story updates!

Lastly, fill my requests up!! Don't be shy 😋 I'm currently only writing xreaders

#wink writes 💗#alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin

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hotvintagepoll · 1 month

Text

Propaganda

Rita Moreno (Singin' in the Rain, West Side Story)—She’s an EGOT, an absolute legend for how she navigated her career as a woman of color in the fifties and sixties. Her performance as Anita in West Side Story is why I go back to that movie so many times. She is an icon and she is the moment.

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

This is one of two semifinals in the Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Propaganda is not my own and is on a submission basis. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

"Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist."

Rita Moreno:

"Amazing showstopping actress in her one big memorable role as Anita in West Side Story. She sings and dances with unmatched joy and energy, and then breaks your heart with her acting. Rita took a role that felt as a stereotype to latina women and made it compelling and multifaceted. Her subsequent career was filled with mostly side roles, but she still managed to excel in whatever Hollywood threw at her."

"It’s Rita!! The EGOT herself! She can act, she can sing, she can dance, a triple threat. Obviously absolutely iconic as Anita in West Side Story (her part of the Tonight Quintet is the sexiest part of the film, fight me). But before that she was the amazing Zelda in Singin’ In the Rain!?! Thanks Zelda, you’re a real pal."

"She continues to be amazing but also she's got legs for days."

"THEE iconic rita moreno, EGOT winner, civil rights activist, theatre legend. watch her documentary "Rita Moreno: Just a Girl Who Decided to Go for It". also her rendition of "fever" on the muppet show"

youtube

#eartha kitt #rita moreno #hotvintagepoll #ladies semifinals #fuck!!! that! ! !! ! old ! ! woman ! !!!!!! ! ! ! ! ! ! !!!#Youtube

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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

Text

You don't like silence

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

The house is silent, but inside your head a brumous storm swirls, wispy tendrils of fog curling around delicate gray matter.

Your routine—watching Johnny walk Isobel to school, going to work and coming home, just in time to glimpse Johnny leaving to retrieve her—has changed.

You still watch from the window, mug bleeding warmth into cold, stiff joints from between your palms. Peer around the curtains every morning as the pair amble down the pavement together.

A new month brings a steady influx of meetings and end of quarter reporting, projected sales and last minute production tweaks, but your days are no busier than normal. Rarely miss a lunch break. Leave no later than three each afternoon.

Dinner, if you have any, is ready by five.

Even so, restlessness lingers in the midnight moons hanging beneath your eyes, darkens the air around you with somnolent clouds, and you list in the torpid deluge that rains down.

Sleep evades you altogether most nights, and you’ve made a game of picking out patterns in the knockdown. Faces, animals; nebulous, nameless things.

Some nights, when the faces of strangers, burned into your retinas, find their way into the patterns of textured drywall, you listen.

Isobels room must be on the other side of yours, beds sharing a wall. On the nights you manage to make it upstairs, you can hear them both. Isobel’s slow and measured pronunciations. The lilt of Johnny’s voice, filling in the blanks where she pauses on a word she doesn’t yet know.

They’ve finished all of her animal books, which means the imitated roars of big cats and bleats of farmyard animals have morphed into exaggerated accents. Sing-song rhymes about the importance of kindness, accepting differences, and other life lessons told through colorful illustrations and whimsical narratives.

Every now and then, if you’re lucky, she falls asleep within a few pages, and you can pretend that the low, pillowy rumble of Johnny reading is just for you. A gentle coaxing made of velvety words, swaddling your mind, heavy with exhaustion, and cradling it to his chest against the maelstrom you’re spiraling in.

Sometimes she stirs, woken hours later in the placid, milky hours before dawn, just as your eyes begin to droop. Tiny feet patter across the hardwood like rain, muffled in uneven intervals by what must be a rug or runner in the hall, on her way to Johnny’s room or the washroom maybe.

You wonder if it’s full of frilly, feminine things, her room. Pinks and purples, dolls and plushies. Does she have princesses or ballerinas on her bedding? Do posters and drawings line her walls or does floral, pasted wallpaper?

She likes Mulan, you remember. A warrior. Fighter. Soldier. Like Johnny.

Probably not so frilly, then.

Perhaps they could make a fighter out of you. Press you into the mold of their little family–strengthened by loss and galvanized with love–and breathe life into clay limbs. Carve a soldier from the malleable earth. Shape you into something useful.

