#sometimes I write things out in the tags and then I read over them like ??? huh
Text
r/AmItheAsshole
u/bwckennedy77 ・ 15h
AITA for having sexual relations with a girl that looks like my daughter?
Asshole
(tags - daddy daughter incest, facial, oral sex, some coercion, bad writing bc i’m tired and can’t execute the idea properly, be nice and don’t look at any mistakes!! leon small dick ik but he’s big for my sake here.)
Hi Reddit! New to this thing, first post got taken down, I can’t imagine why. Now, to cut to the chase, my wife left me this year a little after our daughter (20) moved out. Our marriage (M47, F46) had been strained for a couple years prior so I understand why she ended things. I’m stretched thin with an intensive job that requires me to be away for days and weeks at a time. I thought she would get it considering it is related to the military/government, but I guess all those missed birthdays really got to her! I have no qualms with this and totally understand her reasoning haha.
I don’t get the time to go on dates because of work like I said before and I really don’t have the energy to go on them anyway. I have a bit of a drinking problem if I’m completely honest which is where my actual story starts I guess.
I was at a bar and I don’t usually attempt to pick up girls but sometimes they come onto me I don’t think I have the worst face in the world, some call it easy on the eyes. Long story short this girl comes up to me she’s pretty young, I don’t usually go for younger girls. I mean I don’t go for any girls at all because I was married up until recently obviously haha, but I’m not one to say no so I took her back to my place.
Chick got super freaked out and started getting her things when I bent her over in the bedroom. Thought it was just reality hitting her or some shit. She was calling me a creep and she left as my daughter let herself in, she’s back in town and only just arrived at that moment.
They looked at each other and it hit me. They looked the same. That chick saw the photo I have of my daughter on the cabinet and flipped. The chick leaves and my daughter gets super mad at me starts calling me names and she went up to her room and she won’t speak to me now. Didn’t think that it was that big of a deal you know? Don’t really know what I did wrong since it wasn’t intentional or anything but with the way she’s acting I just feel like a dick so AITA?
⇧ 52478 | ⇩ 💬 27821
Killer_RedQueen79 ・ 14h・ Supreme Court Just-Ass [124]
I hope to fucking god this is not you Leon.
bwckennedy77 OP・ 11h
I don’t know any Leon’s sorry
DuckieUnderWater ・ 13h ・ Partassipant [2]
Dude why the whole fucking life story. Title alone was enough for me to know that YTA and a fucking creep.
bwckennedy77 OP ・ 2h
I think you’re all taking this out of context! I didn’t want her because she looks like my daughter, I’m just easy!
NeonGenesis738 ・ 12h ・Asshole Enthusiast [6]
first post got taken down, I can’t imagine why
I could name a few fucking reasons why you sick fuck. YTA. She should call the cops and go non contact.
bwckennedy77 OP ・ 5h
I am a super cop buddy! Very high rank!!!
NeonGenesis738 ・ 2h ・Asshole Enthusiast [6]
Of course you fucking are
YTA, YTA, YTA, YTA, YTA.
Leon scoffs, reading glasses slipping down the slant of his nose as he squints at his screen. He is not the fucking asshole here. No one is. You’re just a bit of a drama queen. Just like your ma, but you haven’t quite reached the levels of hysteria that Leon has managed in his day to day life.
Man, there’s never a clean slate. Just more and more shit piled on top of shit and more shit—Enough to break the ozone layer or whatever it is that’s going on in this little world. The other problems that he can’t save it from.
It has been two meandering days since you’ve talked to him, you move like a ghoul in the night to avoid a one on one Family Meeting that Leon has been itching to suggest. Reddit, as Claire suggested - not for this occasion, but for when he generally needs a variety of opinions - is unhelpful. Reddit is a crowd that wields its pitchforks at anything that passes by.
Like, seriously, it’s not like Leon picked her out of the crowd, he didn’t sit there waiting for her to show up—Well, he did let down the shortstack that approached him first, and the blonde with the hollow face, and the dude who bought him a drink. They just didn’t tickle his fancy and that’s alright. Can’t help having a type, and to clarify that type is not his daughter.
Divorce is tough, alright? Leon’s always looking for a friendly face, hers probably came with all those memories of you attached and he subconsciously picked her out. Fuckin’ made him release endorphins or some shit. And she was cute. Because you’re cute. Not in a weird way, just subjectively, you’re a cute girl with a nice body you can owe to him. Christ, it all sounds so wrong when he puts it into perspective, but that was never his intention.
He fucked his wife whenever he could get it up, he fucked her for a long fucking time for a number of years. Leon wouldn’t fuck a woman he finds ugly, he found her pretty hot, actually, and it just so happens that you look like your ma. So, you’re a good-looking kid—Not in a weird way. Never in a weird way.
That’s how it works, isn’t it? Kids look like their parents and parents can admire that and it doesn’t mean they want to fuck them.
But that girl was—She was hot, god damn it. He had her tits in his hands, squeezing them so tight she squealed, pushing them up and down, slapping them left and right, fat spilling past the gaps in his fingers. And so what if Leon thought that they looked like yours.
Maybe he thought about that time at the beach, when your string bikini did exactly what good string bikinis do - come undone.
(He had lowered his sunglasses and looked right at you.)
Maybe about that time you needed a towel and Leon took a peek at your body through the steamed glass when he tossed one over the shower door.
(“My eyes are closed, sweetheart!” He had promised while staring at you very open-eyed.)
Or when he sent you off to bed with a smack on the ass ‘cause he just wasn’t thinking too hard, Leon hardly ever thinks at all. He played it off as sportsmanship or whatever. Game got him amped up.
(You look like your mom from behind, he couldn’t help himself, it was an impulse—It was only natural.)
Leon has the bright idea to pass the time by watching porn, because honestly he’s been pent up since it happened. First time his dick kicked in weeks and she walked out on him all ‘cause she looked a little like his daughter. Weak. Freud never mentioned anything about this—Not that Leon knows much about that guy, nothing at all actually, but from what he’s heard, no dads crushing on daughters have ever been mentioned. Or maybe he's got reading to do.
Porn is usually a quick and easy fix. It is for everybody. Not Leon though, he’s gotta search hard for shit he likes, it’s not on the front page and it takes him forever to find one that’s suitable. Some of ‘em have too much dick, some of the positions just look painful, some of these clits aren’t being touched, and some of these girls are just plain ugly.
Then he finds one, she’s real cute, that’s all. Nothing is familiar about her eyes and nose and lips and body and hair. Not the way she smiles over her shoulder at him. Nothing at all.
He falls asleep with the tab open and a hand down his pants.
To avoid detection, you creep around the house when it’s lights out. Dad wakes up easily, military training and whatnot. So you’ve gotten used to this, sneaking leftovers from the fridge past midnight, watching the TV on silent, squinting to read the subtitles.
He didn’t mean it. You think. You hope. Leon is so… So harmless. Your dad is sweet and a little stupid, he’s kind and clueless and all of the things most dads are. He buys you an abundance of apples when you tell him you like apples, he throws out the oranges when you tell him you don’t like them ‘cause they make your hands smell funny. He stands on the porch watching the clouds, he sleeps alone in his king sized bed and hugs his pillow tight. He keeps his wedding ring on his bedside cabinet next to a picture of you
But that was weird. Seriously, you thought he put a mirror in the hall for a minute. Or that you were in some strange dreamscape. Or in a coma. Or all of the above.
You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he just brushed you off like it meant nothing. Like that girl wasn’t your long lost twin, a sister he and your mom put up for adoption twenty years ago. So, yeah, you got a little pissy at him. ‘Cause it’s nothing to act nonchalant about.
Okay, and what if this is a little bit of a projection.
You got mad at him, real mad, ‘cause maybe you were a little jealous and maybe you like knowing that your dad is single and not fucking—Maybe you think about that time you went to the sauna together, all that sweat, beading along the firm lines of his abdomen, dripping down and down and down and melting into the fabric of his white towel. Maybe you wanted to see what was under there. Maybe you mix up the laundry on purpose, make it so he can’t find a nice shirt to wear and he gives up and does without one all together.
Maybe you do all those things. Maybe you don’t want to be a bad person, and the guilt outweighs your desires.
Or maybe you are just a very regular girl behaving in very regular ways to the sight of your dad fucking your lookalike. Maybe it’s that. God, please be that.
You wander into his room with a very dire problem. There’s a spider in the shower, and maybe you're ready for that Family Meeting now.
He’s sleeping, the blue light of his laptop casts a glow on his face, head tipped back, lips parted as he snores loudly. You almost don’t catch it. Then, when you go to shake him awake gently, you take a good look at his screen and find the weight of the world is not enough to support the wave of anger that rips through you, a tsunami tearing a nation in half.
No fucking way. No fucking way. No fucking way!
He’s watching porn, whatever, he can do that. Your dad is a grown man, and while you don’t exactly want to know about his tastes, you sorta had him figured out. The kind of man who watches corny studio porn with unwet pussy and dicks so big they shouldn’t be allowed within 10 feet of a vagina.
The girl on the screen—She looks like you. Albeit a little plastic in the way most professional pornstars are. Too-firm tits, filler migrating into the space above her lips, it hurts for her to smile and—Well, none of this fucking matters because she looks like you and your dad is watching her take two dicks in one hole.
And wow. She’s taking them well. Really… Really well. This isn’t so bad, you salute his taste a little more—Oh, wow, that guy is kind of… You recognise him, something about his face is familiar.
You press rewind.
It starts cheesy and devolves into something cheesier. It starts dirty and it ends with a dick in her pussy and one in her mouth, they might end up meeting in the middle, kiss tips in her guts.
It’s the loud one—The one that says all the dirty shit and spits in her mouth and slaps her tits and knocks her around—He looks like dad.
Mainly from the side, the straight edge of his nose, the way his eyes crease when he smiles down at her all mean.
(You skip anytime he faces the camera head on.)
“You’re really enjoying that, huh?”
“Jesus Christ—“ You jolt and knock your head against the headboard. “Dad!”
“Baby!”
“You scared me,” you say, elbowing him in the gut as he sits up, “I wasn’t—Why’re you watching this?”
“What? I can’t watch porn in my room now?” Leon pauses the video, he’s not upset, amused but not upset.
“No—I mean you can, do whatever you want, but why is it… She looks like…” You wave your hand at the screen like it’s a hologram and it’ll go if you wave it away. It’ll flicker if you stare at it long and hard enough.
