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javiscigarette · 4 months

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Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp.

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time”

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort.

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face.

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out.

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily.

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea.

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself.

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?”

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back.

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm.

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod.

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt.

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing.

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body.

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek.

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.”

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment.

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way”

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.”

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again.

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.”

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile.

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists.��

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt.

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing.

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly.

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer.

“I sure do.”

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can.

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath.

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit.

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him.

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now.

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically.

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge.

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth.

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again.

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him.

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless.

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him.

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans.

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick.

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months

Text

Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]

You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.

CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.

FIRST PART (can be read separately) AO3

— Why your wife left you, again?

You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad.

You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good.

— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi?

He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous.

He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there.

— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know.

— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger.

— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage.

— You’re too young to stop believing in it.

— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir.

— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja? König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him. If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him.

— Could you two please stop fucking each other?

— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.

— This is my house too!

— Not on the documents, it’s not. — You can’t just throw me away, dad! — Your new stepmom needs her space.

König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig. König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement.

— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age! — And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her. — She is my girlfriend! — Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option. You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time.

Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge.

König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention.

If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention.

His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something.

— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son.

He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing.

König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .

He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends.

But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are. — I don’t think we should be…

— He left. Won’t bother us anymore.

— I’m not in the mood right now.

— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy. — You’re a pervert. Like Paul.

— He takes on after his father, ja?

It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other.

König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did.

You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts.

— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.

— I assume after…af..ter your wife.

You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both. — Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you.

— I’m not dumb!

— Nein, you’re not. Just silly.

— You just call me a different type of dumb.

— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter.

König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this.

He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street.

— I want to take you to the Summer house next week.

You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one. — What if I have plans, sir?

It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him.

He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good.

— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer.

— I wanted to study.

You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him. — You can study at our house.

— You mean you and your ex’s house.

He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again.

You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again.

— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying.

— I want a nice job. Without…distractions.

He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s.

— Why you need a job?

— Not everyone are retired military. I need money.

— You have me.

— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir.

— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.

König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost.

You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone.

König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later.

Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then… — What do you think about getting married in August?

Maybe, you do know why his wife left him.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #yandere cod #cod x you #fem reader #konig cod #konig x you

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wtfsteveharrington · 15 days

Text

don’t you want me | boyfriend!steve x reader x eddie

content & context: you and steve are tasked with checking in on eddie while he’s hiding out at reefer rick’s.

mentions of drugs & all parties smoke, virgin!eddie, eddie gets caught masturbating by reader and steve, oral (all receiving and giving), steve accidentally initiates oral with eddie (makes sense i promise), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, steve!breeding kink, cum play, cum swapping. everyone’s a lil fruity! reader is kinda just passed around!! **emphasizing that there are sexual interactions between steve and eddie!**

she/her pronouns used for reader!

author’s note: ... i can't believe this is finally getting posted but here we are! its been ages in the making and i'm so glad to finally have it out there. if i missed something during editing pls let me know! <3

word count: 8.4k - i added plot to this one!

If you thought Steve complained about being the babysitter, you should hear the way he complains about being Eddie’s caretaker.

In all honesty, he still wasn’t quite sure that Eddie was completely innocent in all this mess. Was he a killer? Probably not. That doesn’t mean he wants to hang around the guy, let alone have you hang around him.

He’s protective, that’s all.

The grocery sacks hit the floor of the kitchen while Steve shoves the case of beer into an empty spot on the counter. He’s pensively looking around the house, a grimace on his features as he takes in your... Questionable surroundings. Empty cans of food, question sticky spots on the floor, a disgusting bong on the table sat next to McDonalds wrappers.

“Now how the hell did Munson get his hands on a Big Mac but we’re still stuck doing supply drops?” Steve’s scoffing to himself, finally looking around the room to realize - “Wait a minute. Where the hell is he?”

It’s instinct. Within seconds of acknowledging that there might be a problem here, you’re back to back with Steve while the two of you scan the room. Looking for any signs of life or, well, death. You both hone in on a sound coming from behind the door at the end of the hallway. Exchanging a quick glance before he’s looking for a weapon - Grabbing a hold of the bong to use as a weapon. You however? Decide to settle for one of the knifes on the table which Steve thinks makes much more sense but he’s already committed to this damn bong now.

The door’s barely cracked open and as the two of you get closer you can begin to hear Heaven’s On Fire by KISS playing faintly on the radio. Considering how tense Eddie’s been lately, you’re surprised he’s being this... Sloppy?

you drive me crazy when you start to tease

You’re peeking over Steve’s shoulder, hand instantly coming to clamp over your mouth at the sight in front of you two.

you could bring the devil to his knees

Eddie Munson’s laying back on the bed, boots planted firmly on the ground, his jeans and briefs shimmied just far enough down his thighs to free his length. He’s hard, untouched, and you’re salivating at the sight. You and Steve stand there for a second longer than you should, both of you shocked at the sight. It’s not until Eddie wraps his fist around himself, lifting his hips off the bed at his own touch and letting out a quiet moan that Steve finally breaks -

“Holy shit.”

No one knows who reacts first but within seconds Eddie’s trying to cover himself up at the same time you’re reaching past Steve to pull the bedroom door closed. You’re trying to process what you just saw, mind only able to hyper focus on the fact that he looked... No, stop. You can’t let your mind wonder like this.

“Jesus Christ! Don’t you people knock!” Eddie shrieks on the other side.

You look over at your flabbergasted boyfriend who’s punching the air and cursing Dustin Henderson for getting involved with this Freak. If you look close enough, you can see the flush to his cheeks. “C’mon, Man. Maybe consider not jacking off while you’re on the run for murder, huh? Especially when you have people running around getting you shitty Pabst and Doritos!”

The door’s being jerked open and Eddie looks so frazzled. A far cry from the man who was just sprawled out in bed touching himself.

He has a finger pointed in Steve’s face, “A murder I did not commit! So excuse me for trying to blow off some steam while I thought I was alone. If you’re so concerned then I’ll be sure to clear it with you next time, Harrington.” His hair is a crazy mess, shirt haphazardly tucked into his pants, and his belt unbuckled. You can’t help but spare a thought towards how pretty he looks. If Eddie would meet your eye, you’d have to look away considering just how embarrassing your thoughts were getting about him. But, in fact, the boy refuses to glance in your direction.

You turn on your heels, dragging Steve behind you in an attempt to avoid them getting into even more of a fight. Storing the fact that Eddie Munson has a pretty dick away for later. “C’mon, Idiots. I’ll cook dinner if you two can play nice for a few hours. Eddie wash your hands and zip up your fly before you come in here.”

The song continues as you walk down the hallway. Giggling to yourself and sneaking looks over at your still flabbergasted boyfriend.

feel my heat takin' you higher.

burn with me, heaven's on fire.

paint the sky with desire.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

Eddie watches as you two navigate cleaning up the kitchen in almost perfect sync. His hand on your lower back when he brings the rest of the dishes to you, the way he takes notice of your sleeve falling down your arm and rolls it up for you, then you have the audacity to sing along to Steve’s favorite lyrics as the songs shuffle through on the radio.

He’s taken to sitting on the couch during clean up, citing his “impending doom” as the reason why he can’t help. Really, Eddie’s not sure how much more of the love birds act he can take before his carefully curated facade finally breaks. It wasn’t that you two were being over the top with the displays of affection, quite the opposite actually. If anything, it was toned down from the normal levels you showed around everyone else.

It’s just the fact that it’s real that’s driving him crazy. Cursing every day he spent without someone who loved him that deeply.

Once the kitchen is cleaner than it likely has ever been, you and Steve wonder out of the room and finally join Eddie. Steve’s grabbing the packed bowl left on the coffee table along with the lighter, sitting back in the recliner while you perch yourself on the arm of the chair. Trying to balance yourself carefully. You watch as Steve takes a long hit, holding the smoke before holding the bowl towards you. Glancing from him to the slouched figure on the couch, “Can we spend the night with you?”

Eddie’s shrugging, grumbling out “’Ight with me but there’s not many blankets around this place that ain’t filled with holes.”

Nodding, more towards yourself than him, you lean forward to trap the piece between your lips and Steve brings the lighter up to the bowl.

You’re coughing.

Like, way more than normal.

Steve’s quickly pushing out of the chair, grabbing one of the last wine coolers for you and popping it’s top with ease before bringing it back to you. There’s a reassuring hand rubbing over your back as you work your way through your coughing fit. Cheeks burning hot with embarrassment that one little hit nearly took you out in front of Eddie Munson.

“S’good shit, Honey. No surprise you can barely take it.” You’re giving Steve an appreciative smile as Eddie teases you, leaning into his touch for a bit of comfort. “Should be this good considering it’s been the talk of Hawkin’s that you’re raising your prices on us, Munson.”

Eddie’s got his hands up in the air, his bright laughter filling up the room before he’s reaching out for the bowl Steve’s offering. “Hey, a man had to eat, y’know? Now a man’s gotta pay bail... Prices are gonna triple after this.”

When Steve’s assured you’re not going to pass out, he’s going back to the table and grabbing two cans of out the lukewarm Pabst case. One’s being slid over to Eddie while Steve grabs his keys out of his pocket to begin the base of the can to chug.

It’s some weird power play you’re pretty sure. Asserting dominance with who can chug the fastest. Eddie’s quick to follow suit, using his pocket knife to carve out his own hole..

Now you just need to figure out why it’s kind of.. Hot?

You watch as Steve and Eddie cheers their punctured cans against one another, both of them giving the other a small nod then they’re throwing their heads back, popping the tab, and chugging the beer out of the can. It’s entertaining, this dumb grin plastered on your face. The weed in your system is probably making this feel like a much more endearing sight than it actually is. They both drop the cans once they finish, an argument ensuing as they try to decide who finished first.

“I’ve never shotgunned a beer.”

Suddenly there’s a lot of attention on you. Steve’s confused, Eddie’s entertained.

“King Steve Harrington’s girlfriend has never chugged a beer? Surprised he hasn’t corrupted you already.” Steve’s hitting his arm, giving the other boy a playful shove before grabbing a can out of the case and tossing it your way.

“You wanna learn, Honey? I’ll teach you.” Spoken so sweetly. Steve’s voice always laced with this delicate tone reserved just for you.

He’s standing behind you now, chest firm against your back and holding the can properly in your hands. Steve’s digging a hole with his keys into the side of your can, his chin on your shoulder as he concentrates on making it a clean cut. “All you gotta do is tilt your head back, okay? I’ll pop the tab. Don’t feel like you gotta finish it.”

You nod obediently, freeing one of your fingers from it’s death grip on the can to flip Eddie off. He’s laughing, grabbing the forgotten bowl from the table and getting to work repacking it. Part of you wonders what Rick would think of Eddie using so much of his stash. Then again, it’s not like it’s going to be much use to Rick for the next few years.

The can’s brought up to your mouth, tilting your head back against Steve as he keeps his promise and opens the tab once your lips wrap over the hole. There’s beer dripping from the corner of your mouth, down your chin and neck, and you’re quickly reminded that you hate the taste of beer. Especially cheap beer. But you’re putting on a show so you’re committed to finishing it.

Steve grabs a hold of your chin as the now empty can clatters to the ground, your lips colliding quickly and he wastes no time licking into your mouth. He tasted like a mixture of weed, more cheap beer, and underlying hints of his spearmint gum. You’re giving an appreciative moan as his hand slips from your chin to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

Now, Eddie knows he should look away. He’s intruding on a personal moment, right? But there’s just something about the way that you and Steve interact that’s so addicting to him. It’s clear you’ve spent hours memorizing one another, learning what makes the other tick. There’s a sad thought that passes through his mind registering that there’s no way he’ll ever get to have a connection that intense. Even before the, you know, murderer from another dimension ruined his life. Eddie was a lot. He liked being a lot. He never found a girl who liked him being a lot and for a long time he was fine with pretending it didn’t bother him.

Then the picture of true love showed up to this damn house hours ago and he’s begun aching to feel even a tenth of that amount of passion.

He’s lighting up the bowl, finally forcing himself to look away while taking another long hit.

Your hands are firm on Steve’s chest, fisting around the soft material of his shirt and gently shoving him back. “Enough. Eddie doesn’t want to just sit around watching you devour me all night” He’s giving you a dopey grin, the hand not on the back of your neck coming up so he can use his thumb to swipe away the saliva shining on your lips.

“Munson gets it. Sometimes you just can’t help yourself, right?”

Steve’s looking over to Eddie for approval but he won’t look at either of you. Exhaling a stream of smoke from his last hit before responding.

“Nah, man. The Freak title excludes any and all sexual connotations. Made out with Elizabeth Hertz last year but that was just because she wanted free weed. Gareth kissed me after a show because he was drunk off adrenaline. Don’t really count him on the list of conquests though.” He’s blaming the high inching it’s way through his body, but for some reason he wanted to make it known that he’ll happily kiss boys too. In fact, Eddie Munson will pretty much kiss anyone who wants to kiss him.

“Huh.”

It comes out so quickly and you can stop yourself, both boys now looking your way. You give a little shrug, leaning into Steve as you respond. “Just surprised, that’s all. You’re pretty, figured someone would have thrown themselves at you by now.”

Eddie’s blushing at your compliment. Honest to God, cheeks turning pink blushing. He’s throwing a wink your way while trying to downplay how much the compliment got to him.

“Wish everyone felt that way, Sweetheart.”

You’re looking up at Steve now who just knows what’s coming next.

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

The two of you had talked before about including someone else. You both liked girls, that came up pretty quick. Robin asked you to play fuck, marry, kill one night while you sat around at Family Video during your shift. The way you drooled over Faye Dunaway gave you away pretty quickly.

Then, late one night, Steve was a little drunk and half asleep when he asked you what it felt like to kiss a boy. You said it was firmer, that their lips were rougher. But that kissing him made you feel safe and loved, though that wasn’t the norm.

“Kinda wanna kiss a boy the same way you wanna kiss girls. Quickly followed by, “Happy if I spend the rest of my life only kissing you though. Just something I wouldn’t mind happening.”

You just laugh while pulling his sweaty party clothes off of his body, tossing them across the room to deal with tomorrow.

“You wanna kiss a boy, huh? Well, I’m sure we can make that happen.”

✧･ﾟ:*-*:･ﾟ✧

“So - Is that like a thing then? Making out with you in exchange for free weed? Because in that case, you’ve been smoking me and Steve out all night. Pretty sure that means we’ve got a great debt to pay.”

Eddie can strike the idea down. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mere hours ago you weren’t fully sure if Eddie was a killer and you weren’t fully sure that Steve wouldn’t kill Eddie. He’s toying with the rip in his jeans over his knee, looking over the two of you as if he’s trying to decide if this is real or not.

“You and Steve…” He’s dragging out your names, almost as though he were testing out how they taste on his tongue. You and Steve.

You’re looking back to get confirmation from Steve who’s nothing more than entertained. You’re stepping towards Eddie now, slow enough where anyone can stop you yet not surprised neither of them do. He’s not taking his eyes off of you and you can see his breathing pick up as you get closer. Your knees are sinking into the couch beside him, kneeling into the cushions and reaching over to rest your hand on his upper thigh. Giving him a small squeeze and his muscle twitches in response to the touch.

“Do you wanna kiss me, Eddie? Kiss us?”

His breathing cuts off completely, and if you weren’t paying such close attention to his face you would have caught the way his hand goes from playing with the rip to actually pinching himself on his thigh. There’s no way this is real. Eddie’s nodding a little too eagerly, his cool guy facade falling apart. You lean forward, the smell of your perfume ever so faint but taking over his brain, to grab his hand. Dragging it up your own chest, along the curve of your breast, bringing his hand around the front of your throat, finally directing him to cup the back of your throat instead.

“Then kiss me.”

Eddie’s risking a glance over to Steve as he tightens his grip on your neck, half expecting to see the other boy with his fist cocked back, ready to swing and fight for you.

He’s not though.

Just giving a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite down his entertained grin. You always got what you wanted, Steve’s just surprised it’s Eddie you want. He can’t blame you. Maybe it’s the mood set by the two year old Christmas lights that Rick never takes down illuminating the room, the buzz vibrating throughout your bodies, or the way Eddie keeps looking between you with those wide brown eyes... Something about the situation has Steve understanding the way you feel.

Your hands are on Eddie’s chest now, fisting around the material as you lean in to ghost your lips against his. “Are you gonna make me ask again?” His fingers are twitching on the back of your neck, tightening his grip before finally connecting your lips together. The kiss is timid at first, you can feel the nerves practically rolling off of his body, so you take it upon yourself to take the lead.

Eddie’s moaning into your mouth when he feels your tongue swipe along his bottom lip. He’s licking over his own lip, savoring the taste of Pabst, weed, and the sickly sweet taste of wine coolers you’d been sipping on all night. Somewhere buried under all that, there’s the taste of just you. His tongue slips between your parted lips, licking into your mouth and giving an appreciative moan once again. You delight in just how vocal he’s being.

The couch’s dipping beside you, Steve settling back into the cushions to get a better view. His hand is low on your back, sliding down to knead at the flesh of your ass as you and Eddie settle into a rhythm. You can tell he’s inexperience and it’s endearing to say the least.

Your hand cups over the bulge in Eddie’s lap, rubbing along his growing length as he moans into your mouth. “Wanna see you, Baby. Is that okay?” His jaw goes slack, risking a glance over to Steve for approval. He’s just shrugging it off, his own hand coming to palm over his jeans as he mimics your motions on Eddie. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets.”

Eddie’s trying to process everything going on and it takes a moment for him to respond. Finally giving an unsteady nod to the room before looking back to you and God you can tell he’s nervous. His hands are on the back of your arms now as he mindlessly rubs up and down them, trying to keep himself grounded in the moment. “Then, uh, yeah. Yeah, that’ll be.... Good.”

Without much more convincing you get to work undoing his belt buckle. Unlatching the cold metal before giving it a firm tug, Eddie arching his hips up in order to help you remove it from his body. You pitch it under his arm and you feel his body jerk at the sudden sound. If you weren’t careful the mood could go sour quick due to the reminder of why you’re all here in the first place.

“So no one has ever touched you before? Just me?” Eddie nods enthusiastically as you unbutton his jeans, his breath hitching when he hears the sound of his zipper being pulled down. “Just you, Princess. Kinda scared, fuck, that I’m not gonna last that long if we’re being honest.” You’re giggling at the admission and Eddie’s thanking every star in the galaxy that he took the time to actually shower and change into clean clothes when you guys showed up.

The room fills with the sounds of both of you moaning when you finally slip your hand into Eddie’s boxers and feel his length against your hand. He’s gripping the back of your arms now, the circuit he’s been running this whole time, as he whimpers and rocks up to your touch. You make quick work of tugging his jeans and boxes down just enough to free him from his clothes. Marveling at the sight of him erect and desperate.

You wrap your hand around the base, giving him an experiment dry tug. Eddie’s head falls back against the wall as he moans out a string of profanities. His mind has to drift off to focus on anything but your touch or he’s going to finish from just one brush of your hand. You’re proud of yourself, giving him another flick of your wrist before letting him go. You start to push off the couch, standing up and pulling your shirt off of your overheated frame. Making quick work of your bra before tossing the both of them into the corner.

Eddie’s thankful for the break but he’s so hard that it fucking hurts. The sight of you topless in front of them is not helping his cause.

Steve’s eyes are on you as you reach over to him. He’s entertained and you can tell he’s hard in his tight jeans. You hold your hand out under his mouth, “Can you spit in my hand, Baby?” Steve grabs a hold of your wrist and does as he is told. Licking a strip down your fingers before spitting into your hand. He’s giving your wrist a squeeze before pushing your hand back towards Eddie.

You fall to your knees in between Eddie's legs and go right back to wrapping your wrist around him, lazily dragging your fist around him. Eddie’s clinging to you as you take your time exploring him, smiling down at the boy. “You’re longer than Steve. Not as thick but you’re long. Such a pretty cock, Eddie. Thank you for letting me take care of you tonight.”

