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haerinari · 7 months

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DAY 23 — MUTUAL MASTURBATION

PAIRING: stepbrother!jay x fem!reader

GENRE: smut, stepcest, masturbation, fingering, pillow humping, dick licking, cum eating.

WARNINGS: smut

KINKTOBER 2023

everything started when you were young, you father had left and your mom was alone with you. even tho it was only both you, you complement each other perfectly. it had always been your mom and you, best friends.

until one they your mom feel in love with a wealthy man and decided to get marry. he had a son two years older than you, his mom died giving birth to him so it was only the two of them.

the day you meet your new stepbrother, Jay, you got along with him pretty well. both of you had a lot of things in common and liked to play soccer, so you adapted to him very well.

that was when you were eleven.

while growing up you realized that Jay was having a few changes in his body. his voice got deeper, he grew a few inches taller, and his features began to become more handsome.

while you, you grew a a little (really little) inches taller, your ass and breasts become bigger, and the worst part. you got your period.

when you were 14 you started to pay more attention to Jay, you knew that it wasn’t totally correctly. but there was something on him that was so attractive in your eyes.

maybe his sharp jaw, his beautiful eyes, his veiny hands with long fingers. you didn’t know why, but Jay was hot as fuck.

now you were 18, and your parents had go to a trip on the beach celebrating his 8th anniversary. and Jay, Jay was out with his friends.

you were on your bed, watching instagram reels trying to be less bore than you were. when suddenly, a video of two girls kissing on a bar appeared on your scream. you weren’t a lesbian, but you had to admit it. lesbian porn was the best.

you watched the video a few times, looking closely on how the girls were kissing and how their hands were traveling around their tits and thighs. you didn’t even notice when your own hand was traveling directly to your pussy, putting the pink panties aside.

one of your fingers traveled up and down your slit, collecting all you juices to finally make circles on your clit. you moaned softly, imagining jay’s fingers instead of yours. thinking that was so wrong, but it felt so good.

you got your pants and panties off, throwing them somewhere on your room. you took one of your favorites pillows to do this things, placing it between your things and moving your hips back and forth. one on your hands tilted up your shirt a little, exposing your pretty tits and pinching one of your hard nipples.

you couldn’t stop thinking about jay.

Jay, jay, jay, jay…

how would it feel to ride his cock, how would his mouth would feel around your nipples, on your pussy, how his long slender fingers would stretch you so deliciously, and obviously, how big his dick would look on your mouth.

“oh~ jay” you moaned. “i’m gonna cum”

you started to ride your pillow faster and faster. pinching your nipples with one hand while the other one was doing circles on your clit.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, jay” you gasped.

you were just about to cum, when suddenly…

“y/n, i’m he—” he said opening you door.

“holy shit! jay!” you screamed, trying to cover your exposed body with the sheets of your bed.

“why were you screaming my name!? i thought you knew i was home and that you were calling me” he said.

“i was thinking about y— I though you were already home, yes” you said, why wasn’t he leaving your room.

“and why are you naked?” he asked scanning you body.

“i just— i was…” you tried to justify yourself.

“wait. you were screaming my name, and i found you half naked, riding a pillow. were you touching yourself thinking about me?” he said with a smirk.

“what!?” you exclaimed. “no, no, i just—”

“yes you were” he said closing the door behind him and getting closer to you. “did you got the chance to cum? or did i interrupted on the best part?

“Jay, what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” you said.

“no, y/n. what the actual fuck is wrong with you? he said emphasizing the last words. “what a pervert stepsister do i have. do you thing this is the first time i hear you moaning my name?”

oh. shit.

jay was so close to your, his lips almost touching yours.

“do you need help to finish, pretty?” he said giving you a peck on your lips.

this was wrong, like, extremely wrong. but you were super horny, and you have wanted jay for so long.

“if you tell mom and dad i swear to god i will kill you” your told him, looking directly into his eyes.

“promise” he said.

jay got even more closer to you, getting off your body the sheets of your bed, leaving you completely exposed for him. he took one of his fingers s place it in your wet soaking pussy, sliding it up and down your slit.

he stayed like that for a few minutes, painfully teasing your pussy. you could see that you weren’t the only one getting excited, because the big erection you could see through his pants was almost begging for attention.

“take you pants off” you said breathless. “i want to make you feel good too”

jay took his pants down his ankles, leaving only his boxers that were taken off seconds later. you knew his cock was pretty, it was the perfect size and shape.

now, you were fully lying down in the bed. jay was kneel down right next to you, with his cock over your tits and one of his hand on your pussy.

You began to pull his cock slowly, feeling his entire length in your hand while he made pleasurable circles on your clit. Jay inserted his middle finger into your pussy, feeling your wet walls clench around his digit. Then he put another finger into your cunt, stretching it in an incredible way, opening and closing his fingers, moving them in a spectacular form. and you, you were pulling his cock harder and harder every time.

Moans couldn't stop coming out of your mouth, Jay was good with his fingers. His cock was so close to your mouth that all you wanted to do was lick it.

you could hear the little whimpers and moans coming from jay's mouth, they were music to your ears. Jay started moving his fingers faster than before, adding circular movements to your clit with his thumb. At this point, it wouldn't take long for you to cum very soon. But at the same time, you also wanted Jay to have his first orgasm with you, so you massage his tip to finally give him a lick all over his dick.

“fuck, do that again and i’m gonna cum” he said.

“cum on my face” you told him.

you licked his dick again and after a few more strokes him cummed all over your face and tits. you opened your mouth, tasting the white liquid that you always wanted to take.

and before you knew, you were also cumming hard on jay’ s hand. moaning his name and finally getting some released. jay took his fingers out of your pussy and put them into his mouth, licking them in a sensual ways, tasting your juices.

“thanks god mom and dad won’t be around for a while” he said with a smirk.

#enhypen jay #jay #enhypen #enha imagines #enhypen smut #park jongseong #park jay #jay smut #kpop smut #smut #kinktober #enha x reader #jay x reader

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jedimasterbailey · 15 days

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Tales of the Empire Thoughts (Mostly About Barriss)

I know I’m a little late to the party in terms of laying out my thoughts on Tales of the Empire but honestly I needed a few days to process and digest what happened (not to mention being on vacation delayed that process as well). Obviously as a Barriss stan/fanfic writer/blogger y’all know that those episodes were the upmost priority for me and I will be rewatching those episodes on repeat like no other since it’s been far too long since Barriss has had her time to shine.

The majority of this post will be centered around those specific episodes because I’m just gonna just go ahead and say that the Morgan Elsbeth episodes were boring and didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know about the character. Also the bullshit reasoning as to why Morgan doesn’t obviously look Dathomiran is so dumb in that my brain will malfunction if I think about it too much. If the “magic going away” thing was true then how do you explain Merrin and Ventress who still have power and retain their clear Dathomiran appearance? Either way, there is no way Darth Felonious could explain his “logic” to me there because it is all too clear that Morgan was never meant to be Dathomiran in the first place. She was just a bad lady with a spear and that’s that. Love the actress, but the character is just lame. Furthermore, it is so clear that the hat man knows absolutely nothing about Thrawn and I’m not even a Thrawn stan but why even if the guy involved if he just says a few words and leaves? Now before y’all come for me, yes I’m aware these episodes are shorts and the time is precious but to me they could have dedicated more time into explaining to me why Morgan is so loyal to Thrawn. Her reasoning for wanting to join the Empire is empty too in that the Separatists that annihilated her race is now the Empire so…to me that’s not enough reasoning for Morgan to be so dedicated. The only parts that had me engaged were the Grevious bits which were both beautiful and frightening at the same time.

Now onto the meat which is the Barriss arc which has me both elated and frustrated at the same time. Let’s begin with the stuff I absolutely love.

1.) Barriss proving herself to not be committed to the Dark Side/Empire is a huge win for me and other Barriss super fans who have been preaching this for over a decade. We knew from the moment the trailer came out that Barriss was just going to do what it took to survive and even though she was forced into doing things she really did not want to do, she stayed true to herself and escaped before it was too late. The light in her never left nor did it ever leave her and I just know that Luminara would have been so proud of her. Barriss constantly questioning the Grand Inquisitor and the Fourth Sister had me smiling because that is just Barriss. She will always question things that seem off and will defend her beliefs and values no matter what the danger to herself may be. The line of reclaiming her position of a Jedi is my absolute favorite line and gave me all the feels I get whenever Luke tells Palpatine that he is a Jedi like his father. On a final note, I loved that she showed genuine concern/fear for what was happening to the Jedi when Order 66 was happening and demanded an answer.

2.) Barriss being a healer and a protector. It is so satisfying to see it canon on screen that Barriss remains to be a healer after years of being obsessed with the Legends Medstar lore. I absolutely loved that Barriss took off her mask to the terrified boy in the village and protected him against the Fourth Sister’s unnecessary wrath only to save the non-binary (yay representation!) Jedi from death later that day. It all just makes me so happy to get that validation that Barriss has always had a big heart which makes her stand out from other Jedi in my opinion.

3.) Barriss sporting that lesbian pixie cut with the adorable laugh/smile lines and being a healer in the mountains helping Force sensitive and the sick/injured just makes my day. It warms my heart to see Barriss be at peace and doing so much good after so much pain and trauma from her past. Though I do miss her hood and would like to see a head covering on her again. Also doing the math, Barriss should be in her thirties during the third episodes so why did they age her up so much? I’ve heard the theory of the Force healing taking her life force but damn Luminara was in her late thirties during the Clone Wars and she had like nothing 😅 One other note that makes me smile is that Barriss is referred to as a “wise mother” and that’s just everything. Also she looks and acts like just like Luminara they truly could be mother and daughter it’s so sweet 💚💙

4.) Barriss defeating an Inquisitor without a weapon of her own and catching a blade with the Force is so fucking badass, I could re-watch that sequence on repeat forever.

5.)The vague Ahsoka mention had my Barrissoka heart exploding. I demand an animated Barrissoka show immediately.

Now here are the bits that have me frustrated and I demand that Darth Felonious fixes them later.

1.) The lack of closure between Barriss and Ahsoka/Luminara. Barriss hurt a lot of people from her actions but at the very least it would be nice to see her repair the damage she inflicted on the people closest to her. We never saw anything in regards to Luminara’s reaction to the bombing and knowing what gruesome fate awaits her in Rebels, I was so hoping the two would meet again, make amends before Luminara inevitably sacrificed herself as a final act of love and forgiveness for her Padawan. As for Ahsoka…if the two are able to work together in the future, could we at least see how exactly that came to be? I’m personally growing tired of major developments happening off-screen and we as an audience are just expected to roll with it. Again I’m aware these are shorts, but why do they have to be shorts? Why can’t we just delete the boring Morgan episodes and get like a movie or limited series on this exact journey?

2.) The return of yet another ambiguous ending for Barriss. I am a firm believer that Barriss is alive granted that people seem to get stabbed all the time in Star Wars and they get to live so why not Barriss? I understand what they’re doing with Barriss getting through to the Fourth Sister to show us that Barriss has come full circle in her journey from dark to light, however since I’m forced to believe that Barriss had some sort of relationship with this random Inquisitor pre-Empire instead of someone who did have a significant relationship to her, it falls flat for me and it enrages me that if Barriss were to die from this….well I just don’t have words for that. So now I’m wondering if I’m going to have to wait another 10 years to get answers. Thank the Force for fanfic and fanart to get me through.

3.) Does Barriss even know what the Empire did her Master? Because… I feel that’s another huge story thats being missed here. Ahsoka was able to get some closure with Anakin, why can’t Barriss have the same with Luminara?

4.) Never getting anything in terms of what pushed Barriss to bomb the Jedi temple in the first place. That’s my biggest beef with the original Clone Wars series since we see no development as to how Barriss goes from a kind gifted Padawan healer to mastermind of a terror plot. That could a book or show on its own.

5.) Star Wars continuing to miss what a satisfying redemption arc is. Not only do we need to understand what got a character to do the crime(s) but we need to see the growth that comes from it. That’s what makes the Obi-Wan Kenobi show so good to me is that I now know how Obi-Wan grew from RotS to where we meet him in ANH. I would love to see the same for Barriss, because you just know she’s been on very spiritual/emotional journey to get to where she was at the end of the show.

6.) Why was Vader even in this? Given the history Barriss and Anakin share, it is incredible that nothing happened between them post ROTS. And this is like fresh Vader still full of grief and anger by what’s happened so I doubt seeing Barriss even as an Inquisitor initiate would be anymore soothing. I just don’t understand…what a waste. Something more epic and cathartic could have come out of that interaction.

Well I’m done ranting for now, I’m curious to know what your guy’s thoughts are. Otherwise my brain is buzzing with fanfic story ideas and I’ll be getting back on the writing horse as I re-Watch the Barriss episodes into oblivion.

#star wars meta #tales of the empire meta #tales of the empire #tales of the empire spoilers #barriss offee #luminara unduli #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #the clone wars #star wars

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a-faggot-with-opinions · 10 months

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Responding To The "Aromantic Manifesto"

So I found this aromantic manifesto earlier today and I have many thoughts and opinions about it. Mainly that it's really bad, and it is homophobic. It uses a lot of big words and complicated language to sound smart, but it's not actually conveying good ideas. I'm going to respond to it piece by piece. By the way, I am aromantic, but I am also gay, so that's the perspective I'm looking at this through.

The main points of this manifesto, as outlined in the beginning, are:

"Romance is inherently queerphobic."

"The organisation of queerness around the celebration and pursuit of romantic desires and pleasures reinforces queer oppression."

"Queer liberation must abolish romance as its long-term goal."

Point 1 is bad because the activism for lesbian, gay, and bisexual rights has LITERALLY been all about being able to love whoever we want to. We didn't fight for centuries to legalize gay marriage to have someone say that us loving someone else is inherently queerphobic. Implying that gay love is somehow oppressing someone else makes you the queerphobic one.

Point 2 is wrong because we've been fighting for our rights for literal centuries, and we've already decided that trying to repress our sexualities for any reason, is actually bad and contributing to our own oppression. The only way to make real progress in solving queer oppression is by expressing ourselves loudly. It's okay to dislike amatonormativity. I dislike amatonormativity. But that doesn't give you an excuse to be homophobic.

Point 3 is even more incorrect. That's because a movement that is fighting for people historically marginalized based on who we love isn't going to have abolishing romantic love as a goal. It's okay to be aromantic and not want romance. The problem comes in when you try to force everyone else to repress their romantic desires because you simply don't like it. That's bad.

The next part is extremely insulting to me as a trans person. They compare gay men wanting to date other men and not wanting to date women to gay men wanting to date trans men. Newsflash, assholes: trans men are men!

If straight people can’t help who they love, then neither can gay people. Nor, one might suppose, racists and transphobes, and people who find disability and fatness unattractive.

This is an obvious homophobic argument. They're implying by this that gay men not wanting to date women is the same as gay men not wanting to date trans men, implying that men who don't love women are misogynistic. It's transphobic to compare the experience of being gay to transphobia. Tell me you've never spoken to a trans person in your life without telling me.

Queer oppression is not just the experience of prohibited desire. It is also the experience of hierarchical and violent desire. It is also the experience of undesirability.

What the fuck are they even saying right here? Queer oppression is literally about the experience of prohibited desire and the lack of experience of expected desire. I can maybe understand where undesirability comes into play, since especially as a trans person I get cis people trying to equate my sexual attractiveness with my worth as a human being, but experiencing hierarchical and violent desire?