Now, most of your nights are spent huddled in the living room, listening to the droning of the television. Throw blankets suck you down into the sofa like quicksand and each breath draws them tighter and tighter around you, filling pockets of air with crushed velvet and fleece. Tonight, you let them swallow you whole. Sink willingly into a latibule of plaid and warm cashmere.

The cold and quiet of your empty home isn’t so bad when you can hear Johnny moving about on the other side of the wall. Isn’t so unbearable when the warm timbre of his voice chases away the numbing fog that muddles your head.

There are nights that he calls you, like he knows. Knows that you're drowning in the silence.

He does that now, after he puts Isobel to bed for the night. Calls to ask about your week. Casts a lifeline into the churning ocean between you, procellous waves lofting you on spuming peaks, and calls your name from the battered, broken shore.

A lighthouse calling to a ship, lost in the mist on a perilous sea.

Last Thursday he asked about the cookies you made with Isobel. Asked if you would be willing to share the recipe with him–teach him–so that he could make them with her for a school event coming up in the spring.

The tenderness with which he speaks of her is a balmy breeze for your gelid heart. Soothes the burn of ice floes in your veins. Melts weeks of tension from aching muscles.

Now, his voice is somber, pensive, as it filters through the lack of insulation between you. “Friday. No, ah havnae told ‘er yet. Jus’ got the call.” He pauses, and you think you hear a muffled sigh. He sounds tired, too, accent thicker than honeyed whiskey rolling off his tongue, dropping consonants in favor of deep, throaty vowels. “Aye, ah ken. She’ll be happy tae see ye though.”

He’s on the phone, talking about Isobel. They must have family visiting soon, or a family friend if Isobel knows them well enough to be excited.

You wonder what the MacTavish family is like, if they’re a rowdy bunch. If they’re a large, extended family. Johnny seems like the kind of man who comes from a close knit community, one where you grow up down the street from your cousins and spend summers terrorizing small towns together.

“I’ll talk tae ‘er in the mornin’. Ah- No.” There’s a pause again, and even with layers of sheetrock separating you, you can feel the weight of his silence. “No, Mam. She’s… ah worry. Leavin’ ‘er like this. Piss poor timin’.”

He’s leaving? Without Isobel?

It’s muffled through the wall, and you feel like you can’t have heard that correctly. He mentioned the army, but you had thought, with a child at home, that his work wouldn't be the sort that requires travel.

Ice floes turn to glaciers in your chest, frozen spikes threatening to pierce brittle, fragile muscle, and the clouds swirling overhead descend upon you.

Lost in the mist, and he’s leaving.

He’s leaving, and he’s taking the sun with him.

“Ye cannae keep it from the lassie forever, John. Ye havnae even told 'er what ye do?”

Christ, this woman…

“She knows ‘bout the army,” he defends. “Cannae say much more.”

Fenella MacTavish clucks her disapproval. “Ye’re heids full of mince.” Dishes clatter and a cupboard closes a bit too forcefully on the other end of the line.

Johnny runs a hand through the disheveled strands of his hair, overdue for a trim, well outside of regulation length. “Mam—”

“Dinnae ‘Mam’ me,” she cuts in. “John Alexander MacTavish, ye tell that lass what she’s gettin’ herself intae—or I will.”

“Mam,” he tries again, voice pitched low, “Not yet. Cannae send ‘er off, naw like I do wi’ Bell. It’s safe enough here.” You’re safe with him here. “Dinnae like knowin’ she’s alone—Christ, I can hardly stand tae have the wall between us when I ken she’s hurtin’—but there isnae anythin’ I can do that’s naw already been done. Kate’s made sure of that.”

Fenella huffs and he can’t quite make out the garbled muttering on his end, but he has a fair idea of what his mother is blathering about beneath her breath. “Kirsten—have ye gone tae see 'er?” she finally asks, mercifully shifting the conversation out of your direction. “Has Isobel?”

“No,” he admits, and guilt twists in barbed coils through his chest.

He’s been meaning to, to drive up for the weekend and take her to visit her mothers grave, now that she’s older. Stay with her gran and look through the old albums. She's only ever seen the few photos they have at home, hanging in the hall near the kitchen.

Sometimes she asks about her. If she liked the things she likes. The way rain freezes on the tall grasses and tree branches in the winter, making glass gardens of trellises and window boxes. Extra whipped cream and blueberries for her pancakes.

If she would have walked with them to school in the mornings. Take her to the park down the block in the summer. Hiking in the fall, looking for wisps darting about beneath the fallen abscission.