He can barely even get his thoughts together fast enough to respond before you start shuffling off of his lap. Hand still firmly around his length as you settle on your knees between his legs. Eddie finally looks down at you and there could be angel wings coming from your back as far as he's concerned considering what a heavenly sight you make.

"Can I taste you, Eddie?" You're hamming it up for him. Batting your eyelashes and pouting. Something straight out of a porno, all for him.

It's odd - Steve feels almost... Proud? Maybe that's not the best word for describing watching your girlfriend suck someone else's dick but it's the best one he can find. You gorgeous in this lighting, you're being playful, and hell it's practically charity work. Taking this poor guy's virginity as a treat while his world is falling apart. It's admirable, really.

Eddie's frantically nodding while he twitches under your touch. Reaching down to try and shimmy his pants further down his legs so you have a better angle. "Darlin', you can do fucking anything to me. Don't have to ask anymore, okay? I appreciate but whatever you want is fine by me."

You grin up at him and lean closer, sticking your tongue out and keeping eye contact while tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. There's saliva dripping off your tongue and onto him, running down the sides of your length until it meets your fist. You're leaning in to wrap your lips around the head of him. Giving an appreciative hum before sinking down further around him.

Steve's taught you well. He's laid back and let you 'practice' sucking him off for hours at this point. His fingers laced behind his head while you get your throat used to taking him further and further. Sometimes he feels bad taking up all the attention and has you straddle his face to return the favor while you suck him off.

All that training and Eddie gets to reap the rewards.

It's easy for you to build up a stead pace. Tongue swirling his tip and using your hand to jack off his exposed length before you take him back into his mouth. Your other hand comes up to cup the weight his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you work.

Eddie’s bucking up his length deeper into your throat, causing you to gag around the sudden intrusion. “Gotta chill out, Munson.” He’s storing away the fact that Steve Harrington chastising him makes his cock twitch in your mouth. Something about a pretty boy being firm gets under his skin.

“Shit, my bad, Sweetheart. Just felt too fucking good.”

Steve's scooting closer to you both while the old, thrifted and worn couch makes creaking sounds under him. He's taking your hand that isn't currently occupied with Eddie and putting it on the front of his too tight jeans. You give a hum of appreciation at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend under your touch, pulling back from Eddie's cock with a string of spit attached to your lip. You're using the same motion on the both of them while grinning up at Eddie.

"Can you get him out for me? Unless you want me to stop touching you?"

Eddie gasps involuntarily and shakes his head, pumping his cock through your fisted hand. It's slick and obscene and he's twitching in your grasp. He looks between the two of you nervously but when Steve doesn't object he decides to lean forward to move your hand out of the way, shaky fingers touching the metal of his belt. "You guys are-..." He's cutting himself off with a broken laugh as your lips press a kiss to the head of his cock, a reward for doing as he's told, "You're fuckin' insane."

Steve's beaming. He's eating this up.

His hips arch under Eddie's touch and you keep your eyes trained on the boys while lazily jacking off Eddie. Steve helps the two of you and pushes his jeans down his thighs, the head of his cock threatening to slide out of the slit in his briefs. Eddie's watching his face for a moment before hooking his fingers under Steve's boxers and pulling them down.

Steve's cock is thick and hard, dripping at the tip. You whimper at the sight of him, rubbing your thighs together as your clit starts to throb. Steve snatches up your free hand once again, spitting into your palm before bringing your hand to his cock. You wrap your fingers around the base and are back to repeating the same motions on the two boys.

You wrap your lips around Eddie's cock once again, his length sliding down your throat as he fucks into your warm mouth. You notice his fingers still linger on Steve's thigh, he's short circuiting at the combination of the both of you. "You are uh.... Fuck, she wasn't lying." Steve's chest puffs up with pride as the two of you both admire how thick his cock is.

There's a giggle coming out of you that you just can't help though the sound gets muffled by Eddie's cock.

This is crazy.

Eddie whines as you pull off of his cock once again but God are you a vision. Spit dribbling down your chin, eyes wide and dark with lust. You look over and pout at your boyfriend as your wrist starts to slow its pace on both of them. He knows exactly what that look means - You're needy. Rightfully so too.

It takes mere seconds from the moment your attentive boyfriend picks up on your queue for the situation to completely change. He's pushing back against the couch and kicking his jeans fully off before ushering Eddie away from you. Eddie who's almost skittish, desperately wanting to make sure he doesn't overstep and doing as he's told.

He watches as Steve pulls you up from the ground, a hand instantly going to the back of your neck as he pulls you into a feverish kiss. You instantly melt against his chest, a mess of parted lips and breathy moans and whimpers that are going right through him. There's a hand slipping into your pants, Steve's nimble fingers making quick work of cupping over your heat.

Steve moans into your mouth while his cock twitches against your thigh, "Baby, you let yourself get this wet without letting me know?" You pathetically nod, desperately gripping onto Steve's arms as he drags a finger between your folds. "Bet this pussy wants to be fucked so bad, huh?" That finger presses into you now without warning and Steve bucks his hips at the same time you clenched around his digit. "Fuck, can feel how needy you are."

Eddie's going to fucking combust.

Your boyfriend doesn't even look away from you as he pats his hand against your pussy, kissing you once more before just talking into the abyss. "We need a bed."

And that's how you end up down the hallway with Steve pushing you back against this shitty bed, the springs whining under you as you bounce against the thin padding. Eddie can't help but think how much better you deserve but they're working with what they've got for now. Your pants and underwear are being ripped off by Steve and Eddie nearly creams himself at the sight of your bare pussy exposed to them both.

Your feet are planted far apart, legs falling open to give them both a good look. Their gazes are intense and empowering as you reach a hand down to toy with your clit, giving them a dramatic moan as you do. Someone needs to check Eddie's pulse because he's half convinced he died the other night and this is just some weird section of Heaven.

Steve steps over to Eddie, clapping a hand against his shoulder before reaching down to tug his shirt off of his slender frame. "I'll let you go first since you've never fucked before but you better treat her, Muson. I know my girl, I'll know if you don't do a good job, yeah?"

He's stumbling over to you, jaw slack and all he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears as he watches you slide two fingers into yourself. "Jesus Christ...." You do your best to look like every man's dream porno at that moment - Pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, fluttering your eyelashes, whining while you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples. "Need you to fuck me so bad, Eddie."

Eddie’s looking around the room on the hunt for what you can only assume is a condom. Panic playing across his face much to both you and Steve’s entertainment. Your boyfriend’s laughing besides him, “She’s on the pill.” To which you nod eagerly, “Knew from the first time Stevie and I hooked up I had to be.”

The sound of a sharp smack fills the room as Steve playfully spanks his hand against Eddie's ass before moving to stand next to the two of you at the foot of the bed. He's leaning in to press a kiss against your lips, roughly grabbing at the breast you weren't teasing while Eddie moves to kneel on the bed between your legs. "He's gonna take good care of you, Baby."

Your brain is fuzzy. Your body is needy. Something needs to give.

Eddie’s hovering over you now, his hair hanging down and tickling your face. “Here, m’gonna take care of you.” You’re pushing your fingers back through his hair, gathering it up in your fist before sliding the elastic from your wrist and giving him a haphazard ponytail. It’s the best you can do given the circumstances.

Remember how Eddie was afraid he’d never feel affection like he wanted to? That moment threw his fears out the window. You were so gentle with him, so caring. It’s making his heart have this painful flutter and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to convey to you how much this night means to him.

You’re leaning up, brushing your lips along his which brings Eddie out of his train of thought. “You sure you wanna do this? No pressure, Honey. We can all go to bed and act like none of this happened.” None of this happened? There’s no way he could ever forget tonight. He’s shaking his head, catching your lips in another kiss while lowering his hips so your bodies are flush together. Eddie’s moaning into your mouth at the feeling of your core along his length, instinctively rutting himself against you. You snake your arms around his chest, holding him close to you while he balances himself with one elbow digging into the bed, his other hand reaching down to fist around himself.

There’s a choked out moan coming from the boy as the head of his cock pushes into you. Eddie has to pause his motions and regroup himself before starting to sink in further. This is a life altering experience for him... He refuses to be nothing more than a virgin who can only last thirty seconds in your mind.

You arch your hips up to meet him halfway, both of you adjusting to the sensation. Eddie’s staring down at you as though he’d lasso the moon and bring it down to Earth if it would do so much as make you smile... Maybe he needs to remind himself that you’re taken and this is only happening due to the oddest set of circumstances ever experienced.

Hey, sue him, but maybe he doesn’t remind himself at all.

Maybe as his hips rock into you, with a motion that isn’t exactly coordinated but it’s still driving you wild, he allows himself to savor the affection you give. The way you’re trying to fight the urge to close your eyes because you don’t want to miss a second of his expression. The way his name falls from your lips.

Like Steve said earlier, sometimes you just can’t help yourself.

“How does she feel, Munson?”

“Like fuckin’ heaven.”

Eddie’s rutting himself up into you, trying to decide between just staying buried so deep or using every last breath he has begging you to move with him. His body is short circuiting and he just knows for a fact that this probably isn’t the best fuck you’ve ever had but as far as he’s concerned? Sex has never felt better for anyone in the world than how he feels right now. You’re warm and wet, practically soaking everything that touches where the two of you are connected.

He’s letting out a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into your sloppy pussy and Steve finds himself entertained as he watches Eddie take on the role he normally gets you in. Babbling and begging. Steve’s laughing to himself before coming to stand behind Eddie. He’s holding his hands higher on Eddie’s hips, silently directing the boy on how to fuck you better.

To his credit - Eddie is a quick learner.

He’s capturing your lips in a gentle kiss - you can tell he’s been getting better at kissing over the course of the night. Your arms wrap tight around his neck, slowly beginning to drag your hips a few inches up and almost lazily fucking yourself on Eddie.

Eddie who can’t see straight anymore and isn’t sure his heart has stopped beating.

“Holy shit, holy fuck, holy fucking shit.”

You can tell by his frantic words that he’s getting closer. You’re not sure how much longer he has left in him so you make a show of arching your back into him, grabbing ahold of his hair and his bicep with the other hand. Fluttering yourself around his length before giving a dramatic gasp and letting your ‘orgasm’ wash over you. This part of the night was about letting Eddie use you for his pleasure, you didn’t want him to look back and think you didn’t enjoy yourself.

Steve knows you, knows your body. He knows what you’re up to and will make sure you’re well taken care of.

And it does work. Eddie’s hips start sputtering while he mutters out, “Holy shit that was so hot.” He’s barely got time to fuck another few strokes into you before he’s finishing without warning. Chasing the feeling by rocking himself through his orgasm, finishing deep inside of you. Partly kicking himself in the ass because he doesn’t want this experience to be over already.

It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, leaning in to kiss you and mutter out praises and thank you’s in between every kiss. In that moment he’s no longer on the run, there’s no longer his life imploding around him. He gets to just be Eddie and there’s not enough words in the English language to convey how much that means to him. Eddie gives you one final kiss before he's whining and pulling out, the cool air against his wet and sensitive cock causing him to hiss.

You only have but seconds to recover before you feel your boyfriend’s touch.

Steve grabs a hold of your ankles, throwing them both over his shoulders before he leans in for his turn to kiss you. It's sloppy and messy and you haven't had a coherent thought since you laid down on this bed so you can only imagine what kissing you is like but he's not complaining. He pulls back to get a good look at you, giving himself confirmation that you were still doing okay. Fucked out and blissful, he knows you're thriving probably more than you should be but you didn't feel any shame.

He pulls even further back to continue his examination, stopping at the sight of you spread open for him, marveling at the way Eddie’s cum drips out of you. He’s used to seeing his own, used to scooping it up and pushing it back inside of you, but something about seeing you filled up by another man… It’s bringing out a weird, feral part of Steve that he doesn’t quite comprehend.

You're whining and grabbing a hold of his waist as you feel the thick head of Steve's cock press against your sensitive hole, your puffy pussy throbbing even harder than you thought possible. "Getting fucked twice in one night... Just know you're happy, aren't you? Mhm, fuck, this greedy little cunt was made to be wrapped around my cock. Might share it every now and then but you know where you belong, don't you?" Your nails dig into Steve's shoulders and he chuckles as you arch your hips up, desperate to get him inside of you.

"Stevie, please. Need to feel you." And he doesn't make you ask twice. You're gasping and thrashing against the bed as Steve stretches you out. Even after Eddie fucked you it still took a second for you to adjust to how girthy he was. There's a mixture of your wetness and Eddie's cum being pushed out around his cock as he buries himself into you, the sensation driving him wild.

He’s slowly dragging himself back out of you, much to your protest. Taking the head of his cock through the cum that’s leaked out, collecting it on himself before lining up and pushing into you with one firm thrust. The sinful sound of Steve stretching out your wet pussy filling the room. He’s letting you relax under him while those strong arms hold you close to him, body going lax.

“So fucking full. Can’t think straight. Two pretty boys in me… S’good.”

Every word and sound you could make is caught in your throat, effectively rendering you dead silent. You don’t know who noticed your fingers working your clit first but Eddie’s tight grip on your wrist is keeping you from continuing. “Absolutely not.”

Eddie’s watching Steve’s expression for any hint of disgust or disapproval. There’s none. Instead he’s giving Eddie a small nod of encouragement. There’s a shift in the energy in the air.

You feel Eddie shuffle on the bed, his warm breath on your stomach, and all of a sudden you see the lights of Heaven when you feel Eddie’s tongue lapping at your clit while Steve picks up the pace of fucking into you.

Even in your turned on bliss, you’re not missing the fact that Eddie’s tongue is accidentally brushing over Steve’s cock. By the look on Steve’s face, he doesn’t quite mind the extra attention either.

“You’re both such pretty boys. Thank you for taking care of me so fucking good. No one else can treat this pussy like you two.”

Your words make Steve’s hips lose their pace, pulling out a little too far which causes him to slip between your folds and up towards your clit. Towards Eddie’s open mouth. His tongue already out for your clit when suddenly he has the firm weight of Steve fuckin’ Harrington’s cock in his mouth.

And they’re both moaning.

Neither pulling away.

Steve’s pumping himself further into Eddie’s mouth before he truly realizes what he’s doing, his balls tightening up for a second at the new sensation. You want to cry out, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing after being so deliciously filled. But you know better. You don’t want to disrupt the sight.

It’s Steve who jerks his hips back first, pulling out of Eddie’s mouth. “Fuck, bro. Sorry.” But he wasn’t sorry, not really. The only thing Eddie wants him to be sorry about is pulling out of his throat. You’re dripping wet. Like, wet spot in the bed because of your pussy wet. Steve’s losing a bit of that friction feeling and he doesn’t want you to be missing it too. That’s what he tells himself at least.

Tells himself that you need to be cleaned up so this night feels better for you.

Right?

So he’s taking a hold of his cock, fist wrapping around the base. “You uh, -… You wanna clean her up for me, Munson?” An offering to Eddie. He can either go right for your pussy and pretend that Steve wasn’t asking to suck him off.

And you’re not even offended when he picks Steve. Because the sight of Eddie Munson sucking you off of Steve’s dick?

Steve’s moaning as Eddie wraps his lips around his cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip before working on taking more length. Your fingers are back on your pussy and fuck you really did need to be cleaned up. You’ve got two fingers pushed into yourself, and while it doesn’t match how full you just felt, the view makes up for it.

The sight doesn’t last long, Steve pulling himself out of Eddie’s mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. “Not gonna last much longer if we keep this up.” And to his credit, Eddie’s pouting. His fingers touching his lips as he remembers the feeling but he’s nodding nonetheless.

Your nails are digging into Steve’s back, clinging to him as if he were a lifeboat while you're drowning in all these sensations. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes and Steve’s cupping your face to wipe them away while Eddie adjusts himself until the three of you are as comfortable as possible. There’s Eddie’s lips at the back of your shoulder pressing a tender kiss as Steve speaks, “Words. How are you doing? Too much?”

It takes you a moment to collect yourself but you’re finally able to muster up a lopsided smile for him, nodding with your head bumping against Eddie’s. “Good, so good. Thank you for checking on me.” You slide a hand through the hair on the nape of Eddie’s neck, giving him a kiss as Steve pushes back into you.

You only get a few more kisses before Eddie has to pull back - He’s starting to get hard again and it hurts. He decides he has to try even harder to make sure he gets out of this alive just on the off chance you two ever invite him in again.

Steve takes this as his chance to lean in, pressing his chest flat against yours as he bends you in half. There’s a warm hand cupping your jaw and you wait until he gets closer, your lips finally touching so you’re able to keep your voice low. “Always so good to me, Stevie. Treat me so well… Treat this pussy so good. Love belonging to you.”

He’s groaning into your mouth, savoring every word you give him. “Gonna make my pretty girl cum…. Can feel how bad you need me. Fuck, squeezing me so tight.” Steve starts to pick up the pace and jackhammers himself into you. Relentless, claiming. All you can do is lay there and take your boyfriend. He knows how bad you need to finish, how badly you need him. The coarse pubes at the base of his cock keep brushing against your overstimulated clit and you cry out, arching your back up into him as you start to black out from this level of pleasure. Spots in your vision, no thoughts in your head. Just pure pleasure taking over your body.

There’s not much warning when your orgasm finally hits your body. Your back arching off of the bed and legs starting to shake as it vibrates through every inch of your being. The loud, lewd sounds coming out of you making everyone thankful they’re so far into the woods. Steve’s slowing his pace while he fucks you through the sensation, warm arms wrapping around your body after he drops your legs to let them fall to the side of you two. He’s shushing you, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. “That’s it, Baby. Let go, I’ve got you. Such a good girl for me.”

Steve's orgasm comes quickly after yours, the spasms of your core milking it out of him. You know he's going to be scratched and bruised tomorrow morning from the way you're desperately clinging to him at the feeling of being so, so full. You wanna offer him the same reassurance but there’s nothing able to come out of you except a mess of ‘Love you. Love you so much’ which makes his heart tug.

He’s pulling back after the two of you have a moment to collect yourselves, looking at you all blissed out and your body fully relaxed after having been used as much as one could probably withstand. Your head is still tilted back against the pillow, his fingers pushing through your hair as it keeps sticking to your damp forehead each time you adjust. It’s kind of endearing how gentle he’s being with you considering how filthy the three of you have been.

Your whines fill the room as Steve pulls out of you, falling flat against the bed next to you. His fingers tangle together with yours as he still craves your touch.

Eddie had left the room towards the end of your intercourse - The moment so intimate that he felt as though he was intruding. He’s sneaking back in, giving the sight of you two sprawled out on the bed a fond little smile as he sits down cups of water on the side table. The least he could do was attempt to take care of the both of you the best he could.

He’s stepping over to stand between the two of you, a warm hand cupping your knees to give them a gentle squeeze. That’s when this sneaky little idea comes to Eddie. Your eyes are closed, giving an appreciative hum at the affection felt between Steve’s touch and Eddie rubbing his hand higher along your thighs.

It’s quiet for a moment as Steve lays on his back next to you. One hand behind his head, the other grabbing you still the only warning you get is a shuffling on the bed before -

“Holy fuck, Eddie.”

His head is between your thighs, tongue dragging right between your folds. Your back is arching while your hands come down to lace in his hair. Steve’s slacked jaw, watching as Eddie begins licking you out. His cock is giving a painful twitch, still sensitive but it’s a damn fine sight.

Eddie’s dipping his tongue into you, curling it just right to collect whatever he can get. Your hips are starting to rock up against his face but the sensation is just too much. He takes your choked out whimpers as a sign. Pulling away from you with this practically pornographic pop of his lips as his suction is lost against you. His lips are shiny, eyes trained on Steve.

You watch as Eddie shuffles forward, reaching out to cup Steve’s chin. The sight above you? It’s addicting. Eddie’s thumb drags across Steve’s lips and he’s quickly letting his jaw fall open under the touch.

Eddie’s leaning forward and you gasp as he spits into Steve’s mouth. A mixture of you, Eddie, and Steve being shared between the two. Steve’s groaning and your eyes are trained on his neck as you watch him swallow.