This reads as someone saying that queer romance is inherently evil and we're oppressing ourselves and we're totally at fault for our own oppression. QUEER ROMANCE AND SEXUALITY ARE NOT INHERENTLY EVIL AND SAYING THAT THEY ARE IS HOMOPHOBIC, IT'S 2023. Why is this even a hot take?

The next section talks about the "privatisation of love," which is a model for why they think that queer activism has been missing the entire point. Let's see what this author has to say about that.

While the domestic sphere fashioned by heterosexual kinship relations has been historically designated as private life, queer intimacies have instead been regarded as a matter of public concern due to moral panics associating them with predation and perversion throughout history.

This is a very sloppy, incomplete reading of the way that homophobia works. I'm not going to get into my theory of how homophobia works in this post, but anyone who's actually experienced homophobia in their lives will tell you that this ain't it. For one example of how that's incomplete, in recent years queer people have been encouraged by society and especially the right to hide our queerness and abandon our culture in favor of mainstream society. This isn't trying to make us a matter of public concern, it's trying to make us disappear. This isn't how oppression works.

This next section focuses on how romantic love is allegedly used as a hierarchy.

People who regarded as romantically attractive are invariably upward-mobile, white-proximate, gender-appropriate, able-bodied, slender/muscular etc.

Maybe. Just maybe. That is just a reflection of how society views people who aren't white, aren't gender conforming, are disabled, and are fat. Racism, transphobia, ableism, and fatphobia weren't invented by romance. The way that romance in our society works simply reflects those things that already existed. "I just find them unattractive" has been an excuse to discriminate against people for ages. That isn't because romance is inherently THE hierarchy, but instead it's because it's used as an excuse.

Often, calling romantic partners “compatible” just means their placements on the romantic hierarchy are relatively equal in privilege. Calling romantically unattractive people “compatible” with each other, on the other hand, easily sounds condescending.

I don't have much to say about this. This is simply not how romance works. While compatibility is not a great concept and I have critiqued it before, this ain't it.

Queer romantic ideals remain incredibly heteronormative, only celebrating the most privileged and “compatible” of queers and condemning more marginalized queer people all the same.

This quote is really interesting because it's pointing out a very real issue with society (the fact that society encourages assimilated queers) and tries to blame queer activists for it. No, we do not want to assimilate. Society wants us to assimilate, and some of us try to do so. However talking to most queer activists will reveal that we don't want to assimilate. We want to be treated with basic respect.

Queer romance does not resist heteronormativity as much as it assimilates queer desire, making us hold on tightly to whichever relative privileges we have and hate ourselves for whichever we don’t.

Hello? This is projection. This is exactly what the person writing this manifesto has been doing the whole fucking time.

By peddling the illusion that romance can be made queer, heteronormative capitalism forces queer people to try solve their problems of undesirability and unhappiness privately by finding the “right” partner, rather than directing their anger towards public action.

Gay people in the past got into romantic relationships that often got us killed. Did we do that because of heteronormative capitalism trying to force us to find someone? No. What the actual fuck are these people even talking about.

We propose aromanticism as a counterpublic that responds to queerphobic violence by mobilising public resistance instead of escaping inwards. Aromanticism is a principled commitment to finding radically nonviolent ways of relating to others.

There's so much to unpack in this quote. Firstly, the author believes that aromanticism is a choice. It is not. I was born aromantic and even if I choose to get into a relationship that does not make me any less aro. This is also implying that (gay) romance is inherently violent, which is Homophobia 101.

If you already have a romantic partner, we are not asking you to “leave” them, but to aspire to love them in a different, queerer way.

There's no such thing as more or less queer. If you're queer, and you love someone, congratulations, that's queer love. It doesn't become more queer if you call it something other than romance.

I'm not going to go over the last part, but this last quote is some icing on the cake of homophobia we've just eaten.

Just be aware that similar hierarchies of desirability exist in sex as in romance.

It shouldn't be a hot take in the year 2023 that claiming that all sex is bad is a very culturally Christian thing to do, as well as being very traditionally homophobic. Sex negativity is weaponized against queer people far more often that it is against cishets.

To conclude, I'm just going to say that this manifesto takes real frustrations that even I have with amatonormativity, and turns them into denial that romance exists, and blatant homophobia. It's also very hard to understand, so if I misinterpreted something, please do let me know. While I do think that aphobia is bad, being homophobic isn't a solution and is just going to cause us to be hated even more, as well as alienating gay aros.

#star speaks #aromantic #aromantic manifesto #long post

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creedslove · 11 months

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SHARING YOU

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!bisexual reader x Tess

Summary: Tess can have any girl in Jackson, but she wants you, Joel's girl and the only way that can happen is the three of you getting into an arrangement

Warnings: queer!Tess, bisexual!reader, smut, mentions of threesome F/F/M, dirty talk, jealous!Joel, a little bit of voyeurism, lesbian sex, scissoring, smut with no plot

A/N: besties I don't even know where that came from, I mean, I don't even like Tess in the show let alone find her hot but I had a real dirty dream about it and the idea got stuck with me all day long

1.7k words

Tess and Joel weren't a couple, they were partners in crime or, as they liked to call, at work.

You and Joel were a couple, sort of, you were in love with him, he might be in love with you, but he wouldn't admit it, however he made clear you were his.

Tess wasn't in love with you and you weren't in love with her, but she was in love with your body and after a night of drinking and flirting with you, she got the balls and went to talk to Joel: she wanted to share you with him.

He laughed. Truly laughed not believing her words at first. He thought she was joking, but when Tess didn't flinch a muscle and waited for the answer, lips didn't even twitch in a smile, Joel swallowed hard. The woman was dead serious.

He didn't understand why she wanted his girl, you were his. It was established from the beginning, from the moment he lay eyes on you, he knew you would be his, and you wanted to be his. Tess never had any problem finding herself some pussy, she often did it easier than Joel if anyone asked - not that he would admit it out loud. Even when they were back in the QZ, and now in Jackson? Of course it was a smaller community and women didn't seem so desperate for easy sex like they were in Boston, but he was sure Tess could get as many drunk girls at the bar as she desired, women who claimed to be straight but died of curiosity to try things with another woman, or even some bored housewife who would like to live a dirty fantasy. So why his girl? Why you? It was a big no.

Tess sighed and licked her lips, staring at Joel "come on, don't you really wanna see your girl with another one? We can get to an agreement… you watch. Or participate" she suggested.

And that caught Joel's attention.

So the two of them began discussing their agreements.

Joel would have to be present at all times it happened, he could either watch it or participate in it. Tess came to the point of telling Joel he could stick his cock in her if he didn't stop her from doing anything she wanted with your cunt.

And you stood right there, a few feet away listening to everything those assholes were talking about you as if you weren't in the room, or worse, as if you were their little pet.

A part of you got infuriated at that audacity, they discussed who would fuck you, on what terms they would fuck you without even asking your opinion, assuming you would just go with it. However, another part of you couldn't control the warmth in your lower belly, it was so outrageous, so dirty and yet, you felt a slick warmth in your panties. You couldn't believe yourself when you saw how turned on you got at those two motherfuckers wanting to use you as a sex doll.

But they did it, and against any better judgment you loved every minute of it.

And it became a regular thing, usually weekends, when things were calmer, work wasn't so demanding and the three of you could enjoy yourselves.

However, Joel came up with another rule: Tess didn't sleep in the same bed as the two of you did, rule of course, she often disrespected.

It just made sense to her: if Joel got to sleep with his boner poking your ass, she had the right to sleep with her pussy rubbing against your thigh. And you? Always slept safely between the two of them. You couldn't say you didn't like your arrangement, cumming with Joel was good, but it was also good with Tess, it was different, her touches were different from his, there was something about being with another woman and something about Joel watching the two of you. You knew he liked it, no matter how hard he tried to hide and pretend he didn't, it just made him hard in an obscene way and he couldn't get enough of it. Even if the sting of jealousy still bothered him, the lust was bigger and it always topped that.

He knew your heart belonged to him and no one else's, no matter if Tess made you cum as hard as he did, she wouldn't be the one you clung to at night, nor the one she would bake apple pies like a cute and docile housewife, and he liked that. At the end of the day, no matter if you were shared in bed, you were still his, his girl, his everything, and Tess couldn't get a hold of that.

He woke up in the middle of the night still a little confused as the sleep haze made his memories of the night before blurry. Or it was the amount of alcohol he had, but he didn't care, as soon as the images of you whimpering, legs spread as Tess ate you out at the same time you had his cock shoved deep into your throat, he smirked. Or when you switched positions and ate Tess out - you were quite inexperienced at first, but with time you got the hang of it. You had even confessed to Joel you enjoyed doing it, and you understood why he enjoyed burying his face into your cunt so many times during the week.

He loved the finally fuck you while you were on your knees, your hands gripping Tess's hips to keep her in place as you flicked her clit up and down, suckling on it and loving the way her pussy gushed and her juices soaked your chin.

Joel wasn't so sure about the deal in the beginning, but now he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing you unleash yourself and act like a sexually free woman. It was hot, Joel really loved it.

What he didn't love was when Tess still intruded after everyone was satisfied and stayed in your shared bed. He watched her, hair sprawled all over her face and groaned, displeased to see her so close to you.

His hand on your stomach pulled you closer to his body, enough so Tess would raise her head and roll her eyes "I'm not gonna bite off any slice of her, you know…" she said annoyed to which he only scoffed "she's mine, you had some now get out" his voice was a grumbling purr and you finally stirred, groaning on your own as the two of them didn't shut up.

You rubbed your eyes "why can't you two just stay quiet? I didn't hear any of you complain when I made you cum… at the same time" you said.

"Because she won't leave when it's time for her to leave" Joel groaned like a jealous child.

"I haven't left because I'm still horny" Tess immediately replied and looked down at you, her hands going for your hips, stroking them softly "we could go for a second round, couldn't we princess?" She licked her lips and looked at you, but Joel's hand immediately snapped hers away from your skin.

"Come on Joel, wouldn't you want to see us rubbing clits together? The way her slippery pussy rubs against mine, our clits hard and wet, all of that… what do you say, Joel? And you, Y/N?"

You could tell Joel was a little jealous and a little bothered, but you felt another wave of lust hitting you. Enough to sit straight in bed and turn on the lamp on the nightstand.

You bit your lips and smiled "mmm I think I'll like that… would you like to watch, Joel?" You asked him, going for his neck, kissing it as your hand caressed his cheek, feeling his scruffy beard under your touch.

He sighed a little annoyed, though the way you opened your legs immediately caught his attention. Joel sat straight in bed, pulling you to his lap, if you were going to fuck Tess you would do it while rubbing against his cock as well.

He positioned you on his lap, helping you keep your legs wide open while Tess came closer like a predator. The man's fingers went down your naked body, finding your pussy lips and spreading them.

He couldn't believe how wet you already were, and it would definitely make him more jealous if he weren't already turned on by it.

"Mmm take a look at this pretty cunt, your pussy is so pretty baby, your clit drives me crazy" Tess praised, kissing your thigh and spreading herself for you to see.

You bit your lips, watching her pussy, it was so soft and her clit was big, which you found out it was a huge turn on for you. Joel's digits found your clit, rubbing it gently, using your wetness on it, making it harder and slippery.

You whimpered as Joel held your lips spread apart, at the same time Tess came closer. She was a lot better at scissoring than you were, so she always took the lead.

Approaching you, she placed her leg on top of your thigh, enjoying the fact your hips were up thanks to Joel's lap.

Her clit finally touched yours. It was hot and wet and it sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine. You moved your hips slowly at first, Joel's hands helping your pick up your pace as Tess rubbed herself against you.

If you were wet before, now you were simply soaked. The obscene sounds of your both cunts against each other's, the way your clit was rubbing against Tess and how you moaned as your orgasm approached filled the room.

You wanted to speed up the pace, not getting enough friction, so you tackled Tess back, pushing her against the mattress as you got off Joel's lap and climbed on her, fastening the pace, riding her pussy as fast as you would Joel's cock.

You were so full of pleasure, the knot in your lower belly was intense, and the moment you felt Tess's legs shake and how wet she immediately got once she moaned louder, you let it go yourself.

Cumming on top of her, you could feel your juices mixed running down her thighs.

Looking back at Joel, you smirked. His cock was rock hard, and he needed your attention now.

You would have a long night ahead of you, it was always like that when you were Joel's and Tess's fuck doll.

_____

A/N: 😳🪭

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hawkins-losers · 2 years

Text

She wears short skirts, I wear tee shirts | Robin Buckley x Reader

Summary: Robin has a crush on a cheerleader

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I wrote this in Robin’s pov without realizing...oops. Also, this has been in my drafts since the day I binged season 4 part 1. Sorry it took so long to post/finish

Robin Buckley, the girl who liked to be out of the box, had fallen for a high school cliché with lip gloss, a bouncy ponytail and a mini skirt. A fucking cheerleader.

When she told Steve about her little crush on you, he thought it was a joke and laughed…which earned him a smack on the shoulder. Robin was serious. She really did have a crush on you, and it was the worst thing that could happen to her. Actually, getting outed would take the cherry, but her crush on you was next in line.

You weren't a bad person - you were very sweet actually -, but to Robin's eyes, there was no possibility that you could reciprocate her feelings and that’s why it was so terrible. You were at the top of the pyramid, and she was playing trumpet in the school’s band.

While driving to school on Friday morning, Steve was ranting about girls, like always, and Robin was trying to apply mascara without stabbing herself in the eye. A blind person can play the trumpet, but it’s better with two functioning eyes.

‘’Robin! Are you listening?’’ Steve asked, taking his eyes off the road.

‘’Yes. Yes, I am. I-’’

It was false. She was only half listening, concentrated on coating her bottom lashes with mascara.

‘’What did I say?’’

‘’You said something about sex with…Linda.’’

‘’No!’’ Once again, Steve took his eyes off the road. ‘’I’m talking about Heidi.’’

Heidi or Linda, Robin could never remember who was who other than one of them was a blonde and the other a brunette. Which was which? That she did not know the answer.

‘’Cut me some slack, please. Your love life is a labyrinth complexity and it’s seven in the morning and I have to do this stupid pep rally and I woke up looking like a total corpse.’’

‘’You’re worried about a basketball pep rally?’’ Steve raised an eyebrow. ‘’You expect me to believe that?’’

‘’Yeah.’’

Steve scoffed. He wasn’t always the brightest crayon of the box and sometimes made questionable decisions, but he wasn’t that stupid. The basketball pep rally was not why Robin was so stressed and panicked over. It was something else - someone else.

‘’No. We both know what this is about, okay? I’m not buying that bullshit. This is about Y/N.’’

A little smirk curled at the corner of Steve’s lips, seeing the defense mode kick on Robin’s face at the mention of you. Bullseye.

‘’Absolutely not.’’

‘’Yes it is, and I think that you should stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her. You just gotta be yourself.’’

Robin reached into her bag for her lip balm and applied some with her finger. ‘’Are you really quoting my own advices?’’

‘’They worked. Maybe you should listen to yourself more. Look at me, I listened to you and now, boom, I’m back in business.’’

‘’It’s not the same thing,’’ Robin argued.

In a way, it was the same, but in another, it was very different.

She continued. ‘’You ask a girl and she says no, no big deal. Nothing happens. Maybe your ego is a little bruised but I ask out the wrong girl, bam, I'm a town pariah.’’

Although Steve was not in Robin’s shoes sexuality wise, he understood her point of view. Being gay - lesbian, in Robin’s case - was not persued well by the majority of people. It was seen as disgusting and wrong.