“Like what, sweetheart?” He drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulls you into his chest as you stammer like a fucking idiot. “Go on, you’re a big girl.”
“Let go of me,” you tell him weakly, a shoddy attempt at sounding horrified. Like you should when you’re caught watching porn—Your dad’s porn nonetheless.
“No, that’s not what it is, baby, answer my question.” He holds you in place, hand running up and down your side, rubbing circles into the fat of your hip. “Who does she look like?”
“Like… Like no one.”
“No, I don’t think that’s right, c’mon, I’ll give you one more chance, baby.” Leon’s fingers are cool on your skin, slipping under the hem of your shirt and settling on your waist. “Who does she look like?”
You turn your head, but he catches your chin and forces you to stare at the screen, right into her face—Your face. “Like me…”
“See, baby?” He kisses your forehead like he has a million times before. “Knew you could do it, my good girl,” he says like he does after you ace your tests, when you learnt how to ride a bike, and now he’ll say it while you learn to work his dick. “And who does he look like?”
“…Like you, dad.”
“Well done, baby,” he coos, kissing your jaw, “you’re so smart, aren’t you, baby?”
“Stop it—“ Your body catches alight when his hands slide upwards, taking your tits into his hands and squeezing so tight they might pop. “Stop it, dad—I don’t…”
What if, and this is a big what if, what if you get pregnant and the punnett square is one-by-one—It’s a punnet rectangle at that point.
What if your mom finds out?
What if you like it?
That’s the worst part of it all - you will like it.
You’ve wanted this—You can’t even keep up the lie anymore. You’ve wanted him for so long you couldn’t hold back a smile at court, when they signed those papers and when mom moved out you kept smiling. Fuck. What is wrong with you?
“You liked that didn’t you?” Dad says in your ear, his breath is hot and he smells like soap and sweat. His stubble tickles your skin when he presses a wet kiss to your neck. “Bet it got your little pussy all wet.”
“No it didn’t.” You try to level yourself, taking a shuddering breath when his hand dips past your navel to toy with the bow that lines the middle of your waistband.
“Okay, prove it.”
“How am I meant to prove that, dad?” You click your tongue, lay the annoyance act on thick, but make no attempt to leave.
“You gotta show me, baby.” He flicks your forehead with his free hand, the other cups your mound. “Can feel you already.”
“Then I guess I don’t need to show you,” you breathe out, placing your trembling hand on the arm that’s wrapped around you while his fingers run up and down your clothed slit.
“Nah, think I need to know for sure.” Leon’s teeth nip at your ear lobe, tugging lightly as he pulls your panties taut to your cunt, a makeshift g-string, caught between your pussy lips. “So fat, baby, whatcha been feeding her?” Your dick. Your dick. God, please, feed it your dick. He pinches your cunt, pushing your lips together and your clit throbs so hard you think it might burst.
“Dad,” you gasp, back going ramrod straight as the fabric rubs up against your swollen clit. “Don’t say that—So weird, you’re so weird, actual fucking weirdo.”
“Look at you.” His shirt slips from your shoulder as you rut your hips up, his grip on the waistband tightens, bunches up even further, pushing against your clit so hard it might split in half. “Dirty little girl, why you doin’ that?” You feel dad’s smile on your neck.
“‘Cause…” You grab at his arm, pushing your face into his bicep to muffle an embarrassing whine and it’s so fucking big. Muscle cushioned by a layer of fat, when you dig your fingers into it, his skin dimples.
“‘Cause..?” Leon taps your clit, lets go of your panties to let your pussy breathe. “I’m waiting, baby.”
“Feels good, dad,” you whimper, hanging your head in shame, pressing your nose into the crease of his elbow as he slides your panties to the side.
“I know, baby, you can’t help yourself, can you?” Dad drags a finger along your slippery slit, pussy clicking wetly when he dips a finger inside your tight hole. “Think daddy spoiled you too much.”
“Not… Not true…” You stifle another noise into his bicep, suckling on his skin to taste it.
After this is all said and done, you might have to leave and never look back. You might have to emancipate yourself so you can marry him, take back your last name and pretend it was never yours to begin with.
Slowly, Leon rubs figure eights into your twitching clit, you grind into him, ears burning at the squelch of your drippy cunt—He isn’t even in your hole, he’s just playing with your clit and you’re making a mess, pussy all sloppy and noisy.
When you cum, it’s a gradual burn that washes over you like waves lapping at your ankles. Your toes curl and there’s a strangled noise in your throat as your pussy drips slick into the cupped palm of his hand.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Leon coos, “that’s what you needed, hm?”
You rock your hips into his hand as your high melts away, leaving half-guilt and half-regret and a wet pussy that’s perfect for fucking.
Dad lays you down, he still keeps mom’s perfume, he still sprays it on the bed sheets. It's the first thing you smell when your head hits the pillow with a soft thump. This is the bed you were made in, it’s the bed you slept in on sick days and nights when thunder was particularly loud. It’s the bed you slept in when dad was away and you and mom only had each for warmth.
What are you doing?
Well, you’re lifting your hips in the air so dad can take your panties off. Then you’re spreading your legs as far as they go so he gets a clear view of your pussy, glistening under the dimmed bulb, slick coating your puffy lips and drying on your inner thighs.
His sweats are lowered, cock springing up and smacking his abdomen, the tip drips and drizzles him in honey. Oh, god—It’s like big? You didn’t expect that, actually. You’d like to say you haven’t thought of it all, but you have and you do often.
“Think you can take it, baby?” Leon asks, tapping the fat head on your bud. Heart to heart, tip to clit. “Or does daddy need to eat your pussy?”
“I can take it, dad…” You nod, giving an earnest nod of your head and sizing up his cock, doing some mental mathematics as you try to calculate how many inches deep your pussy is and how big that fucking dick is. Although… You want his mouth on you—But that cock is more important right now.
“Atta girl.” He never pushes it in. You ache and shiver with each drag of his cock along your pussy, it bumps your clit and your whole body jolts.
For a moment, your mind and body disconnect, you’re watching a terribly taboo porn video and taking gross amounts of pleasure in it—Living out your fantasy through the bodies of others because it’s the closest you’ll ever get. But this is very much real and it is very much wrong.
When dad slides in, the fat head of his dick breaching your walls, the second he bottoms out, your pussy forces him back out as you cum for a second time, fucking gushing from the weight of his dick bumping into your cervix.
“Oh, baby, is it too much for you?” Sweetly, Leon presses a kiss between your tits as your chest heaves. “Is your pussy too little, daddy can try again another day, sweetheart.” He’s winding you up.
“Noo—Dad, please, ‘m want it so bad, please,” you beg incoherently, cunt dripping with your release.
“Okay, baby,” he abides, pressing the tip to your hole and pushing into you inch by inch. Being torn in half has never felt so good. “Only ‘cause I love you, my spoiled girl, huh?”
“Oh, fuck,” you sob, fat tears catching on your lower lashes as he stretches you out, “dad—daddy!”
“I know, baby, daddy’s right here,” Leon hums, he lowers his face to press into your tits, taking a peaked nipple into his mouth and popping off to suck on the other. Then he fucking motorboats you. Because of course he does.
You cry out, pushing at his head. “That’s so embarrassing, dad!” You manage to tell him through each of his mean thrusts, poking at your cervix like he’s trying to fuck your guts.
“‘S not, baby, dad just thinks your tits are real cute.” He pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulls until you squeal, smacking a fist against his chest.
Each drag of his dick inside of you is like—Gosh, you don’t know, it’s like heaven on earth or whatever the best feeling in this godforsaken place is. The smell of dew in the morning, a can of soda with a burger, the scent of cinnamon apple candles during Christmas time. It’s his dick rabbiting into your pussy with enough force to fuel a fucking rocket ship.
The schlick of your pussy goes unheard as his balls slap against your ass, and you dig your nails into his to push him deeper, it’s so fucking soft—Why is his ass so soft? 
“So little, baby.” Dad pouts down at you, one big hand on your tit and the other cups your cheek. “Daddy can’t even fit inside.”
You squeeze down on him, and your greedy cunt sucks his dick in to the best of your abilities, but there’s still an inch or two that you can’t possibly fit. The base of his cock is coated in a milky white ring, it drips down his balls and—God, you’re about to cum again. His thumb finds your clit, and thank god it does. You cum so hard you see stars and all of Saturn’s moons.
“Aw, baby, you needed that.” Dad continues to hump into your cunt, his furrowed brow and the puff of his breath on your face is almost too much for you to handle. “My baby, always mouthin’ off at me, you just needed some dick, didn’t you? Jus’ needed dad to play with this spoiled little cunt, hm?”
“Mhm…” You nod because what else are you meant to do? Say no? The man is right.
He pulls out and you whine, pussy gripping him so tight Leon groans as hm the head pops out with a lewd, wet sound. “C’mere, baby, come on.” He urges you to sit up, so you do, using your elbows to push up as you’re met face to face with his fat cock.
Leon smears the tip on your lips, and you swear to god you’d finish off a cute lip combo with his pre. You take the head into your mouth and suck on it, it’s velvety under your tongue, you wrap a hand around his shaft to make up for what you can’t suck. It’s uncut on the fat, skin folding and creasing each time you pump him, peeking out from underneath the hood so you can tongue his slit. He tastes like your pussy and something muskier.
He groans all deep and nice and smooth, low in his throat, makes your pussy tingle. You jerk his wet cock off, mouthing along the base of his cock until you suck on his sac, slurping and smacking like you oughta do for a dick like this. His balls plap, plap, plap against your hand and they tighten before he cums, thick sticky seed spilling from the tip like the slow trickle of honey. It paints your face white, dribbling down your cheeks and chin to stain your tits.
“Put those cute glasses on next time, baby.” Leon kisses your mouth, licking into it and tasting his salty cum. “The ones you wear to class.”
Dazed, guilty and giddy all at once, you look up at him with a frown. “Why?”
“‘Cause I wanna cum on them, stupid.” He flicks your forehead again, sends you out of his room with a hard smack on the ass.
“Wait, dad!” You hold onto him before Leon makes you leave.
“Hm?” He strokes your head as you pout up at him, softening so easily. “What’s up, sweetheart?”
“There’s a spider in the shower, can you get rid of it?”
“No,” he scoffs, “get outta here, ‘s all you use me for.”