Isobel is so much like her mother there are days Johnny swears it’s her refusing to eat the dinner he’s made. That it’s her complaining about cold weather and overcast skies in the heart of winter, bemoaning how long they have until spring revives the land. Swears it’s her voice that wakes him in the middle of the night. Her ghost, standing in the dimly lit doorway of his bedroom, a blanket pulled ‘round her shoulders and a teddy dangling from her hand.

“I’ll take ‘er, then.” Johnny can hear the grief that tempers his mothers voice, turning anguish to steely resolve. “I’ll come by tomorrow evening, let ‘er have a few hours with ye at home before ye say yer goodbyes.”

“Thank ye, Mam,” he says on a strained exhale, lungs rattling with fragments of his own grief. It slices into old wounds until pockets of air become sanguineous aquifers, bubbling up in his throat and leaving a sour, metallic taste on his tongue.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she reminds him. “Ye tell yer lass. Dinnae leave ‘er in the dark like ye did Kirsten.”

The line goes silent and Johnny sinks back into the old corduroy sofa, pushed up against the wall beside a shelf overflowing with picture books in the living room, and a ragged sigh unfurls from his chest.

The television across from him is dark, turned off when he took Isobel upstairs for bed, but he can hear an old rerun of Taskmaster playing softly behind him.

He listens, every night, for you. For the sound of your fridge, opening and closing. The soft ‘clink’ of porcelain against granite. The oven timer or the microwave.

He prefers the former. Knows, after these last few weeks, that you cook when you’re in a good mood. Usually go to bed soon after. The sound of the microwave precedes long, muted evenings and little sound from your side of the wall. He won’t hear the stairs creak beneath your sluggish feet until the wee hours of the morning. If at all.

He listens in the mornings, too, while he makes Isobel’s breakfast. Makes sure he can hear you doing the same. Smiles to himself when he glimpses movement in the window beside your door, a miniscule swaying of the curtain, and he holds Isobel’s hand a little tighter as they navigate lingering ice patches on the pavement.

The phone call with his mother, making arrangements for Isobel, masked the sound of your movements earlier, and his fingers twitch against his leather phone case.

When your side of the wall is quiet, he knows a storm is brewing; that you’re sitting in the eye of it, waiting for the walls to close in around you.

He doesn’t know if you’ve eaten tonight. Can’t hear anything beyond the muffled television and occasional creak of the sofa beneath your shifting weight.

So he calls.

One… two… three… four… “Hi, Johnny.” Soft and breathy. Like the air the words are spoken on has borrowed from the softness of your lips as it spills into the receiver.

This is the way you sound when you’re tired, he’s learned, all soft and rounded syllables. Too exhausted, even for your own nervous habits. You don’t have the bandwidth to explain every little thing like you normally would; don’t bother with rationalizing your actions aloud.

“Hi, bonnie. What’s cookin’?” It’s cheesy as hell, but it earns a huff of a laugh from you and it tempers the jagged edge of his worry—a knife, lodged between his ribs.

“I, uh… I had leftovers. Takeaway, from a work thing.” He’s never seen you with takeaway. Always canvas bags full of groceries and the occasional frozen box dinner.

How empty is your fridge? When was the last time you went to the grocer?

“Didnae take ye for the ‘easy’ type. Ye always make me work for it.”

“Work for it?” He can picture the pinch of your brows. The way your lips quirk to the side when you’re confused.

“Aye, got me makin’ puppy eyes an’ beggin’ for yer scraps.” You laugh again, more of a scoff, but it eases some of his worry all the same.

“When have I ever made you beg, Johnny?” He’s been begging any higher power that will listen to see you smile again, and he’d give anything to see the smirk he knows is dancing at the corner of your mouth right now.

“Could do it tomorrow,” he blurts before he can think better of it. “Come over. Show me that recipe again.”

Don’t make him tell you he’s leaving over the phone.

“I thought… you said the charity event is at the end of March, right?”

“Aye, but I think I’ll need a few lessons ‘fore my bakin’s fit for auction.”

He needs to know—needs to see—that you’re well before he goes.

“And you want to start tomorrow?”

“Why not?” He’d have you baking in his kitchen now if it weren’t for the late hour.

There’s a stretch of silence, interrupted only by the faint crackling of static and the sound of your breathing. “Do you have flour? Sugar? Anything to bake with?” you ask, and he answers with a proud ‘yes’. “Okay… okay. I can come over after work tomorrow.”

“I’ll ‘ave Bell home early then. She’ll want tae help.” Your amused sigh echoes across the line, followed by the faint rustling of fabric and then the soft pattering of stocking-clad feet over hardwood, fourth and fifth step creaking softly as you climb the stairs. “Off tae bed?”