‘’Yeah, I buy that, except Y/N is definitely not the wrong girl.’’

‘’She’s a cheerleader. She couldn’t be straighter.’’

‘’She comes to Family Video every Saturday - even when it rains - and only goes to you to check her out. Oh, and remember two weeks ago when I switched shifts with you so I could go on a date with Heidi? Y/N came to rent a movie and asked if you were around while I checked her out. You should’ve seen the disappointment on her face when I told her you weren’t working. She likes you.’’

‘’You’re full of shit.’’

In the school’s gymnasium, the band's music echoed while the cheerleading team did their choreography, twirling, spinning, jumping and dancing with their pom-poms.

Standing in line with the band in the stands, Robin tried balancing her attention between playing her trumpet and watching from afar the bright smile on your face and the Tigers green eye shadow on your eyes.

The band stopped as the choreography came to an end, and everyone clapped and cheered.

Then, the cheerleaders vacated the spot and sat by the stands as the headmaster called in the Tigers. Another round of cheers and clapping echoed as the paper was ripped and in came the team, with Jason at the front.

During fourth period, Robin’s eyes wandered to you while Mr. Scotts talked about protons and electrons. She should probably be paying attention to the lesson, all this information will likely be asked in the next test, but you were sitting two rows before her and your glossy lips and smooth-soft looking skin were much more interesting. Sorry, Mr. Scotts.

A quiet sigh left Robin's lips. She wished she wasn’t such a hopeless disaster and had the courage to go up to you and talk to you. So far, your exchanges have been limited to ‘did you find everything you wanted?’ and ‘that will be 3.50$’.

It was pathetic.

The bell rang, forcing Robin to break her staring.

Mr. Scotts cut the lesson and everyone gathered their things and left.

After shoving everything in her backpack, Robin was about to leave the classroom when she spotted a white knit cardigan with Tigers green edges on the back-rest of a chair. Your chair. She took the cardigan, a little smile curling at the corner of her lips as she read your embroidered name on the right side, and went after you in the hallway. This was the perfect excuse to talk to you.

She could’ve called your name and you would’ve turned around. It would’ve been easy and not weird, but Robin wasn’t thinking and ended up following you to the bathroom.

‘’Y/N!’’ she called, walking in the girls’ bathroom.

You turned around, pulling your eyebrows together. ‘’Robin? Where you...following me?’’

‘’Yes! No!‘’ she quickly corrected, realizing how it must've sounded. ‘’I mean, yes, but not in a creepy way. Eh...you left your cardigan in class and I saw it on your chair so I took it and followed you to give it back.’’

Your eyes trailed down to the cardigan in Robin’s hand.

You thanked her with a kind smile. ‘’That’s very nice of you. Most people would’ve just left it there.’’

‘’Well, I'm not most people, and I didn't want you to get cold.‘’

Robin wanted to sap herself for saying something so dumb.

You took the cardigan from her, your fingers brushing for a few seconds during the exchange, sending butterflies to Robin's stomach. ‘’Thanks.’’

The next day at Family Video, Steve had to listen to Robin’s rant about her short exchange with you while they stocked the shelves with the returned tapes. Well, Steve was stocking the shelves. Robin had been following him around with the same two movies in her hand for the past ten minutes, completely absorbed in her story.

‘’-forgot her cardigan and our fingers touched and-’’

The bell above the door ding-ed and Robin paused her story. She turned her head at the new customer and her throat went dry, seeing you walking in in a mini skirt and a blouse with a funky print.

‘’Hi! Welcome to Family Videos,’’ Steve greeted, his voice echoing through the store and pulling Robin from her trance. ‘’You looking for a movie in particular?’’

He wasn’t always this nice with every customer - unless he was flirting -, but he was trying to help his friend get the girl she was crushing on.

‘’Eh, no. Not really,’’ you replied, brushing him off and walking away to the comedy aisle.

Steve turned his head back to Robin. ''Go talk to her,'' he mouthed over the shelf, his back turned to you.

She shook her head, panic rushing to her eyes. ‘’I can’t.’’

One thing about Robin was that she had no filter and talked a lot when under stress or was nervous. Most people found it pretty annoying and she didn’t want to annoy you by turning into an unstoppable tornado of word vomit.

‘’Just go ask her if she needs any help finding a movie.’’

‘’Why? She already said she didn’t know what she was looking for.’’

‘’Because I asked her. She didn’t want my help,’’ Steve explained.

His theory was ridiculous and Robin wanted to prove to him that he was wrong so she walked up to you. ‘’Do you need any help finding a movie?’’

Your eyes flickered to Robin’s and, much to her surprise, you accepted her help. ‘’Do you have a copy of Ferris Bueller's day off?’’ you asked. ‘’I believe it was released this week, but I can’t seem to find it.’’

Without needing to check in the computer, Robin knew that there was one copy left in the store. And she knew exactly where it was.

‘’We do. It’s at the register though. I was saving it for myself, but I’ll let you have it just because it’s you.’’

She wanted you to see her gesture as her being nice to you - and perhaps a little flirty -, because it really was that. You didn’t need to know that it was actually store policy to give the customers the movies you saved if they asked for them.

‘’Oh, thank you, but you don’t have to do that. I can pick another movie-’’

‘’It’s fine.’’ Robin tried not to look too disappointed. ‘’I’ll watch it another day.’’

You and Robin went to the front of the store to retrieve the movie and check you out. ‘’I feel bad for taking your movie. Do you…would you want to watch it with me?’’

‘’With you? As in, at your house?’’ Robin asked, wanting to make sure she got your offer right.

You nodded, a glint in your eyes. ‘’Yeah. I don't have anyone else to watch it with. My friends are more of the Footloose and Pretty in Pink type.’’

Just as Robin was about to scan the movie into the computer, there was a loud bang outside, which spooked you both. Thunder. Then, it began pouring heavily.

‘‘What the hell? It was sunny five minutes ago,’‘ you said.

‘‘It’s Hawkins. Unexpected downpours happen all the time,’’ Robin explained, the town in itself being good enough of an explanation.

They’re usually followed by not so pleasing supernatural surprises, but she didn’t need to add that.

Robin scanned the VHS and you paid your weekly 3.50$. Then, she added, ‘‘You can stay here, you know. Until the rain calms down. You’re gonna get soaked within five seconds if you go out in that rain.’‘

Once again, Robin was just being nice by offering you shelter, but she also didn’t want you to go yet.

‘’What if the rain doesn't stop? Sometimes, it goes on for hours.’’ Your eyes flickered to Robin’s blue ones and held her gaze.

Another clap of thunder echoed, making the lights flicker.

‘‘Looks like we might lose power,’‘ Steve said, louder than necessary. ‘‘I’m gonna go in the backroom and fetch some flashlights, in case the power go out.’‘

‘‘Don’t forget to check if there’s batteries in them!’‘ Robin called out after him.

She knew it was an excuse to give you some alone time with her crush and she was grateful for the help.

Shortly after Steve disappeared, the power went out, plunging the store in the dark. Across the street, you could see that there was power so this must be Steve's doing. Robin was praying you wouldn't notice.

‘’I hate when the power goes out,’’ you said, beginning to feel anxious in the dark.

‘’You can hold my hand if you want, I won’t tell,’’ Robin boldly blurted, the absence of light giving her a boost of confidence. She reached across the counter and you took her hand, tangling your fingers together as butterflies bubbled in Robin’s stomach because she was holding your hand.

A loud clap of thunder hit and you squeezed Robin’s hand. ‘’Sorry. I got a little spooked,’’ you explained with a nervous giggle.

‘’It’s okay.’’

Robin shifted on his feet, trying to fill the silence. What do you do when you’re in the dark with your crush? You ramble facts about thunderstorms.

‘‘Did you know that for every five seconds between the lightning flash and the clap of thunder, the thunderstorm that produced the lightning is one mile away? If the time is decreasing, the storm is moving toward you. If it is increasing, the storm is moving farther away.’’

You shook your head. ‘‘I did not know that.’‘

‘‘My father taught me this when I was little. I used to be scared of thunder so he made it a game for me. We’d sit on the porch and count the seconds together.’‘

‘’That’s sweet. My father taught me how to drive. I dented the car when backing in our driveway and ruined my mother’s flowers. He never let me sit in the driver seat again. I think it's best for everyone's safety.’’

Robin laughed at your anecdote. ‘’Don’t worry. I can’t drive either. I haven’t tried, but it took me six months longer to learn to walk as a baby and I still can't run right, so I’d rather not find out how I drive.’’

Suddenly, the power returned, lighting the store with its bright neon lights. You let go of Robin's hand, making the latter pout at the loss.

‘‘See you later, Robin.’‘ You picked the VHS from the counter and, just before pushing the door open, you paused. ‘‘We still have a movie to watch, remember?’‘

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3 @cursedandromedablack @Slashersimpfor @savagejane1 @wh0reforbucknasty @eddiemunson-slut @slvdsjjk @hehehehannahthings @dreamdancers-world @grace-loux @iamharrystyleslover @matildavol6 @Original_babababoo @eddiemunsonbby @notbeforelong @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog @tatespillows @alwayslexii @lilygreennn @milkiane @imahomeslice @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick @wandamaximoffs-deadchild @horrorstreet @rmeddar123 @Pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys @lanalanabanana

Robin Buckley taglist: @uhidklol-26 @prettyplant0 @ran-rap @eddiemvunsongf @batorchids222 @scarlet-kazuha @saphmoth @uhidklol-26 @you-makeme-crazier-blog @spongebob-in-the-upsidedown @swiftbyul @xenon54xe @tribute-101 @starstruckspring @whyamihere2673 @moonlight-imagines @p40l44 @moonlight-imagines @ofherscarlettwitchways @pastelbabygirl19 @eddiemunsonbby @bitterbyfletcher @i-could-be-lonely-with-you @chrisxevans-seb @robinbuckleyluvr @lol-lol—idk @satinselenite @missmaxmayfield @soph69420world

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x oc #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4

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fillinforlater · 1 year

Text

Possession of the Queen II

Female Reader x Kim Doyeon

Length: 3139 words

Tags: submissiveness, lesbian sex, size kink, dom/sub dynamics, people as sex toys, cunilingus, public sex, exhibitionism, clothed pussy, hair pulling, pussy eating but no breathing, emotional stimulation, orgasm, hints of love, sub!reader / dom!Doyeon

TW: very much public sex

Inspiration: "Sweet Juice" by Purple Kiss, @banananutsmuthie and because Doyeon hella gay

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for editing. Thank you!

PART 1 HERE

(A/N: Here we go, finally part two... if anyone actually cares xD. I really like writing these, it's definitely something different from the usual here. I hope you enjoy it too.)

“If it's that important to you, I won’t make it a problem.”

“Thank you so much!”

You give your boss a quick bow. Your heart still races after uttering your request and getting it accepted. It was likely that he would allow you to take some time off without prior warning, but there is something so wrong about it—sure, you do not know why your queen wants you around, but it’s surely not an acceptable reason to leave your awesome boss hanging, unless being a sex toy is socially accepted now.

“Can I know though,” your boss adds as you try to leave the office quickly, quietly, unsuccessfully, “what their name is?”

He has a big smirk across dark skin. while your skin on the other hand turns bright red, putting signal lights to shame. You don’t have to answer this, it’s certainly better to go now but you stop yourself. He has it figured out, your lie must have been even worse than you thought.

Now what? Is there a good response to this? Can you at least hide your lies better this time? Or are you willing to reveal some of this craziness to him?

“I’m sorry,” he says into the hard silence after a few seconds, “you don’t have to ans—”

“She—I mean, they, a-are awesome. Tall, strong, sm-smart and a-all that.”

He smirks again.

“I see. I hope you have a good time and that things will work out~”

Goddammit, your good-for-nothing mouth—or is it your brain—that has these lapses every time she gets mentioned, only hinted at?

You dart out of the office and onto the busy street. Humans walk across the sidewalks, from all sides they collide like tidal waves, yet they never hit each other. In this mess, there is you, a small nothing that no one notices. Among people with suits and ties and college students, you are invisible.

Is this your attempt at trying to run away from your embarrassment?

In all honesty, it might—another reason why you could never be on the same level as Doyeon.

She would stand her ground and command respect; you on the other hand can barely walk straight without bumping into a stranger. She would get her way, and if anyone disobeys, she would step over him with a death glare; you on the other hand shriek when someone laughs loudly. Doyeon would do whatever she likes; you on the other hand are a flower amidst the waves.

You gasp loudly when you see Doyeon laying in the spot you usually take in when she wants your services.

You certainly did not expect her to already await you, but what’s even more surprising is everything else. The way Doyeon swipes disinterestedly on her phone is almost as confusing to you as her outfit. The cool casualness of the all black shirt, shorts and stockings, paired with surprising sexiness does not fit her image of a cruel negotiator and business woman.

“Hi,” she says and looks at you.

“H-hello, my Queen,” you stutter and bow your head.

You feel her gaze on you a bit longer, before she goes back to watching reels, shorts, tiktoks, whatever. Although Doyeon has never looked at you for this long at a time, you’re still not nearly as interesting as the modern, mindless entertainment videos.

“You can leave the backpack there,” she adds, not bothering to speak louder than the voice from her phone. “Whatever is in it, you won’t need it for the next forty-eight hours. Just put it down.”

“Yes, Queen.”

You follow her command. The heavy green backpack was filled with literally everything you could think of, like Spare underwear, a tooth brush, snacks, a razor, spare glasses, even a marker, ropes, and a brand new dildo. You remember the tingling in your stomach when you pressed all these things into the backpack.

“You’re very punctual,” Doyeon says and throws her phone somewhere onto her large bed. She inches closer, off the cushions, until she stands right before you. “It seems to be one of your virtues. I like that.”

“Thank you, my Queen.” You bow again and get on your knees. Like so often, you feel right at home. Whenever you’re here, this is your proper place, with your forehead right at her kneecaps.

“And you are so obedient. I really like that” Doyeon coos and gently guides your chin up. Her thumb enters your mouth, the smell of her body enters your nostrils. It’s divine, golden, immaculate. You carefully suck her digits and moan an equally careful “thank you” as you do so.

“Our taxi leaves in one hour. In the bathroom is everything you need. Pick the clothes that you like and the make-up that makes your cute face look even prettier.” Doyeon’s explanation is quick, point after point like bullets fired from a gun. “Only call me if something is urgent. Understood?”

“Yes, Queen.”

Doyeon is constantly breaking all the notions you held about her before. She is so confident and absolutely majestic about it that it makes you doubt your eyes for a second. When you step out of the bathroom in one of the many simple, forgettable, loose outfits that were available, she already waits at the door in black leggings, a tight white crop top, and a huge overcoat draping from her shoulders. An outfit unfitting to your image before this day; she is really changing it up today.

‘Hurry up,’ she says with no urgency or stress, but excitement hidden beneath layers of professionalism. You take quick little steps behind her, down the stairway, across the lobby, into the taxi. Doyeon on the other hand takes strides, slow strides in brand new sneakers, but in your head they sound like clicking high heels.

The taxi ride is quiet the first few minutes, until Doyeon breaks the silence.

“Why did you choose that outfit?”

You look at her, but she looks out of the window. Something is blocking your throat making your voice sound like a pathetic cheep.

“I thought you would like this, I’m sor—”

“It looks good, better than I thought.”

Then it’s back to silence. As more time passes, you feel yourself getting more relaxed. Even the taxi driver, an uptight professional with flawless driving skill, seems more tense than you. He doesn’t dare to clear his throat, although his face looks cramped. You still can’t point out what changed though. Maybe it’s her compliment, her more approachable manner?