Next there’s Eddie’s warm hand around your throat. His eyes are so playful, so cocky as he looks down at you. You know what’s expected of you and open your mouth before you’re asked. The reward? Eddie’s hand tightening around your throat. You’re reaching out to grab his hip, nails digging into his flesh while he leans over you a bit more to get the angle right. Like he said earlier, he doesn’t want anything going to waste.

Eddie’s spitting the rest of what he has into your mouth, his hand coming up from your throat so his thumb can come between your lips. You close your mouth around it, Eddie feeling as you swallow what was given to you.“Uh -“ Eddie’s cheeks go this pretty shade of pink and he refuses to look at either of you, “Not to make this all weird and shit, but thank you guys for doing that with me. Never fuckin’ expected to lose my virginity to Steve Harrington and his hot ass girlfriend. But it was good.”

#can't believe she's finally done eeeee #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steddie x y/n #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut #e.m.♡#s.h. ♡#steve harrington

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madlori · 14 days

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On Tommy Kinard

"It's not that I don't like Buck and Tommy, it's just happening so fast, he's underdeveloped!"

*clears throat*

Here is a recap of what we know about Tommy. And this is just off the top of my head, I didn't rewatch anything.

He was closeted at the 118 before and found the atmosphere repressive. He (probably) acted like a dick to fit in. When presented with the chance to make things better, he took it, and developed positive relationships with Hen, Chim and Bobby.

He was in the army and trained there as a pilot.

He knows Muay Thai and has a set up in his house.

He likes to work on cars and has a lift at his house (where TF does he live is my question - he has some nerve being agog at Buck's loft if he has a muay thai gym and a car lift)

He is down for violating departmental policy at the drop of a hat (has done so on at least two occasions) to help a friend and has no problems fucking with the fire chief.

He is a nerd. He likes pub trivia and has incorrect Star Wars opinions, and can keep up with Chim in the movie-quoting department.

His favorite movie is "Love, Actually" and he likes craft beer and monster trucks.

He came out when he transferred to Harbor and felt comfortable enough to stop lying about who he was.

He follows MMA and has friends in Vegas who like him well enough to hook him up to a frankly insane degree.

He'll risk his own life and engage in helicopter skulduggery to save people he doesn't know...I mean, apart from doing that for a living.

He'll take time out of his day to give a tour to the cute boy who called him up and offer to give that boy flying lessons (a significant time investment) which was probably maybe about more one on one time with said boy.

He yearns for the belonging and found family that the 118 became after his departure and probably befriended Eddie hoping to earn a plate at the cookout, aside from just clicking with him.

He likes Eddie and Chris a lot and they like him. Chimney also likes him.

He was attracted to Buck right away and was emotionally aware enough to pick up on Buck's jealous feelings over Eddie and his friendship, even if he was surprised that it was him Buck wanted to get to know.

He respects and values Buck and Eddie's friendship and wanted to make sure Buck knew that.

He's brave enough to shoot his shot by planting one on a dude.

He's a lil bitchy but also generous and ready to throw in with this insane guy who's inviting him to a family wedding after 0.5 dates.

He showed up to a bachelor party when he was on call because Buck asked him to, then showed up in turnouts after fighting a fire for like 12 hours yadda yadda we all know this part.

He has got it BAD for one Evan Buckley, who he only calls "Evan" which according to LFJR is a conscious decision by the writers, which fascinates me.

He was willing to take a chance with a man just discovering his sexuality BUT wasn't willing to put himself through that if the man in question wasn't ready for it. When Buck showed him that he was, he was all in.

He does NOT take his coffee like that.

Oh and

He's a beast.

This is VASTLY more information than we knew about ANY of Buck's previous girlfriends with the possible exception of Abby. Even Taylor did not get this much development over 20 episodes (things we knew about her: she was an ambitious and ethically flexible reporter, did not eat fudge, had a dad in jail, and sometimes jogged for exercise, she was capable of being nice and did love Buck, I believe). And as for it being fast? Sometimes it just be like that? A relationship doesn't have to have year(s) of buildup. Sometimes people do just meet, like each other, and start dating, in fact in the real world that's usually what happens. It's in TV Land that you have to have eighteen seasons of UST before pulling the trigger. Most of the time in reality people just vibe off each other and decide to go out and THEN they learn about each other.

And they've got a great start. You'd think they'd barely spoken by how a few naysayers are talking about it - the loft scene was like a solid five minutes of very open conversation, the Cringe Date seemed to have gone well and again, open and honest (if cringey) conversation before Cockblocker Eddie showed up, and the coffee meetup was again....open and honest conversation. They're not gonna show us long scenes of them exchanging firefighting stories and workout preferences (I mean, I'd watch that, but it's not what the show is about).

In conclusion, anyone saying he's poorly developed or the relationship is "out of nowhere" either is being willfully obtuse or has ridiculously unrealistic expectations for relationships and/or what constitutes character development.

As for whether they have chemistry, that's a matter of subjective opinion. Given that a TON of people watched that harbor tour scene (even when it was posted as a sneak peek) and started going "wait...what's going on here...are they flirting??" might be a clue. People were talking about Bi!Buck maybe happening with Tommy based solely off that clip of the harbor tour and what they were seeing between them. And imho that loft scene was crackling. But we all see things through the lenses of our biases, myself included.

Got that off my chest, whew.

#9-1-1 #evan buckley #bucktommy #911 #tevan #kinley #tommy kinard #9-1-1 meta #9-1-1 shipping #fandom discourse #firepilot #trying to use all the ship tags we have #buck x tommy

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sh1-n0bu · 2 months

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♡︎ 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘 ♡︎

characters: sub!gallagher x nb!dom!reader

warnings: usage of aphrodisiacs, exhibitionism, slight dumbification, thigh riding, dry humping, begging, cumming untouched, gallagher being an old man loser, just a mini drabble guys. nothing big (i say as i write down 1,7K words)

notes: @lufenianwol you knew exactly what you were doing when you sent me gallagher’s leaked idle animation didn’t you, you gayyyy🫵🏳️‍🌈 (im gay too😔)

sigh…

another day, another long work of hunting down criminals or outlaws who came to penacony uninvited and detaining them. the most time gallagher could ever get to de-stress were behind the bars, mixing up a drink his customers asked for or when with you. you were a fellow bloodhound, a high ranking one too, so never had enough time to spend some quality time with your tired lover.

but today, you wanted to be a little mischievous. and what was that on your mind? you slipped just a teeny weeny bit of aphrodisiacs into his usual alcohol in his personal flask of course! just a little. maybe a pinch or two. a bit of a sprinkle of magic as a gift.

or maybe even a whole mini bottle. but you won’t say it until your tired lover comes crawling over to you, huffing and puffing, whining whimpering as he begs for your help at “restocking” some of the alcohol at the backrooms.

at the other end of the bar, you watch with a barely hidden smirk whenever your lover takes a sip from his personal flask during his break times. each time he does, getting more and more intoxicated in the taste. you purposely chose one that tasted delicious and soft on the tongue, a way to reward him for his hard work of running after criminals and preparing him for what was about to happen.

he started out strong, as expected of a bloodhound officer. barely felt it, focusing on work, wiping a glass or two, mixing up a drink. but the more he drank from his flask, the more you noticed it. the little stuttering over his words, the slight flush in his cheeks, the jumpy way he reacted whenever you passed by him with a hand on his waist or lower back. that bulge in his pants. that damn delicious bulge that you love to bully.

shaking your head, snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you focus back on work to wipe the bar clean and serve the customers drinks and desserts of their liking. you and gallaher were a good pair to serve amazing cocktails after all.

finally, the rush hour had ended, meaning fewer customers. the fewer there are, the more noticeable gallagher’s show of being affected by the little sprinkle of magic became. at first, he tried to play things off as signs of cold, or just the warm and low lighting of the bar being the reason his cheeks are pink. hell, he even coughed a few times to make his act believable. believable to the nosy customers but never to you.

“[n-name]…” the man barely manages to muffle his whimper when calling out your name, low lidded eyes, hazy vision and slightly shaky hand tugging on your necktie. you hum, turning to him with a raised brow as if you weren’t the reason behind this panting mess in front of you.

“yeah? what’s up?” you ask, putting down the bottle on where it’s supposed to be as your hands come to rest on his waist. the rush hour just ended, the bar still had a few customers but they were either too drunk to care nor engrossed in their own sob life stories to share you two a glance. and gallagher was damn glad for it too.

“w-we, ahem, need to head to the backrooms. we’re running out of some beers and fizzy drinks in the fridge” he quickly clears his throat, hoping that no one had caught onto his little stuttering. you did, of course. you would catch onto anything your lover says or does. even the tiniest things. such as how he was trying to make it seem like an innocent half-hug when you could feel his cock twitch in his pants as he pushes his crotch against yours, hoping to conceal it while also giving you a little heads-up.

as if you needed the heads-up.

“alright. you can go first, i’ll come after you once i wipe my hands” you nod your head, watching as your lover disappears behind the door with a sign that read “staff only”. it was cute how gallagher was so trusting of you, never even thought for a moment how you could have been the one to drug his flask of alcohol. though, judging from his cloudy eyes and stuttering, you could guess that he could barely even think to begin with. how adorable of him.

soon enough, you follow after the steps of your lover, walking into the “staff only” part of the bar and later onto the door with the sign “backrooms”. the pretty decent sized dark room where the bar keeps their ingredients and drinks. the same exact room where your lover pushes you against the wall the moment you entered, shaky hands fumbling with the buttons of your button down shirt as he humps his hardened cock against your crotch.

“woah woah, puppy. easy now. what’s going on? i thought we needed to restock on our drinks?” you ask, feigning innocence as your hands rest over gallagher’s shaky ones, stopping his fumbling and managing to catch his attention for a minute. he looked so dumbfounded. bottom lip on the brink of bleeding due to his chewing, panting, cheeks flushed a pretty red as his dilated eyes try to focus on you. you swore he looked like he was almost on the brink of crying with how damn pathetic he looked.

“c-can’t… [name], please, help me… ‘s so hot, tight. stupid pants mmngh!” gallagher only moans, tripping over his own words in a jumbled mess as he tries to find some sort of relief for his poor aching cock. looking down, you could briefly make out a dark small patch at the front of his pants. he was so drugged that he couldn’t even tell that he was staining his own clothes with his precum. so cute.

you only hum in response, not bothering to do as he pleads as your hands rest on the fat of his ass, massaging them gently. he only whines, slurred words of how he wanted your hands on his cock falling out as he squirms in your hold. lowering yourselves down to the floor of the room, you shift gallagher on top of you to ride your thigh instead. flexing the muscles in them to make it easier for him as he whimpers at the feeling.

immediately, the man started to hump your thigh. salacious mewls falling out of his lips as he doesn’t even try to silence his loud noises, only dumbly trying to relieve himself as he rubs his clothed cock on your thigh. you could see the dark patch in his pants getting bigger, darker the more he rides your thigh. if he had his dick out, he would probably leave a mess all over your clothes.

“shh shh, puppy. the door isn’t locked, remember?” you chuckle, reminding him of where the two of you were getting naughty at. it was so cute to see his eyes perk up at the sound of your voice. more specifically, whenever you called him puppy. he really did lived up to that nickname, looking like a cute pup as he bites down on his lip.

one of your hands travel up to his chest, opting to play with his perky nipple as he let out a loud squeal at that. his chest was always so sensitive, making him let out the most delicious whimpers each time you roll, pinch or tug at the hardened nub. being so mean to not slip your hands under the opening of his button down shirt at the front, playing with his nipples over the harsh fabrics of his clothes instead. he just wanted your touch on him to relieve the ache pooling in his belly, would you be so mean to deny him of his wishes?

apparently, you would. the hand on the soft fat of his ass moving to rest over his hip, helping him hump his cock on your thigh as your other hand continue their brutal assaults on his chest. poor gallagher, can't even form a single word as his pleads fall out of his swollen lips in a jumbled heap of mess. you could barely make out your own name from it. the words sounding so muddled up as if the bloodhound officer couldn't tell the difference between reality and his drug induced feelings.

"[n-naaammmeee]... sniff pleasheee fuunnghh fucck!! p-pleashh pleaash pleeaasshee♡︎!! ungh!! guuunnhg♥︎♥︎! p-pretty pleaaseee♡︎?" gallagher whines helplessly, stuffing his flushed face into the crook of your neck as his movements become more sloppy and frantic. he was so close to cumming already, it was just so cute to see how easily someone who is apparently always in control to crumble over with just a little bit of thigh riding. and some sprinkle of magic added to the mix.

in an attempt to muffle his loud moans and stuttering of his breath, he hastily lowers the collar of your own button down shirt just a little bit more. just enough so he could bite down over the old, healing bite mark of his so he could attempt to muffle his pathetic noises. you only coo out in a mocking tone, calling him by that nickname again as you tug on his nipple through his shirt as debouched cries of your name falls from his lips over and over like a mantra. gallagher sounded like one of those old, broken down radios that only replay a single song that sometimes is in the bar.

with a final thrust and a meek little bounce on your thigh, gallagher releases into his clothes. the magenta red hue of his pants turning a darker shade as his cum pools into the materials of his pants, staining it as some of the translucent liquid drips down onto your pants. you could just wash them out later.

"done with your little show, puppy?" you ask, the hand on his hip squeezing a bit to snap him out of his hazy mind. instead, you got a shake of his head, his stubble lightly tickling the skin of your neck in the process.

"wan' more... wan' you♥︎" he mumbles, delirious and drooling, as he humps his still hard cock against your crotch, indicating what he craved so desperately. maybe next time you should check the dosage you put into his drink if he's gonna be drugged this heavily by such a small amount.

#nobu.writes #sub hsr #sub honkai star rail #sub!hsr #sub!honkai star rail #sub character #sub!character #hsr smut #hsr x reader #hsr x reader smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #sub gallagher #hsr gallagher #gallagher x reader #gallagher smut #x dom reader #dom reader #dom!reader

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charliemwrites · 3 months

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Mister(s) Steal Your Girl — part 3

(I seriously need to come up with an actual name for this series before it sets in)

Introducing his grand horniness- John “Soap” MacTavish

No Content Warnings

It’s been six, coming up on seven, dates with Kyle. A dwindling part of you feared that after the absolutely mind-blowing night you two shared, he’d ghost you or something.

But nope, the morning after was spent in one of his jumpers, receiving kisses and breakfast and tea. The two of you watched movies all day until he drove you home, kissing you at the door. He let you keep his jumper.

Not three days later, he invited you to a movie you’d both been excited to see, and giggled over the popcorn bowl like teenagers. He didn’t even mind that you leaned over to whisper during certain parts, or the ramble you went on afterwards. (When you apologized for overanalyzing and talking so much, he gave you a bizarre, almost offended look. “Don’t you dare stop,” he huffed, “you’re way better than radio. What did you think about that after credit scene?”)

A few days after that, he called with apologetic news.

“Being shipped out for a couple weeks. Shouldn’t be anything too dangerous, and I’ll call when I can,” he explained.

You told the nervous little twist in your gut that you knew this about him. That this is Kyle’s job, not a convenient excuse to ignore you.

“Stay safe regardless,” you murmured earnestly into the phone. “I‘ll… I’ll miss you, Kyle.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when I get back, darlin’,” he promised.

He kept to it too. Called at odd hours sometimes - once during dinner with your fiance even. But Brandon is always taking random calls nowadays, so you figured, given the circumstances, it’s not such a big deal to excuse yourself either.

On the other end of the call, Kyle sounded a bit tired, but happy to talk to you. He couldn’t tell you anything about what he was doing, but shared some smaller, safer details. That the tea was shite because Soap kept over-steeping it. That his lieutenant was big enough to body slam him during sparring practice. That Captain Price wishes you well and promises to bring Kyle back in one piece.

You even heard one of his teammates in the background, asking Kyle if he was “chirping at his new bird.” Soap, as you found out. They sound like a good bunch.

When Kyle comes back, you offer to welcome him at his apartment. You bring a little plate of cookies and a pack of his favorite beer, hoping it’s not too much. But when he opens the door, his expression melts before he scoops you up in the big hug he promised.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, ya know that?” he murmurs, tucking his face against your neck.

You spend the whole weekend with him, kissing at the stitched-up knife wound on his muscled arm. Otherwise, all in one piece.

“Would you… want to meet my mates sometime?” he asks as you’re getting dressed for work Monday morning.

“Of course,” you reply instantly. Realize that might be too eager. “If you want to introduce me, that is.”

“I want to show you off to the bloody Queen, babes.”

You giggle, crossing the room to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He tries to draw you in for something deeper, but you wiggle and swat at him, complaining that he’ll make you late.

It’s good, you think. Blissfully good. Honeymoon phase, maybe, but considering how far off your actual honeymoon is, you feel like you deserve this. Kyle is a wonderful partner - kind, attentive, respectful. He listens, he cares, he’s independent of you and respects your boundaries. Sometimes you can’t believe you were ever nervous about this open relationship thing in the first place.

On Wednesday of that same week, Kyle tells you that Soap is going to visit and is eager to meet you. He was thinking dinner and drinks, come back to Kyle’s apartment afterwards. You readily agree.

The next day, a bouquet comes in. It’s a beautiful, though not extravagant, arrangement. Calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas. The note that comes with it says, “Wanted to make a good first impression in case Kyle told you lies.” It’s signed “Johnny.”

You send a picture to Kyle, amused and a bit endeared. It brightens the rest of your day so much that you barely notice Lucy’s usual snide comments.

On Friday night, Brandon is unexpectedly home. Usually he doesn’t even come home from work on Fridays anymore - or at least he didn’t before you met Kyle. Lately, you only pop in if you’ve forgotten something for your overnight bag. You had to stay late at the office today, though, and your apartment is closer than Kyle’s.

“Was thinking we could go out tonight,” he tells you.

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. Not just by the invitation, but by the mix of emotion in your gut. Some of it is excitement and relief, but not as much as you’d expect. It’s warring with unease and reluctance, a bit of frustration that now of all times he wants to reconnect.

“Um, raincheck?” you offer, smoothing down your dress. It’s a new one you picked out with Kyle; you’re hoping he (Kyle) will notice. “I have plans.”

Brandon’s brow furrows, smile going tight. “You can’t reschedule?”

God you hate confrontation and he knows that, doesn’t he? Why is he pushing?

“Well I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again,” you explain.

Suddenly the tension in his shoulders eases. “Oh, is it a few people then?”

“Just a couple. I’m meeting one of them for the first time.”

“Have fun then,” he says, fishing his phone from his pocket. Like you’re not even there anymore.

You blink, then your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle and you hurry out the door.

“I knew you’d look terrific in that dress,” he says as soon as he sees you.

Thoughts of Brandon, that strange interaction, and those churning feelings all disappear in an instant. Kyle just has a way of soothing you.

The restaurant is one that has quickly become one of your favorites with Kyle. Good food, good drinks, quiet and relaxed atmosphere. You like the funky artwork and squishy booths.

Soap (Johnny?) has already gotten your party a table, and stands as the two of you approach. You nearly stop right there, and then almost trip a bit as momentum urges you onwards. Manage not to make a fool of yourself, but you still boggle at him.

Because Kyle? You thought he was a fluke. Just too handsome to be real, never mind tall and fit and friendly and— well, anyway.

You thought he was a fluke.

But Soap/Johnny is goddamn handsome too! Trim stubble, pretty eyes behind thick lashes, a soft-looking Mohawk that gives him a boyish charm without seeming immature.

“There you two are, thought ye stood me up!” he greets, drawing Kyle into one of those friendly man-hugs with the shoulder pats that look like they hurt.

“Youre a cheap date anyway, MacTavish,” Kyle replies, gently easing you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

“Och, don’t bad mouth me in front of a lady,” Johnny/Soap complains, then turns his twinkling gaze to you and offers a hand. “John MacTavish, but this bampot calls me Soap.”

“Not Johnny?” you ask curiously.