“Dad!” You whine, latching onto him, “daddy, please, it’s so big! Please, we can… We can do it together, um, shower together not—not kill the spider together.”
Leon grumbles the entire time, he squashes it with a tissue and flushes it down the toilet, but any qualms are washed away by the hot water and your plush tits pressing to his chest as you stand facing him.
You could get used to this. You shouldn’t, but you will.
r/AmItheAsshole
u/bwckennedy77 ・ 1m
AITA for fucking my daughter?
#dead dove do not eat#dead dove fic#leon s kennedy smut#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x reader#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut#leon s kennedy x you#leon kennedy x you
442 notes
·
View notes
Text
Listen, I know we all have stuff to do and summer is coming up and aaaaaaaargh, but in the name of Optimus Prime I'm begging y'all to shed the habit of using descriptors like 'the shorter one' or 'the blond one' instead of using proper names.
This is a very common trope in fanfiction, and I get it, it gets so boring to write the character names over and over again. I also know it will be so hard to unlearn, don't ask me about the pain and suffering I have endured. But you have to break yourself out of this habit, because all it's doing is making your stories harder to follow and losing your readers.
Let's say you're writing an Avengers fanfic, and you've got Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor in the room together. The following scene might go a little something like this:
"We must stop Unicron," the blond one said, flexing his muscles.
"Indeed," the dark-haired one replied. "If only he weren't so handsome for a metal monster."
"Thou is speaking nonsense," the bearded man said, subtly flexing his biceps harder. "Also, who is speaking right now?"
(Yes, I did write Unicron instead of Ultron like I'm pretending not to be a nerd, shut up.)
The actual dialogue tag indicators above are nonsense, pure gibberish, and those exaggerated for effect, wouldn't it just be easier to follow if you just used names? Also, sometimes Tony's goatee is more beard-like so it's even less helpful in figuring out who's talking. Depends on what era of comics you're reading.
ANYWAY, Who is doing what is one of the most important things you need to convey. In a busy dialogue scene, in a high action scene, especially in a romance scene between two people of the same gender, clarity is key. It feels boring to write, I know. It will be a better scene in the end.
So when should you use character descriptors in your writing?
When you need to reiterate an important character feature that is either relevant to how the main character views them or how they view themselves. Example: Her brother, the soldier, the Hobbit, etc.
When you need to reiterate an important character feature to the plot. Example: The god of thunder, the stowaway, the white witch, etc.
When you have a minor character who is better defined by their job or role than there name. Example: The second mate, the boatswain, the cook, etc.
When appropriate to the scene. This one is harder to define, but if you have a quiet moment where the main character reflects on the scoundrel he has a crush on, long paragraphs of just using the name Alex might be better peppered descriptors of his personality or notable features, or - depending on your character - 'that cocky asshole.'
When shouldn't you use character descriptors? When they are boring, unhelpful, and not distinctive. Referring constantly to someone as "the taller man" or "the blonde" will come back to haunt your ass years down the road, believe me. Break free from this prison before you snap awake at 3am, haunted by the one stupid scene you can never unwrite.
#description#writing advice#describing characters#break the ghosts of fanfic of the past#I'm not yelling at you I'm yelling at my younger self#hopefully obviously
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @wynnyfryd! Wynnyfryd has 34 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and all of them are in the Steddie tag!
i don’t know, you figure it out
Plot Holes
biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!
Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!
She's got some of the FUNNIEST writing in this fandom, and it's very snappy too like. She's an editing demon for sure, she can take a concept that I'd think would take paragraphs to explain and find the right words to make it hit just as hard with like, two sentences. I also really really love how descriptive her metaphors are, really visceral sometimes, and she's really good at writing realistic life events but still making them fun to read about even when it's about like, devastating shit. The sex she writes is also intense as hell! -- @griefabyss69
Below the cut, @wynnyfryd answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!
Why do you write Steddie?
I am but a humble bisexual — I see two beautiful brown-eyed men makin’ beautiful brown eyes at each other, I go a little insane for two years. It is what it is.
What’s your favorite trope to READ?
late-night moments of quiet hopeful hesitant intimacy over a shared joint or cigarette. Thin wisp of smoke between them, stars dancing in their eyes. Yeah. YEAHHHHHHH
What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?
This isn’t really a trope so much as a dynamic, but I love a good dipshit 4 dingus dialogue-heavy scene. Don’t get me wrong, I think Eddie and Steve can both be very smart and knowledgeable in their areas of interest/expertise, but these are two young dudes with no access to the internet. I love letting them be confidently incorrect dumbasses. Just ‘yes and’-ing each other’s stupidity while an exasperated third character begs for mercy.
What’s your favorite Steddie fic?
Well, this question is impossible and furthermore rude. This question came into my home and didn’t take its muddy boots off. This question never mailed me a thank you letter for my lovely wedding gift. That blender was expensive; the absolute nerve. No but seriously, I think The Lathe by palmviolet is going to stay with me forever.
Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?
I’m a big fan of doing canon divergence from different jumping off points — the beauty of having characters live in the same small town their whole lives is that you get so many great opportunities for these “what if our paths crossed sooner” moments.
I have some very loose notes for a S3 fic where Eddie is the movie theater employee who finds Steve and Robin in the bathroom after they escape the Russians, and I also have an old WIP set between S1 and S2 where lifeguard Steve rescues Eddie and then spends the summer teaching him how to swim. Would love to revisit those after I finish the trailer park AU (which I will be referring to as TPAU because my fingers are tired and because ‘toilet paper au’ makes me laugh.)
What is your writing process like?
Uhhhhh. 😂 I mean, for TPAU, basically just insert the scene from Dune 2 of Paul’s first sandworm ride: I’m shaking I’m sweating there is sand in my nostrils and I am surely about to die— oh wait, maybe I’ve actually got this? Am I actually doing it? Oh shit, look at me go!
For one-shots I like to use a more structured outline and bracket method. I start by dividing my doc into numbered scenes, with each scene getting a notes section and a prose section, like this:
This format gives me a lot of freedom to switch up the order of scenes and to move between scenes so I avoid writer’s block. I can also jump ahead to scenes I really want to write without making a mess of my outline. Once I have something written in the prose section of each scene, I go back and work on replacing each bracket with prose until there are no brackets left. Lastly, I create a new blank doc and copy the prose over in order so I can read the full fic and work on edits from there.
Do you have any writing quirks?
I have been known to abuse a semicolon. And an em dash. And a conjunction at the start of a sentence. Yes, I do have ADHD.
I’m also a lyricist, so I feel like my prose tends to stray into poetry territory pretty often.
Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?
When I’m finished! Which is probably why I tend to stick to one-shots; I get impatient and want to post stuff the second it’s ready.
Which fic are you most proud of?
‘i don’t know, you figure it out’ for SURE. I’ve never written a fic this long or stuck to a writing project this consistently in my life. Like ever. The last time I even came close was my first NaNoWriMo when I was 16, which was, uh… years ago, plural, and I’ll leave it at that. 😂
How did you get the idea for i don’t know, you figure it out?
“There’s a dead rat on his doorstep.” That’s it. That first sentence/scene popped into my head while I was bored at work, and then I started thinking, “hey, you know what? I don’t know that anyone’s ever done a fic where Max and Steve trade places for S4; that might be fun.”
And then NaNoWriMo was coming up, so I thought it would be cool to try live posting a fully improvised fic every day for a month to see how many words I could write. And then this tragic wet cat version of Steve Harrington grabbed me by the throat and took over my whole life.
When writing Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!, what was something you didn’t expect?
How SAPPY these two got!! My god, boys, I’m trying to write smut over here, stop having a beautiful existential crisis!
(I blame Briston Maroney for that though lol, I think I listened to ‘Body’ like 1400 times that month.)
What inspired Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!?
@inklessletter posted this totally gorgeous art of Steve and Eddie recording themselves kissing, and I promptly lost my mind.
What was your favorite part to write from biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!?
This exchange:
Steve: “What? I’m just asking!”
Robin: “You’re being embarrassing!”
Steve: “No, you’re just embarrassed. There’s a difference.”
Like it’s just so them lmao
How do/did you feel writing i don’t know, you figure it out?
You know when you set out on a long hike in the summer and three hours later your calves are screaming and you’re covered in sweat and your sunburn’s starting to itch and this one horse fly won’t fuck off and your cell phone doesn’t even get service out here so literally WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF, and then you climb that last hill and look out on the most beautiful landscape you’ve ever seen in your silly little life?
Basically that.
What was the most difficult part of writing Plot Holes?
Ooh, that one was fun! The only real difficulty was trying to keep it to a microfic because the concept could definitely be fleshed out to a full story — @griefabyss69 and I were joking around about “what if someone did ‘plot hole’ for the @steddiemicrofic prompt fill?” and then that fic just fell out of my head in about 15 minutes.
Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?
For sure! I’m currently super proud of the graveyard scene in the most recent update of TPAU — I don’t write true horror often, but I love horror so it was really fun to give it a try! Favorite line from any fic is probably this reference to ‘You’re Divine’ in my fic Monsoon Season because I love uncomfortably-aroused prude Eddie, and his internal monologue cracks me up every time I think about it:
Freddie Monsoon’s debut novel is called The Fourth Chime, and it is, as far as Eddie can tell, the first installment in a series of unapologetically filthy fuck fests about a man whose lover gets flung into an alternate dimension during an apocalyptic event and miraculously returns as some sort of… sexy bat-boy with a fucking horse dong and a bite kink. Critics are calling it “the most romantic novel of the last decade.”
It’s me; I’m Critics.
Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?
My main project right now is finishing TPAU if it kills me, but beyond that, I have a few one-shots for @subeddieweek in the works, including a collab with @griefabyss69 that I’m so so SO excited to share. It’s hot, it’s funny, I can’t wait for y’all to read it.
Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?
First of all, as @wormdebut would say: I think you’re pretty. Thank you so much for all your hard work! I love this blog, and I love answering questions <3
Secondly:
- Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.
- Toss cubed sweet potatoes and parsnips, sliced sweet onion, and fresh garlic in a mix of olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary, and then spread in a single layer on a foil-lined baking sheet.
- Bake for ~40-45 minutes. (Potatoes and parsnips should be soft without being mushy when you poke them with a fork.)
- Prep your sauce: I made a dijon drizzle situation by mixing olive oil mayo, a dash of dijon mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a splash of water, but you could also add a little dab of hot sauce, bbq sauce, or different mustards. Basically just grab like four condiments out of your fridge and play around with the flavors you like until you make a mix that’s thin enough to pour.