“We arrived. Follow me,” Doyeon says. You open the door on your side of the cab. The two of you climb out of the yellow vehicle. Doyeon throws what looks like at least two thousand dollars in green bills at the driver and tells him to stay put. She then turns to you.

“In the middle.”

Doyeon points towards the wide facade of the building right before you. Hundreds of people walk into and out of the rotating glass doors. Screens with billboards and repetitive ads are plastered everywhere. It seems that it’s even more extreme on the inside. Store after store after restaurant after store, some filled to the brim with people. A vibrant mall in the middle of a bright city.

“In the middle,” the Queen repeats herself with more assertion this time, “is something like a plaza, with a red floor made of sandstone. Make sure to stay by my side and lift your head while we walk there.”

She leans down to your face and you freeze in place. Your knees almost bend at her hot breath and scary whisper.

“Everyone should see your pretty face.”

The strides, again. Doyeon’s long legs carry her quickly into the crowd. Your glasses almost fall from your sweaty nose when you hastily run behind her. Luckily, the tall woman is easily visible among all those people who dare to not part like the sea before her.

Behind the entrance, the crowd has thinned out a little, making it possible for you to walk beside Doyeon. You won’t lie, it feels odd. Her entire plan is odd. People might get the wrong idea. They shouldn’t get any idea to begin with. For those that notice you to think that you two are equals, acquaintances, lovers even would be utterly false. If they knew you just are her sex toy of course would be very much mortifying.

As your mind makes up one concern after the other, you don’t think about why you are heading to where you are heading. An empty plaza with a red sandstone floor. It fits the color scheme of the rest of the building perfectly. A space without endless amounts of feet trampling on it is massively needed to thin out the packed crowd.

Suddenly, Doyeon reaches for your hand and entwines her fingers with yours. You yelp and look up.

“Keep your head up like this,” she says coldly, without looking at you.

You cringe at the sweatiness of your palm compared to the dry coldness of Doyeon’s. They must be perfect for hand shakes during her meetings. She speeds up and drags you behind her for a second until you regain footing. Try to keep your head up, look at the signs above the stores, praising delicious food or sales for cloths or fucking insurances. Who goes to a mall to buy insurance?

“You see it?” Doyeon asks, gradually decreasing her walking speed. Ahead of you is the previously mentioned plaza. Rough-looking tiles spread out into all directions from which people flock to the stores they like to visit. It's impossible to make progress without bumping into them. However this plaza is completely empty and everyone has an unobstructed view of it, especially from the upper floor.

Your heart beats faster every meter you follow Doyeon into the middle. The moment she stops, her hands are on your shoulders and she pulls you in front of her. You didn’t notice that she put on one of those black face masks that not only block you from breathing in smog and viruses but also keep your identity hidden. With just her eyes she stares you down, you can’t help but feel like a tiny, fragile puppy before her.

“Such a good girl,” Doyeon says and quickly drags a thumb over your glossy, red lips. “You know what to do, right?”

Doyeon unbuttons her overcoat to reveal her slender, athletic figure in tight clothes to you. Her leggings are pulled up just above her navel, the tight crop top makes her breasts look big and—Wait, what?

“Get on your knees.”

Around Doyeon, you always lacked the humane reaction to all her sexual requests: hesitation. She was just so overpoweringly convincing, there is no way you would have resisted her. But today it’s different. There are other people around, and you’re wide in the open for everyone to see. It’s just not the same, how could she expect you to oblige.

You stare up at her. Something about her gaze is off. It’s commanding, sure, but not with the same kind of power she usually possesses. It’s like Doyeon wants you to do it not out of fear or awe, but for a different reason. You try to decipher this reason as your hands instinctively reach for her overcoat for stability, almost having the audacity to touch her slender waist.

It’d be easier if you could see the rest of her face, those beautiful features, the way they contort at the lack of your reaction. The frown above her eyes, each wrinkle is dishonest and not telling the whole truth. Doyeon’s nails suddenly dig into your biceps, but it’s just another front. She is not saying it, there is no reason, and so you just stand there, neck hurting from staring up.

“Get on your knees, please.”

You gasp. If it weren’t for Doyeon’s hands on your arms, you would have fallen backwards, died on impact. The red sandstone would meet the red of your blood, and if you’re honest, after hearing this, it’s not even half bad. You’re the one getting on your knees, the one who looks weird for bystanders, the one who is on mouth-level with Doyeon’s pussy, yet she falters and loses her power.

Her hands are in your hair, making a mess of it, which isn’t unusual, however, today she is not pressing you into her core, her awaiting, eager lips. She is not using you, she is waiting for you to put your tongue on it. Even though she gives you all the control, the moment you realize the lack of panties underneath her leggings, you dig in.

From the beginning, her moans are loud enough to drown out the announcement of a missing child. You lean in further, the hem of your skirt barely covering your butt now. You knew it was short, but it’s scary to think that anyone just needs to tilt their head a bit down to see a damp spot on your light blue panties.

All because she said please? Throw away perhaps your job, your dignity, your life just for this one word? Judging from the way you find and nibble her clit with delight, it’s a resounding yes. You’re out of your mind—good.

Doyeon hisses and takes a step back. Your mouth instinctively follows and the inside of your thighs gets colder. People can see them, it’s not even a risk, it’s certainty. You hear the first shocked gasps from nearby girls. There are more and more people that slow down and stare. Those shopping stop and stare, those chatting stop and pull out their phones, even those in a hurry can’t help but stop and turn their head.

Flashes of light, the clatter of cameras accompanies your tongue as it presses the black fabric into the wet hole. You might not reach deep, but it’s enough to make Doyeon pull your hair in ecstasy. She goes from gazing up at the tall, glass ceiling, to down at you, the short girl with glassy eyes behind displaced glasses. She gently adjusts them, her sweaty fingers trailing over your equally sweaty cheeks.

Everyone is watching now. It’s eerily quiet, only whispering and the occasional camera can be heard. You know the rest is filming, gawking, getting aroused or infuriated, but your licks don’t stop. You eagerly eat Doyeon, faster than ever before. You dare to hold her thighs steady, as they tremble. Her arousal drenches more of her crotch, then her legs, but most importantly, your mouth.

You get ready to drink when she finally pulls you in herself. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as clear liquid goes through the expensive fabric and finds a way from Doyeon’s pussy into your mouth. Your nose is in her pelvis too, there is no oxygen, just cum and Doyeon’s feral groans.

The next thing you notice is her hand on your wrist. Doyeon has the overcoat back on and pulls you up from your feet before sprinting back the same way you entered the mall. The two of you crush into the frozen, flustered crowd like a bowling ball into pins. People tumble and fall to the floor, as do your glasses. No time to look back, Doyeon is going full speed for a reason.

Outside, unassuming travelers get shoved to the side, cursed out by her sudden regain of dominance, before she literally throws you onto the back row of the same cab as before. “West side, fast” she shouts at the driver and gets in as well.

The tires screech as Doyeon is still on top of you. She finds footing and grabs you by the sides like a child to make you sit up straight. The lack of glasses is not the main reason for your hazy vision. It’s all happening so fast, you forgot how to breathe up until this point. You take rapid, uncontrolled breaths; the strange smell of the taxi, a mixture of sweat, cigarettes and death, is welcomed by your nostrils.

“Hi, we’ll be there in twenty to thirty minutes,” Doyeon says into a phone on her cheek as she pulls away the black mask. “Yeah, depends on traffic. But feel free to prepare everything. I’ll take blonde. Yes, darker. I don’t think yellow suits me.

“What about you?”

She looks over to you. Your face must speak volumes of your confusion and it gets even worse when Doyeon leans closer to you.

“What color do you want?” she says nonchalantly, as if the last ten minutes were just a fever dream, the imagination of a horny boy walking in a mall and imagining that these two women might be more than friends.

“Uhm, I-I don’t—”

“Hair color, babe, which one do you want?”

Doyeon is so nonchalantly again, and you cannot deal with it. Her face is so fucking close, her smell suddenly too overwhelming and that word is making you spiral out of control.

“Pick whatever you want, it’s one me,” she adds and puts a finger on your knee. Only now you notice the red imprints and grazes on them and that they actually hurt. Your mind must have blocked out the way the rough sandstone grinded on your skin.

“Uhm, I, uhm, I take blue?” you say, unsure, unfocused, but Doyeon is satisfied with the answer.

“Did you hear that, Kellie? Yes, blue. I think a darker tone will suit her. Of course she is. Yes, see you, bye.”

Doyeon slides the phone back into her overcoat and opens it. Her chest is still heaving as well, her abs and navel are entirely exposed now, and her leggings are thoroughly soaked. It’s all you can see, because she is so fucking close. Even after this weird phone call, she still does not back off. Instead, she cups your entire knee and gently rubs it.

“I know you don’t understand any of this yet,” she sweetly says and chuckles. “But I know you trust me, right babe?”

Her eyes have this glow again. The same glow as back in the mall. This is a sincere question, there is real uncertainty behind it. Doyeon knows that she should be right about you trusting her, but you still have to confirm it.

You nod, flushed, out of breath once more, before putting your answer into words.

“Yes, Que—”

Doyeon puts a finger on your lips. She goes further in, lips on your earlobe, hot breath down your neck, fingers up your thigh. You are ready, so ready for her to make you melt into the seat. She just needs to bite down, put her fingers on your nub or just say the right word, and you would lose your mind.

“Don’t say it yet,” she whispers.

“Keep it for later, babe.”

#kpop smut #girl group smut #female reader insert #female reader smut #female idol smut #female idol #d0yeon smut #weki meki smut #i.o.i smut

292 notes · View notes

fruitypebblepenguin · 17 days

Text

questionsss

im bored so plz send asks for these questions I found and I'll answer any and everything ! :p

1. Would you rather be blindfolded or blindfold me?

2. Would you rather orgasm while performing oral or during intercourse?

3. What was your high school sex fantasy?

4. What’s your favorite position?

5. Which part of your body do you consider the most sexy?

6. Do you like to swallow?

7. Who do you fantasize about when you’re alone?

8. Your last sexual encounter; good or bad and why?

9. Where is one place you would never have sex?

10. Top or bottom?

11. Best sexual complement you ever got?

12. When was the first time you masturbated?

13. Have/would you ever have sex outside?

14. Who gave you your last kiss? Did it mean anything?

15. Do you sleep in pajamas, underwear, or nothing at all?

16. If you had a sexual “to-do” list, what would be on top of the list?

17. Is a weird “sex face/orgasm face” a total deal breaker?

18. Do you have a gag reflex?

19. Is your sex life award-winning or a total flop?

20. Are piercings sexy?

21. Can/Have you ever squirted before?

22. List your kinks.

23. How did you discover you were kinky?

24. What was your first kinky sexual experience?

25. Any unexpected ways kink has improved your life? If so, what are they?

26. What do you think is important in keeping a BDSM relationship healthy?

27. Something that never fails to make you horny:

28. Where is one place you would never have sex?

29. The most awkward moment during a sexual experience was when:

30. Whats the best way to sexually bind someone? (handcuffs, ropes, etc.)

31. Whats the fastest way to make you horny?

32. Something that you have hidden in your room that you don’t want anyone to find:

33. Two things you like/dislike about oral sex:

34. How big is too big?

35. One sexual thing you would never do:

36. Three spots that drive me insane:

37. Do you like it when your sexual partner moans?

38. Is it good sex even if you don’t cum?

39. Do you watch gay/lesbian porn? Why/Why not?

40. If a child was born on the occasion of the last time you had sex, how old would that child be now?

41. Do you like giving head? Why/why not?

42. Do you own any sex toys? If so, how long have you had them?

43. Do you watch porn?

44. Have you had sex in your parents bed? (Would you?)

45. How would you react if you found out your parents had sex on your bed?

46. Spanking: turn on or turn off?

47. What is one random object you’ve used to masturbate?

48. Biggest sexual fantasy?

49. Kitchen counter, couch, or on top of the dryer?

50. Thoughts on period sex?

33 notes · View notes

kallie-den · 2 months

Text

Marital Aid Ch. 1

Clea uses hypnosis to liberate her boss, Isabella, from a failing marriage… and awaken her to the life as a kinky lesbian

This story was a commission from one of my patrons! Thank you very much to Myles_EXVS for their kind support

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

---

“Clea?” The sound of Bruna’s voice brought Clea back to herself. “You’re supposed to be spotting for me, babe.”

“Right.” Clea shook her head, blushing a little. “Sorry.”

“Hold on.”

Bruna strained and groaned as she lifted the monstrously heavy bar up over her head and placed it back onto the rack. She sat up on the exercise bench, and Clea apologetically offered her a sweat towel to wipe her forehead off with. Clea was a little jealous of just how good her friend looked when she was working out; Bruna had the kind of muscular figure that made other girls drool, and her deep brown, Brazilian skin always glistened appealingly when she was flushed and sweating from exertion. Clea couldn’t relate.

“OK,” Bruna said, after taking a swig of water. “What’s on your mind? Out with it.”

Clea sighed and sat down on the bench next to her. Unfortunately, Bruna knew her too well. The two of them had been gym buddies for a long time, and friends for longer.

“It’s…” Clea didn’t know where to begin. It was far too embarrassing.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Bruna asked sympathetically.

“Yeah.” Clea planted her head in her hands. “Yeah. It is.”

She didn’t need to explain who ‘her’ was. They both knew.

Isabella.

“Oh, girl.” Bruna threw one of her big, strong arms across Clea’s shoulder. “You’re down seriously bad.”

Clea groaned and leaned in. She didn’t need Bruna to tell her that. Isabella consumed her every waking thought. The reason she’d been zoning out when she was supposed to be spotting for Bruna was because she’d been caught up in picturing Isabella’s smiling face. She’d reached schoolgirl levels of hopeless infatuation.

And there were two massive problems with it.

Firstly, Isabella was her boss. Clea was pretty sure that falling in love with the woman she worked for wasn’t part of a personal secretary’s job description. Workplace romances like that never worked out, and she was sure Isabella was too much of a stickler to ever consider it. There was also an accompanying age gap - Clea was in her mid-twenties while Isabella was in her thirties. That didn’t bother her so much, especially since Clea had such a fondness for older women, but it was yet another obstacle.

The second, much bigger problem was that Isabella was both straight and married.

“Falling for a straight girl.” Clea sighed again, heavier. “She’s amazing, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I wish I could just forget about all these feelings and move on. It’s so hard, having to be near her, day after day, never being able to act on them.”

“I bet,” Bruna said soothingly. She reached up and started stroking Clea’s long, red hair.

“And the worst part is seeing that she’s not happy!” Clea vented. “Her pig of a husband makes her miserable, I can just tell. Why couldn’t it be me instead? I’d treat her the way she deserves. I’d treat her like a queen.”

“I know you would,” Bruna assured her. She paused for a moment and then turned to look closely at Clea, a cunning smile on her face. “You know, babe, you do have a way of making that happen.”

Clea threw a sharp look up at her. “I don’t even know if it works.”

“Oh, it works,” Bruna told her, grinning. “I was going to tell you afterward. I tested it very thoroughly. I have all the data you said you’d need to make the final calibrations.”

“Yeah, I bet you were thorough,” Clea snorted. “I heard a few rumors about what you’ve been up to with that heiress girl.”