You take his hand, find callouses similar to Kyle’s. But his palm is a bit broader, a scar along his thumb - from a burn it looks like. Just as warm, just as careful. A firm, but not tight shake.

“You can call me anything you like, lass,” he says. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyle choking back a laugh. Johnny it is, you figure.

“Wait ‘Soap’ is a callsign right?” you ask as Kyle herds you into the booth.

“Right-o,” Johnny replies, smiling.

“Does Kyle have one?”

The grin that he gives you would make the devil sweat. As it is, Kyle groans and shoots you a betrayed look.

“Oh does he, lass.”

You light up, grin right back. “Tell me?”

“As if I could say no to a pretty face like that!”

And so begins a long, warm, perfect night. Johnny is great company. Welcoming and friendly, quick to smile, sharp witted. You could sit all night listening to him and Kyle quip at each other, but they’re so careful to keep you included and engaged.

Johnny even offers you some of his chips when his order comes, and you’re too delighted to say no. Not that Kyle seems to mind, encouraging you to steal a couple for him since Johnny keeps whacking his hand away.

The night ends back at Kyle’s. You whip up another batch of cookies with some suspiciously new-looking baking ingredients. The boys keep you company while you work — Kyle mixes the batter when your arm gets tired and Johnny keeps your wine glass full. In the end, you let them each get a lick of the dough spoon.

Eventually, you move to the couch, climb on together. Kyle, for some reason, scooches you into the middle instead of one of the ends, but you don’t mind and neither does Johnny, it seems. They argue over a movie to put on, but it doesn’t matter because the three of you talk through most of it anyway.

The second movie is your pick, which is your downfall. You barely get halfway through before dozing off. End up stirring to muffled laughter and harsh whispering. You’ve slumped into Johnny, you realize, seeing Kyle’s broad smile.

“Oh,” you hum, trying to sit up. “‘M sorry…”

“You’re alright, lass,” Johnny murmurs, gently nudging you back down.

“Kyle?” you ask, yawning.

“Still watching the movie, sweetheart. You can go back to your nap. Soap’s nice and warm, yeah?”

You hum, snuggle in again. He is comfy. “So are you.”

Another quiet chuckle. “I know, love.”

He rouses you later — the movie must be over, you think blearily. Kyle scoops you up, plants a kiss on your cheek as you tuck in.

“Say good night to your teddy bear, baby.”

“‘Night, Johnny,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into Kyle’s neck.

“‘Night, bonnie.”

You wake first the next morning — rare and precious. Kyle is lying behind you snoring softly, arm around your waist. You wiggle around to watch his sleeping face for a minute, appreciating the peace in his features. Drop a whisper-soft kiss on his cheek and then slip out of bed.

He grumbles a bit, but you coo at him to go back to sleep and he subsides quickly. Once you’ve freshened up in the bathroom, you pad out to the living room. Johnny is up as well, watching tv on low volume with a coffee on his knee.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning,” you chirp back, continuing for the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” he observes, following.

“Slept well,” you reply, grinning. “Thanks in part to you. I hope that wasn’t uncomfortable.”

He ducks his head a bit, a light flush blooming across his ears and cheeks. “Nah, can’t complain about a pretty girl fallin’ asleep on me. Means I must have made a good impression, eh?”

“Oh! That reminds me - those flowers were gorgeous. Did you know calla lilies are my favorite?”

“Aye, Kyle’s been talkin’ about ya nonstop since ye met.”

It’s your turn to flush, and much brighter. You hurriedly turn to the cabinets.

“Well, thank you. I loved them.”

“Yeah? I’ll send you more then.”

Startled, you whip around on him, mouth stupidly open as you try to find a response. “You really don’t have to do that!”

“But what if I want to?”

And if you were struggling for words before, you’re hopeless now. So you just throw your hands up with a little “gah” sound and turn back to gathering ingredients.

“What are we making?” Johnny asks, taking mercy on you. Not that using that sly “we” isn’t devastating to your composure.

“My super special flapjack recipe,” you answer. “Could you get that big bowl down for me?”

He steps past you to do so while you dig out the measuring spoons from the dishwasher.

“If they’re as good as your cookies, then I’m gonna need extra PT after this weekend.”

“Good,” you reply, smug, “that’s my goal.”

“Dangerous woman.”

You snort, holding up a wooden spoon. “Oh yeah, I’m a real threat brandishing cooking utensils at a special ops guy.”

“Och, don’ sell yourself short - my nan used to be a menace with those things!”

Kyle exits the bedroom fifteen minutes later to the smell of cinnamon and his best friend with a face full of flour.

“…Do I even want to know?”

“Just be glad she’s on our side, Garrick.”

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #get it? misters plural. because they all steal that girl #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #Brandon the crash dummy

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badjokesbyjeff · 24 days

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There were three race horses; ernie, bill, and ted.

the three of them were good friends; they enjoyed racing each other and generally won and lost to each other equally. every evening, after the races, they went to a local bar to relax and drink some beer. they would often discuss racing techniques, their families, etc.

one season, bill wasn't doing so well. he rarely beat the other two, and was worried that he'd be sent to the glue factory if his luck didn't change. one night, at the bar, he talked with ernie and ted about it.

"you know, guys, i just can't figure it out," he said. "everything's fine at home; the kids are doing great, my wife is being nice, the bills are paid, my mother-in-law rarely visits - nothing could be better. maybe i'm just getting old. if things don't pick up soon, they'll send me to the glue factory."

the bartender, a big llama from peru, overheard the conversation. he looked around, to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, "hey, pal, i got something for you that'll make you feel like a young colt again." he reached under the bar and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer. "here, drink this; i guarantee you'll start winning again. come by each night for a week and I'll give you one. if it doesn't work, i'll give you double your money back!"

bill looked at ernie and ted, who only shrugged, then drank the contents of the bottle. "oh, just one thing," the llama said, "it'll make your ass itch, but that's okay; it's just a side effect. don't worry about it." the three horses stayed a few hours, played a few games of pool and darts, and went home.

over the course of the next three days, they went back to the bar each night, and bill continued the regimen of mystery beer. his racing times did improve! he was slowly moving back up in the rankings, and was soon back into the top three with ernie and ted. bill was ecstatic, and thanked the llama profusely.

"hey, my pleasure," said the llama.

a few weeks passed by, and ernie started slowing down. after losing three races in a row, he sobbed to himself, "i just don't get it. my life couldn't be better. i can't believe I'm getting old! they'll send me to the glue factory if i don't get back in the groove!"

that evening, at the bar, he told the llama bartender about his troubles, and asked if he too could try the mystery beer. "okay, but remember, it'll make your ass itch - but don't pay it no mind. it's just a harmless side effect."

"no problem. it'll be worth it to get back in the groove," ernie said.

a few days went by. ernie's ass did indeed itch, but after a few more days, his races improved, and he was back in the top three with bill and ted.

at the bar one evening, ernie bought a round of beers for all the horses, and thanked the llama profusely.

"i just can't believe how great that mystery beer worked!" ernie said. "you're sitting on a gold mine, there!" the llama said it was his pleasure, don't worry about it, etc.

a few more weeks went by, and now ted started slowing down, losing races. he, too realized that he'd be shipped off to the glue factory unless his races improved.

"say," he said to the llama one night after a particularly humiliating loss, "i think i need to try that mystery beer too. they'll ship me off to the glue factory for sure if I don't start winning again."

"no problem," the llama said, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. "here. come back every night, and i guarantee you'll be back in top form again, or i'll give you double your money back."

over the course of the next few weeks, ted's races continued to improve until he was back in the top three with bill and ernie. he pranced into the bar, full of vim and vigor, and thanked the llama profusely. "you know, my ass itches a lot; it's almost unbearable. but i can't thank you enough. they would have turned me into glue by now if it weren't for you. anything you want, let me know and i'll see what i can do."

"no problem," said the llama, "i make this beer at home using an ancient inca recipe. it's just my way of thanking my regular customers for their patronage over the years."

"i'm not kidding," ted said, "this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. anything, you name it, anything you want, let me know, and it's yours."

"well, now that you mention it..." the llama began -

right then, a greyhound walked up to the bar. he was obviously depressed.

"barkeep, give me something strong. i'm on a losing streak you wouldn't believe," the greyhound said.

ted looked at the greyhound, then at bill and ernie, and said, "hey, look! a talking dog!"

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

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luveline · 17 days

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Hi I love you coworker! James series feel free to ignore if you don’t like this idea but what if Remus convinced reader to go to a karaoke bar with them and she gets a little tipsy and signs her heart out and James is just heart eyes over it

thanks for requesting <3 fem!reader

“What is that?” James asks, genuinely scornful as he points at you where you’re leaning on the bar. “Is that another margarita? Jesus Christ.”

“You should be enjoying this.” Sirius smiles around the lip of his beer.

“Why would I enjoy this?”

“She’s coming out of her shell, isn’t she? You’re always calling her a priss.”

“She is a priss, but binge drinking isn’t the same as extroversion.”

Sirius taps their beers together. “And what are you doing tonight, James?”

James scowls as you collect your new drink. You’ve had four or five by now and they’ve more than started to affect you, your giggling endless, your hand wrapped around the crook of Remus’ arm for balance.

“Remus! It’s your turn, hun, get up here!” your general manager calls from the stage, a mic in her hand.

“Me!” you shout suddenly, to James’ shock and Sirius’ bright laughter. “Remus, please let me have your turn, please! I know exactly what song I want to sing.”

Remus, who’d convinced you to come through a lot of pleading and a promise that you won’t have to sing at all if you weren’t ready, looks at you like you’ve grown horns. “Are you sure?”

“Yes? Can I please?”

You take his arm into your hand and you look at him with widened eyes, thumb rubbing a line that James zeroes in on, doesn’t mean to, can’t believe he’s noticed at all. He’s irked you’d even look at Remus that way.

Because you’re annoying. Yes. Very annoying.

You drink a good half of your Margarita and ask Remus to hold it for you before you take the steps onto the stage and chat with your general manager about what song you want to sing. You put your hands on the mic stand and prepare yourself with eyebrows pinched together, determined, even though you look a little shaky at the same time. Sirius nudges James from behind, the two of them joining Remus in the small crowd of your coworkers as the music starts.

There are two screens for lyrics. A huge one for you, a smaller for everyone else beside you. You clutch the mic and stare resolutely at the bigger one as the melody becomes recognisable. James watches in what he thought would be smugness, but instead lays somewhere between awe and mild horror as you begin to sing.

The song is Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) by Big Head Todd & The Monsters. James loves this song, he sings it every time he has to drive Remus to cornwall. He knows every word back to front and he likes how you seem to like it too, even if you’re butchering it, and the drunken slur to your words is ridiculous. You know the chorus well enough and sing it with a beaming smile. James maybe doesn’t like you, but it’s hard not to smile when someone else is happy like that.

“Don’t make fun of her, James! Please don’t, she’s trying her best,” Remus says at his smiling. “And she won’t come again.”

“I’m not,” he says, not bothering to look away from you.

Your eyes scan faces and get caught on his. He can feel the moment you realise he’s watching too, see your slight falter, and then, magically, your excitement. “James! It’s Brandy! You love this song!”

Sirius snickers at his expression. “Mate,” he says quietly, “I thought you didn’t like her?”

“I don’t.”

You stumble a little where you’re standing and James has to stand extremely still so as to prevent his hands from reaching out for you. “James, I didn’t take your favourite song, okay? You have to sing Don’t Stop Believin’! Oh, shit–” You don’t realise your cue to sing the chorus until it’s halfway through, but when you do find the right words, you’re extremely passionate.

“She sounds like Melly coughing up a hairball,” James says, wrinkling his nose.

An emotion far from disgust settles hot at the base of his neck.

“She looks cute,” Remus says.

“Sure, if you’re blind. And deaf.”

“Well,” Sirius says, “you do wear glasses.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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lilislegacy · 1 month

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Okay, I’ve been thinking about something lately

All the time I see people make statements about Percy that start with “Percy would never…”

Some examples I’ve seen: “percy would never kill someone/something in front of his mom” “percy would never yell at someone he loves” “percy would never get drunk” “percy would never let his child go to camp-half blood”

Now if you passionately believe one of those, hear me out. I’m not necessarily saying I disagree!

I’m saying… who would have ever thought Percy would torture a goddess and choke her on her own poison? And…. enjoy doing it? If someone had said that on tumblr pre-HoH, every single comment and reblog would have been “PERCY WOULD NEVER!!” I mean, who would have thought Percy would do a million things he’s done? He’s done some very not so ‘silly little guy’ stuff. He is an extremely complex character. In his own head and to some people, he’s sweet and fun and silly, but to many people he’s reckless and scary and dangerous. Some people see him as someone who’s very gentle and relaxed, but some people see him as someone who’s quick to get very angry and cause destruction. And the truth is, he’s all of it. It depends on his mood. Consistency does not apply to him in many aspects. He has consistent traits, like loyalty, humor, and bravery, but his actual actions and reactions are NOT consistent. I understand why we think Percy would never do certain things. We think we know based off of his past and his history with his mom, or with Gabe, or with Luke. And I’m not saying I think he would do those things, but unless he specifically states it, we can NOT, ever, infer what Percy Jackson might or might not do.

Like for instance, the drinking thing. I am not saying percy would be a big drinker, if one at all. And he probably does have an aversion to the smell of beer because of how the apartment used to smell when he was young. But we have no evidence that Percy associates all alcohol with Gabe. Alcoholic drinks aren’t just foul smelling hard liquors. There are a million different forms that you can consume alcohol in - some of which don’t even smell like alcohol, and barely taste like it. And in The Chalice of the Gods, it’s said that Sally drinks a glass of wine every night. And Percy thinks Sally hangs the freaking moon. So if his mom drinks, he definitely doesn’t believe that alcoholic beverages = the enemy. And here’s the thing, if Annabeth and Piper and Leo were all drinking and having a good time, like college students do, and they go “Hey Percy, come sit and have a drink with us!” there’s a very good chance that he’s so comfortable with his best friends, and just wants to let loose and be a college kid, that he wouldn’t even think about Gabe. He’d just be like “Sounds fun! Count me in!” But I don’t know. That’s the point. I don’t know. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn’t. I truly think it could go either way. And even if he does drink, maybe he never - not even once - gets drunk. Maybe he’d drink in college and as a young adult, but when he becomes a father one day, he decides he doesn’t want his children to ever smell so much as a drop of alcohol on his breath, and therefore completely stops drinking. Or maybe he doesn’t ever like it, even in college. Or maybe he’s like his mom, and he and Annabeth just have a glass of wine with dinner. Who knows?

Not us. That’s what I’m saying. WE don’t know.

I’m not saying we can’t have headcanons based on what we know about him. I have a million. But the point is, I feel like we can’t try to pretend like we actually know what Percy wouldn’t do. As a fandom, we analyze him and his choices WAY more than he ever thinks about a single choice. He definitely does not think about his life and his actions as much as we do. (I’m not saying that he’s dumb or doesn’t contemplate his life and his actions, but he doesn’t nearly do it to the degree that we do.) Us, we pretend like it’s simple math. (Our first mistake, since math is consistent and full of rules, which is the exact opposite of Percy’s character.) We go “okay luke did this and gabe did this so therefore percy would never do this.” But Percy doesn’t think that way most of the time, especially not in heat of the moment matters. The only thing we 100% know about Percy is that he will always be loyal to his loved ones. But even then, we don’t know what that loyalty will look like. Is it sacrificing himself for someone? Is it murdering the enemy? Is it manipulating someone else? Percy lives in the moment. He doesn’t often think too much before he acts. He just acts. Whether it’s in a life of death situation, or his after school activity for the day. He is unpredictable, like the ocean. It’s one of his defining traits.

Honestly, I think that’s why annabeth is so drawn to him. With everyone else, she can read them super easily and know their next move. But with Percy, she has no idea. Which is frustrating to her, but also exciting. It’s a big part of her initial attraction to him. It’s also why many of us like him so much. We don’t know what’s coming next, and we never know what he will do in a situation. Like, how could we possibly know what he would or wouldn’t do when HE doesn’t even know? Half the time I don’t think Rick himself even knows.

We become so sure that Percy wouldn’t do something because we understand his character so well, right? But I think the truth is, the minute we become certain about what Percy would or wouldn’t do, is the minute we don’t understand his character at all.

Thank you for reading my analysis of Percy on why we can’t reliably analyze Percy

#the only thing we can predict is that he’ll be unpredictable #none of us know what he wouldn’t do #analysis #pjo analysis #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #sally jackson #piper mclean #leo valdez

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patscorner · 2 months

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FAMILY DINNER PART2

Summary: Chris joins your family for dinner for the first time and it does not go as planned

Tw: Swearing, physical altercation, mentions of blood, verbal arguing, panic attack mentions of alcohol use, mentions of ed, lmk if I missed something

______________________________

The rest of the dinner was just as awkward as you'd thought it'd be. You can't really come back from your father implying you and your boyfriend just fucked in the bathroom of your childhood home, at the first family 'reunion' in 2 years.

So there you sat, eating your food in silence, waiting -no- begging, that someone cut the tension.

And finally someone does. And as they say, careful what you wish for.

"How many plates have you had, dear?" Your mom asked, looking up from her plate. You look back at her, before glancing at your plate and back to at her again.

"This is my second." You say, mouth full of food. You were thankful that people took your mother's talking as an invitation to also continue their conversations.

"Maybe we should slow down, you know? Save room for dessert, which you clearly don't need." She smiles, as if what she said was the best piece of advice she'd ever given anyone.

Her comments always bothered you, no matter how much you were told to ignore them. But when it came to your weight, it hurt the most. The comments were the worst in high school, as you were a little heavier than the average petite high schooler. But it was never as serious as your mom made it. So when you were a sophomore in high school, you developed an eating disorder, where you couldn't eat even if you tried, where you spent hours crying in front of the mirror, wishing you were skinnier to fit your mother's impossible expectations.

You fought that battle for years, 3 years to be exact. Your mom couldn't help because she saw nothing wrong with what you were doing. She would say, 'It's worth it.' And when you're young, you tend to believe everything your parents say because they'd 'never hurt you.' So after you moved out, Chris helped you get help, and you won your long and cruel battle. Obviously, you still have your days and your moments, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be. Not with your new family. People who actually cared.

"S'cuse me?" You say, your voice laced with agitation.

"Well, honey, you don't want to get fat again, do you?" She said, shoveling broccoli into her mouth.

You had stopped chewing completely, making sure you heard her correctly. You looked over at Chris, who was looking at your mom with his jaw clenched. You look back at your mom and out your hand on Chris's thigh as to tell him to relax.

You felt him put his hand over yours and squeeze, a symbol of reassurance.

You sit back in your seat, looking at your plate in defeat. Guess you were done for the night. But your dad wasn't. In fact, your dad was drunk.

"Oh, honey, leave her alone. She's not nearly as huge as she used to be." He slurred, taking another sip from his beer.

"Okay, this isn't neces-" you start, only to be cut off by your parents. Shocker.

"What do you mean? I mean, look at her, David. She's just as big as she was in high school." You mom says gesturing to you.

Your heart dropped, anger and embarrassment filling your veins. "What the fuck, mom?!" You cry out. "Not only is that something you shouldn't say about people, especially your fucking kid, but I'm also right in front of you. At least have some decency to shit-talk me in private." You remove your hand from your boyfriends lap.

Your mom looks at you in shock, and your dad squints at you. "Woah, woah, relax dear. It's not only your fault. You can't help it." She said, reaching for your hand.

You pull your hand away, a look of disgust covering your face. "I don't want to hear that, mom, why's my weight always been a big fucking obsession of yours?" You snap. You feel Chris's hand on your thigh, which you push off quickly. Usually, when you're angry, the last thing you wanted was to be touched.

"It's not my fault. You were huge. I was trying to help you. Nobody wants a pig as their bride, y/n." She spits. Her words feel like daggers, stabbing into your heart.