- Drizzle roasted veggies with sauce.
- Enjoy a very tasty side dish (or do what I did and eat the whole sheet as a meal like some sort of parsnip goblin because you were too lazy to make the main dish after chopping all those veggies)
okay thank you love you byeeeee
Thank you to our author, @wynnyfryd, and our nominator, @griefabyss69! See more of Wynnyfryd's works featured on our page throughout the day!
Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!
#writer's spotlight#steddie#steddie fic recs#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#stranger things#ao3 writer#steddie writers#writer's wednesday
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo
#ganondoodles talks#also probably sounds like self pity#but this feeling hits everytime i see a super popular artist be the popular cool artist#i am a little weird i know that and thats not somethign bad i think#but the internet never gets to see that much of me#i tend to write posts when i am at my worst bc it has to go somewhere#so the image it tells people is that im a weirdly strong opiniod freak that gets breakdowns over nothing#i also dont feel like im otherwise -cool tm- enough to balance that out#i dont think my art is as stylized or as inventive as others nor am i cool to interact with bc idk how to be cool to interact with#i feel double bad when i misstepped with someone i used to talk to bc of something stupid ... or just dont know what i did wrong#im guessing its especially when i am in that spiraling state of mind where i really am not myself tbh#it still feels very bad bc i feel like i can never make it up to anyone again#sorry i acted like a jerk my brain was exploding in emotions in a desperate attempt to deal with something idk how to deal with-#-and made me not act like myself but now i feel really dumb about it#doesnt sound like a good excuse#... i want to thank those that do stick with me#even if i acted strange sometimes- even if i disappointed sometimes- even when i couldnt keep a promise#there are little things that still make me angry at myself#like that one time i asked in the tags whod read as long as the end of them and if someone did shoudl send me an ask so id draw a lil thing#and i got two#and i kept trying to remeber oh shit i need to do that and forgetting again/not having energy for it in a loop#i still feel like a jerk about it but now its probably too late#i wish i could answer all asks i get but man my energy for that is always rock bottom#no matter how much i enjoy the ask#and i love getting asks!!!#im sorry :((
246 notes
·
View notes
Text
We are livin our liiiivvvveeesss abound with so much informatiooonnnn
#LMFAOOOO#I am a shadow the true self— PERSONA 4??? PERSONA 4 REFERENCE???? PERSONA 4 MOMENT????!?!#btw#I love all of Takaya’s sprites he looks so sinister#absolutely devious…isn’t he just so dreamy 💕❤️#KIDDING#except I am actually not. i am deeply enamored with him.#WOAHHHH WHO SAID THAT!???! 😧😧😧#so normal abt him!!! so normal!!#also the way Jin is always just standing around#the way he stands is funny to me idk#he’s so#he’s so funny idk#he’s so squishable I wanna chew on him and shake him around like a dog toy#oh okay#sometimes I write things out in the tags and then I read over them like ??? huh#I wanna bake him into a pastry and consume him#hmmmmm#okay! that’s enough tagging for me tonight gn!#persona 3#persona 3 reload#p3#persona#persona 4#p4#persona 4 golden#persona 4 remake PLEASE ATLUS PLEASE PLEASE PLEA
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
Does anyone else hate writing the beginning of fics??
Like I know where I want the story to go, sometimes I even know where I want it to start, but trying to figure out how to open it?? Introduce the scene??
I just feel this pressure that it needs to have a good hook (thanks school-essay writing for that one) that HAS to catch the attention RIGHT away.
Maybe this is just me but it's my least favourite part of writing ;-;
#waterfalltalks#not snz#just complaining <3#sometimes!! i do know what i want!!#but most of the time im just sitting there like... uh... these characters are in a situation... i guess...#reading other fics all you people start them SO well#but i always feel like im either doing WAY too much or not enough#anyways im just complaining over here feel free to ignore this hahaha~#just ~writing burn out things~#i use the word anyways too much in my tags ive just noticed that#id say i'll use it less but i know i wont <3 im a roomba brain person <3#im always jumping from one thought to another to another to anoth-#ANYWAYS (sadjiolgkm) I will end this little vent session here~ apologies hahaha~#gonna start a trend where people send in intros and then you build a story to finish it#easy solution~ (im kidding... exceptmaybeI'mnot guess we'll see-)
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
sometimes I say words and sometimes people like/reblog those words (sometimes even adding a tag comment!!!!) and i'm always like "omg do these words make sense to you??? do you like the nonsense that came out of my brain????????" it's always super surprising and makes me do a little happy dance.
part of me wants to talk about that nonsense with them more, but the other part of me is bad at people and too afraid 🥲😅
#lee text#in which lee misses having long autistic rambling conversations with people about interests where we both send paragaraph upon paragraph#as if we are trying to write a novel about the thing and sometimes that conversation would span over a few days and we keep going#until we have thoroughly disussed the thing with as many ideas as we can come up with#its hard to find that kind of person. they have to have the same interest at exactly the same intensity and have a general same opnion on it#same as in they like it and think its good vs disliking and wanting to debare rather than discuss. i hate debate. and they must be creative#and good at continuing the conversation and going with thr flow in a way that we both fit each others conversation style and yeah#i had a few people like that in the past ans miss that. but theyre so hard to come by and you meet them by chance#its not something you can force. its like an accident. so “looking for someone” doesnt work. have to feel their vibe and energy and match#anyway reading people's star rail analysis and theories and thoughts and whatnot is fun#since im too bad at people to talk to ans get along with just anyone. reading posts takes out the pressure to socialize correctly#but its still lonely not sharing my thoughts. thats why when random person likes or reblogs my posts i feel seen/heard#its nice. especially if they add tags. it feels almost like we reciprocated and interacted or something#i was seen and heard and they also are seen and heard by me and im honoured they also said words!!!!!! even if just tags on a reblog#anyway someone reblogged a post i made and added their thoughts in the tags and ive been thinking about it all day 🫣🥲😭🥺
1 note
·
View note
Text
i don't mean to sound ungrateful, but as a content creator on this site, there's a part of me that's like. they absolutely just stole my work.
i'm not, like, unaware that tumblr has been shuffling downhill for years now. sometimes i play with the idea of switching platforms, turning myself into the shark. i often get tens of thousands of notes - i could be "doing numbers" on a platform that actually pays me to do so. i could have statistics that i could use to sell myself, i could rebrand and make content pay-to-play and make brand deals. i could have the other life, i mean.
but i don't want to. i like the quiet nature of tumblr. i like that it still feels like i'm writing poetry, not like i'm fulfilling ad spots. i like the community, and that i can sometimes still take someone by surprise and write something that really speaks to them. i like the tags and reading things like oh of course it's fucking inkskinned i love you inkskinned you gay mess. my girlfriend recently told me that people tag things "inkskinned" because they assume it is similar to tagging "creative writing". that's wild. i made this word up when i was 19, and have always assumed people tag me in things so i read it (and i often do). i have nothing but love and gratitude for you all, for this tiny scoop of family.
and i haven't made any money off it. i had opportunities, and i turned them down. i could have sold this thing like a thousand times. i thought about moving my work elsewhere - over and over and over i thought about it. i weighed each option specifically. but my tumblr felt like ... it's for you guys, only. if you're still here and reading this, you deserve to do it for free.
tumblr has now, most likely, skimmed my work (and yours) in order to make money. i will never see a single cent for that violation. something about landlords, i guess - my work pays their rent.
i just lost my job on valentine's day, and am working on scrambling for solutions. i am writing this to a blog that they will probably scrape with AI. and like, what number to do you think it was? do you think it was only a couple hundred thousand? no way it was close to a million, right? my time, effort, energy - it belongs to someone else now. how many silver pieces for them to completely sell out their user base.
and it's kind of like - funny? when it isn't very-sad. because i personally don't know what to do, ya know? i might as well move to a different platform, where my efforts are ai-scraped but could eventually pay me. where i know my privacy is the cost - but it could result in actual money. anyway. i need to figure out how i'm paying for meds. i need to email like six people about COBRA benefits.
my work is powering someone else's AI. it will be a beautiful fabricated poem, made from words i've already said.
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
i love these tags this person is so right
actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?
i wanna get into this actually
(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)
even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie
but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"
im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,
don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity
dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor
(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)
despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him
rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said
and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol
roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"
side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.
i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect
but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?
yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise
so, dave's environment
the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors
his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities
(source)
roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok
what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)
rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:
and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear
but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable
there two types of ironies at play here:
seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)
doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)
you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.
"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"
how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1
he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”
dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.
*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift
dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:
if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool.
even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.
basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"
speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use
oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”
btw dave lalonde would look like this to me
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
yellow bird [joel miller]
Taking the weight off your shoulders.
whiskey sour masterlist | my masterlist
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), dbf!joel, age gap (20s/40s), sexual frustration, academic-validation-to-praise-kink pipeline, these two are in lurvvvv, thigh riding, joel talks you through it, and maybe reveals a side of him we haven't seen yet, a lil fluid exchange, some sweet sappy talk because it's them what do we expect, pure self-indulgence, that’s about it
word count: ~ 2.7k
a/n: this was mine and @cavillscurls's challenge to myself to write somethin short and sweet, thank you mya for being a cheerleader throughout this whole process. and thank you hugely el @northernbluess for last-minute beta reading and telling me it does not(?), in fact, suck dick n cock. i envision this as part of the whiskey sour-verse, but you don't need to read the series to understand what's going on here! this honestly makes me super fucking nervy to post, but i hope you enjoy. xoxo
read on ao3!
follow @kiwisbellupdates and turn on notifications if you'd like to be notified when i post a fic!
The moon is carving a path through the darkening sky, and you’ve been quiet for hours.
You sit at the dining table with your cheek in your palm, lidded eyes flitting relentlessly from one side of the page to another. Every couple minutes, you jot down some notes on your cue cards. Your coffee lies untouched next to your textbook.
Each slash of pen across paper cuts into his chest. You write in bursts of furious energy, the paper sometimes bunching under your fist, black ink smearing—you only ever write in black—one letter into the next. Your jerky looping letters resemble nothing close to your penmanship. Your sentences are punctuated by squiggles rather than dots. The corners of your eyes are moist, your skin glowing gold under a filtered smattering of light from the street lamps outside.