“Now, now. I don’t kiss and tell.” Bruna’s grin took on a cocky, swaggering quality. Clea’s friend loved to kiss and tell. “Anyway, the point is: it’s amazing! I can’t believe my friend knows how to mind-control people. It’s like you’re a supervillain or something.”

At that, Clea laughed. “It’s just a hobby,” she retorted. “I’ve always liked audio mixing and video editing. It started with music videos, but then I got really curious about how different kinds of sounds and different frequencies can affect the human mind. And, uh, I guess one thing lead to another.”

The ‘another’, in this case, was a suite of software and a set of techniques that allowed her to create audio and video files that had a potent, hypnotic effect on the listener. Clea could almost literally reprogram them with whatever commands she chose - at least, within reason and with enough exposure. Clea objected to the idea that she was some kind of supervillain, but admittedly, the description wasn’t too far off.

“So,” Bruna pressed, “why not put all that work to good use?”

“You mean… with Isabella?” Clea frowned. “No. In fact, I don’t even want that experimental data. I don’t want to think about it.”

"Why not? Just think about it! No more yearning, no more heartache. You could have her.”

Clea felt a definite, stirring pang, but looked away. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is,” Bruna countered.

“I-it wouldn’t be right.”

“From what you said about her husband, it sounds like she’d be happier with you,” Bruna pointed out. “Why not think of it as giving her a little push towards a happy ending? You can’t tell me that’s not part of what this was all for. The testing. Your little hobby.”

“It just…” Clea stood up, shrugging off Bruna’s arm, and started to pace. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t feel right. Not with her.”

“Why not?” Bruna asked again, a touch exasperated.

“Because I care about her, Bruna,” Clea replied. “She’s not just a pretty girl I’m looking to get into bed. It’s more than that. I want her to be happy.”

“You could make her happy,” Bruna pointed out. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Maybe she’s happy right now,” Clea shot back. “Maybe that’s why she’s still with him. I don’t know. That’s the point. I can’t just decide that for her. What if I’m wrong? What if I make it worse?”

“Wow, babe,” Bruna said, raising an eyebrow. “You really are down bad.”

Clea sank back down miserably onto the bench. “Yeah. I know.”

Bruna squeezed her shoulder. “Well, here’s what we’re gonna do,” she said. “We’re going to keep working out until you’re so exhausted you can barely think. Then we’re gonna go back to my bar and get drunk until you definitely can’t think. Sound good?”

“God yes,” Clea sighed.

“Atta girl.” Clea stood up, allowing Bruna to lie back down along the exercise bench, and rest her hands back on the barbell. As she did, she threw Clea one last look. “But just remember: you ever change your mind, and the data’s yours. Just give me a call.”

***

The next evening, Clea’s head was still throbbing from the hangover. Bruna drank hard, and her bar was well-stocked. The headache was a welcome pain. A welcome distraction. To take her mind off of it, and off of everything else, she was preparing a nice, big pot of stew. It would take the edge off her hangover, and give her some welcome nourishment for the week to come. The stew was still simmering on her stovetop, however, when Clea found herself much, much more distracted by a message she’d just received.

Can I come over?

It was from Isabella.

Clea’s boss, the woman she was hopelessly head-over-heels for, had just texted her on a Sunday evening to ask to come over to her apartment. Maybe she should have replied with ‘no’, or ‘I’m busy, sorry’. Maybe she should even have left her on read. There were reasons to. Refusing would have helped maintain professional boundaries, and would have helped Clea stop torturing herself about a doomed romance.

Instead, she had replied ‘yes’ right away.

And now, as she waited for Isabella to arrive, Clea was left with nothing to do but watch her stew simmer and wonder about what, exactly, had happened. She and Isabella had a friendly and warm relationship at work, to be sure. Sometimes they even confided in one another a little - that was how Clea had caught a hint of her marital issues. But suddenly dropping in to visit Clea at her apartment? That was completely unprecedented.

Clea desperately wanted to know why. But with Isabella already on her way, there was nothing for her to do except keep pacing back and forward across her kitchen restlessly, wondering, trying to stop herself from giving in to needless speculation or fruitless hope. Occasionally, she couldn’t help dashing over to the mirror in her bathroom to make sure that she looked presentable. Part of her wanted to put on some makeup, but the knowledge that she’d look like she’d gotten all dolled up on a Sunday night just to stay home and cook held her back.

Eventually, mercifully, the buzzer for her apartment rang.

Clea rushed down and opened the door as quickly as she could, and let out a mourning gasp when she laid eyes on her boss.

Isabella had been crying. That much was obvious from the way her eyes were red from tears and wide with worry. It pained Clea to see her beauty marred by such sadness. She was still beautiful, though. Clea was struck by that every single time she saw her boss.

Isabella Chase was aging more than gracefully into her thirties. Put simply, she had a figure to die for, and looked just as killer in the t-shirt and jeans she was currently wearing as she did in the smart, well-tailored business wear Clea was used to seeing on her. She had a slender, pretty face, with high, arched, sharp cheekbones that somehow became rounded and full when she laughed and smiled, lighting up her whole face. Her short, black, shoulder-length hair framed her features perfectly, and her tanned, brown skin took on a thousand tones in a different light. Clea never got tired of looking at her. She just hoped her boss hadn’t noticed the way she stared. Especially since Isabella did know that Clea was a lesbian.

“Hey,” Clea said awkwardly. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as she saw Clea, Isabella sagged. “I’m sorry,” she said heavily. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“What? No!” Clea replied urgently. “Don’t say that. You’re more than welcome.”

Isabella just sniffled and shook her head miserably. “It’s not appropriate. I’m your boss. You shouldn’t have to…”

“Just come in.” Clea reached out and touched Isabella on the shoulder, lightly. “Please?”

Isabella nodded, just as miserably, but allowed Clea to guide her inside and upstairs into her apartment. Once there, Clea immediately set to fussing over her boss. She got her seated comfortably on the couch, and then went to make tea for the both of them. When she returned, two steaming mugs in hand, she sat down next to Isabella. A worried frown was carving lines into her face.

“I shouldn’t have come,” Isabella repeated, although she seemed more settled than before. “I’m your boss. You put up with me enough at work.”

“Nonsense,” Clea told her firmly. “You put up with me just as much. We can call it even.”

That made Isabella smile, which made Clea smile.

“I just didn’t know where else to go, I suppose,” Isabella explained apologetically, sipping tentatively at her tea. “I guess I didn’t really want my friends to see me like this. So I just started driving around, and then I was in the neighborhood, and I remembered your address, and… well, you’re just so easy to talk to, at work. So I just…”

“I’m glad you did,” Clea said. “Really. It’s not an imposition. But you do have to tell me what’s going on. That’s the only condition.”

Isabella laughed, sniffled again, and nodded. “Well, it’s… it’s him. Again. Robert. My husband.”

A furious shiver raced down Clea’s spine. It was just as she’d suspected. Her husband was the only thing she’d ever seen get anything close to this far under Isabella’s skin.

“What did he do now?” Clea’s voice approached a growl.

“He didn’t…” Isabella started to say in instinctive defensiveness, before sagging again. “It’s not like that, exactly. We just had another fight.”

“I see,” Clea said tersely.

“I want kids,” Isabella said. Now that she was unburdening herself, it came out easy. She wasn’t looking at the expression on Clea’s face. “I want a family. I do. And I thought he wanted that too. I mean, we always said… but now I don’t know. Every time I try to talk to him about it, he gets so…”

Clea worried for all the unspoken things she could hear in Isabella’s voice. “Do you mean…”

“No,” Isabella told her. “Not like that. But he gets so closed off about it. So short-tempered. It’s like… it’s like me, and what I want, are just annoyances to him. You know?”

“Yeah.” Clea had to fight not to grind her teeth. “I know what you mean.”

“It’s at the point where I just don’t know what to do,” Isabella went on. “I just assumed we’d work on it, over time, together, but it’s starting to seem like it isn’t going to get better. I don’t know what to do anymore. Today, when I tried to talk to him, we ended up arguing. And when he started yelling at me, I just… I had to get out of there, Clea.”

“Get out of there?” Hope, tinged by guilt, started to swell in Clea’s bosom. “Like-”

“I mean, how am I supposed to go back to him now, after running out like that?” The words kept flowing out of Isabella. She was starting to tear up again. “Sometimes I feel like I just can’t take it anymore.”

Clea paused for a long moment to gather her courage before saying: “Maybe… you don’t have to. Go back, I mean.”

Isabella looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re better than him, Isabella!” Clea cried. “It’s obvious. He doesn’t deserve you. You’re amazing. You’re beautiful, you’re kind, you work hard and support yourself and others. If you want a family, you deserve one. You deserve someone who wants to have that with you.”

Her boss let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. “That’s… a nice thought, Clea.”

“I’m serious!” Clea insisted fiercely. “I know it’s a cliche, but there are so many other people out there who could make you happy. You shouldn’t have to devote your life to someone who doesn’t even care enough to talk to you about what you want!”

“It’s not that easy.” Isabella seemed to tense up. “I can’t just walk out on him like that.”

“Why not?” Clea couldn’t bring herself to hold back now. “You don’t need him, Isabella. And you said so yourself - it seems like it isn’t going to get better. So what are you staying with him for?”

“I… I guess I don’t really have a good answer to that,” Isabella admitted. “But I do know one thing. I’m not a quitter. That’s how I’ve made it this far, right?”

“Isabella…” Clea slumped back against the couch cushion, defeated. She could hear the resolve in her boss’s voice, and she recognized all too well the kind of self-defeating logic Isabella was trapping herself in.

“Maybe it’s a little silly,” Isabella said, smiling sadly to herself. “But I really meant all those things I said at the altar. The promises. In sickness and in health, stuff like that. I… I know you mean well, Clea. I just think I need to see this through properly.”

There was nothing for Clea to do but look down and sigh. “I understand,” she said, even though she didn’t.

It took all the strength she had not to blurt out that it should have been her. That she was the one who could make Isabella happy that way. That she would be overjoyed to give Isabella the family her husband wouldn’t.

But of course, her words would have fallen on deaf ears. Isabella was straight, and that was that.

Before Clea knew it, the two of them had lapsed into uncomfortable silence. The only sound in the apartment was the occasional noise of each of them sipping at their tea. Clea knew she had to fix it.

“Hey,” she said abruptly, planting as bright a smile as she could muster on her face. “Well, if you want to stay here, just for tonight, you’d be more than welcome. I mean it. We can have a girls’ night. This couch folds out, and it’s actually not as bad as it-“

The sound of Isabella’s phone lighting up with a text message interrupted her.

Her boss snatched at her phone like a drowning woman at a life ring. The expression of manic, desperate hope on her face as she read the message tore Clea’s heart in two, and immeasurable dread washed over her. She knew exactly what was happening.

“Thank you,” Isabella said to Clea, already gathering herself. “That’s such a kind offer. B-but I need to go now, actually.” She gestured to her phone. “He’s worried about me, and he wants to talk.”

She was smiling as she said it, although Clea knew even Isabella didn’t really believe in whatever platitudes her husband was offering. She was just forcing herself to, because it was the only way she could keep going. Isabella’s smile was as fragile as glass, and Clea couldn’t bring herself to be the one that broke it.

“Sure.” Clea desperately hoped her own smile didn’t look too fake or forced. “Of course. I understand. And, anytime. I promise.”

She walked Isabella out of the building and the two of them said their goodbyes. But the whole time, Clea could only think about how disgustingly false this all was. She’d met Isabella’s husband two or three times, at various work-related social functions. She knew what a boor he was. She knew he wasn’t going to change. But, clearly, he was willing to keep stringing Isabella along with false hope and false kindnesses until it ground her into dust.

Dwelling on it left a pit of nausea in Clea’s stomach. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t let this happen. Not to Isabella.

And there was something she could do about it.

Once Clea got back up to her apartment, she reached for her phone and messaged Bruna.

I need the data.

***

The next morning, it took Clea quite some time to gather her courage before she could bring herself to head into Isabella’s office and bring her boss her morning coffee. Her anxiety was twofold. First, she was afraid that the atmosphere between them would be heavy with the weight of what had happened the day before; with Isabella’s unexpected vulnerability, and Clea’s unwelcome advice. And second, she was afraid that Isabella would see how nervous she was, and somehow sense what she was about to do.

Her first fear, at least, was dispelled from the first moment she knocked and pushed open the door. Isabella was already behind her desk, hard at work, but she rose to greet Clea with a broad grin.

“Clea! Good morning,” she gushed. “Oh, is that my latte? I seriously need it.”

“Of course,” Clea replied. “Same as ever.”

She placed the cup holder on Isabella’s desk, but she must have seemed a touch awkward because Isabella quickly reached out for her hand.

“Hey, um,” Isabella began, “I wanted to say, about yesterday… I’m sorry. Not for turning up - you made it clear that you were happy to help, and I appreciate that a lot. You’re amazing, honestly. The best secretary I could ever ask for.”

Clea’s cheeks started to burn and glow from the praise.

“Instead, I’m sorry for putting you square in the middle of my marital, uh, issues,” Isabella said. “I’m sure that was really, really awkward.”

“No,” Clea replied. “Um, actually, I’m glad you felt like you could confide in me. And… actually, I’m sorry too. I went way too far.”

“Nonsense,” Isabella told her firmly, smiling. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You were just trying to help. To be honest, the advice you gave is exactly what I’d probably give to any of my friends if they were in the same position.”

That acknowledgment brought forth another heavy sigh that piqued Clea’s curiosity.

“May… I ask how it went?” Clea ventured cautiously.

“Good.” Isabella nodded firmly. “At least, I think it was good. We talked, and maybe we didn’t fix our problems yet, but we’re going to keep talking. What more can you ask for, right?”

She was trying to sound brave and sure, and it almost worked. Almost. But Clea knew her boss better than most. Better than her own husband, she’d guess. She saw Isabella every single day at work, and she knew when she was merely putting a brave face on something.

Looking deeper, Clea could see the signs. Under her eyes, she was using a little too much makeup to try and conceal some dark circles. Her eyes themselves were still tinged red. Her hair was a little messier and less lustrous than usual; probably, she’d gone to bed without doing her routine. And, most tellingly of all, her shoulders were sagged slightly in exhaustion and defeat, the way they only usually were on a Friday evening after a truly hellish week.

She wasn’t OK. It hadn’t been good. And that meant there was no reason at all for Clea to hold back.

“Well,” Clea began, “I was thinking, last night. And I have something that I think might help you a little.”

Isabella’s head tilted dubiously.

“Not with the, uh, issues,” Clea added hastily. “Just with how it all feels. It’s something for self-care.”

“Oh!” Isabella brightened immediately. “Clea, that’s so thoughtful.”

Clea had to look away for a moment. “Don’t mention it.”

“So?” Isabella asked eagerly. “What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense!”

Clea swallowed anxiously. This was it.

“This might sound a little weird,” she said, “but I have these… experimental music videos. They’re meant to help you relax. Think of it like… like meditation. Making them is kind of a hobby of mine, actually. I know it’s a little silly, but some people have said they’re really helpful. So, I made one for you.”

She blushed as she said that. Even the half-truth was embarrassing. Isabella, though, looked overjoyed.

“You did?” she exclaimed. “Oh my god, Clea! Thank you, that’s so thoughtful.”

Clea blushed again. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Of course I do,” Isabella replied. “I’ve never really tried meditation before, but you’re certainly right to think that I could use something to help me relax a little. I’d love to give it a try.”

“Great!” Clea’s relief was immeasurable, and she found herself grinning from ear to ear. She whipped out her phone. “I’ll send you the video right away. You can just listen to it whenever you have a quiet moment. Just… make sure to grab some headphones. And, uh, make sure you won’t be disturbed.”