"You weren't trying to help. You were doing this for yourself. You never cared about it. You only did it because it made you look good to have skinny, petite children. I'm not you or any of them." You gesture to you siblings. The conversations had stopped by now, all of them watching as you and your parents bickered. Embarrassing. "You're a selfish bitch, who never cared about anybody else but herself a-"

"Hey! You watch how you speak to your mother!" Your dad stands up, and instinctively, so did you and your siblings. James and Peter were the first up, while Julia walked over and made sure Maya wasn't in the room.

Nick, Matt, and Chris all stood up too, but they weren't sure what to do, which you would've found funny, but considering the circumstances...

"Let's all relax, okay." Peter attempts to butt in. He's always been so soft-spoken, but if he needs to, he'll beat the shit outta someone. You knew what he was capable of. You'd seen it when your first boyfriend cheated on you.

Your dad directed his attention to Peter. "You shut the fuck up. You have no room to speak because you're a sorry excuse for a son." He drunkenly pointed at Peter.

"You're talking. You can't even see straight half the time, let alone be eligible to give advice." James, your younger brother spits.

Ah, you'd taught him well.

"You watch your mouth before I knock you the fuck out." Your dad spits, and that seems to shut James up. It breaks your heart knowing your father hadn't changed, and when you left, probably laid hands on your younger siblings. And it appears as though Peter's heart broke, too.

Peter stepped closer to your dad, with the same face of anger you'd seem many times before. "You hit them too, Dad? After what you promised!?" He said, his voice raised.

It was all too much. There are too many memories, too many flashbacks. There are too many similarities of past events.

"O-okay, Peter, relax." You attempt, knowing how fast this could escalate. You hold Chris's hand and squeeze tightly.

"Yeah, listen to the pig, Peter." Your father gritted his teeth.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm gonna need you to stop calling your daughter a pig." You hear an unexpected voice. Chris.

Your dad whips his head, staring at Chris with his eyebrows raised, unimpressed. Little did he know, Chris played hockey, and his brothers, who wouldn't hesitate to jump in, also played hockey.

"Chri-" You start.

"No, no, I'd like to hear what he has to say." Your father mocks.

"No! No, please let's just sto-" you get cut off again.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, Y/N." Your dad yells, taking very quick steps to you.

Chris stood in front of you, Peter and James behind your father.

"Move." He growled at Chris.

Chris sucked his teeth, with fake disappointment on his face. "Sorry, can't do that one, sir."

Your dad huffed, allowing Chris to smell every sip of alcohol he'd drunk. "Move." He stated again.

Chris shook his head. "That's my daughter! Get the fuck out of the way, tough guy."

Chris cocked his head. "Really, because based off what I've seen, you sure don't talk to her like it." He spoke, his voice calm, but stern.

That was it. Your dad snapped. He swung his fist, hitting Chris in the nose. "Dad! What the fuck!" You say.

You watch as Chris doubles over, holding his nose, followed by yelling from everyone in the room. You can't understand anything, but you do know that your dad's got his hands around your collar and is holding you close to his face.

You feel the tears start to fall as the scent of alcohol burns your nose. "You're a little bitch, letting this puny excuse of a man speak to me like that."

"Let her go, dad!" James screamed, followed by Peter's yelling.

You look over and make eye contact with your mom. She stood there, arms crossed, not a single expression on her face. She just let it happen.

Your dad shook you. "LOOK AT ME." He shouted in your face. You closed your eyes, as tears began to fall.

"CHRIS NO!" Nick yells. That's all you hear before you dropped. You didn't realize he was choking you until he let go. You look up and see Chris on top of your dad, landing blows like he if were in a hockey game. Your dad got a few heavy punches in, too, as you expected.

Chris had a bloody nose, a bloody lip, and crimson knuckles. Blood stained his big hands, and you couldn't tell if it was his or your father's.

Matt and Nick finally managed to push Chris out of the house, leaving you and your family. Your dad was still screaming drunk profanities, while James made sure you were okay. Peter and your mom held your dad back from chasing your boyfriend.

You had walked out of the dining room and went to sit on the stairs. Tears streamed down your face as you felt yourself slip into a familiar but unfamiliar trance. You were completely unaware of your surroundings at this point, so lost in your brain that the rest of your body was just frozen.

You don't know how long you are disassociating for, but you heard muffled shouting until you didn't. The yelling was replaced with ringing, something your brain did as a coping mechanism, mostly when you were young and hiding with your siblings in the bathroom while your dad trashed your home.

"-aby, can you take a deep breath from me?" You look up, but your vision is blurred, and you can't make out who's speaking - or anything for that matter.

You blink slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It usually took you a while to come back to reality during these moments.

"Can someone get her a cup of water?" You hear the voice again, and despite your yearning to speak, you can't get any words out. Your mouth opens, and you try to speak, but it comes out more of a choked whine.

"Shh, I know, sweetheart, it's okay." Chris wipes the tears coming for your cheeks. Your pupils were enlarged, and your eyes were open, but you couldn't see.

"Thank you." Chris muttered as Matt handed him a cup of ice water. "Here, baby." He put his hands in the icy water, shaking them, so his hands are damp. He took your hands, which had a death grip on your hoodie, and rubbed his cold fingers over your knuckles.

You focused on the feeling of his frigid fingers and you felt yourself coming back to reality.

You blink quickly as more tears fall. "Aw ma, don't cry, it's okay, sweetheart." Chris coos, placing his hands on your hips, rubbing his thumbs on the bone.

His attempts to ground you are successful, as your eyes finally focus on his eyes. "Hey, hey, you coming back to me, baby?" Chris asks, his voice soothingly attempting to comfort you.

You nod absent-mindedly, relief flooding your body as you come back to reality.

You take in your surroundings for the first time in what felt like forever. You're sat on the stairs, your hands shaking from the adrenaline flowing through your veins.

You finally make eye contact with Chris, his eyes full of love and worry. He's got a bruise on the side of his face, a busted lip, and blood falling from his nose, smeared on his upper lip.

"Chris..." you say, cupping his face, rubbing his cheeks down to his lip, frowning when he winced. "Baby..."

He pulls away, chuckling lightly. "It's fine, baby, I'm okay. I just wanted to make sure you were safe." He squeezed your hips in reassurance.

"I'm okay." You say. But then your mind screams at you. "Fuck, where's Maya... an-and, James. Oh, fuck, what about Julia and Pet-" your cut off by Chris's lips on yours. You sigh into the kiss, your hands trailing down his neck.

He pulls away and smiles sadly. "Thank you." You whisper, looking down. "Anytime, baby. I'm so sorry. God, I'm so fucking sorry." He said, leaning his forehead on yours.

You shake your head. "It's okay, he's a fucking asshole." Chris kisses your cheek. "Let's get outta here? I made a little bit of a mess."

You raise your eyebrows. "A little?" Chris kisses his teeth and scoffs.

You smile and kiss his cheek. "Anybody would've done it, Chris. It's okay, really." You speak softly.

Chris smiles and helps you up. "Let's go home." He leads you down the stairs and reaches for the door.

But it opens before he can open it.

"Oh my god."

______________________________

(Man, I wonder who that is)

Taglist: @sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @sturniolosmind @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir

@annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper @matty-bear @orangelala @imwetforyourmom @stunnaagirllsworld @lanixsturniolo @blackhorses-posts @starsturns234 @junnniiieee07 @pepsiboyy @deadxrx @ribread03 @ariieeesworld @venusxsturnio @mattslovelygf @@Spencereidismybitch @ablanstar333 @jjmaybankshousekeeping @Larnieboox88 @Preppy234

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comfortless · 2 months

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would König ever agree to be a sugar baby? 🤔 most people write him as the rich one in the relationship so I'm curious if the dynamic can be reversed

you’re calling to my weakness of König being taken care of for once here…!! cue König being the absolute worst sugar baby that has ever existed (lovebombing!). implied age gap (König is maybe 24-26 here, reader is anything above), porn mention, masturbation, slightly suggestive but mostly fluff. minors do not interact.

Begrudgingly, a younger König probably would.

He isn’t sure how these relationships even work. There’s plenty of money in his bank accounts, he’s got a decent enough apartment, a car, (some) clothes that aren’t riddled with holes or tears... Hell, there isn’t even really anything that he wants. His curiosity only begins to spike the second his thumb stops its scrolling, lands on a picture of her, and his world comes to a grinding halt.

The woman in the photo is the most gorgeous, sweet creature he has ever lain eyes upon. Just the image of her smiling softly at the camera, her hands placed in her lap whilst she’s seated on a couch is enough to send his heart hammering. She doesn’t look the part of some vapid, cruel thing he had anticipated on a site like this. No, the woman only looks gentle, her eyes are even a little sad… She's all alone, her bed is cold, and König is already hard at the thought of how this could go if he had just a little luck in his corner.

He makes the decision to message her without thinking. It’s late, she probably wouldn’t even see it until morning, and he doubts a woman this cute would want to bother with him anyway.

A polite, articulate: hey do you wanna fuck

Followed by: you don’t even have to pay me XD

He settles for pulling up some porn video with the faces just out of frame, jacks off to the hypothetical of it being she and him one day and falls asleep with his phone on his chest and come stains in his boxers.

There’s nothing about him that’s deserving of this woman’s time nor her response, but he wakes to the chiming of his phone and a sweet message from her anyway. One in which she asks him if he would like to meet for drinks so that they can talk, she clarifies that she will pay, and even tells him that she thinks he’s handsome.

Handsome. Something only his oma had called him when she patted him on the cheek as a boy.

His response is insistent, demanding almost, when he suggests that she come to him, meet immediately that same day. Who cares if it’s only afternoon by the time she arrives, he could go for a beer and a sweet, tight pussy at any hour, doesn’t hold himself back from telling her this either while he grins at his phone like he’s possessed - all teeth and wild eyes.

There’s a part of him that believes this woman will be scared off, stand him up entirely and block his account, but to his surprise, she does actually show up. She’s there before even he arrives, seated in a booth at the back of the bar with his order and her own placed neatly on the table in front of her.

His chest feels too tight when he places himself across from her, all cockiness diminished in light of something he hasn’t felt since he was two feet shorter and more than a decade younger.

He’s fucking petrified.

His to-be-sugar-mommy eases him with her softspoken voice, going over the less than rigid terms of their agreement and praising his looks as well as his ability to handle his alcohol.

She isn’t asking for sex, just someone to care for. She tells him that he’s beautiful, while he feels like a smear on the pavement in comparison to her. And fuck. He isn’t handling his alcohol well at all, he’s just nervous and needs to keep his hands and his mouth busy, because all he wants to do is bend this adorable woman who compares his ugly face to that of an archangel’s over this table and fuck her like a stallion, spit such filth into her hair that no amount of repentance could ever make her feel clean again.

He can’t. He can’t when she suggests in that same cooing voice that she take him shopping for boots that are less scuffed, offers her hand to him as though it’s natural for a lady so ethereal to tether herself to a beast. Her hand is so dainty and cold, whereas he feels like a boiler on the cusp of bursting the second their fingers slot between one another.

His head is a mess of thoughts, memories of being dragged by the collar to attend services with his oma where he never prayed. Shit, maybe he should start, because surely he has someone or something to thank for this, for her.

Their first date becomes the strangest ordeal of his life as she seats him on a bench and helps him to try on boots as though he were only a boy who didn’t yet know how to tie his laces. She even kneels before him and ties them up herself before placing his foot back on the store’s floor; doesn’t even comment on the obvious hole in his sock or the awkward, longing way that he’s staring at her, only presses her chin to his knee and smiles up at him with so much affection he thinks he might actually pass out for a moment. She buys the ones he likes, three pairs of them, and doesn’t even bat an eye at the price.

That’s when he decides it’s all too much: he tells her that he can buy his own stuff, that he doesn’t need her to do it or tie his shoelaces or anything because he’s a man, after all. He should be showering her in flowers and soft dresses, paying for her nails and hair dye.

His lady only laughs and asks if he wants to come home with her, he doesn’t have to stay, just sit with her for a bit. So… he follows her home like a sulking shadow, hovering just behind her lost entirely in his head. He had barked at her like a rabid dog and she still brings him back to her place, strokes her thumb against the back of his hand, offers him little smiles of assurance when he goes completely silent.

He wants to hate it, wants to tell her something dirty and toss a stack of cash her way when she opens her door for him. Instead, he finds his head in her lap while she pets his face, running the tips of her fingers over every scar.

Her compliments are the most ridiculous, beautiful things that he’s ever heard, ranging from outright calling him her angel to telling him that he’s charming, that the scars are pretty… He loves every second spent with her like this, with each soft brush of her fingers as they pet the top of his head down to his neck, the way she hums some pleasing song to him when she massages at his shoulder.

He’s never been pampered or coddled like this before, and it feels good. The boner threatening to tear its way out of his pants isn’t something he’s proud of this time; he only wants this sweet little fairy to feel as comfortable as she’s making him.

Maybe he could do that if she let him pull up her skirt and make love to her: he could be gentle if he tried, play with her hair and her clit while he slowly spears her open until she’s pliant and panting, take it slow until she comes around his cock and her pussy calls him to utterly defile it as well as the rest of her. There wouldn’t be a part of her left untouched.

When she asks to be held instead, he swears he’s getting all of that and then some: she puts herself right in his lap, her chest to his and her legs parted just enough to straddle his hips. Her head tips forward against his shoulder as his fingers dance across her back, squeezing at her hips before smoothing back up her sides. She’s so soft… the most pleasing thing he’s ever touched, smoother than gunmetal and the flat of a blade. The way she smells is even sweeter, like spiced tea and blooming flowers.

She doesn’t even slap him when he bucks upward against her pussy, grinds the throbbing bulge in his pants against the place that she’s warmest. No, she only kisses his cheek and tells him what a wonderful day she’s having, what a gentleman he is even if he knows that part is certainly a lie.

Her breasts are soft in his hands when he finds the courage to squish them, against his cheek when she guides his head down to her. She pets his hair, tells him how she’s always wanted to hold a man like this… that she’s been waiting for someone exactly like him for longer than she even knows.

She even laughs when she asks, “You think that I’m pathetic, don’t you?”

All thoughts of just getting a good fuck out of this woman die someplace beneath his skull. Who would ever even think to call someone so lovely and kind pathetic? He couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t imagine ever doing anything more than protecting her fragile little heart and letting her stroke at him like an overgrown kitten, not anymore.

“Nein… no…”

He swears he could almost see tears in her eyes when she shoots him a glance then. Appreciative, contented tears that he prays she won’t shed. He’s a man, he’s not going to cry, but… fuck, he might if she did right now. Everything feels so doughy and warm, cotton candy and summer rain when his grip around her tightens to pull her in even closer.

She wipes away those unshed tears as she nuzzles against his cheek, slowly rubs her nose there and leaves a trail of kisses up to his temple. His mind is devoid of anything but outright infatuation, some impromptu dedication. He would tell her right now he loved her and know wholeheartedly that he meant it, but love isn’t in the agreement.

His lady only just wants to give herself away for nothing in return, not for a dick to make her cry or his own money layering her pockets; she just wants to pretend he’s her own personal angel, bury him in all the love and gifts she’s never been able to give to anyone else.

He watches her when she falls asleep curled up in his arms, takes in the way she smiles even in dreaming when her soft breaths break up the quiet. He presses his mouth to hers until her eyelids flutter and her breath catches in her little throat. She wakes to the kiss and only reciprocates it with the same softness she’s displayed with every prior action.

Her lips part to take him in, and she doesn’t even moan when he laps into her mouth with a grunt. There’s no lust in this for her: only the most senseless adoration, all love and tenderness, the things he’s yet to properly learn.

She tastes like vanilla and honey, her tongue yields beneath his own… and finally he pulls himself away, staring into her eyes like he might find a treasure there, as if he wasn’t already convinced that every part of her wasn’t something divine and holy.

“Do you have any others?,” he asks, devoid of any trepidation.

There’s not a care in the world of how she might view him. He’s convinced, certain that whatever he’s feeling has to be mutual. There are butterflies fluttering like the gentlest tornado in the pits of his stomach, and just by the wounded look she gives him then he just knows she must feel them too.

“Only you.”

“Gut… gut.”

There’s another kiss, one that is initiated by the both of them and steals all breath from his lungs. It’s not her harboring tears this time, but him who feels the dull sting, separates from her and turns his head away to rub at his face. He knows that he’s the pathetic one now, burdened down with the thought that he’s head over heels for a woman for just treating him as if he deserves anything at all.

Damn her for the way she readily reaches for him to pull him back in, to kiss at the outer corner of his eye and tell him in such a quiet way that she knows… In just a day she’s noticed him more than anyone, given more than anyone.

When he guides her back towards his mouth with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, could he really be faulted for whispering a confession? “Ich bin in dich verliebt,” spoken nearly inaudibly before he shuts her up with his lips over hers.

There’s no need for an answer, he knows the agreement had nothing to do with love. She wouldn’t accept his money in turn, but maybe a heart would suffice. He promises he’ll send her letters each time he’s deployed between mashing his mouth against her own, swears he will come running back to her when those greedy kisses slip down to her jaw. This sweet dove only laughs and squirms in his lap, tells him she would love to see him any time before he shushes her again.

Shouldn’t sweet things like this know not to feed a stray?

#könig x reader #konig x reader #Kö saying ‘i love you’ way waaay too early is entirely self satisfying for me ^^#he would still want to buy things for her instead probably play the role of some rough tough alpha male #but secretly every time she’s snuggled up to him he’s in shambles trying to control his breathing and not propose on the spot

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flowerfan2 · 1 year

Text

Steve doesn’t notice there’s something else wrong until he gets his glasses. The thing with his vision had been getting worse, and so he finally gave in to Robin’s nagging and went to an eye doctor. And to the surprise of no one, the glasses help.

With his sight, that is. But they also, strangely, show him something he hadn’t expected. He’s having trouble hearing, too.

He can see clearly now that his friends act differently around him than they do each other. When they want to get his attention, they stand right in front of him, and move in close. If they are too far away, or off to the side, it’s sometimes as if they aren’t there at all, his hearing is so bad. He can see them having conversations among themselves, heads thrown back in laughter and smiles pulling at their cheeks, but he can’t always make out what they’re saying.

Steve’s at Eddie’s one night, relaxing on the couch with beer and pizza. They’re supposed to be talking about who’s driving which kids to a dinner at the Byers’ tomorrow, and Eddie’s playing a new tape that Max gave him. Steve should be happy, safe and comfortable, hanging out with his favorite person. But Eddie’s bouncing around with excitement, pulling his hair over his mouth and jumping up to change the music, and Steve realizes he’s entirely lost.

“Could you just, maybe not-” he says, sharper than he meant, and Eddie turns to him, startled.

“Maybe not what, babe?”

Steve waves his hand towards the tape player. “The music’s really loud. It’s making it hard to…”

Eddie’s face falls, and Steve rushes to take it back. “Sorry, no, the music’s fine-”

Eddie plops himself on the couch, sitting cross-legged and pulling at Steve until they’re facing each other. When he speaks, it’s clear and his hair is firmly tucked behind his ears. “Hey, no, don’t apologize. It’s my fault, I should have realized. I’m usually better at this.”

Eddie’s eyes are wide and understanding, and Steve has to look away for a long moment. He knows.

Eddie touches his knee and waits until Steve looks back at him before he continues. “We can get help for this too. When you’re ready. And, you know, there are other ways of communicating.”

“Ha ha,” Steve says dryly, thinking Eddie is flirting, but Eddie’s expression is too earnest for that.

“Okay, that too. But also this.” Eddie holds up his hand, rings and all, and forms his index finger and thumb into an L. Then he lifts his pinky finger too, keeping his other fingers curled towards his palm, and directs it at Steve.

“What’s that?”

“It’s sign language for ‘I love you,’” Eddie says, picking up one of Steve’s hands and showing him how to do it. “My mom taught it to me when I was little. She said that way we could always talk to each other, even if we were far apart, like on the playground.”

“You know sign language?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Not much, but I’ve been working on it lately. I mean, I know plenty of words in fantasy languages, there’s no reason I can’t learn a real one. Dustin and Robin are learning, too. We just… didn’t know how to bring it up…”

Steve feels his eyes fill. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

Eddie gives Steve a pleased smile, then leans in for a kiss that soon turns into the kind of communication Steve thought Eddie was joking about earlier. Later, lying in bed curled around each other, Eddie makes the “I love you” sign again, and Steve wants to kiss him forever.