There's a tight line to the curve of your mouth, a gash of colour where your lipstick has faded. Weariness dulls the shimmer in your eye. You keep writing.
“Thought you were goin’ out with your friends tonight,” says Joel.
“Hmm?” You blink slowly, the sound of his voice dragging your gaze toward Joel: dressed in jeans and an olive flannel (a gift from you), he's watching you study, a worried slash between his brows. “Oh,” you say. “No. I bailed.”
A flare of his nostrils as he approaches you from the coffee station is the only indication he gives that he's frustrated. “You’ve been workin’ all day, baby. You haven't eaten.” He slides his coffee mug toward you and switches it with your own. “Here, take mine. Yours is gettin’ cold.”
You start to shake your head. “Joel, it’s—”
“It's either you drink mine,” he says, sliding the milk and sugar toward you, “or you take a break.”
You narrow your eyes. “You hate my coffee.”
“Relationships are sacrifice. C’mere.” He yanks the leg of your chair toward him until you're sitting beside one another. He dips his mouth to your temple, and sleep begins to tug at your eyelids. Still, you keep your books open, if not partially out of spite, as Joel drinks your too-sweet coffee and hides his grimace.
“You hate it.”
Joel’s eyes slide to you over the rim of his cup, his chest pulling taut at the sight of the unshed tear on the outer corner of your eye, teetering.
Your bottom lip wobbles, your last Sisyphean effort to hold the droplet of water at bay, and Joel sets down the mug.
“You hate my coffee,” you whisper, not meeting his eye.
It's the press of his hand to your lower back that makes your fingers tremble, curled tightly around your pen. “There are worse things I’d do for you than drink shitty coffee.”
“So you admit it's shitty.”
His fingers dance up and down your lower vertebrae. “You’re exhausted,” he says softly, his mouth grazing your shoulder. “Come and take a break. Can feel all that tension, sweetheart. Right—”
The warm press of his palm between your shoulder blades. The simple touch ignites pressure behind your nose.
“—here,” he finishes with the pinch of his thumb and forefinger around your brain stem.
Your head lolls gently in his direction. “I know what you're doing.”
An innocent sound pitches out of his throat. “Do you?”
Your lashes flutter as he begins to dig his palm into the tense balls of muscle in your back. The contact, warm and almost gentle, undoes you. The pearl stuck in your lashes shakes free.
The impact of it carving a path down your cheek strikes his heart true. “C’mere, baby.”
Pulling you reluctantly away from your workbooks, Joel sits on the couch and guides you on top of him, your thighs hugging his hips. “This sad face,” he says under his breath, brushing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. “So pretty when you’re sad.” Your eyes dip when his stubble ghosts across your jaw, his lips warming the shell of your ear.
You huff, your arms winding around his neck. “You’re wandering into patronising, Miller.”
“Hmm, big words.” His grin carves its shape into your skin. He nips the spot just below your ear and you gasp, your fingers curling in the locks at the nape of his neck. “Told you, baby—such a smart girl.”
You open your mouth to snip at him, but he’s sliding one big, rough hand underneath your silky shorts and pinching your ass. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his pinky finger dipping under your waistband.
“I’m fine,” you grumble, wriggling on his lap. He hums, the downward curve of his mouth on your skin etched in skepticism, his hands pulling you tighter to him.
“Tell me what’s wrong, baby.” His hand slides up your spine, lifting your little silk shirt, the hardness of him caging you in. “Tell me so I can fix it.”
You're gooey and pliant on top of him, hips flexing to fix your thighs around his waist, your body attuned to him in a way you refuse to fight. Joel Miller is yours. He’s always had your back.
“I’m tired, Joel. I keep bombing these stupid fucking tests, and the new guy at work is incompetent, and I haven't had an orgasm in a whole week.”
Sometimes, you're surprised by how deeply you envy your Joel for being so fucking right. For knowing, even when you don't, how deeply your wounds sit.
He frowns up at you, his thumb caressing the curve of your jaw, guilt and understanding pinching his ribs. “And I’ve been workin’ late,” he says.
Silently, you nod, fisting the hem of his shirt. “But that's okay, Joel. I know you work hard. It's not your job to—”
He shakes his head, trailing his hands up and down your soft thighs. “I’ve been workin’ late,” he repeats, his voice thinning, “and I haven't been treating my girl like she deserves.”
Your cheeks warm at the way his hands reach your inner thighs, thumbs ghosting across your hip bones. “That's not true.”
“Baby, you look at me.” He cups you like warm wax and you're melting just the same, gaze sliding up to meet his. Brown, glinting gold as they catch the orange lamplight, his eyes don't leave you. “You need to come?”
Your mouth drops. You really fucking do. If he notices your slip—the way your hips still on his lap, your arms wound tight around his shoulders—he doesn't say nor soothe. “Joel, I didn’t mean to—”
He quiets you with a loving nip at your chin. “You wanna be a good girl?”
A shudder railroads down your vertebrae. Your core is tight, hot, your little pyjama shorts shifting over your pussy, velvet-soft. “Joel, you really don't have to—”
“You wanna come?” he says again, his teeth scraping the shell of your ear before he takes your lobe between them. You gasp, clutching him tight to you, a buoy bobbing above the torrent.
“Yes,” you tell him, breathless, letting him play with the waistband of your shorts. “Yes. I need to come so badly. I’ve missed you so much.”
“I know, sweetheart. I’m a bad man, takin’ my girl for granted.”
It’s not true, he’d never, has not once, and still you whimper at the sound of my girl on his tongue.
“You are a bad man,” you tell him, halfheartedly shoving him in the chest.
“And?” he prompts, drawing the poison from the wound.
“And I need to come.”
Joel’s mouth curves in understanding, the hairs of his moustache bristling in the corners.
“Take ‘em off,” he says. “Let me be good to you.”
You ease your thighs out of your silk shorts, and Joel’s got his hands on your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. A cool shiver snakes from your cool feet, now on the floor as you stand naked before him, to the scruff of your neck. It longs for the touch of his fingers.
“God, you're fuckin’ beautiful.” Joel takes your outstretched hand, tugging you toward him. His palms smooth over the planes of your torso, thick fingers fitting to your ribs, the follower at the altar. It's only when he touches the small of your back that his eyes abstain from their reverent path across your body and meet yours.
“Tell me what you want,” he says plainly, fingers catching at the ends of your hair.
You crowd him, gaze sweeping down his body at the hard length of his cock down his thick thighs and the utter stillness of him when met with your type-A jitters.
“To be your good girl,” you say.
“I know.” It's a whisper in the quiet. Somewhere, distantly, the dishwasher churns through its cycle. A car horn blares. Wind blows. “Sit down.”
You go eagerly to him, your spirit alight with his closeness, the scent of pine and sawdust from a long day’s work, the soft cotton of his flannel, the scrape of his denim along your thighs. Wordlessly, Joel shifts you until you're straddling one of his thighs.
The jolt of pressure to your clit makes you gasp, clawing for purchase on his chest. Your fists wrap around the lining of his flannel.
Oh, God is the vague chant that eats at his liver, chewing on the ripe mass, the wound sealing over to deliver himself once again at your feet. It’s tossed into the space between you, maybe a little blasphemous, maybe thoughtless. It’s the glassy film over your eyes, those irises he could trace in the dark, the call of love that never quiets.
“Feel good?”
The smug bastard. His hand is still soft and sweet on your spine, climbing high only to drop, no longer meeting the resistance of clothing. The cool air puckers your nipples, your body tightening as you pull in on yourself.
“You remember that first night?” he says softly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You were so cold, baby. All alone and needin' a good strong hand.”
He squeezes your ass, forcing your hips to shift over his leg. The slow grind of your wet seam along the coarse denim makes your thighs tremble. “Fuck,” you whisper. “That's… that’s good.”
He hums like he knows. “You remember what you did that night?” he asks. “Climbed on me, just like this, and made yourself feel good. Thought I’d come in my pants then and there.”
Your breathless laugh hitches in your throat as your hips begin to grind down of their own volition. The friction is rough, unkind, nothing like the gentle press of his hands on your bare skin. Sweat begins to glisten in the hollow of your throat as you throw your head back and lose yourself in the rhythmic roll of your body over his thigh.
“That's it,” he grunts, squeezing your hips, his cock twitching, untouched, in his boxers. You’re smearing your wetness over the denim, washing it dark, letting the light shift over your writhing body. “That's my pretty girl, usin’ me like you need to.”
“Ah, fuck,” you cry out, bearing down the weight of you on his leg, grinding hard against him as you seek your own pleasure.
“Let's hear it,” he urges, gritting his teeth at the sight of your poor swollen clit, needy and glistening, exposed. “Lemme have it, baby girl, c’mon.”
Your moan is strangled, language muddied in your head as Joel surges upright and latches his mouth around your nipple. Biting and sucking raw, his rapacious mouth is warm nectar that pools hot in your belly, his hands coaxing your hips through their movements, guiding you in the dance nonetheless.
“I'm your good girl,” you rasp, the coil pulling tight at the base of your stomach, the hollow bowl filling to the brim, keeping him, coveting him.
“That's right. My good girl.” His hot breath blooms like possessive fingers where his mouth makes contact on your throat, plucking your nerve endings like a bushel of daisies.
“I can feel you, baby girl,” he groans into your throat. “I can feel your tight fuckin’ cunt gettin’ me all wet. Feel you grabbin’ me like a goddamn cat. You close, huh?”
You whimper, your nails scratching at his chest through the fabric of his shirt, your stomach taut as you approach your high, bucking your hips hard against his leg. “Fuck, Joel, fuck! I’m so close—”
“Tell me who you are.”
“I’m a good girl.” You wind your arms around his neck as you begin to list, your breasts pressing into his chest, closeness sparking to flame as your warmth rubs up against him.
He’s steadfast, thick arms holding you upright, as he groans your name into your ear like it's something blasphemous. “Who are you?” he repeats.
“I’m your good girl, Joel! Fuck, I’m yours, your good girl. Oh, God, Joel, please…”
“That's right, sweetheart.” His hand latches around the nape of your neck, slick with sweat, while you bury your face in his throat. “My good girl’s gonna come all over me again, because that's what good girls do, hmm? They make themselves feel good when their bad men go and forget their place.”
You sob his name into the crook of his neck, the friction etching too much into your sore, rubbed-raw flesh. Your thighs hug him tight, hips thrashing hard above him as you come with a shout, your wet mouth dragging along the vein pulsing in his throat and trailing saliva in its wake. Joel doesn’t seem to care, coaxing you through your high when it starts to last a little longer than normal, pulling you so close that you can hardly remember your shape when it’s not slotting into him.