“Got it!” To Clea’s great surprise, Isabella pulled her into a brief but warm hug. “Clea, you deserve a raise. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Things have been so hard lately. It’s truly…”

“Hey.” Clea squeezed Isabella tight as her boss trailed off. “I know. But, Isabella, I can promise you that things are going to get much, much better for you very soon. I can just feel it.”

Once the two of them pulled apart, Isabella’s eyes were glistening.

“Thank you,” she said. “The way you said that almost makes me believe it.”

Clea and Isabella shared a laugh before Isabella went to sit back down at her desk. Clea took that as her cue.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she said, retreating out of her boss’s office. “I’ve got your first call for the day lined up in about twenty minutes.”

With that, each of them returned to the humdrum of a normal workday - but the whole time, Clea was burning with anticipation as she thought about what was going to happen once Isabella finally sat down to listen to what Clea had sent her.

***

The sun was getting low in the sky by the time Isabella’s thoughts turned back to Clea’s gift. It had been a long, busy day of work, with no chance for her to take time out to meditate. But now, the office was quiet. Everyone had gone home - even Clea, who seemed to have been lingering for some reason. Isabella figured she was probably worried about her. Clea was such a sweet girl that way.

Isabella really couldn’t blame her for being worried. Not after the way she’d fled to Clea’s apartment the day before. Just thinking about it was still incredibly embarrassing. Clea had been very kind about it, but Isabella was sure her secretary didn’t genuinely want to spend her weekends dealing with her boss’s personal problems.

Hopefully, earlier, when she’d told Clea that things were looking up, she’d sounded convincing enough to put the younger woman at ease.

The truth was… more complicated.

And that, regrettably, was part of why Isabella was staying late at work. It was the perfect excuse to spend a little less time at home.

Isabella sighed to herself. Admitting that, even in her own head, felt humiliating. Where had it all gone so wrong? When she had gotten married, she’d assumed that would be her happy ending. Having kids seemed like the natural next step - they’d even talked about it, briefly, a few times. Now, Robert got mad every time she brought it up. It was like he’d never wanted a family at all.

Another sigh. These thoughts were doing nothing but making Isabella upset again. They certainly weren’t helping her to get any work done, and the only thing worse than staying at the office to work overtime was staying at the office to do nothing except cry.

Which was why Isabella’s thoughts had turned to that relaxation music video Clea had made for her.

What better time to try it than now?

Isabella took a moment to dim the lights and close the blinds on the windows before sitting back in her office chair and pulling up the video file Clea had sent to her. The first frame looked like nothing but an indistinct mess of colors, and Isabella found herself a little skeptical that a simple music video would be able to offer everything Clea had promised. But, determined to give it a proper try, she took a series of long, deep breaths after putting in her earbuds.

“OK, here goes,” she said to herself, and pressed ‘play’.

Immediately, the screen in front of her exploded into dizzying patterns of motion that made Isabella gasp. There was such depth, vividness and beauty to the colors. It immediately drew Isabella in and captivated her, making her eyes pull wide open in an instinctive bid to drink in everything that was on the screen of her computer.

It was so overwhelming, she barely even noticed the sound playing through her earbuds.

It was music, but unlike any other Isabella had heard, and she only considered it to be music at all because of the vaguely harmonic quality of all the strange beats and tones playing in her ears. All of them were low and resonant; she felt them through her whole body, and underneath them was something like whispering, perhaps a voice, perhaps not. Whatever it was, Isabella found herself unable to bring it into focus.

Instead, all of her attention was on the screen. The true pattern formed by the colors was starting to unfold. At first, she thought it was a spiral, pulling inward, but she soon realized it was pushing outward instead, kaleidoscopic, like an ever-unfurling flower, revealing more of itself with each passing moment. Every new color that appeared at the center of the screen was a revelation, but then the whole image would turn, revealing more of itself yet again, along dizzying lines of symmetry.

Isabella couldn’t look away. Not even when her eyes started to ache from staring. She just slumped back into her seat and started to drool. She had been instantly hypnotized.

The music was getting louder, but Isabella didn’t stir, not even when lyrics started to appear inside her head. Not lyrics; mantras. Simple, blunt statements of fact that Isabella couldn’t seem to bring herself to question. They came one after another, layering atop one another, hammering themselves into her head until they felt like her own thoughts, no matter how strange and foreign they were.

They were true. She knew that. She just knew.

You are a lesbian, Isabella.

It was a hard thing to accept. Isabella had never once thought of herself as anything other than straight. She was even married to a man. So… how hadn’t she noticed it sooner? It seemed so hard to square away, and yet she knew she had to.

You don’t like men.

Isabella stirred. That didn’t seem right. She liked her husband, didn’t she? That was why she’d married him. She loved him… or so she’d thought. But she was a lesbian, so that didn’t make sense. And since she was a lesbian, it seemed only natural that she didn’t like men. Isabella reflected on how she’d felt about her husband in recent days. It hadn’t been positive.

Of course. She was a lesbian, and she didn’t like men.

You cannot orgasm with men.

Isabella blushed faintly, but settled. As unfamiliar as that thought was, it seemed to fit. She was a lesbian, and she didn’t like men. It made perfect sense that she couldn’t orgasm with men.

Her recent experiences with her husband certainly bore that out, too.

You can only orgasm with women.

Each new mantra, each new truth, was getting easier and easier to accept. They intersected and interlinked, mutually reinforcing one another, forming a net wrapped tight around Isabella’s mind.

Forming a new self. A new identity.

You are attracted to Clea.

Isabella gasped. Clea? She’d never once looked at her secretary in that light. It would be completely and totally unprofessional of her.

And yet…

Now that the thought had crossed her mind, she couldn’t un-think it. Clea was pretty. There was certainly no denying that. She had a lovely figure, and such cute freckles, and her long, gorgeous, red hair was so striking. Anyone would call her attractive.

But Isabella wasn’t just anyone. She was a lesbian. She could only cum with women. So, naturally, it meant more to her. It wasn’t just about acknowledging Clea’s attractiveness. It was about feeling it.

Isabella was definitely attracted to Clea.

You are very attracted to Clea.

The intensity of her newly-discovered attraction more than doubled with the repetition. Suddenly, just thinking about her secretary made Isabella squirm in her chair and sent a thrill-shock of pleasure between her legs. She couldn’t believe an attraction this potent had crept up on her, but maybe it wasn’t surprising, if her lesbianism had too.

It was all but unbearable. How was she going to handle seeing Clea tomorrow? How was she going to not blush and stammer every time she looked at her? The worst part was that Clea was a lesbian too. That made the temptation so much more real.

You can’t resist Clea.

All thoughts of self-control immediately dissolved. Isabella was being washed away by the strength of her new feelings. She couldn’t resist Clea. That thought seemed so sinful. She was Clea’s boss. A level of self-discipline and restraint was absolutely essential in the workplace, but Isabella was starting to doubt she was capable of it.

What did that say about her? What kind of woman was she, to be so hopelessly, irresistibly infatuated by a girl subordinate to her, a girl so much younger than her? It was a shameful thought, but the shame was swept up in her attraction and arousal.

A picture of the new Isabella was starting to emerge. She was a lesbian, she was sexually unsatisfied with her husband, and she was desperately obsessed with her own secretary, Clea Samaras.

The longer she stared at the hypnotic images blaring on her screen, the stronger and stronger Isabella’s new sense of identity became. And there was nothing she could do about it. With her eyes wide, all she could do was sit back, stare, and drool, as the mantra began to repeat over, and over, and over again.

You are a lesbian.

You don’t like men.

You cannot orgasm with men.

You can only orgasm with women.

You are attracted to Clea.

You can’t resist Clea.

You are a lesbian…

---

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#story #Marital Aid

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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Friendly Sex - Chapter 7 - The Unknown.

Reader: Looks like there's only one bed.

Eddie: Of course there's only one bed, it's my bedroom. Why would there be two? You knew this before you came over.

Reader: I said it looks like there's only one bed.

Eddie: Well shit you're right there's only one bed

It's long, it's dialogue heavy, but there's fluffy smut in a fucking bed this time.

Chapter warnings: MDI (18+ only), mutual masturbation, p in v sex, explicit language, mentions of drugs. I'm so tired so I haven't a clue if i've left anything out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re a ball of nervous energy as you cycle to work, you tell yourself there’s no reason to be. You were only going to Eddie's place, no big deal, just a couple of pals hanging out. The fact you had shaved, scrubbed, buffed, plucked and exfoliated every reachable inch of skin on your body at 8am was completely unrelated.

You and Eddie had agreed the best option was for him to pick you up straight from work at five, well not straight from work more like four blocks over, you didn’t have a death wish.

You had told your dad you would be staying over at Robin’s tonight, which left you with two remaining issues. The first being you had to ask Robin to cover for you, which meant telling her you would be decidedly elsewhere. The second, and the one that filled you with the biggest sense of unease, was the implication that you would be staying overnight at Eddie’s; and the strange little flutters that accompanied it, flutters that you resolutely refused to recognise as butterflies.

“Morning!” You say breezing into the store.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Robin looks at you slightly disgusted, leaning on the counter.

“Nothing, nothing.” You sidle up to her, resting your head on her shoulder with a sweet smile. “Just happy to see my best friend.”

“What do you want?” She asks flatly, rolling her eyes at the display.

“I need you to say I’m at your place tonight if my dad asks.” You simper, her eyebrows contracting in suspicion.

“Why, where will you actually be?”

“With the guy from the party.” You say it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid, hoping Robin would simply agree and drop the subject; but this was Robin. She turns to face you, her expression burning with curiosity.

“Holy shit! Is this a second date? Are you going on a second date?!” She all but screeches, and you find yourself having PTSD flashbacks of Steve walking in.

“No, it is not a second date, mostly because I don’t think the original hook up counts as a first. Also, I seriously need you to start working on your volume control.” You say through gritted teeth.

“But this is huge!” She exclaims, holding your forearms. “Wait, I thought you said he doesn’t live around here and was just visiting for the party?”

Shit! You did say that the day after you and Eddie made the pact, in an attempt to embezzle the story enough to throw her off the scent.

You’re saved from the pressure of a response when Steve comes in from the backroom.

“Ahoy there ladies!” He sings, hopping up onto the counter.

“Didn’t work on the ladies at Scoops Ahoy, not gonna work now dingus, especially as I’m a lesbian. So, please stop.” Robin begs.

“Are you a lesbian Robin? You should have said something.” He bites back sarcastically.

“I don’t know, it would have worked on me, I always thought you looked pretty cute in the outfit.” It was out of your mouth before you could stop it, and you were rewarded with Steve blushing profusely.

“Oh - uh - thanks.” He grins bashfully.

“Why is everyone so chipper?” Robin huffs, flouncing off.

__________________________________________________________

The day seemed to fly by until you got to 4pm, you started to zone out every 10 minutes trying to work out if you were excited or terrified. There was a part of you that wanted to call Eddie and cancel, and then there was the part of you that couldn’t wait to see him; the stupid little flutters erupting once more. You were logging returns with Steve, once again, when he nudged you.

“Hey, you in there?” He says with a smile.

“Yeah, sorry, must have zoned out.” You mumble embarrassed.

He regards you carefully for a moment.

“Something on your mind?”

Only about 100 million things, you think wryly.

“Nope, I’m all good, just only so many times you can read the word overdue before it starts to look like gibberish.” You laugh lightly

“Very true.” He chuckles. “But, I didn’t know if it had anything to do with your date tonight.” He presses, clearly testing the waters.

“Fucking Buckley.” You snap. “I’m going to murder her. How come she can keep a secret about another dimension but not about my date?!” Mentally correcting yourself on the word date.

“Hey, don’t blame Robin, she’s excited for you” He soothes. “So you settled on seeing the mystery guy again, only last week you didn’t seem so sure?”

“He’s been very persistent.” You say truthfully.

“Is it serious?” His asks quickly, voice oddly stilted.

“I - uh - it’s not really like - we’re not at that stage yet.” You stammer, a little thrown at Steve’s sudden interest in your love life.

“Just be careful honey. I’d hate to see you get hurt.” He says quietly.

“I think I'm more likely to hurt him.” You say honestly.

“How come?” Steve asks in surprise, placing a comforting hand on the small of your back, which short circuits your brain.

“It’s complicated.” You manage to force out.

“It shouldn’t be.” He says, the hand now rubbing in circles, you were actually going to pass out.

“You and Nancy have had complications though.” You point out, feeling a mixture of disappointment and relief when drops his hand.

“Yeah but me and Nance, we always find our way back to each other. I can be myself around her, you know? No bullshit, it’s easy.”

You don't know which throws you more, the fact you weren’t wanting to pitch yourself off the nearest bridge in despair as was your usual mindset when Steve talks about Nancy, or that the only face you could see as he talked was Eddie’s; although that might have something to do with the fact he was walking into the store with a shit-eating grin. You were hallucinating, surely.

“Munson.” Steve greeted him from behind you.

Ok, not a hallucination, commence panic attack.

“Harrington.” Eddie acknowledged with a nod, strolling past you towards the Sci-Fi section.

“Hey, you ok honey?” Steve put a hand on your arm, evidently the panic in your brain was showing on your face.

“What? Oh yeah just uh, thinking about what you said. I’m gonna put these back out.” You say quickly, grabbing a random handful of tapes with shaking hands.

“Ok, I’m gonna help Rob in the stockroom whilst it’s quiet.” You nod, barely hearing him, eyes trained on Eddie’s back. You wait until the stockroom door closes, effectively sprinting the length of the store, hitting him hard in the arm.

“What the fucking fuck are you doing here?” You hiss furiously.

“Ah, jeez! That’s not a very nice way to greet a customer.” He gripes, massaging his bicep.

“Don’t be fucking cute Eddie, what are you doing here?” You ask again, voice exceptionally high pitched.

“Renting a movie and getting assaulted apparently.” He says, still wincing. "You like Sci-Fi? Alien?"

You just stare at him, unsure if he's insulting you. He huffs, picking a tape off the shelf shaking it in front of you.

“Ridley Scott’s 1979 masterpiece, Alien. I thought we could watch it tonight. But, how have you not seen this already?" He asks incredulously.

"My dad only likes Westerns and war films." You shrug. "Is it scary? I'm not good with scary films."

Eddie smirks, leaning in so closely you can feel his body heat, your breath hitches.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'll protect you." He glances at the stockroom door before pressing a chaste kiss to your surprised lips.

"What was that for?" You ask quietly.

"You're adorable when you're flustered." He grins, you feel warm from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, eyes darting about in a panic. "Yeah, like that." He adds softly, stealing another kiss, longer and firmer than the last, which has you clinging onto his jacket.

The tinkling bell of the door makes you jump apart with a gasp, some old lady coming in with young grandchildren, your heart hammering at your recklessness.

“Alien, will be fine.” You say quickly, heading back towards the counter to process the rental, just in time for Robin to emerge.

“Hey Buckley.” Eddie says casually, leaning on the counter, tapping out a rhythm with his ringed fingers.

“Hey Munson, recruited any new cult members lately?” She asks playfully.

“Not yet, but the night is still young.” He grins.

“Uh, $3 please.” You say awkwardly, watching the exchange.

“Oh and a bag of Red Vines, got a hot date tonight and she’s a big fan.” He smirks so wide it looks like it hurts, your eyes feel like they’re going to drop out of your head at his open audacity, scrambling clumsily for the money on the counter as Robin hands him the sweets.