Another sigh–on the tail-end of a yawn, he realizes. “Yeah. Well, trying. Don’t get a lot of sleep these days,” you admit, and though he’s successfully abated the storm of your thoughts, he wishes he could disperse it entirely.

Be the shelter you seek, at the very least.

He’d nestle you in the warmth of his bed, tucked close and sleeping soundly in the cage of his arms. Anchor you to him with a leg hooked between yours, whispering adulation against the howling, taunting winds.

He would make himself a rock to let your tempestuous thoughts batter and besiege. Weathered and whittled down to pebbles on a beach, he’d roll in the undertow alongside you. And when he is but sand on the ocean floor, still, he would drift and settle wherever the storm of you takes him.

“I used tae read for my sister when we were weans. She’d wake, spooked from a dream, and come tae my room in the middle of the night.”

“You have a sister?” A door clicks closed and blankets whisper over sheets as you settle in for the night. “What’s she like?”

“A lot like our Mam. Headstrong. Stubborn.”

“Are you the oldest?” You sound further away. Muffled. Like you’ve got the blankets pulled up to your nose and the phone beside you on the pillow.

“I am,” he lilts.

“She gets it from you, then,” you murmur, and his chest tightens.

“She got a fair number of things from me, I’d wager.”

He continues on, speaking just above a low, gravelly whisper. Reminiscing his early years and the trouble the two of them got up to. Thick as thieves and wild as the kellas cats roaming the highlands.

Your interjections dwindle, turn to soft hums and slow, even breaths. Sleeping.

He listens for a few more minutes to the soft, sweet sounds you make, little chuffs and sleepy hums, the susurrations of shifting sheets and nightclothes, and he whispers into the darkness, “Goodnight, sweet girl.”

Work passes you by in a blur, meeting after meeting chipping away at the hours and minutes ticking by on the analog clock perched on your desk.

The drive home is uneventful and it feels as though you’ve passed through a wormhole somewhere along the way. Can’t quite remember making the turn into your neighborhood from the main road.

Normally, Johnny would be leaving to retrieve Isobel from school right now, but as you gather your things and step out of the car you hear your name being called from several houses down.

Braids bounce and red wellies squeak as Isobel darts ahead of Johnny, weaving around patches of ice to get to you, and you step up onto the pavement just in time to keep her from running into the road.

She barrels into you, wrapping her arms around your leg and smooshing her face against your slacks. “Ye’re back!” she squeals, fingers curling into the fabric.

She’s leaving.

Your hand settles atop her head, soft wisps of curls tickling the pads of your fingers where they’ve escaped their plaits. “Where did I go?” you ask, and she tips her head back to look up at you.

“Bubby said ye were busy with work. Sometimes he gets busy too, and I have to stay with my gran.”

They’re both leaving.

Johnny’s caught up with her, lingering a few steps away near the walkway leading to your door. When you look to where he stands, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, windbreaker bunched up around his forearms where a tattoo peeks out, the corners of his eyes glimmer.

A smile curves the corners of his mouth, and it’s an odd mixture of grief and happiness that flickers there in the crook of his lips and set of his brow, sloped upwards and creased in the middle. His hair is longer than you remember, scruffy sides and tufts of mohawk curling at the ends, loose strands tousled around his face.

Wind blows at your back and a single tear tracks down the sharp plane of his cheek, disappearing in the dark shadow of stubble that lines his jaw.

“I have been busy with work,” you confirm, peering down at Isobel once more. “But I didn’t leave.”

You’re staying, and they’re leaving.

The wind picks up and she presses closer, shielding herself from the cold behind your frame. “Let’s get ye inside and put yer book bag away. Then we can catch up over cookies an’ milk,” Johnny says as he closes the distance between you.

“Cookies?!” Her excitement carries on the wind, and his smile sharpens, bright and hopeful, but the whetted edge of sorrow undercuts the warmth.

“Aye, but we’ll have to make ‘em ourselves.” He brushes a stray lock from her eyes, fingers brushing against yours where his hand settles beside it on her crown, and dread blooms low in your stomach where warmth should.

She ducks away from you both, bolting towards their front stoop, and you’re left with both of your hands hovering in the air, his half curled over yours, staring after her.

You pull away first, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I just need to sort this–” You gesture to the tote full of binders and your laptop. “–and I'll be right over.”

He fishes his keys from his pocket and takes a step back, towards Isobel. “We’ll be waitin’,” he says with a wink, and turns to take her inside.