“Guess there’s an advantage to having a nerd for a boyfriend,” he whispers, and if he can feel more than hear Eddie’s laugh in response, at least he knows they’re in this together.

#Steddie #Steddie fic #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Stranger Things #Stranger Things fic #Steddie ficlet #Stranger Things ficlet

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miinatozakiii · 2 months

Text

wishing on you

park jihyo x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: no matter what path is avoided, which turn is taken, it always leads the two you back to each other.

wc: 13.2k

warnings: alcohol ; cursing ; reader is part of twice ; men… ; kang daniel mentioned ; april's naeun mentioned ; jealousy!! ; pining!!! ; woooowww slowburn(?) ; lots of slowburn ; they're oblivious ; only half of it is proofread ; wtv else i didn’t mention

a/n: hey... sorry for the fake news, this is to make up for it. april fools!

you’re two raspberry beers in, there’s no way you’re backing down now, especially not with your stubborn attitude. jeongyeon pours you a shot of some strawberry soju and you gladly accept with a bright smile and loud chuckle.

how could you not drink more, to be fair, you had just won another award for fancy, you deserved this.

half the members are laughing as you drink more, you were always one to be a heavy weight anyway, always able to take twice as much as the members could. it was entertaining to see you down another two shots of that same soju, and even after all that, you still had room to have a bit of the makgeolli that nayeon had brought.

it’s clear that the rice wine from the eldest is what fucked you over; the flush of crimson on your cheeks made it evident that you couldn’t think clearly anymore, so was the swarm of giggles that filled the air. the members—either drunk or on the verge of that—watched you, they cheered and laughed themselves, especially jeongyeon.

jihyo simply rolled her eyes, taking another sip of the beer that she didn’t necessarily fancy. she watched half the members laugh along with you and placed her chin on her palm, her lips turning up into a soft smile.

momo and nayeon argue about something dumb, then jeongyeon butts in and chaeyoung starts laughing until tears start to spill. out of nowhere, jihyo feels a weight on her shoulder, then turns to see you smiling and all flushed.

your eyes seem like they’re sparkling, and maybe that’s the light reflecting off your eyes, or maybe it’s because the leader of your group is all you can see in your hazy state. maybe all of the above.

“jihyo… you’re so pretty” it’s slurred coming from you, but the truth nonetheless. jihyo laughs at your statement and leans back against the wall behind you two.

“and you— are drunk” she responds, “i’ve seen you drink a lot but this is… well, a lot”

“i like… yes, strawberry.” you mutter against her, closing your eyes. “and you park jihyo!” you add with a giggle.

“yeah… whatever you say.” jihyo responds hesitantly. the leader of your group giggles again, it’s the kind of giggle that brushes off a joke, but this isn’t a joke at all. you pout, then shake your head while closing your eyes unnecessarily tight.

“you think i’m joking?” you ask, the tone of your voice sounding like you’re a kid that’s been declined candy. jihyo smiles weakly at your response.

“you’re just drunk silly, let’s get you someplace else before you start saying things you don’t want to.”

“hey… why don’t you believe me…” you sigh, lifting your head away from her shoulder and facing her fully. you place your hands on jihyos shoulders and firmly hold them, then affirm, “i like you, lots.”

drunk words are sober thoughts. every word that spills from your lips is laced with the raw honesty of pent-up emotions that have been brewing inside you for years. from the moment you first laid eyes on her, you were captivated by her beauty. minute after minute, day after day, year after year, your admiration for her only deepened. you've become adept at concealing these feelings, but now, in your drunken state, all pretenses have fallen away, leaving you completely transparent and vulnerable.

despite your best efforts to bury your emotions, they've finally bubbled to the surface, laid bare for all to see. but still, jihyo’s trying to figure out whether this is real or if the alcohol is making you say all this.

jihyo chuckles nervously when your voice raises, afraid that you’ll draw attention from the rest—who, are all too invested in their bickering to even notice.

“you’be been drinking quite a bit y/n, let’s get you someplace else.” jihyo says, smiling.

she places a hand on your cheek, feeling the warmth of it leak into her own hand. jihyo takes her hand off and stands up, making you frown in the in process.

“alright, i’m going to get going. i don’t want to drink too much, i’m already tipsy myself.” jihyo announces to the table, then looks down at you. “y/n here needs to go back to the dorms, i’m gonna take her back and take care of her before she goes ballistic.” she adds, giggling lightheartedly.

the rest of the girls laugh, then nod before teasing you a bit. your arms find their way around jihyos torso, hugging onto her loosely as you try to comprehend the overwhelming environment. the world spins a little and you’re afraid to get up, scared that if you let go of jihyo, you’ll lose balance and fall.

“please stay, don’t leave…” you say, clinging tighter.

the leader of your group feels her cheeks warm up as you cling on, you’re not one to get too clingy, and even if you do, it’s rare— and reserved for your leader.

as you follow her out the room, she holds the handbag that you entered the little gathering with, making sure it’s safe with her.

jihyo’s hand is also holding yours, sending an electric, warm feeling throughout your body with each step you take out the building and towards the uber she had called.

you get inside first, then jihyo follows and sits right down next to you. as soon as the door shuts, you’re quick to lean right into her again. it seems that being so close to her eases your overwhelmed, alcohol-infested senses.

throughout the whole car ride to the dorms, you’re clinging to her and surprisingly silent, but your gaze is on her the entire time. jihyo shrinks in her place under your hazy look.

jihyo helps you out the car and into your shared dorm; you cling onto her arm the whole time. she fumbles for her keys and manages to unlock the door, surprisingly.

she helps you over to your room, walking past mina and nayeon’sj, then places you down on your bed, watching you lie down lazily before sighing.

“what did i say about getting carried away.” she mutters, then walks over to your closet to grab a large hoodie of yours. she helps you put it on, given you’re probably not in the right mind to really do much on your own.

when she slips it over you, the hood falls over your head, covering your eyes. jihyo chuckles softly before fixing it up so that your vision isn’t covered by the material, revealing your tired eyes. your gaze is fixed on her lips, almost glued to them, and your hands reach for her forearm.

“you’re so pretty.” you mumble, making full eye contact with her now. “so pretty since i've laid eyes on you.”

before jihyo can even process your words, she’s taken aback by your sudden movement, feeling the soft touch of your lips against the corner of her own. it's a gentle, innocent kiss, clearly not meant to be anything more—right? she feels you fall limp against her, your face falling to where the base of her neck meets her collarbone. as you rest against her, she can feel the weight of your body against hers, your arms loosely wrapping around her form. in your drowsy state, you pull her closer to you, causing her heart to quicken its pace.

there's this weird feeling in jihyo’s heart that is amplified when you lazily mutter against her neck, still, she decides to ignore it. she doesn't feel like adding another weight to her shoulders, especially not when it involves you.

your head hurts like crazy as soon as you wake up, and you want nothing more than to fall right back asleep. you're wearing an old hoodie and the blanket you have on is wrapped messily on your body, limbs peaking out from the cloth.

opening your eyes a little wider and scanning the environment, you take in your surroundings. you’re in the comfort of your own room, thankfully you made it out alive.

trying to slow your actions to adjust to the hangover, you sit up slowly, but it makes your head ring even more. you groan as you lean against the headboard, trying to recollect yourself.

in the corner of your eye, you notice a bottle of water and a packet of hangover pills. you reach for the water bottle, taking a small sip to quench your parched throat. the cool liquid soothes your dry mouth, prompting you to take a few more gulps in hopes of easing the pounding in your head. then you grab the packet of pills, but your hands fumble with the packaging, hindered by fatigue and grogginess. you let out a small, frustrated groan of annoyance before deciding to give up on the pills. with a sigh, you sink back into bed, curling up beneath the covers and closing your eyes once more, hoping to find some relief from whatever you had consumed carelessly the night before.

the knock at your door disrupts your attempt at going back to sleep, making you grumble. you hear the sound of it opening and hide yourself in your sheets more, trying to make yourself invisible from whoever it is that’s in your room now.

“hey, wake up.” jihyo says—you don’t respond or budge, instead grumbling again in response.

jihyo frowns before sitting down next to you, placing her hand on your shoulder that’s covered by the blanket. she looks at the packet of pills she had put on your bedside the night before, shaking her head at how crinkled they looked from your failed attempts at opening them.

“i bet you feel terrible, sit up and take the pills.” she reaches over to open the pills on the bedside table.

you roll over and jihyo sees your puffy face, squinted eyes, and messy hair from rolling around while your hoodie was over your head. she laughs at the sight, then helps you sit up against the headboard.

“how bad was it?” you ask, earning a tilted head from your leader.

“what?”

“did i do anything dumb?”

jihyo ponders, deciding to not mention the memory of you almost kissing her completely on the lips.

“no, you were just all tired and mopey.” jihyo teases, giggling. “you drank a lot.”

“did you take me home? i can’t remember much but i remember your face from last night.”

“yeah, i did.”

“sorry for the trouble.”

jihyo shakes her head at your apology, then hands you two pills and a water bottle. “just drink, breakfast is ready.”

something is off, something is very off.

jihyo's been growing distant. initially subtle, it’s clear now that she's been withdrawing from you, and it's breaking your heart. you find yourself questioning whether it was something you said or did. up until now, everything seemed fine between you two, leaving you at a loss to pinpoint any specific reason for her sudden change in behavior.

sharing a dorm with her only makes this worse. each interaction feels strained, despite her occasional smiles and giggles. it's clear that she's making an effort to keep things short and simple, adding to the discomfort and tension between you two.

it's aggravating, the interviews and forced smiles, the way jihyo flees from your eye contact; everything kills you. the members don’t really notice, you’re still acting like evrything is alright – since it is with everyone but jihyo – and so is your leader.

but sometihng is up, so you take matters into your own hands.

“mina.”

“yes?”

mina's laid down on her bed, the blanket enveloping her as she plays on her switch. she looks at you with a raised brow, curious as to why you’re in her room at this time.

“did you need something?” she asks.

“can i stay here for a bit?”

mina hums, scooting over to give you space on the bed. she watches you sit down and put your face in your hands, groaning before you lay down flat on the bed. you take one of her pillows and hug it tightly before mina sits up to look at you.

“alright, what’s going on?” she questions, “this isn’t like you. are you okay?”

“i think jihyo hates me.” you sigh, hugging the pillow tighter.

“what? why would jihyo hate you? you guys seem to be fine to me.”

you sit up again, looking at her with a pout.

“remember last month? that night after the awards we won? the night i got drunk?” you ask, mina nods and waits for you to continue. “well, i think something happened that night. jihyo's been distant ever since and— ugh, i just don’t know. i had to have done something.”

“all i remember is you two going back early, nothing really happened but you were really clingy.”

“like, how clingy?”

mina turns away and ponders, making a little “hmm” noise.

“i was completely sober, i remember seeing you cling onto her from the waist. your arms were wrapped around her waist, that’s all i remember. you were just really close to her, almost as clingy as sana is normally—without any alcohol in her system.” mina explains, shrugging.

“is that why she’s been distant? because i've been clingy? that doesn't make any sense.”

“you should talk to her.” mina suggests, “it’s the only way, and jihyo is understanding, it can’t be that bad.”

you fall back onto the bed and groan, covering your face with your hands. mina places a hand on your shoulder and shoots you an apologetic smile.

“what if she hates me and i only make it worse?” you mutter into your hands.

“only one way to find out y/n.”

after sulking in mina’s bed while she played her little game for an hour, you decided to get up and do something about the problem. mina gave you a little thumbs up before you left her room, wishing you the best and muttering a “close the door on the way out.”

you've never been so scared in your life, even the sixteen elimnations didn’t make you this nervous.

thinking to yourself for a moment you try to think of anything that could’ve happened that night. the lack of memory only adds to your anxiety, leaving you to question if you were too clingy or overly affectionate. did you say something that crossed the line? the uncertainty gnaws at you, and the only way to ease your worries is to talk to the worry.

jihyo hears a knock at her door, brows creasing when she looks over at it.

“come in.” she says, then she sees the woman who opens it, stiffening upon your arrival.

“hey ji.”

“y/n, hi.” she says, smiling at you. “did you need something?”

“can we talk?” you close the door, “we should talk.”

jihyo looks at your pleading eyes, then gives in.

“yeah, okay.”

you sit down on the chair in front of her bed, right in front of where she’s sitting. your posture is straight, jaw clenched, and fingers fidgety. shaking off your nerves, you begin to speak.

“have you been avoiding me on purpose? i feel like you’ve been distant, things are different than before.”

she looks down at her hands, then back at you.

“it’s not that i want to, y/n. i really, truly love and adore you as a member. as a friend.” the way she says friend makes your heart sting a little, but it’s fine, as long as you don’t lose her. “do you remember anything from that night after the awards for fancy?”

you pause.

“um, only karaoke with the rest. anything after that i... i can’t remember. i’ve been trying to because you’ve been distant since that night, did i do something?”

“y/n, i've been talking to someone.” jihyo starts, “i haven’t told the rest, but i plan to tell them when—or if things get serious with him.”

him.

“oh.” you simply respond. “is that why you’ve been distant?”

“that night, y/n. i don’t mind, you know, when you’re clingy and affectionate. it's flattering and makes me laugh but, i've also been wanting to talk to you about something else.” you nod at her, continuing to listen closely. “you kept saying these things like i'm pretty and... you even said you—you liked me?”

shit. you think, that’s all you can think of as soon as you hear it. of course, your crush on jihyo was there, but you pushed it down because hell, you were in the same group, you couldn’t let your stupid feelings get in the way.

“is it true?” jihyo asks you, breaking you from your short trance. “y/n, do you like me?”

“i mean, i used to, a lot. i mean i--”

“y/n, do you or do you not like me. i'm talking about right now, and that night, because i don’t know about you, but even if you were drunk, you tried to kiss me—you did kiss me, on the corner of my lips. even sana hasn’t been like that with any of the members.”

shit

“oh, oh my god. i’m so sorry, i— i wasn’t in the right mind, i don’t even remember--”

“it’s fine, but i'm just telling you this because you know, if you do like me and all that, it’s fine. we just—we can’t. look, you’ve been there for me all these years, we’ve been there for each other and i love you and appreciate you dearly, i do.” jihyo says, looking at you all stiff in your seat.

you feel like crying, it makes no sense to but gosh is this whole thing grueling. yet, despite the turmoil, you're determined to find resolution and mend whatever rift has formed between you and jihyo. your hands shake from nervousness, jihyo notices and reaches out, placing her hands gently over yours. she knows how to calm you down, she’s a natural leader after all.

“being with you, especially now—it’ll make things really complicated and difficult, and if things go wrong then our relationship with each other could affect twice you know? y/n, i care about you lots, and we need to keep this professional.”

“yeah, i get that.” you say, relaxing just barely as her thumb grazes your knuckle. “i’m sorry for kissing you and making you uncomfortable, gosh, i'm an idiot. i'm really sorry.”

“it’s fine y/n, i'm sorry for not addressing this. i should’ve said something sooner instead of not confronting you. let's always be true with each other from now on, yeah?”

“yeah. thanks. i really want what we had—well, what we have to just be normal. i really love you and want the best for you.”

“likewise.” jihyo agrees, smiling. she holds your hand, squeezing it lightly before getting up. “wanna go grab something to snack on? i'm hungry.”

you laugh at her, easing the tension. “it’s like, eleven.”

“you act like you didn’t sneak out at two in the morning when we were trainees, c’mon, you don’t want a little treat? the convenience store is right down the street~”

you roll your eyes at her and stand up. “alright, let me get my coat. you're paying though.”

after clearing up things with jihyo, things seem to go back to normal.

you two joke and laugh and have deep conversations as before, your feelings seem to die down too. along with this, she reveals more about the guy she’s talking to: kang daniel.

he's also an idol, pretty well-known – though not nearly as much as jihyo – and it seems that he’s one to attract. but sitll, he appears to be just a regular guy, he’s really just a guy—there's not much to him. yet, learning more about him still stings a little, you know you could offer jihyo so much more. but your priority is her happiness, and as long as she's content, you're willing to set aside your own feelings. the agreement to maintain a professional and uncomplicated relationship remains intact, even though it tugs at your heartstrings to see her with someone else.

you feel like you’re benched, relegated to the sidelines while watching your leader and daniel take center stage. there's an undeniable urge to be in the game, to replace him on the field. you can't shake the feeling that with you in the lineup, more points would be scored, the team would triumph, and everything would align perfectly. yet, for now, you're resigned to watch from the sidelines, silently yearning for your chance.

this whole relationship screws you over, but you have other things to worry about while being an idol and friend to your other members. you can’t let him win, so you’ll pretend to be fine, even if it tears you apart in the slightest.

you wonder if time with jihyo is worth it these days, what do you even gain out of it?

jihyo realizes she’s made a big mistake.

her relationship with kang daniel is public now, but as soon as it’s revealed, there’s an uneasiness in her heart.

this is all real, the public knows it, her members know it, and especially you.

she spends more time with you and daniel simultaneously, but there’s this weird feeling when she’s with him. while in daniel's company, there's a strange tension that she can't quite shake off, but when she's with you? it's a different story altogether.

she finds herself laughing more freely, smiling more genuinely, and experiencing an unprecedented sense of relaxation. just being around you feels effortless and natural, it reminds her how grateful she is with you.

everytime she’s with daniel, part of her – all of her – is itching to get away and find herself back to you. she sees you in places and people she’s not with, it’s weird, it’s eating her up inside.

as daniel sits next to her on his couch, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close, she can't help but feel a sense of disconnection. despite his attempts at intimacy, her thoughts are consumed by you. it's a strange sensation, one she can't quite shake off. the scent of daniel's cologne pales in comparison to the aroma of lavender and vanilla from the fragrance you use.

and there he goes again, he starts to talk and it’s always about him, he never asks her about herself much. if jihyo’s ever talking about herself, it’s always her who initiates it. you were always one to ask about her day, how she’s doing, and you were simply attentive. daniel's rambles, words, and overall attempts at conversation these days—though well-intentioned, they fail to captivate her attention like yours do. she finds herself yearning for the moments when she can listen to your voice ramble on about anything and everything, or when she can ramble to you.

it feels like shes censoring or restraining a part of herself to daniel, but with you? it's the complete opposite.

it's strange, the uncertain feeling isn’t something she experiences when she's with friends or group members. only in daniel's presence does she find herself immersed in thoughts of you.

the preparation for more and more was rough on everyone, the choreo especially was difficult.

the choreo was exhausting, tearing the members apart at times. still, as the group you are, you all managed to persevere.

during one of the final dance practices, you catch from the corner of your eye jihyo leaning against the mirror, lips parted, hair sticking to her forehead, and staring into space daydreaming. she puts her head down for a moment before recollecting herself and standing back up, acting as if nothing had happened.

she stands in front of the mirror and sips on her water, staring at herself for a bit. it seems like she has a lot on her mind.

you walk over and put a hand on her shoulder, making her jump slightly before turning to you.

“oh, y/n. you scared me!” she says, laughing lightly. “did you need something?”

“you okay ji?” you ask her, “you looked really dead earlier.”

your leader doesn’t answer, too distracted by how you look at her. as she observes you, she notices the intensity in your eyes, the sweat glistening on your face, and in that moment, she's struck by your beauty. despite being sweaty and exhausted from the physically demanding choreography, your concerned expression and the tone of your voice have her speechless.

“hey,” you interupt her trance with your voice. using the small towel in your hand, you tap away at some of the sweat on her forehead. “you need to rest a bit more, take a longer break.”

“oh, yeah, sure.” her response is rushed, it slips from her lips without her thinking.

you pull out a water bottle and hand it to her, urging her to take a sip. “i think we’ve got it down pretty well, but it’s your call next time we run it again. take a break for now, i noticed you were fatigued during the dance break.”

jihyo looks at you a bit more, head tilted up just a bit to meet you. she scans your face again, brows creasing just barely as she takes in your visuals. you raise a brow at her sudden look, tilting your head a bit.