“Always a pleasure ladies, see you at school.” He calls, leaving the store with a spring in his step, if you didn’t know any better you’d say he’s trying to send you into an early grave.

“Isn’t it time you got off babe?” Robin says, knocking you out of your reverie.

“What?” You ask skittishly, she points at the clock on the wall with a grin, 5pm, and under the grin there was another look on her face that you couldn’t quite decipher.

___________________________________________________________

You cycle to the Library as agreed, still pondering over Robin’s expression, Eddie sat on the bumper of the van waiting, trademark grin still firmly in place.

“Your face ever get tired from smirking all the time?” You ask, dismounting, he ignores you stowing your bike into the back.

“Cute basket, princess. You also get handlebar streamers with this model?” He snipes.

“Fuck off Munson.” You say but find yourself grinning too.

You clamber into the cab, already rooting about in your backpack, excitedly extracting your precious cassette tape.

“What is that?” Eddie asks warily, climbing in the driver’s side.

“A mixtape.” You smile

“And where, pray tell, are you planning on playing it?”

You point hopefully towards the car tape player.

“No, nope, absolutely not.” He says resolutely, shaking his head.

“Aw c’mon Eddie, please?” You plead, stringing out the please.

“There is no way I'm letting you play your shitty music in my van.”

You narrow your eyes, changing tack, leaning close, you softly suck a hickey into the side of his neck, your hand rubbing gently over his inner thigh.

“That’s really mean.” He whines, huffing out a breath.

“You can punish me later.” You purr.

“Oh I intend to sweetheart.” He growls, ducking his head to kiss you, with a harsh nip at your bottom lip. “Alright you can play one song, one, that’s it.”

You clap happily, Eddie reluctantly ejecting a Black Sabbath tape, and taking yours from you with the same look someone gives dogshit.

“Side A please.” You grin, dancing in your seat as the opening notes of Gypsy - Fleetwood Mac fill the van.

“Oh god it’s worse than I thought, Fleetwood Mac? Seriously?” He asks aghast, but you see his fingers drumming the rhythm as he pulls away.

“I love Fleetwood Mac, and this is my favourite song ever.” You sigh, singing along absentmindedly. “And it all comes down to you, well you know that it does, lightning strikes maybe once, maybe twice.”

“Not a bad set of pipes you got there sweetheart.” He says smiling at you fondly, making you trail off in embarrassment, switching to humming instead for the rest of the drive.

____________________________________________________________

True to his word and much to your disappointment, Eddie pressed the stop button before Dancing Queen could really get started.

“We definitely need to expand your musical horizons princess, I mean ABBA?” He says looking like he might throw up.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You snort, as he pulls into the trailer park, your nerves rising to the surface once more.

The trailer was much as you expected, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, there was something comforting about the way it was so lived in. Multiple shelves and hooks filled with collectable mugs and caps, the fridge littered with magnets and photos, the rundown mismatched furniture set on swirling threadbare 1960’s carpeting.

“It’s uh not much.” Eddie says nervously, moving to hide a few dirty dishes into the sink.

“I think it’s great.” You say honestly with a smile, giving some of the mugs a closer inspection.

“It’s my Uncle, he’s a bit of a fanatic.” He mutters, coming up beside you.

“My Gramps was the same, except he was into model trains and cars, he always let me play with them though.” You recall happily, putting the mug back on the rickety shelf.

“So, uh, bathroom is there, kitchen you can see, obviously.” Eddie rambles, pointing in various directions. “And uh my room is the one at the end.”

“Do you mind if I dump my bag and get changed?” You ask, feeling bunched up, still in your uncomfortable work uniform.

“Yeah sure, I'll order the pizza.” He says, shrugging his jacket off. “Any preference to toppings?”

“Nah, I'm easy.” You say, instantly regretting your phrasing as he winks at you, you roll your eyes and flip him the bird heading into the bedroom as he laughs behind you.

Much like the rest of the trailer, every available surface in Eddie’s room was occupied, various candy wrappers, empty beer cans, dirty mugs, clothing, drug paraphernalia, and nudie mags. A massive amp was slotted next to the bed, smaller speakers piled up in a corner. Band posters covered the walls, along with a huge homemade Corroded Coffin banner, next to it in pride of place suspended in a wall stand was Eddie’s electric guitar.

“She’s a beaut’ huh?” Eddie says proudly, making you jump.

“She’s a she?” You ask, watching in amusement as walks past you to place a two finger kiss to the body.

“Of course she’s a she.” He scoffs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Uh - pizza will be about 20 minutes.”

“Ok.” You say standing awkwardly, change of clothes held in your hand.

“Sorry about the mess, I was going to clean but wasn’t sure whether you were actually going to come or not, and then I got into this whole thing about whether cleaning was a good idea because I know I'm not gonna keep up with it. So I thought maybe best if i just -”

“Uh - Ed’s I still need to get changed.” You cut him off.

“Shit yeah, sorry, I'll shut up and get the film set up. K, bye.” He says abruptly leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

You had gone the comfortable but kinda cute route of soft grey pyjama shorts and an old oversized sky blue t-shirt, Eddie was crouched down by the VCR player hitting it intermittently when you came back into the room.

“C’mon on you piece of shit.” He hisses, a final smack and you could hear the tape whirr into life inside. “Hallelujah!”

“You know that’s really bad for the tape right?” You say, making him jump, he stands up taking in your appearance, his staring making you feel self conscious.

“Wow” He breathes.

“What?” You ask, suddenly worried your top has a massive hole in it.

“You look - Can I just -?” He moves quickly, pulling you to him, lips moving against yours, his hands in your hair. You wrap your arms around his waist, allowing him to deepen the kiss, heart slamming in your chest as he backs you up against the wall, one of the caps behind you falling unnoticed. “You’re so -” Eddie is cut off by a heavy knock on the door, you groan resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Fucking cockblocking pizza.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your hair.

___________________________________________________________

“So just how scary is this film? You ask warily, legs tucked under you as you take a bite out of the double pepperoni and jalapeno pizza.

“It’s so-so.” Eddie replies evasively, settling back comfortably with his own slice.

“Eddie.” You say warningly, as the creepy music starts and the opening title card develops into the word ‘ALIEN.’

“Sweetheart, you’ll be fine there’s just a couple of jump-scares.” He reassures you, passing you a cracked open can of beer.

You’re about 30 minutes into the film when it starts to get scary, John Hurt’s character coming across hundreds of gross looking eggs. Eddie has his arm around you, your face half hidden in his chest, the pizza forgotten on the coffee table.

“Why would you go near it?” You whine, turning further into the soft fabric of his usual Hellfire Club t-shirt.

“Keep watching baby.” He encourages, a big smile on his sadistic little face, you cringe, eyes almost squeezed shut as the egg slowly opens in tense silence, a Facehugger suddenly flies out and you scream.

“No, Ed’s I don’t like it!” You cry, jumping out of your skin. “Can we watch something else, please?” You beg not caring about how pathetic you sound.

“You really not enjoying it?” He asks, gently tilting your face up to look at him, you shake your head.

“I told you I didn’t like scary movies.” You mumble petulantly, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“What if I distracted you during the scary parts?” He queries, thumb stroking along your jawline, well it didn’t take a genius to see where this was going, you nodded trying not to seem overly enthusiastic.

He leans down to kiss you, hand still cupping your jaw, his other arm cradling you about the waist.

“Your heart is still beating so fast princess.” He murmurs against your lips, feeling him smile. “You should probably lay down, wouldn’t want you to faint.”

“Smooth Munson.” You giggle but allow him to manoeuvre you into a lying position on the broken down couch, his hand snaking under your shirt to stroke at the soft skin of your stomach, feeling brave you run your hand down over his back, cupping his ass.

The film continues, completely ignored as you make out, the screams and shouts hardly registering; Eddie’s stuttering breaths and small groans filling your ears instead.

“Ed’s.” You say quietly after another 20 minutes, his attention now focused on your neck. “Did you - did you want to go to bed?” You stammer slightly.

“You tired?” He asks in a daze, lips all pink and kiss bitten, cheeks flushed. You shake your head slowly, biting your lip.

“Oh.” Is all he says before his face splits into a grin, hauling you up, and kissing you hard once more as he leads you to his room.

He switches on a side-lamp, illuminating the room in a soft orange glow, you stand nervously unsure what to do, the bed looking intimidatingly huge at that moment. Eddie notices the uncertainty in your expression, the boldness you felt in the living room fading fast, leaving you self conscious and overthinking once more.

“Hey. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do baby. We can go back to making out on the couch, believe me I won’t complain.” He says softly, giving you a small smile.

You’re trembling slightly as you resolutely pull your shirt over your head, before pushing your shorts down, leaving you in your bra and panties. You physically see Eddie’s pupils dilate, and try not to laugh at him as he frantically strips down to his boxers, the pair of you staring intently at each other for a moment. Trying to stay brave you step forward into his space, fingers tracing over the exposed tattoos on his chest, noticing how his muscles jump at your touch. He’s mapping out your skin too, hands starting at your hips, thumbs running upwards until he hits a 2 inch scar on your right side near your ribs, curving towards your back, a repeated swipe acting as a question.

“Took a spill on my roller-blades when I was 7, fell into a picket fence, 10 stitches.” You mumble looking down.

“Badass.” He says with a soft smile, ducking to place a tender kiss to the raised line.

You take his hand, walking backwards until your legs hit the foot of the bed, shifting yourself into the centre, removing your bra ignoring the rush of heat to your cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful.” Eddie breathes, staring at you, eyes blazing. “Do you know how much I've thought about having you in my bed like this?”

You can only shake your head, chest heaving with nerves and anticipation.

He kneels on the bed, crawling over to you, lips hovering over yours, brown eyes boring into your soul.

“Eddie.” You sigh so softly you barely hear it yourself, he captures your lips in a slow heated kiss, and you relish in the feeling of having him so close just two scraps of clothing keeping you from each other. It was brand new, compared to your previous rushed encounters, the notion that you could both take your time almost overwhelming. You take his hand in yours guiding him down to your covered mound, back arching as his fingertips make contact with your clit, every nerve ending already feeling shot.

“So wet sweetheart.” He murmurs, his tongue licking into your mouth as he gently circles your bud. You reach down to stroke at his cock, the room feeling overheated, your kissing and soft movements the only sound in the trailer.

“Ed’s, need you.” You whisper, unable to wait any longer.

“You have me baby.” He says gruffly, sliding your panties down your legs, and then discarding his boxers.

You blow out a shaky breath, completely exposed and wanting as he rolls on a condom, thighs quivering as you let them fall open, Eddie slotting himself back in between.

He pushes in slowly, allowing you to feel him inch by inch, chest to chest, foreheads pressed together, fingers laced, lips moving as one. Eddie was more rocking than thrusting, neither of you wanting to lose contact with the other.

“Perfect, you’re so perfect sweetheart.” He sighs, hitching your legs up to wrap around his waist, allowing him to go deeper than you thought possible.

“Eddie.” You whine, neck rolling as he hits a spot within you that has you seeing stars. “So good.”

“My sweet little thing, god your cunt feels like it was made for me.” He moans, bracing your hands above your head, holding them to the headboard with just one of his, the other now at your hip helping you to angle up.

You can’t do anything other than undulate below him, nipping at his neck and chest, the sound of your body slapping together making fresh wetness surge from your pussy, covering his cock in cream.

“Ed’s, I'm so close, please.” You whimper, searching for his lips, the coil in your belly unbearably tight.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, just take what you need.” He pants, thrusting in earnest, hand lifting from your hip to thumb at your clit, you unravel in a silent cry, tears wetting your cheeks from the intensity.

“Good girl, good girl.” Eddie chants, releasing your hands from his grip so you can hold onto his back, nails scratching down the skin. He grips the headboard this time, fucking you hard enough that the bed thumps dully against the wall.

“Eddie, fuck.” You cry as he pushes you through into a second orgasm, your walls clamping painfully hard around him.

“I’m gonna - fuck I'm gonna cum.” He swears, mashing his lips to yours, hips stilling, cock seated deep within your spasming cunt.

“I - fuck.” He huffs, effectively collapsing on top of you, head buried in your neck. You run your fingers up and down his spine, trying to get a handle on your erratic breathing. “I think I’m dead.” He groans.

“You don’t get out of the pact that easily, Munson.” You sigh, laughter rippling through you both, sending sparks where you’re still joined. Eddie holds himself off you, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Stop trying to kill me then sweetheart.” He nuzzles you, and it makes your heart sputter and jolt.

“We should get cleaned up.” You say, nudging him gently.

Eddie extracts himself from you with slow kisses, and delicate touches, rolling to the edge of the bed you assume to dispose of the condom.

He lays back down, drawing you in close.

“5 minutes sweetheart, just 5 minutes.” He breathes softly, tracing nonsense patterns across your heated skin.

“5 minutes.” You agree, already feeling your eyelids start to close.

Taglist: @avalon-wolf @mystars123 @lolalanaie @eddiemunsonsgf2 @eddieslildarling @bakugouswh0r3 @sidthedollface2 @81rain @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @winchester-angel @bimbobaggins69 @tuskjohnny

#eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson 18+#strangers things eddie munson #reader insert #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #friendly sex fic

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bugs013 · 1 month

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“Shut up and kiss me.”

Janis ‘Imi’ike x Fem!Reader

Not my pics/gifs

Warnings- Men. Brief mention of assault, homophobia (if you don’t want to read that part just skip to the end flashback mark!), dyslexic writer lol, i think thats all but correct me if i’m wrong please!

A/N- am i the only one who firmly believes that Janis is a huge softie on the inside? Like in public she plays the big bad bitch but in private she’s an angel, like she’s definitely the type to massage your feet after a long day or switch food with you just because you said hers looks better. Yk what i mean? Anyway I’m completely open to criticism just don’t attack me too hard lol

It all started when Janis helped you get away from one of the creeps at school.

—flashback—

You were just minding your business at your locker when you felt a hand slap your ass, your jaw dropped open and you quickly spun around to see a random guy you didn’t know. You felt so embarrassed and you were speechless, frozen. “Whats up baby girl” he says smugly and you couldn’t do anything but feel disgusted. “Look at you,” He puts an arm around your shoulder. “You’re blushing.” Though your so called blush was from embarrassment and anxiety. You attempted to pull away but he tightened his grip. “So what are you up to tonight princess.” He asks but suddenly a voice responds. “She’ll be with me.” Janis ‘Imi’ike, you didn’t really know her well but you have classes together. “Let her go, she doesn’t want you.” Janis says as she took your hand and tugged you away from him. The guy got annoyed but didn’t do anything but scoff. “Of course, lesbians.” He rolled his eyes and walked away. You let out a breath of relief before turning to Janis and thanking her.

And thats when you become a trio with your best friends.

—flashback end-

“Babe, she likes you, you like her, it’s so painfully obvious!” Damian said to Janis who was rambling about wanting to ask Y/N out on a date. “You don’t know that. I mean she’s never even confirmed if she’s gay or not.” “Oh come on, you really think she’s straight? Have you seen the way she looks at girls? The way she looks at YOU.” He states. “What do you mean the way she looks at me? How does she look at me?” Janis says with confusion. He scrolls through his phone for a moment then turns and shows a photo to her. “Like this.”