There's flour in your hair and matching handprints on your slacks, and neither Johnny nor Isobel have fared much better. You’re all a mess, and the cookies you’ve made are tantamount to your disheveled state–lumpy, dry masses of something more closely resembling a biscuit.

“Dunno what ah did wrong,” Johnny muses, breaking one in half and inspecting the crumbly texture.

You sit beside him at the kitchen table, watching Isobel dunk half a cookie into a glass of milk. “It’s the butter and flour. The ratio is imbalanced–not enough fat.” She doesn’t seem to mind, stuffing the entire piece in her mouth and readying the next, fingers covered in crumbs that fall in her milk.

Johnny shifts beside you, sliding out of his chair and taking a bite out of his cookie as he moves towards the fridge. “Still tastes good,” he says around a mouthful and pours two more glasses, placing one down in front of you when he returns. “But I’ll need another demonstration when I’m back, I think.”

You take a cookie from the plate in the middle of the table, breaking off a chunk to dunk in your milk, and ignore the mirrored sensation in your chest. You knew this was coming. You know he’s leaving.

“When you’re back? From where?” you probe. No need to dance around the subject.

He shifts again, uncharacteristically nervous, and speaks softly. “Have to leave for a little while, for work,” he explains. Your cookie turns pliant between your fingers and you bite off the softened corner, chewing slowly while you listen. “Willnae know where they’re sendin’ me to until the briefin’.”

“When are you leaving?” You stare down at the crumbs swirling in your glass.

“Tomorrow morning.”

The foreknowledge of his impending departure doesn’t make the break any cleaner. The fracturing feeling in your chest widens into fissures and chasms, jagged edges crumbling, tumbling down into the festering darkness.

When you lift your gaze you find that he’s been watching you–studying you–and his hand has crept across the table, close enough you can feel the warmth of him. “How long?” It comes out wobbly. Unsteady.

You’re drifting out to sea again.

“Few weeks. Maybe a month.” Your chest feels like it’s caving in.

There’s a knock at the door. A canary in a coal mine, warning come too late.

“Gran!” Isobel’s chair nearly topples as she pushes back from the table, racing from the kitchen to the front door.

Johnny’s hand covers yours, long, callused fingers curling around your clenched fist and squeezing. “I’ll be back before ye know it,” he murmurs, smoothing a strand of hair away from your face and tracing the curve of your jaw as he stands.

He only goes as far as the kitchen doorway. Your heart’s already somewhere in the North Sea.

“Hi, Mam.” He’s greeted by an older female voice and pulled into a hug by a woman a whole head shorter than him. Isobel hovers nearby, bouncing excitedly from foot to foot, and tugs at the older woman’s–her grandmother’s–cable knit sweater.

“Gran, come meet our friend!” she says, and tugs again until she lets go of Johnny.

You stand from the table on wobbly legs, fighting to balance your listing emotions and put on a warm smile as Johnny’s mother slides past him into the kitchen.

The resemblance between the three of them is uncanny. Johnny shares his mothers dark coloring, rich hair and warm skinned, and they all have the same eyes–steely hues of grey-blue, spiraling outwards from inky pupils like storm cells.

“So, this is the lassie next door ye willnae stop glaverin’ on about?” she asks no one in particular as she openly appraises you.

“Mam–” Johnny begins, a simmering warning, but she holds up a hand to silence him.

They carry themselves in a similar manner, in the set of their shoulders and broad stance. She may not stand as tall as he does but she’s no less imposing, and it’s an effort not to squirm under her scrutiny.

Seconds feel like hours as she looks you up and down, cataloging the flour on your pants and in your hair, glancing to her left where Johnny stands in a state of equal disarray, and a knowing look flickers like lightning in her storm cloud eyes.

“It’s good tae finally put a face wi’ a name,” she says, smiling, and pulls you into a hug, too. “Call me Fenella, or Fen, whichever ye like.”

You return the gesture hesitantly, looking over her shoulder to Johnny for guidance and finding none. He simply smiles back at you from where he leans against the doorway, something unreadable in his expression lingering beneath it.

“It’s nice to meet you too… I- I’d love to stay, but should probably be heading home. I have an early morning and wouldn’t want to intrude on your visit,” you say by way of excuse.

“Ah’m naw stayin’ long, dear,” she explains, finally pulling away. Isobel returns to her side, pressing her shoulder to her thigh, and Fenella’s hand settles on the crown of her head. “Here tae take the wean for a stay wi’ her gran.”