There's a dark spot spreading over his jeans, and your inner thighs are sticky with release. Joel tilts your chin up with his mouth, littering kisses from your jaw to the hollow of your throat. His tongue darts out playfully as his fingers dip between your bodies and tease through your messy slit.
“Joel,” you gasp, your face warm. He lifts two soaked fingers to his mouth and cleans them off with a couple swirls of his tongue.
And he's kissing you before you can retreat into yourself. He turns you inside-out, bares your soul to him, and all you can do is taste the sweet tang of the release you gave yourself.
Your tongues tangle, languid in your mutual exploration, the push-and-pull you've always known. By the time he pulls away to press his lips to your forehead, you're decently sleepy, your muscles gooey and your body slumping sideways in his lap.
“Ruined your jeans,” you mumble.
His fingertips ghost up and down your spine. A cool shudder blooms from each point of contact. He’s still hard, enough that it must ache, but he makes no move to free himself. “I like ‘em this way,” he says.
You roll your eyes. “Such an idiot.”
Clicking his tongue, Joel says, “You treat your elders this way?”
You nip his nose. “Only when they’re sweet on me.”
He chuckles, brushing your hair behind your ear so he can kiss your temple. “You feel okay?”
Your hands slide up his chest, hooking around his neck, your fingers threading together in his hair. “I feel like a million bucks, baby. But next time, you can come inside me.”
The purr registering in your chest has him preening under the attention, his hands coming to rest just above your ass. “I’m gonna tell you what’s going to happen tonight,” he says, ignoring your apprehensive glare. “You're gonna put away your books, and eat a good dinner, which I’ll make, and you’ll rest.”
Your Joel is stubborn in his own way, and it shows in the tension above his brow, the splaying of his hand over your back. You reach for him and smooth out his frown with your thumb. “I’ll do whatever you say, Joel Miller. As long as you make my favourite.”
You could drown happily in the way he smiles. It always comes on slow, like he isn't quite sure of himself, but it will glow in his eyes. It will sing through him like a light through glass.
“Yeah,” he says, “I can do that.”
Your blood calls to him. And you could do it all without him, sure—but he won’t let you.
THE END.
#posting this and running#kiwisbell's fics#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#whiskey sour#joel miller x you#the last of us#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel#pedro pascal#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fluff
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
How to function your very tall boyfriend
Having troubles reaching things that are too high for you? Don't fret. That's what having a really tall boyfriend for.
A request by Sora.
🌻 Character x F!Reader
Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel and Caleb (first time writing for Caleb <3)Tags: soft, sweet, lovers, established relationship.This fic is for short girlies like me out there <3
Masterlist
Request a fic
𝑿𝒂𝒗���𝒆𝒓
You stood on tiptoe, reaching the full length of your arm towards the row of shelves in front of you. A finger touched the box but you still couldn't get it. You looked around the archives, looking for the help of a ladder, chair, or anything. Then, the door opened, and you saw Xavier's face peeking inside.
Without waiting for him to speak, you waved to your savior. You looked at him, then pointed to the box located at the highest position on the shelf.
"You want me to get it down for you?"
You gave him a nod. And, with a gust of wind, he appeared right next to you.
Your hair was still hanging over your face from the breeze that had just passed. When you recovered consciousness, you noticed that the box you required was in Xavier's hands.
“Wooooooooow!”
That was all you could say. Your eyes widened and looked at him, mixed with admiration and gratitude.
Xavier maintained a somewhat tired expression on his face. He handed you the package and said in a calm tone:
“Do you need anything else?”
Your gaze was still locked on Xavier. As usual, he was already quite attractive, but when he rushed to your side and grabbed stuff for you in the blink of an eye, his coolness grew tremendously in proportion to your heartbeat.
"I need… that one!"
You pointed your finger at another row of shelves. In truth, you already had everything you needed for the mission, but watching more of Xavier using his skills in bringing everything from a higher place down for you wouldn't hurt.
"Okay."
As soon as he finished speaking, Xavier dashed to the shelf before returning to your side. All in a blink of an eye!
"That one too!" You pointed your finger in another way. "This one! That one! Two up there!…”
In only a few minutes, all the boxes stacked on high shelves were brought down and placed around you to form a wall made of cardboard.
"Woooooooow! "Xavier, you're so cool!"
You couldn't help but blurt out, causing the skin on his face below his blue eyes to grow scarlet. He came closer, put the last box in your hand and said:
“I've taken down all the things from higher shelves for you. Isn't it time I received my reward?”
Caught off guard when he suddenly leaned closer, you blushed a little in reply:
“Y-You… What do you want then…?…”
Xavier smiled mysteriously. He turned sideways and pointed at his cheek.
“You already know.”
Embarrassed, you placed a quick kiss on it. Xavier seemed unsatisfied.
“You really don't need all of these boxes, right? I heard that Jena will cut off the bonuses if she catches anyone tampering with the team's records. I can assist you clean up, but the prize must be more than this."
You chuckled. You'd become accustomed to his solicitation tactics.
"Please help me then. I assure you'll be pleased with the latter prize." After that, you lifted up his chin and gave Xavier an even deeper kiss on the opposite cheek.
𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆
You were used to visiting Zayne's house every weekend or on days off. Even when he was not home, you still liked to be there waiting for his return. You had a habit of eating snacks, especially sweets. So you brought a lot of things to his house to eat together. And always, he kept them nicely organized in the refrigerator or cupboards over the stove.
But sometimes, he put them out of your reach. At moments like that, you called out his name from the kitchen.
“Doctor Zayne. Doctor Zayne. Doctor Zayneeeee.”
He appeared soon after. On the bridge of his nose was still a pair of reading glasses. He carefully adjusted it and sighed.
“What do you need this time?”
“That jar of fruit gummies.” You pointed at it.
“I'm not your ladder.” Despite his grumbling, Zayne still took it down for you. With his height, it did not appear to be a problem at all.
"Thank you." You said. “I don't want to bother you. Why did you have to put my snacks so high up there?”
“I put it away so some sweet-loving worm doesn't eat too much.”
“I'm not a worm.” You replied, pouting. Zayne patted your head.
"Alright. Would you like anything else?"
Zayne kept telling you not to eat too many snacks, but he still took them all down. He separated them into parts and placed them on a large plate. The rest was put away to make sure you did not consume too much.
Knowing he was concerned about your health, you didn't ask for anything else but ate all of the treats he brought out. However, it was only when Zayne was away that you could properly appreciate his caring nature. Outside your snack cupboard was a letter with Zayne's handwritten words, which you took forever to read. It turned out he had moved your food to another place within your reach. Inside that cabinet was a candy tray with a lid. Zayne had prepared everything for you, with one additional note: Don't eat too much.
You burst out laughing. In response to his concern, you decided to rearrange his working space. Because he had left in a hurry to go to the hospital that day, his books were still not put away. That night, you caught him walking back and forth in front of his bookshelf, his expression rather serious.
“Did you rearrange the bookshelf?”
"Yes."
You replied. He placed his both hands on the bookshelf in front of him, skimming through the book titles printed on the spine. The book he had been reading in the morning was nowhere to be seen. Rather, you slithered right into the gap between his arms, making him turn to face you.
The sudden close distance made him a bit surprised. However, he maintained his composure and gazed down at you. The book he was looking for was in your hand. He smiled:
"What's wrong? You couldn't put it back since you found its place to be too high?"
You said with a pout, "If that's the case, then I won't give it to you."
You hid the book behind your back. WWho would have imagined that Dr. Zayne would boldly lean down, one arm around your waist to draw you in, while the other hand taking the book away from you.
You could hear his heartbeat matching yours as he pressed his body against you to return that book to its proper place on the shelf. He looked down at you, who was extremely confused. You asked:
“Aren't you going to read it?”
"No. I'm preoccupied with something else.”
He leaned down again, and kissed you.
𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍
Your favorite store had just been redecorated, and the items you needed had been moved elsewhere. Most of them were within your reach, but some decorations with lights were located high up. You turned around to look for help, but the store staff was already busy with another customer. So you looked in the other direction, where you found Rafayel staring at some little decorative fish bowls.
“Rafayel. Please help me get this thing.”
Rafayel turned to face whichever way your finger was pointing. He would waste no effort to reach the lamp you needed. He placed his hand on a spherical night lamp.
"Is this the one?"
"Not that one. The one in purple.”
His hand went to another. "This?"
“Nooooo. I said the purple one…”
"This one has purple in it." Rafayel put his hand on a purple lamp, but it wasn't what you wanted.
“Rafayel. The purple one. In the shape of a jellyfish."
“Hmm…” Rafayel pretended not to see what you described, even though it was right in front of him. "All I see is a seahorse and a whale."
He's definitely teasing you. You scowled:
“I'm not joking with you, Rafayel. Get the jellyfish lamp!”
“Are you sure?” He reposed the question with great seriousness. “This jellyfish is so ugly and painful to look at that my eyes automatically ignore it.”
You puffed your cheeks and said each word clearly: “Take. That. Jellyfish. Lamp!"
"Okay." Rafayel gave a shrug. At last, his hand found the precise object you wanted. He lifted it. But instead of placing it in your eagerly outstretched palms, he put it on a higher shelf.
“Rafayel!” YYou yelled out of rage. He grinned from ear to ear.
“Here, you told me to take it, so I took it. You didn't mention that I had to give it to you"
“You!… Argghhh!…”
You were so furious that you failed to speak. You stood on your tiptoes and jumped up, trying to grab the item, but Rafayel raised the object entirely.
“Give it to me! Give it to me!” You danced in a circle around Rafayel, who was clutching the jellyfish lamp like a trophy. All eyes in the store turned to both of you. You stopped. Your face was red, both from anger and embarrassment.
You looked at Rafayel, who was teasing you with that handsome but punchable face. Then, like a light bulb had just turned on in your head, you thought of a way to "repress" him.
Your hands stretched out. Rafayel thought you were aiming for the lamp so he raised it even higher. But it was his collar you were after. He wasn't on guard so you pulled him down so easily, so close. Until your lips touch his delicate ones.
Rafayel rolled his eyes. He was so surprised. Taking advantage of the situation when his arm was gradually falling, you immediately grabbed the jellyfish lamp and stepped back, holding it triumphantly in your arms.