“yeah, you should definitely take a break.” you giggle, “you look so out of it.”

jihyo finds her cheeks warming up, it’s not from being exhausted and sweaty, something else brings a rush of warmth.

“sorry, just tired.”

“yeah, okay.” you laugh, rubbing away the sweat on the side of her face now with the towel in your hand. “you look funny like that.”

your leader watches you trudge away after the small interaction, perplexed at the sudden appeal in you. she's thinking about daniel, has he ever been that attentive? now that jihyo thinks about it, he’s never really done much about her stress or worries. he'd usually kiss her once and talk about himself in an attempt to distract her from her feelings. when you really take time to pay attention to her, it makes her feel all bubbly inside—daniel never evoked much of that.

jihyo wonders what it would be like if you were in daniel’s place.

“being with you, especially now—it’ll make things really complicated and difficult.”

her own words ring in her head as she watches you sit down next to chaeyoung, leaning on her and pulling out your phone to scroll.

jihyo feels conflicted, but there’s no time for that. especially not now, not when the comeback is soon.

you and your group situate yourselves for the inkigayo interview. minhyuk, jaehyun, and naeun are set to be the mc’s.

everything goes as planned, they introduce themselves before twice does, overall, the interview goes just as it should, but something irks jihyo.

the way you’re all situated makes it so that you stand next to naeun, who keeps glancing at you. jihyo can't shake the feeling of discomfort as she notices naeun’s behavior; the frequent glances, questions, and giggles directed at you make jihyo uneasy. the way you grow nervous and giggly in response to naeun’s attention strikes a nerve with jihyo, but she attempts to push down her weird feelings.

there's a subtle tension building within jihyo, she tries to maintain her composure with nods and forced smiles.

after the interview, all of you step out of the stage. the group gets together with the managers, but you’re pulled aside by naeun.

about three members pay attention to the interaction: sana and nayeon, who are the ones that stand closest to you, and jihyo is eavesdropping, trying to subtly listen in.

naeun tugs on the fabric of your top, earning your attention and a warm smile.

“hi y/n, i’m a big fan of you—and your groups’ music.” she says, grin spread across her face.

“oh, thank you so much.” you respond, bowing down slightly at her.

“i was just wondering, um, i think you’re beautiful.” she says shyly, “and you seem sweet too. would it be alright if we exchanged numbers? i'd love to talk to you more.”

your cheeks flush at the sudden question, you nod eagerly, nonetheless. naeun hands you her phone and you type your number in, making her smile brightly at you. you smile back the same.

“thanks y/n, you’re cute. we should grab a coffee sometime?”

“oh, yeah, i'd love that. sure, yes.” you answer.

naeun smiles at you once more before waving and heading back to jaehyun. when you turn around, sana and nayeon are raising their brows at you teasingly.

sana nudges your shoulder with hers and giggles, making an “ooo” sound. you roll your eyes at her, then nayeon joins in on the teasing.

“oh she was totally hitting on you. look's like y/n has some admirers?” nayeon’s remark earns a wave of dismissal.

“she probably just wanted to be friends and stuff, stop thinking so hard.”

“or maybe you need to think harder. she called you beautiful and wants to take you out, basically.” hearing sana say that earns a dust of pink on your cheeks, you shove her playfully. “y/n is blushing~”

“i’m not! stop that.” you groan, but the smile on your face makes it evident that the idea interests you.

jihyo eyes the three of you bickering, a frown finding its way to her lips. could naeun really be asking you out? and you—are you really going to do it? the thoughts frustrate jihyo, she decides to turn away and focus on anything else, joining in on the maknae’s conversations.

but the thought lingers in her mind: could you really be considering this? and why does it bother jihyo so much?

daniel invites jihyo over again and everything is the same as always. jihyo steps in and he kisses her as a greeting, jihyo kisses him back, placing a hand on his shoulder. she pulls away first, she always does.

he suggests a movie and some snacks, to which jihyo responds with a “sure,” because she doesn’t know what else she could possibly do with him these days. he sits down on his couch, turns on the tv, and pats down a space for jihyo. it's weird, she doesn’t immediately lean into his touch, instead he initiates something and jihyo tends to reciprocate.

daniel talks over the movie playing, something about the solo he’s working on and some recent schedule changes, but the woman in his arms isn’t listening. daniel frowns, bringing a hand to her cheek and turning her face so that she’s facing him.

jihyo almost flinches, pulls away from his touch.

(but she doesn’t, because what would that mean for them?)

“you alright? is something on your mind?” he asks, snapping her back to reality.

jihyo's eyes widen slightly, she eases away from his hand, then shakes her head.

“oh, sorry, just... the recent comeback.”

“ah, i see, i get it.” daniel says, giving her a little look of sympathy – jihyo can’t tell if it’s genuine, though. he smirks, the corner of his lip tugs up a bit, then suggests something as he puts a hand back on her cheek, “i know a way to get your mind off things, to get our minds out the gutter.”

and just like almost every moment with him, jihyo finds his lips on hers. she reciprocates – hesitantly – then gives in. it’s slow and whatnot at first, then daniel starts to get bold and plays with the hem of her shirt. before he can get further, jihyo pulls away, her hand on his chest and eyes partially closed.

“daniel i—um, we should take it slow. can we continue the movie?”

he looks at her confused, then furrows his brows. “oh, okay?”

daniel gets off of her and fights back a frown, but still, he settles by putting an arm back around her and pulling her close. the movie still plays, it’s not the most interesting but it’s better than anything with daniel. thirty minutes fly by and the movie still plays, though jihyo’s mind is elsewhere, probably thinking of you. when she turns to the left, she notices that daniel is asleep, almost too quickly despite what had just happened.

jihyo shrinks away from him, she fights back tears, wanting to leave and return to the dorms—anyplace where you’re nearby.

—

a book is in your hand, you’re reading some novel that your friend had shipped from the states. thankfully, you could read more than just literature in korean, works in english are great.

you're hunched over a bit, reading the book that sits under the glow of the lamp at your desk until you hear a knock. when you open the door, jihyo stands there, looking terrible.

“jihyo? what are you—hey, are you okay?”

she sighs, then looks at you pleadingly. you let her in with no questions asked, sitting down on your bed and patting down a space for her. she sits down next to you, leaning against your shoulder, a tear spills from her right eye. with your thumb, you rub it away, cupping her face gently.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“later.”

“okay. do you want to stay here tonight?”

...

“yes.”

“okay.”

you turn off the lamp on your desk and place a bookmark in between the pages of your book, then close it. jihyo lies down first, and then you slip into the sheets no later.

“come closer, please.” jihyo practically pleads, to which you respond with a hum.

the two of you stare at each other, barely able to see each other in the dark, but still making out features and expressions. there's no words exchanged throughout any of it, jihyo just stares and stares until she puts a hand on your forearm. and then you feel that it’s right to dip a foot in the water, placing your hand above her waist and applying a little pressure to move her closer to you. jihyo scoots over a bit, then moves her hand over your body, pushign herself closer and into the crook of her neck.

she feels herself relax in your presence, not wanting to let go or create more distance between the two of you. the warmth in her chest is completely foreign from whatever she feels around daniel, she wants to stay in this position with you forever, she’d much rather be like this with you than daniel.

and then she hears you mutter a, “goodnight,” the tremor of your voice sending a shiver down her spine and making her feel all tingly. jihyo thinks that she could spend years in your embrace, just this moment alone makes her think that all that time with daniel was a waste if she had the ability to just barge into your room and stay close.

—

when jihyo wakes up, she catches you applying a light layer of makeup. you're focused on the mirror, attentive to the detail.

she watches you for a moment more and decides to sit up when you rummage for some jewelry in your drawer. you catch her in the corner of your eye and turn to her, smiling.

“good morning.”

“are you headed somewhere?” jihyo asks, because it’s only eight thirty in the morning when she checks her phone and you’re already up and running, despite having nothing on your schedules.

“remember naeun? she invited me out for breakfast, then we were going to... i don’t know, just spend until the afternoon together.” jihyo might cry, she feels her heart sink at your words.

you look beautiful, and the thought of naeun seeing you like this, spending time with you, making you laugh? it strikes something in the leader. she watches you put on a necklace, silently processing everything. too many possibilities and worries run through jihyo’s head. you've just held her in your arms, comforted her and slept in the same bed with her, practically tangled together—and now, you’re going on a little date.

“hey, you alright? you look like you’re in a daze.” you say, looking at jihyo curiously.

“sorry, just tired still.”

“then you should sleep more.” you suggest, “sleep in, you can stay in my bed.”

“when are you going out with naeun?”

“soon, like basically now—oh, did you want to talk about what was troubling you? i’ll postpone or cancel if you--”

“no, no.” jihyo says. she shakes her head and purses her lips. “go have fun, i'm just going to sleep a little more.”

you examine her a little, narrowing your eyes at the woman in your bed and trying to pinpoint any hint of, well, anything. you can’t really pick out what’s going on or what might be troubling her, so you decide to let it go for now.

“let me know if you need anything, okay? i’ll respond right away.” your response kills her inside, knowing that you’re out of reach, despite your words, and who else is she supposed to tell about her troubles? how she felt about daniel and you; she can’t even figure out her own feelings.

you sit down on the bed and brush a strand of hair back, fixing her tousled hair. your eyes go from her eyes to her lips, then to her hand that you now hold. you squeeze lightly, then look her in the eye again.

“i’ll be back in the afternoon, okay? let me know if you need anything. just because you’re the leader doesn’t mean you don’t have your own feelings. text me, love you.”

jihyo gulps, and when you let go of her hand, she fights the instinct to reach back for yours.

naeun shows up wearing her hair up in a ponytail. she has on a long black coat over her white top, beige slacks, and whtie sneakers. she's pretty, there’s no doubt.

breakfast with her goes smoothly. you order fluffy pancakes with fruit, a simple latte, and indulge in two pieces of dark chocolate on the side. naeun opts for two pieces of french toast, a side of fruit, and a cup of tea. as you engage in small talk, you find her anecdotes and jokes genuinely amusing, often catching yourself covering your mouth to stifle laughter. her occasional flirtatious remarks elicit smiles from you, though you can't help but notice a slight detachment from the warmth you'd normally feel in such situations—but at the same time, this is your first... date?

the two of you walk down the streets and find yourself in alleyways, simply talking and taking a few pictures here and there. time with her is nice, but it’s weird feeling so... normal with her. your heart doesn’t do flips, you’re not blushing as much as you figured you would, and it feels like you’re hanging out with a friend rather than on a date. maybe that’s what this is.

naeun calls a ride around noon, saying something is on her schedule at two. you nod, understanding her reason of departure. she smiles at you, you smile back, and then she furrows her brows a bit, still grinning.

“i spotted some cameras around us, we’ll probably be on some headlines.” she says, fixing her bangs absentmindedly. “i’d kiss you if they weren’t here, you look adorable right now.”

maybe it was a date.

you smile shyly, feeling your face burn at the bold statement. “probably, that’s fine though. and thank you.”

she laughs softly and it has a nice ring to it. “let’s see each other again sometime, i enjoyed this.”

“me too.”

“i’ll see you, y/n.”

“yeah, see you.”

when she gets into the car, you wave at her, then immediately, your attention is back on your phone. jihyo had lingered in the back of your mind the whole date, you figure it’s because she seemed to have a hard time earlier. there are no new messages other than a text from your mom, a few notifications from the group chat with your members, and texts from naeun that you never got to read—she found you right after she texted anyway, there was no need to respond.

nothing from jihyo, unfortunately. you find it strange that you went all this time (three hours) without hearing a single thing from her. it makes you frown slightly, but you shake it off for the time being and call a ride back to the dorms.

when you get back to the dorms, jihyo isn’t there. you're dissapointed after hearing mina tell you that she’s out for lunch with daniel, jihyo never told you she’d be out for lunch.

mina eyes you while you take off your jacket. “you were out on a date?”

“how’d you know?”

“little article or something that nayeon sent to the group chat, ‘april’s naeun and twice’s y/n spotted grabbing brunch together.’” she says, reading off her phone. “nayeon and sana were teasing you as well.”

you sigh. “of course they were.”

“well, did you have fun?” mina asks you, raising a brow. “do you like her?”

it takes you a moment to respond, you have to think about it.

“she’s nice.”

“so you like her...?”

“maybe. i guess we’ll have to go out more to figure that out.”

“hm.” she looks at you, it seems that she’s trying to figure out something. “okay.”

you don’t question the uncertainty in her look; instead, you walk over to your room, deciding to lie down and reenergize.

as your outings with naeun become more frequent, you find yourself with fewer opportunities to engage in meaningful conversations with jihyo, or anything jihyo related. likewise, jihyo's increased outings with daniel and her focus on work leave her with little time to dwell on the uneasy feeling in her chest whenever she sees another headline about you and naeun. it's not like you two are public about your relationship, of course you weren’t, the media would be at your throats. but still, your members know, and if jihyo knew you’d feel a little guilty.

(you don’t know why, but that’s how you think.)

the next comeback takes your attention away from a lot of things, takes your energy away, takes time away from only the two of you – you and jihyo – not anyone else.

the distance between you and jihyo seems to grow with each passing day, overshadowed by the presence of others in your lives. there's a weird gap between you two, you seem to talk to anyone but each other these days.

[1:05am]

you: are you awake?

jihyo looks at her phone after it buzzes, wondering who could possibly be texting her at this hour. she’s in the living room watching some movie, the tv there is better than her laptop. she picks up her phone, looking at your contact and the contact photo of you that she had set – a picture of you before blowing out candles on your first birthday while in twice – then responds.

[1:07am]

jihyo: yes

you: what are you doing?

jihyo: on the couch watching a movie, why are you up?

you: just not tired. had an americano earlier.

part of you wants to mention that it was when you were with naeun, but you decide to leave it out. you don’t like to mention naeun really, not with jihyo at least. you don’t really know why, but it feels right not to.

you: can i join?

jihyo stares at the phone for a bit, she wouldn’t mind your company, if anything—it's been a while since the two of you have been alone.

jihyo: come.

you smile at your phone, you don’t usually smile at messages.

jihyo looks away from the tv once she spots you, you’re dressed in an oversized hoodie and shorts that cut off five or six centimeters above your knee. a smile is thrown her way and that same smile tugs at the leaders' lips.

you settle down next to her, a small, evident space in between that neither of you want there. jihyo continues the movie, pressing the “play” button and you sink back a bit, moving your hips up and lounging against the cushion. your body moves a bit when you do so, in a way that makes it so that your shoulders are touching. the small detail makes both of you concentrate on the movie more than necessary.

a few minutes pass, then you decide that’s enough silence. your turn your head and ask, “how have you been?” it’s a simple question, really, but it still catches jihyo off guard.

“good, you?”

“i’m good.” you answer, and then you look at her for a moment more. “how are things with daniel?”

jihyo tenses up a bit, the last thing she wants to think about is him. “alright. what about you and naeun?”

“oh, yeah we’re alright.”

the two of you stare at each other for a bit, unsure of what to say for a bit.

your head falls to the cushion of the couch, you lean against it, keeping eye contact with jihyo before your gaze softens.

“are we okay?”

“what do you mean y/n?”

“i just, miss talking to you. it feels like forever since we’ve been... alone.”

she chuckles nervously. “i mean, i guess. the comeback has been... tiring. i'm glad we have this day off. plus, we’ve been spending time with... well, you know, our...” she wants to say lovers, but it throws her off. is lover the right word for daniel? boyfriend is, maybe, but that’s just a label. still, she doesn’t want to say that.

"yeah," you respond, the word heavy with a tinge of disappointment. and then you stare hard at jihyo, studying her under the soft glow of the living room lights. you take in every detail—the gentle curve and sparkle of her eyes under the dimmed lights, the natural beauty of her bare face—and commit it to memory, because who knows when you’ll have time to look at her like this again.

you realize that wow, you’ve missed this view – her, park jihyo – and part of you feels bad because you and your girlfriend naeun have spent so much time together lately, yet nothing about naeun makes you pause in place like this. your brain is tangled in a knot, you don’t know why.

“you look really good with the red hair.” your voice is soft, it’s gentle. “you look beautiful with anything.”

as the memory of you drunkenly complimenting her flashes through her mind, jihyo experiences a sense of déjà vu. this time you're sober, and the words you speak hold genuine sincerity.

“thanks.” her tone appreciative. she leans into the cushion, and now your heads are at the same level, the eye contact much more... intense.

jihyo doesn’t say half of what she’s thinking. you look great too, you always look astonishing. your current hairstyle, particularly the shorter, dark hair from this comeback, suits you remarkably well. the way the stylists style your hair, you, and just everything, jihyo tries not to stare too hard during rehearsals and filming. and now, god, especially now, now with your slightly disheveled hair, your sleepy eyes, bare face and leisured look. now with that voice of yours coaxing her to relaxation; you’re as captivating as ever.

she feels her voice grow fainter as she answers, “you look pretty too.”

“thanks miss leader.” you mutter lowly, which earns a giggle from the two of you. the little remark earns a dying tension that was in the air, and now your shoulders are fully touching after you scoot closer.

your arms are linked after you make the bold move, excusing the action with an “i’m cold,” but there’s no need for an excuse because jihyo’s fine with it. if anything, jihyo’s glad that you’re all touchy like this (even if it’s just a linked arm).

the movie that’s playing has already been ignored, acting as background noise as the two of you converse about who knows what. the only thing that matters is that you’re giggling like you used to, your cheeks are warm, and you’re starting to get a little sleepy.

when your words start to slur, jihyo shortens her answers and talks a little less, watching as your head falls to her shoulder and feeling you shuffle into a more comfortable position. when you fall asleep jihyo doesn’t budge, instead glancing at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world and—

it hits jihyo. there’s a striking, obvious reason that she feels the way she does towards you, why she’s been distant and hesitant with her interactions. never has her heart felt this warm or right with daniel.

her brows crease a little when she realizes, but for now, you’re asleep and content, so maybe she should be too instead of adding another worry on top of the comeback.

besides, she’s comfy right there with you, and you’re clearly feeling the same.

she closes her eyes, sighing quietly, allowing one of your arms to slip behind her back and the other over her lap so you can loosely wrap around her waist. her head gently falls to rest against yours, and soon she's fast asleep, one hand nestled in your hair while the other rests against your forearm. in this peaceful moment, she finds solace in your presence, feeling content for the first time in a while.

nayeon is still tired when she walks into the living room, but the sight of your arms lazily wrapped around jihyo’s waist, your legs messily laid out on the couch, and jihyo laid down at an awkward angle seems to wake the older member up.

taking her phone out, she giggles, then snaps a picture that’ll be used against the two of you in the groupchat.

(and little do you know, when both of you wake up to see the picture that’s sent, you’ll save it even if you act annoyed, both of you adding it to your favorites without letting anyone know.)

the comeback takes up all your time and energy, having to wake up for the pre recordings, interviews, and then trying to go about your day normally like you’re not about to pass out any moment takes a toll on you.

you've been seeing naeun for a couple of months now, of course you enjoyed spending time with her and whatnot, but when you kissed her, touched her intimately those few times or did anything romantic? it just felt... off. you didn’t mind, you’d initiate some of it, but that didn’t get rid of the fact that something was missing.

there was the thought of jihyo doing these things with you, and you had to shake your head to get rid of that thought. jihyo doesn’t like you, not like that, and she’s with daniel. she’s probably on cloud nine with him, maybe all sappy and romantic, happy. the though of him making her feel like that makes you frown. you felt terrible when you thought like this, of jihyo – so you felt terrible most of the time – because naeun was with you, and she should be enough. she is enough, but that didn’t stop you from wishing she were jihyo sometimes.