“Is yer bag ready, leannan? D’ya have all yer books for school?” Johnny asks from where he stands, hands having found their way into his pockets again. His shoulders droop, broad frame deflating before your eyes. Leaving her behind, even with his mother, takes a toll on him.

Isobel leans around her gran to say, “I’ave all my books. And Mr. Ghost.”

“Goan an’ get yer things then, Bell,” Fenella ushers her out of the kitchen, climbing the stairs behind her to her room.

You watch until they disappear above the half open staircase, but Johnny has been watching you. Watching you navigate the shoal of your emotions, razor sharp rock scraping against a flimsy hull.

“C’mere, lass,” he entreats, one arm outstretched towards you, and your feet move of their own accord, carrying you forward until his hand settles on your shoulder, momentarily moored in the eddy of a tide pool. “Didnae mean to tell ye in the middle of… this.” He gestures above him to the sound of footsteps overhead. “Only got the call yesterday.”

With your hands folded at your front, you stare down at them, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s okay. I understand—”

“No, lass, it isnae okay,” he interrupts, hand gliding up your shoulder, your neck, and coming to rest on your cheek. He lifts your gaze back up to his and he’s wearing that nameless emotion, staring down at you with a pained expression.

This hurts him as much as it hurts you.

“The job I do, it isnae always… predictable. Dinnae get much warning when I’m called in for assignments. I should have warned ye…” his thumb traces soothing arcs over your cheek, but it does nothing for the gaping hole in your chest. “I’m sorry… I should have—”

“It’s okay, Johnny. Really.” The lie feels like rubbing salt into a wound, burns the back of your throat like you’re speaking around a lump made of sandpaper, and your voice comes out scratchy and raw.

His hand lingers on your cheek, eyes darting from yours to your nose, lips, cheeks, brow. Memorizing.

“Let me walk ye home?” You nod, unsure if you can speak around the cordolium lodged in your throat, and his hand moves from your cheek to your waist, guiding you through the razor rock and churning tide to the front door.

His arm remains firmly around you, fingers digging into your softness as he escorts you across the meager expanse of your lawn.

There’s an SUV, still running, parked in front of both houses and left to keep warm while Isobel gathers her things. She and Fenella step out into the brisk evening air just as you and Johnny reach the top of your stairs, and Isobel waves to you as they descend. Your arm feels leaden as you lift your hand into the air, waving back to her.

“She‘ll miss ye. Talks about ye all the time,” Johnny says beside you, unwilling to let you go just yet. “I’ll be missin’ ye too,” he admits, and you thought you’d found the bottom of the pit in your stomach. Thought you were already lying at the bottom of it.

You were wrong.

The well of your affection for them feels bottomless. The floor crumbles, residual tremors of the quaking in your chest, and you’re falling, falling, falling…Even with his arm around your waist.

You fell in love with the man in front of you. Fell in love with the darling little girl climbing into her grandmother's car. You’re already in love with Fenella and her dedication to her family.

You’ve been falling this whole time, no safety net in sight.

“I- …” Your voice cracks, and you try again. “I’ll miss you, too. Both of you.”

You’re falling, and they’re leaving.

There’s little warning, just a tug of your blouse, before you’re being folded into his arms. A wide palm cradles your head to his chest, fingers threading through your hair, and he presses his cheek to your crown.

“Won’t be able to use my phone a lot, but I’ll call when I can.” He murmurs his promise into your hair. “If… if I’m not here an’ somethin’ happens… I gave my Mum yer number. Saved hers in yer phone when I gave ye mine.” He pauses. Sucks in a shuddering breath before he continues. “Whatever it is, she’ll help.”

You nod your understanding and he pulls back just enough to see your face, guides your head to look up at him and says, “Promise me. Promise that ye’ll go to her if ye need anythin’,” with a desperation you’ve never heard from him.

So you make another promise. Let your eyes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours and ghosts his lips across the chilled skin of your brow.

And then he leaves.

Isobel is sorted, buckled into her car seat and saying her goodbye’s to Johnny, and Fenella MacTavish stands beside the driver’s side door, watching.

She’s said this goodbye a hundred times. Sent him off to god knows where to fight a war she’s never heard of. It never gets easier.

Isobel’s door closes, and her son turns to her with pain in his eyes. “I hate leaving ‘er.”

“Which one?” she intones, and Johnny leans his hip against the B pillar.

“Both of them. The three of ye.”

“Then make sure ye come back tae ‘er–tae all of us,” she advises, and pulls him into one last hug. “I cannae bury another child.”

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