“Ha! I snatched it from you!”
Rafayel was in disbelief. He had earlobes the color of ripe tomatoes. With one hand softly brushing his lips, he turned to face you.
“You… cheated.” He said, "In that case, you can snatch me too!"
𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃
It had been a long time since both Caleb and you had a chance to go home to visit Grandma. A family meal was inevitable. He took you to the supermarket near your house to shop and prepare dinner.
Caleb knew too much about your taste. You simply followed him and let him select nearly everything. But when you were walking by the snack shelves, your gaze unintentionally paused at the top row, where there was a particular kind of cookie that you and Caleb used to enjoy together as children.
After noticing your halt, Caleb turned to face you.
“Oh, they still sell this?” He spoke up.
“I want to buy it!” You told him. One hand reached up but you couldn't get the snacks. You heard Caleb laughing hysterically next to you. You folded your arms and pouted: "What are you laughing at?" Why don't you get it for me?"
"I assumed you could handle anything on your own since you're already an adult." Caleb made a joke. “Remember when we were kids? Every time you couldn't reach something, you ran to me and tugged my arm?”
You reminisced about your childhood days. Whenever you needed to get something from a high place, the first person you called was Caleb. He would bend down so you could climb on his shoulders and then carry you like that until you got what you wanted.
“Yeah. I remember." You replied. “But why— Ouch!”
Caleb suddenly bent down, wrapped his muscular arms around your thighs and lifted you up.
“Caleb?! What are you doing?!" Your arms wrapped around Caleb's neck, holding on tight as if your life depended on this. You looked down at Caleb's grinning face. He responded:
“I'm helping you get your cookies.”
“N-Not like this!…” You blushed. You had grown up and no longer the innocent little girl you used to be. Being lifted up by him like this made you extremely timid. “People… People are looking at us…”
“Ignore them.” Caleb paid no attention to his surroundings. “Just look at me.”
You felt the heat radiating from your cheeks. Caleb didn't stop there, he asked you:
"Ready?"
"Huh?"
Without waiting for your response, he spun around so fast in that posture, which made you scream suddenly. You leaned entirely on Caleb, counting on him to keep you both balanced. He continued to rotate a few more times, before becoming lightheaded himself. Then he came to a complete halt and rested his back against the shelf.
You both burst into laughter. Laughing until your stomach muscles start to hurt. But Caleb still didn't let you go. He breathed heavily and said:
“I just remembered. Besides helping you get things from high places, I also helped you climb that wall when you snuck out without Gran knowing!"
“It was completely your idea!” You pinched his nose. “After that, both of us got grounded by Grandma.”
"Sorry." Caleb chuckled. “Shall I make it up to you with cookies?”
“Then help me up a little higher.” You uttered it out with joy. “Let's buy all the cookies here!”
#fanfiction#fanfic#heart hunters series#love and deepspace fanfic#character x reader#character x mc#zayne#xavier#caleb#rafayel#zayne x mc#zayne x reader#zayne x you#caleb x mc#caleb x reader#caleb x you#rafayel x mc#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#xavier x mc#xavier x reader#xavier x you#li shen#shen xinghui#xia yizhou#qi yu#lnd#l&d#banners and dividers by me
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
if Mike fell asleep with you...
Word Count: 750
Horror Characters Masterlist
Warnings: this is mostly pure fluff - Mike and the reader are in an established relationship, the reader's gender is not described in any way (the main pronouns used are you/yours), Mike calls the reader angel, the reader takes on a caregiver role for Abby, mostly just short and fluffy. This is set before the main events of the movie, when Mike is working as a security guard at the mall.
A/N: So, I've seen so many people in the tags going 'just let him sleep!!! that man is so exhausted!!' and saying that he's too tired to fuck in the way that people are writing fanfics about him. And as much as I love super horny fics, I do thought this up, because I agree - the man should be allowed to sleep. This is largely inspired by that scene in Grey's Anatomy where Meredith walked in and Owen was asleep on Cristina's chest while she was reading a book (I think it was when she was reading through Mer's mom's diaries?) - anyway. I love that scene so much because it shows how easily he sleeps around her because he's so comfortable around her. And that's why it deeply inspired this. Let him sleep.
...
Mike was exhausted when he came in the door.
He heaved out a sigh as he closed the door behind him, toeing off his shoes - pure, stiff tiredness radiating through his whole body in the worst way.
You knew that sound anywhere.
“Long day?” You inquired gently from your position on the couch, lightly craning your neck to look at him.
He shuffled further into the house in an almost zombie-like fashion, only giving you a solitary grunt in response.
You felt kind of bad that he had been stuck at work late when you had been lucky enough to have a morning shift and been treated to a relaxing evening with Abby. She was a relatively easy kid to take care of, and generally fun to be around.
And after you had put her to bed, you laid out on the couch, relaxing and reading a novel that your friend had recommended. Generally, you were having a nice evening. And it seemed that Mike was not.
As you kept an eye on Mike, you folded over the page of your book to mark it and put it on the coffee table for later.
“Dinner’s on the counter.” You told him. “I made lasagna. I can heat it up for you if you want.”
You hated that before he started dating you, all he knew was freezer burnt crap - but you were slowly showing him how to cook, and a world of vegetables that didn't come in a can.
Mike took off his jacket and the heavy belt he had to wear for work (his large walkie talkie and his taser were in his locker at work, as mandated, but the thing was still damn uncomfortable) and he hung them both up.
He didn’t respond to your queries about dinner as he walked around the couch. Instead of speaking, seeing you laying there so relaxed - the sight was all too inviting, and he eased himself to lay on top of you in a form of very natural intimacy before he grunted a few words into your neck.
“Did Abby eat?” He asked softly as he laid on top of you.
It was oddly comforting to have the bulk of his weight on top of you, especially as he melted against you, letting out a small moan as the tension melted out of his bones. He adjusted himself to get more comfortable and his face rested against the softness of your chest - you glanced down to see that his eyes were drifting closed.
“She ate two platefuls, and had some peas.” You assured him. “Did her homework, had a bath, and she practiced her spelling words before she went to bed.”
Mike grunted again - a more positive pitch to this one. He couldn't ask for anyone better than you. Sometimes he worried about her - all the time. But when Abby was with you, that worry lessened a lot.
“You’re an angel.” He hummed against your chest. “I don’t-” He let out a gentle yawn. “I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”
“You look hot in a uniform and my job at the bookstore gets boring.” You replied, half-joking about the circumstances of how your relationship with Mike had formed.
You reached out to him and began running your fingers through his hair, soothing him even further into the realm of sleep with the comforting touch.
He let out another tired moan in reply - something that almost stretched into a rolling sound with the gentle pleasure of your hand in his hair. With the way his body was so slack against yours, his breathing even and quiet, you knew this was only leading one place.
“You wanna go get ready for bed?” You asked gently.
“In a minute.” He answered softly, barely parting his lips to get the words out.
You glanced over to the table and reached out, picking your book back up as his breathing deepened and his body went even more slack. You were preparing to get comfortable for the next few hours. You weren’t all that tired yourself, and you still had a few chapters left to go. When you got to the next chapter, he began to snore lightly and you felt drool dripping down your neck - which didn’t bother you all that much. You found it cute, in fact.
You were comforted by the fact that he relaxed enough around you to get such a good sleep. You knew that he needed it.
...
A/N: also, this is my first time posting a fic completely from mobile by copy/pasting something from google docs on my phone. So hopefully the formatting isn't too messed up and hopefully this goes well! And I hope you guys enjoy this short fluffy fic 💖
#sundrop writes#mike schmidt x y/n#mike schmidt x you#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt#five nights at freddy's movie#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanfiction
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part II
Part I If you haven't read it
Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au
Word Count: 9.4k
Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.
WARNING: only!18+ unprotected sex, Dom!San, Dom!Wooyoung, Sub!Reader, fingering, choking, degrading, pet names, spit kink, manhandling, threesomes, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, overstimulation and more.
Tag list: @staytiny816 @woosmaid @jiminssluttyminx @liknws @pearltinyy @haebaragisworld @bts-iris @bleachpolaroid @wisejudgedragonhairdo @ginger-coffee-addict @pricessthings @rockstarsanie @lilmackiee @minaizum1 @shotahime @vixensss @meljoongiee @ivsjake4evr @love-me-a-little @seonghwaddict @onmykneesforateez @meeitany
A/N: Okay, we're here. I couldn't be more excited. Really, they've got a lot going on and I hope you're all ready because it's gonna be intense, hot and messy. Seriously, I really appreciate everyone's feedback and consideration for this series. It's become one of the most popular things I've written, but it put some pressure on me, because I'm worrying about whether the second part would please you. Well, I think we'll see.
Enjoy the chapter, even though it's practically nothing but smut.
The third and final part! takes us back to where it all began, but not without an emotional roller coaster ride. By the way, I wanted to point out that T/N doesn't remember what she promised them a year ago. So don't be surprised by the plot changes in this issue.
In the finale, we're sure to get a hot threesome.
I'm still learning how to write smut, so please be gentle with me.
Besides, I can't help but talk about the results of the poll. The majority vote was for Alpha/Beta/Omega!au, and honestly, it's one of the ideas I'm most excited about, and I was hoping it would be the winner. I look forward to your comments. In general, feel free to write me about anything.
dividers by @cafekitsune
Much love, everyone.
Now. The morning after graduation.
It's a late, lazy morning when you wake from a deep and well-earned sleep. You blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the bright golden light flooding the room, which refracted through your bedroom's stained glass. It was beautiful and annoying at the same time, just as Hongjoong himself, who had inspired you to do this.
You should have shaded the windows last night before you went to sleep, but that was the last thing you thought of as lying in bed between the restless, wet San's and Wooyoung's bodies. You were more preoccupied with the touch of their rough hands on your heated body, the warmth of their breath on tender skin, and the sounds of their hoarse moaning right by your ear.
They were an absolute mess, slowly driving you crazy. Emotions raged in your stomach, making you feel guilty, embarrassed and… lustful. You practically dozed off at dawn, when the boys managed to calm down a bit and fall into a deep sleep.
The apartment is incredibly quiet; you can't hear a single sound, and only the soft sniffle on your neck, with the feeling of warm breath dancing across your bare skin, breaks this peaceful silence.
Wooyoung is still fast asleep, clutching you in his arms like a favorite teddy bear, his leg wrapped possessively around your thigh as it always has been. Even when he was asleep, he couldn't bring himself to let you go for a second.