(all the time.)

spending time with naeun takes a lot too, and you’re much more cranky, less talkative, and just being around her feels like it’s hurting both of you. there’s no spark anymore, even when you kiss her or when she kisses you. making out with her feels like a chore because there’s worries in the back of your mind and stress piling up. your troubles take a toll, it goes on for almost a month before naeun decides to leave what you two have as just friends. you agree without hesitation, realizing it’s the best for both of you, but you wonder why you’re not as... emotional.

in return, jihyo knew her schedule would take the time with daniel away from her – not that she minded – which led her to make the same decision that naeun had made (but with daniel, of course. if she were with you, what could possibly lead her to break things off with you? who would ever do that?)

when she unties the knot with daniel, it’s like a weight is lifted of her shoulders, and now the comeback doesn’t seem half as bad, it’s almost as if daniel were the reason she’s been so uptight and stressed. jihyo thinks that can’t be because—well, the person you’re with shouldn’t make you feel like that, they should make you feel relaxed and bubbly and sappy and as if your head is in the clouds.

and that’s exactly how she feels when she gets those small moments alone with you.

both of you are aware of the realization, yet neither wants to confront it directly, opting instead to push the mutual feelings aside.

it lingers between you, unspoken yet palpable, as you both silently grapple with its implications, unwilling to acknowledge its weight.

“it’ll make things really complicated and difficult, and if things go wrong then our relationship with each other could affect twice you know?”

for the next couple of months until your next comeback, your relationship with your leader seems to creep back to its normal self.

with the other members you’re found inching closer to the leader, it’s honestly not on purpose but by default. it just happens.

then there’s those times where you’re alone, giggling and talking like nothing matters, like life as an idol is a breeze because really, it is when you have someone like jihyo by your side. someone you can reveal your deepest worries to, somone you can talk to without judgement, just someone you can lean on. jihyo is exactly that.

of course the members notice, but that could just be another mina and chaeyoung situation, where you’re both close and that’s it. of course, there’s much more than just being close, hell, mina and chaeyoung are more than close these days – you’ve caught them being a little too touchy and affectionate for it to be something that’s just friends – but that’s just how they are. you and jihyo on the other hand, that’s a different case, but everyone is too occupied to really look into it, so the two of you continue to be close, closer than ever without thinking much of it. afraid to think more about what it is.

alone time with jihyo becomes more frequent, including outings that used to be with naeun, dinner that used to be with naeun, laying in bed that used to be with naeun and... well, everything that used to be done with naeun. except each time it feels much more rewarding and tender.

your heart does more flips than it ever did with naeun, and jihyo could say the same in regard to daniel.

“alcohol free” is a hit, there’s no doubt about that. when there’s a hit, there's wins, and when there are wins, there is a night of celebrating.

(karaoke for hours, drinks, more drinks, and even mrore, and then meaningless laughs and conversations between you and your members.)

jihyo sits next to you with her second beer of the night, she can feel herself growing loose and looser. you’re still on your first beer, despite it being half full, you’re eyeing the soju on the table.

mina's the only one not drinking, while tzuyu takes just a few sips before passing her strawberry-flavored beer to you, her eyes wary of getting too tipsy. jeongyeon, already pretty drunk, leans heavily on momo, slurring random words. everyone seems to be on their way to wasted, or simply having a great time.

you turn to the left to see jihyo laughing away, about what? who knows. all you know is that she looks effortlessly pretty, smile lighting up the room and eyes all squinty in a way that makes your heart ache, yearn, scream, all of the above. you think that she’s looked the best this comeback (you always think that with each comeback); her cheeks are a little sun kissed from filming the music video, she seems brighter, and especially with her mid length hair, the way it frames her face so nicely, you could kiss her, maybe just a press to her cheek, and if she lets you, maybe a little more—

nope. you can’t do that. you stop yourself from thinking further. you turn away, cheeks burning from something else that’s not alcohol, something that you don’t want to acknowledge.

there’s the sinking feeling in your chest and now you’re a little scared that what you’ve had to drink will amplify it – it basically already has – so you slow down a bit, trying to get down from that temporary high. the pit in your stomach gets worse when you glance back at jihyo, who’s already looking at you with stars in her eyes.

your skin tanned during the shoot, drawing some flak from a handful of netizens, but also garnering heaps of adoring, and a couple suggestive comments from others online. jihyo understands the appeal when looking at you, the tanned skin, nice features, and the dark, wavy, long hair that you’re pulling off for this album. of course, jihyo loves tzuyu, adores her really, and cares for the youngest, yet, whenever she glances your way, she can't help but think you'd fit the "visual" title just as well. maybe even better.

she leans over a bit, just enough so that her lips graze your ear before she says, “you look cute, y/n.”

“oh, thank you.” a giggle is added to mask the uneasiness in you before you distance yourself a bit. “i don’t feel the best, i think i might head back earlier.”

“so soon?” she tugs at your arm, pouting. “what am i supposed to do without you here?”

don't say that.

you grin, it’s forced. “c’mon, you’ll be fine without me. you look like you’re having fun already.”

“only because you’re here.” her words are a little slurred. “you make everything so... nice. yeah, that’s right, that’s the word.”

“well, i'm glad—but i really am tired. i gotta go, you have fun okay? just think of me and... things will be nice. you're not very alcohol free.” the stupid joke is followed by a giggle, and despite how corny it is – usually jihyo would punch you lightly and roll her eyes – jihyo feels like she’s just been punched in the gut.

you stand up and jihyo fights back the urge to pull you back, maybe into her, just close, that’s all she knows. the space next to her feels cold now, and the room feels darker as soon as you say your goodbyes. jihyo thinks it can’t get any worse, but then you move over so your lips are centimeters away from her ear, muttering a “think of me, i'll be at home” which definitely amplifies the ache in her heart.

home, that’s where jihyo wants to be as soon as you leave the room. she wants to be with you, maybe that’s what—or who home is.

when you get into your cab, you can’t help but think abotu jihyo more. the hurt in her face as you left, and the thought that she might like you too crosses your mind, but that can’t be, she rejected you a few years ago.

there's still that chance that her feelings changed, just maybe she feels even the slight attraction you feel with her. your feelings never really died down, adn you realize that maybe it was wrong to get into a relationship with naeun while your feelings for jihyo were still under the surface.

after you shower and get ready for bed – mind in a flurry the whole time – you’re bascially completely sober. you're still alone in the dorm, opting to try to organize your thoughts and conflicted feelings until you get a little notifcation on your phone.

you reach over, squinting at the screen.

[12:00am]

jihyo: i wish you would’ve stayed. miss you.

...

[1:30am]

y/n: miss you too.

jihyo’s flustered and nervous, cursing at herself and practically pulling her hair out as soon as she reads the text she sent. she's at your door before you even wake up the next morning to apologize to your half-asleep self. you wave her off and mutter a sleepy “it’s fine, really,” which soothes her.

the two of you pretend that night never happened after the apology, and then for the next year you run in circles. run around your feelings, run away from them. it's better, less complicated.

when the two of you manage to finally come to a point in your lives where the mutual feeling isn’t eating you two up, something else decides to swoop in and bring you back to square one.

“dates?” nayeon laughs a little. “like, wine and dine? or...”

you laugh too because, what, a date? a vlog of... a date with one of your members. it sounds silly, but also fun at the same time. you're already on board to this “2wice date” idea that the director had suggested, and it’s one of those things that makes your job much more amusing.

the rest of the members seem to be on board, and then you’re given the pairings, which renders you stiff in your seat.

“nayeon and tzuyu,” the director says, making the rest of the member's giggle. the oldest and the youngest, that would be fun to watch, fun to poke at and think about.

“mina and chaeyoung,” well, they’ve already been on dates, practically (probably) already a couple whether they know it or not. you watch chaeyoung smile like a little kid, a smile taking over. mina looks at her and a small smile tugs at her lips too. you only poke at chaeyoung.

“sana and momo.” alright, that would obviously go fine, they’re already attached to the hip anyway and—

the realization hits you: there’s only one pairing left. all the others are paired up, leaving you and jihyo.

jihyo's gaze lingers on you, and for half a second you catch her eyes widening in realization before she quickly composes herself. meanwhile, you're doing your utmost to keep it together. just when you believed you had moved on from her, or at least accepted that it wasn't going to happen, all those emotions come rushing back. you're certain this revelation will keep you tossing and turning at night until the date finally arrives.

the idea of going on a real date with her feels like cupid taking aim at your heart—but not in the traditional romantic sense. it's more like cupid wielding a gun instead of a bow, the bullet tearing your heart wide open. yeah, that's a better comparison.

the members tease each other after everything, but out of all the pairings it’s you and jihyo who get poked at the most. you feel like your heart might burst, and jihyo feels the same.

both of you sit on jihyo’s bed for a bit, trying to think of an idea for your date. neither of you want to admit it, but you’re both equally as giddy for this little episode.

jihyo suggests going for a drive, some coffee, and then a garden. it seems romantic, so romantic that you wonder if it’s alright taking on this whole thing.

“that sounds great.” you end up responding, smiling at jihyo as you say it. she purses her lips together and forms something that’s also a smile, the two of you laugh for no reason and a little spark starts a flame in your heart.

the cameras roll, it’s time to act like you’re not about to lose your mind. you're officially on this date with the prettiest, most charming woman you know, right as that recording button had been pressed.

“alright, let’s go for a drive.” and with that you follow jihyo, getting into the white car on the passengers side.

you observe jihyo starting the car, paying no mind to the managers awkwardly third-wheeling in the backseat. she shoots you a smile, and all you can do is laugh, raising the camera in your hand and pointing it at her as she maneuvers out of the parking spot and hits the road.

the car ride remains eerily quiet for a significant stretch because you simply can’t stop looking at her. jihyo doesn't seem to mind much (although deep down she does, but with cameras rolling, she has to keep her cool), and she keeps the conversation flowing, steering it towards simple, everyday topics. you manage to slip in brief responses while your eyes drink in the contours of her side profile, her beauty laid bare before you.

“y/n, you and i. we used to spend so much time together, alone.” the sudden switch from teasing nayeon and tzuyu’s date catches you off guard.

“yeah, especially before alcohol free, we still spend time together, no?”

“you’ve been straying away from me these days.” of course she’s saying it jokingly, but deep down you both know that there’s a small rift starting to form as you try to run away from your feelings. “do you remember what we’d do?”

looking out the window, you nod and say, “yeah, i remember we’d watch a lot of your shows. i never was a big movie or show person, but jihyo always managed to have me finishing multiple series’ and movies in a week.”

the two of you giggle. “you enjoyed them though.”

“some. you've made me sit through questionable things. it was always late at night though and i knew you had issues with sleeping, so i always said yes because i just wanted you to be well rested.”

a small silence envelops the air before jihyo breaks it.

“wow,” she turns to you since the light is red, her eyes appreciative. “thank you.”

“anything for twice’s leader.” your words manage to break the ice.

when you two get to the cafe, jihyo links her arms with yours and you almost drop the tripod holding the camera.

your cheeks flush as you place your order, and then jihyo steps in, graciously paying for both of you with the corporate card, causing your blush to deepen. thankfully, you're wearing a mask; otherwise, fans would have a field day with this. they'd find a way to capture your flustered moments regardless, probably compiling them into a youtube compilation.

there's a little outside area of the cafe, so of course, the two of you find your way out there.

“it’s so pretty outside, but my date is prettier.” jihyo says to the camera, making you push her gently.

“oh god, you’re being quite the romantic.”

“why wouldn’t i my love?” jihyo teases, using the pet name that makes you cringe inwardly. but deep down, you can't deny that a part of you secretly adores it, even though you all pretend to be grossed out by it when the cameras are rolling.

you roll your eyes before posing on a bench for jihyo, laughing at the way she positions herself in order to get a perfect angle of you.

(jihyo thinks that every angle of you is more than perfect.)

after jihyo finishes snapping pictures and showering you with compliments as if she's actually your girlfriend—though she isn't, and you have to constantly remind yourself that this is all for the sake of that little date episode—you switch roles. now, you're the one capturing moments, aiming your camera at her. you're in awe, wanting to preserve each shot you take on your little film camera, each one is worthy of being framed in a museum.

“you’re beautiful,” you accidentally say out loud, which makes jihyo blush in return. there's no chance that’s getting cut out.

and then you’re back in the car, but before you walked over you made sure your arms were linked, locking them tightly as if she’ll float away. jihyo gets into the driver's side and you make a small comment about being her passenger princess.

“passenger princess?”

“it’s a funny little thing, never heard of it?”

"you can be a princess all the time, not just when you're my passenger, my love," jihyo says, but immediately cringes as the words leave her mouth—not because she dislikes the term of endearment, but because it feels a bit too intimate in front of the cameras. then, the two of you burst into laughter, as if it were the funniest thing in the world. you figure the more she says “my love” the more you’ll get used to it, maybe even crave hearing it when the cameras aren’t rolling and in your dorms, as normal.

the final destination is some water garden, it’s beautiful out. the two of you find a little table to sit on and decide to have a deeper conversation there.

your heart does a flip, a tumble, and almost beats out your chest when jihyo says, “i’ve always been really captivated by you.”

“what?”

“i’m serious. i mean, all of twice, they’re all special to me, but you’ve always stood out, especially these days.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.” jihyo affirms.

you flash her a grin, then quickly turn away, attempting to compose yourself. deep down, you know the editors will have a field day with how much of a nervous wreck you are, but you try not to let it show.

“you’re one of the prettiest people i've laid eyes on, you know? ever since i first met you on sixteen.” you admit suddenly, looking down. “everything about you has caught my attention since then, you’ve only grown brighter these days.”

“is that so?”

you nod. “i mean, everyone has been brighter. these days, everyone seems to be close and happy, i'm glad.” you pause, and jihyo waits for you to continue. “i’m just really glad we’re happy these days. i've done everything i can to keep everything from being complicated.”

the realization hits, she makes complete eye contact with you as you say it. your eyes stare hard into hers, like daggers pointing at her. and then you look down again, playing with your hands.

"sometimes, i don't know, i feel a little overwhelmed with how i feel and everything, but after spending time with you like this," your words now directed solely at jihyo, a shift she can clearly sense as her heart tightens. "i start to think that maybe... maybe it's okay if things are complicated. because we've dealt with complicated stuff before and managed to work through it. but sometimes i still avoid things and it makes the feelings worse. sometimes, you have to complicate things to reach an outcome that'll make everything alright. i think about that a lot, but i'm not sure if i'm wording it right. i think i want to complicate things now that i think about it.”

you're not sure if any of what you're saying will make the final cut, and even if it does, the viewers might not grasp the real meaning. but as jihyo's eyes soften while she looks at you, you find yourself locking eyes with her again. there's a silent understanding passing between you, and suddenly, your words seem to resonate on a deeper level, shifting the atmosphere. jihyo understands, and in that moment, it's as if her heart breaks free from its constraints.

“i think you’re right y/n. maybe complicating things is worth the trouble.”

“yeah.” is all you can say.

a brief silence settles, but it's far from uncomfortable. you share a smile with jihyo, and a few seconds pass before the two of you effortlessly shift the conversation back to discussing your fellow members and how both of you have grown over time.

in that lingering silence, there's a final understanding, unspoken yet palpable. you realize that this moment, right here, is probably the most content you've felt in a while. and judging by the serene expression on jihyo's face, she feels the same way too.

minutes later, you snap the final pictures, finding a swinging seat by the water to settle on. jihyo leans against your shoulder, and a sense of warmth and contentment washes over you. as the managers stand in front of the two of you, holding your film camera and waiting for a pose, jihyo moves away slightly and then leans her head back against you. with a soft smile, she puts up a little peace sign, and you instinctively mirror her gesture as your heads gently touch.

a rush of confidence floods through you, emboldening your actions. you turn your head slightly so you can whisper into jihyo's ear, "can i kiss you? on the cheek."

she turns to you in surprise, her face almost meeting yours due to the proximity, then nods with a slight flush on her face. "yes, of course you can."

for the next picture, your lips gently land on jihyo's cheek, your hand instinctively cupping the other side of her face to draw her closer. jihyo smiles big, the happiness evident in her expression and pink cheeks. there's no doubt that once this picture is developed, the two of you will spend a good amount of time gazing at it, admiring the moment captured on film.

“i’m happy we got paired.” you admit, the camera capturing your words.

“me too, i'm really glad.” jihyo responds

you and jihyo don’t talk much after the date, when you reach the dorms, jihyo is afraid to say anything really. this is the first time she’s had to think so much about, well, the two of you for the first time in a while.

“that was a lot of fun.” you simply say trying to ease the tension. “it was lovely.”

“i liked it a lot.”

you nod, and look at her, searching in her eyes for something. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine, y/n.” her tone is unsure, a little apprehensive.

“right, okay.” you narrow your eyes at her, then sigh. “i’ll be in my room, if you... need anything.”

jihyo doesn’t utter a word, instead she lets you walk away, watching you turn back to meet her as you step inside.

a wave of emotions crashes over you, and a part of you—perhaps all of you—wants to cry. the date wasn't bad, but now everything feels... strange. it's not uncomfortable, but you can't shake the feeling that maybe jihyo didn't quite understand what you were trying to say during your ramblings. maybe she was just being polite, playing along, and she'll give you a gentle talk later.

flopping onto your bed, you close your eyes and rub your face with your hands, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. you resist the urge to tear your hair out, but the turmoil inside you remains, leaving you feeling lost and unsure of what comes next. what could possibly happen after this? after acknowledging years of these unspoken feelings, you really can’t pinpoint a—

you shoot up from your bed at the sound of a knock on your door. you quickly run through the possibilities—nayeon is out with momo, and tzuyu has a shoot—leaving you with one answer.

it's jihyo, it’s definitely jihyo.

unsure why, you’re a bit scared. she's at your door waiting, all you have to do is open it and figure out what might happen next. the anticipation grills you.

you open it, looking down a bit to see jihyo.

“y/n.”

“hey, are you—”

“i can’t keep doing this anymore.” she says, looking and sounding conflicted. “after today i realized that, i don’t know, i really love you.” she pauses, waiting for you to say something, anything. when you don’t, she continues. “all these years, i was a fool for saying all that, you know, the professionalism and complications. i realize now that it only made things worse and, gosh, years, years, i've been fighting back how i felt about you. how i still feel about you and, this whole date thing—y/n, i can’t imagine waiting any longer or fighting back anything any longer.”

everything that jihyo says seems like a fever dream, part of you doesn’t believe she’s saying all of this. you're frozen in place, staring at her with your jaw dropped a little, wanting to say something, anything, but you can’t.

“please say something, i know you felt this way about me initially and--”

“kiss me.” you interject, shakign your head in disbelief. “just--”

jihyo doesn’t wait for another word from you. in an instant, she closes the distance between you, and oh my god, her lips are soft, she's perfect. it's surreal— you're kissing park jihyo, the culmination of years of inner turmoil, fighting against your own desires. everything you've daydreamed of and hoped for is finally happening, and it's even more incredible than you imagined. it's all so right.

you close your eyes tight, afraid that if you open them she’ll be gone and this will all unfold into a dream. but you feel her hands on your cheek and it proves that yeah, this is all real. you can’t help but smile, jihyo feels it as you kiss her. she feels herself smiling against you too.

stumbling back a little, jihyo closes the door behind the two of you before you both fall backwards onto your bed. she pulls away from the kiss to catch her breath properly, and you can barely open your eyes in the haze of the moment. but when you finally manage to, you see her smiling down at you like you're the most precious thing in the world, like you're everything she's needed this whole time and honestly, you are.

all those years of uncertainty, but she was always certain about you. no matter how hard she tried to push it down, it was you she needed. and now, it's real—nothing is complicated anymore, who cares if it’s anything even close to unprofessional or complicated. you don’t, that’s for sure.

you hold her in place by her hips, gently keeping her in place before eagerly catching her lips again, cupping her cheek as you kiss her deeply. you never want to pull away, never want to stay apart from her from now on.

all those years of pining, and despite how conflicted you felt, it was all worth it if it meant jihyo kissing you now, and by the end of the night: in your arms.

everything was worth it if it meant her in the end.

#miinatozakiii #twice imagines #twice x reader #kpop x reader #jihyo x reader #park jihyo x reader #twice jihyo #park jihyo #jihyo imagines

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