Not my pic

“She does not look at me like that.” Janis said tho the thought of you looking at her that way makes her smile. “You’re so oblivious.” Damian rolls his eyes.

~~~~

“Guys! Guys!” You said, running to Janis and Damian in the hall, you immediately ran and hugged Janis, making her stumble backwards. “Oh-” “I passed! I passed the art presentation!” You said excitedly. “What?! I told you you could do it!” Janis said with a smile as she hugged you back, blush creeping up on her cheeks. When you pull back you have the biggest smile on you face. “Yeah because of you! If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have passed!” Janis scoffed though everyone knew it was true. Without the help from Janis you’d have an F in that class. “Good job girl.” Damian chipped in before giving Janis a look and excusing himself, Janis knew she needed to take this as her opponent to ask you on a date. “Hey, uh- are you busy this weekend?” “Hm, not that i remember, why do you have plans?” “Well i was hoping we can hang out…um…just the two of us…” You smile, brows furrowed with curiosity. “Ok, where are we going? Your place?” “Well actually i have plans, but it’s a surprise. Meet me at the park on Saturday, around 10?” Janis say’s anxiously. You grin and nod. “Sounds fun! I’ll be there!”

~~~~

Saturday rolls around and soon you were walking into the park, you look around until you finally spot Janis, you can see she has a blanket laid on the grass with a picnic basket and some flowers sitting on it. You can’t help but smile as you walk over. “No way.” Janis turns and looks at you as she hears your voice, she smiles, a bit of blush growing on her cheeks. “You like it?” “Like it? I love it!” You hug her before the two of you sat down. You look around admiring the nature around you, and Janis. “This is amazing Janis. I’ve never been on a real picnic before.” You said with a excited smile. Janis returned your smile before opening the picnic basket. “I hope you’re hungry, i may have over packed.” She says with a little laugh. “In that case I’m starving!” You say with a giggle. Janis began pulling food from the basket, various finger foods such as; strawberries, cheese, crackers, etc. for drinks she packed some capri suns of multiple different kinds.

~~~~

The two of you ate and talked until it was eventually starting to get dark out. Time really flew by and neither of you noticed.

“Shut up! No you didn’t!” You said through your laughter. You had been sharing random funny stories about yourselves for a while now. Janis nods laughing as well. “It’s true! Ask Damian he was there!” You have been smiling and laughing so much that your cheeks were sore. “I wish i was there! Oh my gosh that killed me, i’ll never forget that!”

When you finally stopped laughing you laid down on the blanket and look up at the sky. Janis does the same, laying next to you but not too close. “The stars are pretty huh?” Janis said “mhm, not as pretty as you though.” You said in a whisper as you glanced over at her. Janis eyes widened a bit, she looks over at you with a confused expression, afraid she heard you wrong somehow. “Huh?” “Huh?” You repeat with a smirk tugging on your lips. Janis rolls her eyes and playfully slaps your leg as she sat up and looks at you. “Come on don’t play dumb. What did you mean by that?” You sat up as well and shrugged. “What do you think i meant?” “You’re calling me pretty but- but are you saying I’m pretty in a way like ‘oh you’re pretty’ or like ‘oh, you’re pretty” or even-” she rambles, You laugh before stopping her. “Janis- Janis stop.” She stops and looks at you. “I’m saying i like you, ok?” Janis felt her heart skip a beat. “You- you mean you like me, like- you like me as in ‘oh you’re my friend, i like you’ or-” you roll you eyes. “Janis!” She froze. “shut up and kiss me.” Janis smiles gently and nods a little and soon your lips met in a gentle, sweet kiss that made butterflies go crazy in both yours and Janis stomachs. The kiss went on for what felt like years until you both pull away slowly, cheeks flushed. “Wow” she muttered, you nod. “I like you Janis, i like you a lot.” You say as you interlocked your fingers with hers, looking down at her hands in yours Janis smiles, she looks at you again. “I like you too Y/N.”

#janis ‘imi’ike #mean girls 2024 #janis ‘imi’ike x reader

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magicfootballstuff · 1 year

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Rebound - part 2 (patri guijarro x reader)

Summary: Patri is determined for everything to go back to normal after your drunken night together, but you’re not finding it quite as easy to get over her.

Read part 1 here.

———

The day after Patri’s birthday is a day off from training, for which your sore head and bruised heart are eternally grateful, but after that it’s straight back to the hard work.

Patri catches your eye across the changing room as you get ready for training and smiles, so you think everything is okay, until a comment from Mapi catches your attention as you’re lacing up your boots.

“Good to see you took my advice, Patri.”

“Advice?” Patri asks, confused.

“About the rebound.” Mapi’s eyes are alight with mischief as she continues, “The mark on your neck’s a big giveaway.”

You look over at Patri, who sure enough has a purple bruise at the base of her neck that her t-shirt doesn’t cover. You feel your cheeks start to burn as you remember leaving a mark in that exact spot in a moment of passion.

“It wasn’t a rebound,” says Patri, rubbing at her neck where the bruise is. “I saw my ex yesterday to talk and … well, you get the picture.”

“You slept with your ex?” says Alexia, joining the conversation with a shake of her head. “You’re such a lesbian stereotype.”

“Shut up,” groans Patri.

You finish putting on your boots and head outside. Patri follows and falls into step beside you.

“I didn‘t sleep with my ex,” Patri tells you, quiet enough that nobody else can hear, as you jog out together onto the training pitch. “Just thought it was a better excuse than the truth. I figured we could do without Mapi’s teasing.”

“Yeah, good thinking.”

———

It would probably hurt less if things didn’t go back to normal. Patri acts exactly as she did before around you, as if the night you spent together didn’t happen, to the point that you start questioning whether it actually did or if you just imagined the entire thing.

It would be easier to deal with the heartbreak if Patri acknowledged that your relationship had changed slightly. If there was some tangible evidence to justify the ache in your chest every time she grins at you or claps you on the back during training.

———

You decide, for some inexplicable reason that should probably have you questioning your sanity, to take Mapi’s advice.

I hear rebound sex is a pretty good cure for heartbreak, Mapi’s words from the night of Patri’s birthday echo in your mind. So you sign up for a dating app and within a couple of weeks, you find yourself tangled in the arms of a beautiful trainee lawyer called Amara after a few drinks at a local cocktail bar.

And because Amara is nice, and smart, and very attractive, you decide to see her again, and then again. It’s casual, a distraction from Patri, who continues to be just a friend and a teammate. Soon, you and Amara are hanging out several times a week and she’s becoming something, though your deliberate avoidance of labels makes it hard to describe exactly what she is to you.

You don’t tell your teammates you’ve started seeing someone. You’re not quite sure why, but you don’t want Patri to find out.

Until you’ve been seeing Amara for nearly three months, long enough that it’s pretty serious despite your own reluctance to put the ‘girlfriend’ label on it just yet, and she asks if she can come to one of your games to watch you play.

You try to deflect from her request but she’s pretty convincing, she is training to become a lawyer after all, and you reluctantly get her a ticket for Barcelona’s next home game at the Estadi Johan Cruyff.

———

When the final whistle blows, your brain registers that there’s a certain irony to the fact that the first game Amara sees you play ends two goals to nil, with you and Patri each scoring and each assisting the other’s goal.

“Here she is,” says Amara, when you go over to say hi to her after the match. “My goal-scoring superstar.”

She leans over the billboards and presses her lips to yours.

Somebody jolts you out of the kiss with a slap on your back, and you turn to find Mapi and Ingrid walking past you with matching grins on their faces.

“Nice,” says Mapi, eyes flitting between you and Amara. “You kept this quiet.”

“Mapi…” you whine, though it could be worse. It could have been Pat-

Shit.

Patri is walking just behind Mapi and Ingrid. You’ve got no way of knowing if she saw the kiss, but the way that her gaze flicks between you and Amara with a curious frown on her face gives you pretty strong suspicions that she did.

Realistically, you knew there was a chance that this would happen when you reluctantly agreed to invite Amara to the game. Despite your determination to keep this casual, you can’t argue with the fact that inviting a girl to a game is a pretty big deal, especially considering that in the two years you’ve been at Barcelona, your crush on Patri has prevented you from dating anybody long enough to reach the ‘inviting them to a game’ stage of the dating process.

It should probably serve as a warning sign that your stomach is in knots at the thought of Patri knowing that you’re seeing somebody. But instead, as Patri walks past without a word on her way to the team dressing room, you choose to ignore those feelings of unease and return your attention to Amara.

———

“Who was that?” Patri asks you the dreaded question, as you sit side by side in the locker room after the game in just your shorts and sports bras.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Patri teases you. “The girl you were with after the match. The one who kissed you. Anybody important?”

“She’s … she’s just someone I’ve been seeing,” you answer with a shrug.

“Cool,” says Patri, seemingly unbothered by the whole thing, and suddenly thought of Amara are gone from your mind. You wish it was Patri kissing you after matches, especially after the way you worked so well together today. “I’m happy for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone.”

I found someone two years ago and it’s you, your brain is screaming at you to tell Patri.

But you know that’s not what Patri wants to hear. And after almost screwing up one of your closest friendships by sleeping together, you’re not going to ruin it with a confession now that things are back to how they were before.

———

Your feelings don’t sit completely right with you and despite the gesture of inviting Amara to the game, you decide to break it off with her just a week later. You don’t give her the full reason, you just tell her that you’re head’s not in the right place to commit to a full-blown relationship. Amara is completely understanding and you end the conversation with an amicable yet empty promise to try to stay in touch.

———

Just a few days after ending your not-quite-a-relationship with Amara, Mapi invites a few of the Barcelona girls out for drinks. It’s a smaller affair than last time but you know that Patri will be there, know that alcohol will be involved, and remember all too well what happened the last time the two of you were in such a situation. So you know it’s probably not going to end well, you even consider pretending that you’ve got other plans to get out of it, but there’s something sadistic within you that decides to accept the invitation.

You can’t afford to sleep with Patri again. Once was a mistake, twice would almost certainly make things weird. But despite the fact you’ve opted to sit away from Patri, with two of your teammates in between, after a couple of drinks you can’t deny the fact that she looks really good tonight.

You manage to keep your distance, made easier by the fact that Patri spends almost the entire evening deep in hushed conversation with Alexia. You ignore both of them and focus on having fun with your other teammates, but the more you drink, the more your eyes drift over to Patri.

When it starts to get too much, you duck away from the table without much fuss, mumbling something to Ingrid about needing some air, and push through the semi-crowded bar until you find the women’s bathroom. There, you lock yourself in one of the cubicles and sit down on the toilet seat, head in your hands as you exhale and contemplate your dilemma.

Your crush isn’t going away, that much is abundantly clear. Your heart lurches at the realisation, because what more can you do? You’ve ignored it, you’ve acted on it, you’ve confessed your feelings for her, you’ve even tried dating somebody else, but Patri is still the one you want, and it hurts you that you have to see her pretty much every day, knowing that you’ll never be together. Realistically, the only option to get over Patri is to cut her out of your life completely, which would mean transferring to a different club, but you’d have to change leagues to avoid playing against her and even then you’d probably still bump into her at national camps.

There’s no way out. You’re doomed to an eternity of being in love with a girl who will only ever see you as the friend she once drunkenly slept with.

The door to the bathroom crashes open and you hear a voice you recognise as Alexia’s, midway through a sentence.

“- and if you like her, you should tell her how you feel.”

“I can’t do that.”

You freeze when you hear Patri’s reply, your hand halfway to the toilet paper dispenser. Patri likes someone? Your stomach sinks, a feeling you should really be used to by now considering the number of times that you’ve been left disappointed by Patri and her feelings, but it still takes you by surprise. You should have known it wouldn’t take Patri too long to move on from her ex-girlfriend and find somebody new, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“But if you don’t tell her, won’t you always regret it?” Alexia asks.

“I’ll regret it more if I lose her as a friend.”

You stay frozen to the spot, torn between staying where you are to eavesdrop on their conversation, or making your presence known before you hear something that hurts your heart more than Patri has already hurt it.

“But didn’t you say she confessed her feelings to you the morning after you slept together?”

“That was four months ago. Feelings change.”

You do the maths in your head. Patri’s birthday was around four months ago. And you confessed your feelings to her the next day, after sleeping with Patri. Could it really be that she and Alexia are talking about you?

“Also, she’s got a girlfriend now. That really pretty girl she kissed after the Levante game.”

The game against Levante was the one and only match you invited Amara to watch. You really don’t want to jump to the conclusion that Patri and Alexia are talking about you in case your hopes get shattered again, but this seems like far too many coincidences for them to be talking about anybody else.

Making your decision, you finish up and flush the toilet, the conversation outside coming to an abrupt halt when they realise they’re not alone in the bathroom. You hear them shushing each other as you unlock the cubicle door and step out into the open. You’re vaguely aware of Alexia’s eyes going wide when she realises it’s you, but your focus is on Patri, who stands at the sink. You meet her gaze in the mirror as you go to wash your hands and see the realisation and the panic pass across her face too, and she quickly looks away.

“How much did you hear?” Alexia asks you.

“Enough,” you answer. You try to make eye contact with Patri in the mirror again, but she’s fixing her hair to avoid looking at you. “Patri…”

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Alexia says, giving Patri a deliberate look as she heads for the door and leaves you alone in the bathroom.

“Patri, please will you just look at me.”

She hesitates, then reluctantly turns, still unable to make direct eye contact with you.

“This is humiliating,” she says. “Please don’t make it worse than it already is.”

“I ended it with Amara.”

Patri’s eyes widen with surprise at your confession.

You continue, “It wasn’t fair to keep seeing her when I knew I was really in love with you. I realised that as soon as you said you were happy I’d found someone.”

“I wasn’t happy,” admits Patri. “I went over to Alexia’s that night and told her everything. What happened on my birthday, how I had feelings for you…”

“How long have you…?” you trail off, let out a sigh, and then take a deep breath before what you say next. “I’ve had a thing for you since we first met. I tried to ignore it for so long, but when we slept together I had a glimmer of hope that you felt the same way, but you shattered my heart.”

“I’m sorry,” Patri says, reaching for your hand. “I regret everything that happened on my birthday. The truth is that I think I’ve liked you for a really long time too, I just didn’t realise it until recently. When we slept together I was in a bad place. I’d just been broken up with. I couldn’t process my feelings for you and I knew it wasn’t fair to let you deal with my mess. So I decided it was easier to pretend that nothing happened at all, until I thought you’d moved on and then I realised what an idiot I’d been.”

“I think I understand,” you tell Patri, squeezing her fingers in reassurance because you can see how pained she is by the way things went down.

“I don’t regret that we had sex," she continues, "but I do regret that our first time happened like that.”

You let a tiny smile grace your lips.

“Does that mean there’s going to be other times?” you tease her, nudging your shoulder into hers.

“I…”

You’ve never seen Patri so flustered before, speechless and pink-cheeked. You decide to spare her.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” you ask her, in a moment of bravery. “And maybe if it goes well, we can see about having a second attempt at a first time?”

Patri relaxes into a smile.

“Deal. But the date’s on me, to make up for all the shit I’ve put you through in the last few months.”

You grin back at Patri.

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

You leave the bathroom with a renewed warmth in your heart and rejoin your friends at their table. You feel a few pairs of eyes on your joined hands as you sit down next to each other, but nobody makes any comment. Only Mapi opens her mouth to say something, but you pretend not to notice the way that Alexia silences the blonde with a kick under the table and a firm shake of the head.

You’ll deal with Mapi’s teasing later, of that you’re certain. But for now, you simply turn to Patri to find her already looking at you, and your chest swells with affection as she smiles coyly at you.

Your heart, aching for so long, finally feels at ease.

#patri guijarro imagine #patri guijarro x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader

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