You ran the palm of your hand over the sheet and felt nothing but the cold under your fingers. Sannie has been awake for a while now, and for a moment you're annoyed by this fact. You wish that he was still in bed with you, soft and gentle as he always was. So that the three of you could spend this special morning together.
The graduation robes are scattered all over the room in a mess of things, and all you want to do is push them further and further into the wardrobe and forget about them forever.
The dog days are finally over. You are now official free.
Sensual, full lips touch the sensitive spot on your neck, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine. The throat is suddenly dry, sweat begins to form on your neck from the abruptly increase in desire, and you close your eyes tightly, aware of every touch and breath coming from Wooyoung more clearly than before. It's as if your whole body is completely focused on him, reacting to every fleeting movement and every sound with even more eager devotion.
You're still too receptive from last night, and you need more space to try and keep all those dirty, depraved thoughts from taking over and you. You studiously ignore the slight shiver of excitement that is happily tickling your breasts and causing the muscles in your lower abdomen to ripple in a pleasant way. You bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning in frustration as the images and sensations of the night flash in front of your eyes. You need to stop right now.
It's too bad, but it's too sweet.
You start to wriggle, trying to get away from Wooyoung, who is still sleeping, but he just pulls you closer to his chest, as if he wants to dissolve into your body completely, and you melt.
Wooyoung has always been so insatiable and greedy for any kind of physical contact that you can offer him, like an adorable little puppy, that you can just wag your finger at him and he'll come running to you. He always had "too much space between you"; it was important to him to hold you constantly, to touch soft skin with his fingertips, to leave butterfly kisses in every possible place, to knead your thighs and squeeze waist possessively, to pull you so close that there wasn't a centimetre between you. You were his darling, soft and sweet girl in all the right places, and he just couldn't help himself.
San used to tell him that he was being a bit greedy and that he needed to learn how to share you with others. After all, sharing meant caring, and you were also his chagi.
Yes, you wanted to be taken care of, and that frightened you to the depths of your most forbidden fantasies. You wanted to be nervous about them; you wanted them to use you as they pleased, to make you take everything they had to offer, even if it destroyed you completely.
Your desire for them was more than you should have as friends. And that feeling had only grown stronger over the past year.
But despite Wooyoung's obsession and possessiveness, his touch always soothed you. He gave you the comfort you needed whenever you felt the need. And in the end, his hands would always nudge you in the direction of San, so that he could have his own moment of sharing with you. You were their own personal cuddly toy, and that was fine with you, because there was no place in the world where you could feel more protected and cuddly than in their arms.
But at the moment, you wanted nothing more than to get away from his touch and calm down your excitement. You'd been so needy since last night, and Wooyoung had only added to your frustration.
He's shirtless, his skin warm and smooth, and you can be sure it's golden like caramel where the sun has licked it. Delicious. You can almost taste him on the tip of your tongue, and suddenly you're tempted to sink your teeth into him for a taste, but you just bite down harder on your lower lip and stifle a moan.
You need to stop being so intensely... aware of him.
Maybe you were still drunk from the last night; after all, you couldn't remember exactly how many shots of tequila you'd consumed before dragging Yunho into the ladies' room to start kissing passionately. And you found yourself in an even more suggestive position with Seonghwa after another round of colourful, unnamed cocktails.
From then on, every innocent act made you feel lustful and hungry for intimacy.
Was it karma or something? You weren't sure, but you were more inclined to think that it was the lack of passionate sex you hadn't been having for a year now. You hadn't been able to find anyone suitable for a long-term relationship after you'd broken up with Suho, and boys-toys hadn't given you any pleasure.
You wanted more than ten minutes of gasping under the covers with awkward fingers poking into the pussy. They were cum faster than you were able to get yourself aroused. Pathetic.
You needed to satisfy that hunger that was eating you from the inside out, that oppressive feeling of emptiness inside you that could only be filled by a big dick that you could choke on for the rest of your life. A thick and long one, with visibly bulging veins, that could really hit all the sensitive places inside you, causing you to have orgasm after orgasm. And having not one but two perfectly matched options handy hasn't made things any easier.
If you offered to suck them off, Wooyoung's dick would be in your mouth in no time. He was always a fireball, passionate, and impatient, and San…San liked to play with his food before getting down to business. You were in awe of how perfect their dynamic was with such different personalities.
You wanted to see how attractive they would be when a warm throat closed around their cocks, when their beautiful faces were contorted with intense pleasure, and when you heard them moan out your name.
Damn it.
It's moments like these that make you realize that moving in with Wooyoung and San was the best and worst decision you ever made. Unless you count buying a pair of designer jeans that make your butt a magnet for people's hands.
The time went by far too quickly for your liking. It was easy to get lost in the succession of school days, week after week, punctuated by movie nights, spontaneous outings and a seemingly endless stream of student parties. Everything in your life changes. From the big renovation of your apartment, which was Hongjoong's job - he was still over the loss of his favourite vintage sofa - to the move in of San and Wooyoung. Things started to move at an even faster pace the day the boys dragged their suitcases into the dark space of your ultra-modern living room, to a general "You should have done this a long time ago".
It was a spontaneous and hasty decision. But what could have gone wrong? It's always been the three of you, and you had no idea that sharing space would have any effect on your relationship. God, how wrong you were. They played cat and mouse with you, testing your mettle and your patience. The memory of that moment is still so vivid in your mind.
"Come on, chagi, try it; it's quite tasty." San brought a spoonful of the dark green liquid, which Wooyoung proudly called the best hangover soup in the world, to your lips.
Jung Wooyoung and his ego, of course.
"Go ahead, baby; be good and open your mouth. It'll make you feel good, I promise." That last sentence was full of innuendo, and it didn't take a genius to see it. In fact, everything that came out of Wooyoung's mouth was absolute filth.
He was practically purring in your ear, touching your delicate skin with every word, and you swear you could feel the touch of his tongue on your earlobe. Oh, fuck. His hands slid down your shoulders, deftly kneading the muscles that had gone stiff, his thumbs sliding up the vertebrae of your neck, and he dug a little bit into the hair at the back of your neck. In that moment, you were ready to do anything for him, whatever he asked.
"That's my Chagia, so docile and sweet." San would continue to feed you slowly with a spoon, smiling sweetly at you as if it were the most pleasant thing in the world to do. From time to time, he would wipe away the drops of liquid that ran down your lips with his thumb, as if in a romantic drama. You were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. But San's meaningful raised eyebrow made it clear that it was better to let him take care of you without resistance. San's language of love had always been to serve, and he took every opportunity to remind you of that.
The silence around you was nice and cozy—you'd even say relaxing—especially since you could still feel the humming bass of last night's music in your head. And all in all, you weren't feeling your best. Hell, that shit you drank last night was strong.
This went on for a few more minutes until the plate in front of you was empty and Woo's face was pressed against your cheek in a cute puppy way.
"Woo, and I wanted to talk to you about something, Y/N," San began, his voice suddenly becoming so sweet. He took your hand gently, his thumb stroking your knuckles lazily. He obviously wanted something from you.
"Sure, I'm all ears."
"We'd like to move in with you, peach, what do you think?" Wooyoung was pecking at your cheek, acting like a real sweetheart, but you knew every one of his tactics to get what he wanted.
"You're not going to get it if Woo keeps licking my cheek."
"But, Peach…" He whined, pursing his puffy lips in a resentful manner. Okay, he was cute as hell, but you were never going to tell him that.
"Chagi." You turned your attention back to San, who looked like he was confessing his love to you: Are this hearts in his eyes? Or are you still drunk?
"Agreed, we are practically living here anyway; I even have my own toothbrush in the bathroom. It's just a formality." He was awfully proud of it, squaring his shoulders and imagining himself under your gaze.
"We want to take care of you, baby."
And this is where you should have told them to fuck off and forget the way to your apartment, change the locks, and give San his toothbrush back. But whether it was the soft and somehow loving look of San's cat eyes paired with deep, sweet dimples or Wooyoung's gentle hands that started to knead your shoulders again in a languidly seductive way, you nodded affirmatively.
They were right; you were all practically living together. The amount of their stuff in your flat was unreal—the T-shirts you slept in, the perfume bottles left everywhere, study notes, games, pajamas and scarves, Wooyoung's luxurious leather jackets, and San's books—you could start a collection, but their stuff was just as much yours. It was also the constant cause of your and Suho's fights; he was always jealous of you and them, completely unaware of the dynamic between the three of you. They'd been glued to your thigh for years, and the fact that you had a boyfriend wouldn't change that. Narrow-minded prick.
"I think you're right. Let's give it a go."
"My little darling." San gave a dazzling smile, showing off his dimples even more, and pressed your hand to his lips. God, Choi San was a real menace. It was hard to believe that this pretty cat in front of you was none other than the one who was caught many times having rough sex in the middle of the university library. Once, he was even caught in a threesome, but you didn't want to point the finger at Wooyoung for putting him up to it.
"Yeah, that's our girl." Wooyoung pressed his lips to your cheek once more, salivating as much as he could along the way.
"Jung Wooyoung!" You squealed, wiping the drool from your cheek in disgust, but Woo was already happily scurrying into the living room, laughing loudly.
"We'll look after you, chagi."
That was San's last sentence before he ran his tongue over your hand, licked his fingers like a cat, and ran after Woo with an evil giggle.
"Choi San, come back at once!"
You are going to have so much fun here. Too much fun for your own good.
"Mmm… Peach, you are already awake." The soft touch of plump lips on your shoulder means that Wooyoung has woken up and wants to have your full attention.
"It has been some time. But I don't want to go anywhere. How are you feeling? Last night, when we came home, you and San were really drunk.
Wooyoung hugs you even tighter, nestling his face between your shoulder blades and taking a deep breath of your scent. Your skin is tickled by the tips of his long hair. A light touch on your lower back sends a jolt up your spine, making you arch slightly in his arms. Wooyoung is always like this; his defiant and needy attitude shouldn't be anything unusual for you, so you should stop reacting to him like this.
"Thank you for looking after us, peach. You're always so nice. Sannie and I don't deserve you." He kisses your neck. This time the touch lingers a little longer, and a feeling of excitement rises in your chest. "We haven't caused you any trouble, have we, little girl?" He purrs as he rubs his nose up against your shoulder. You couldn't help but notice how San's habits have become Wooyoung's habits, and vice versa. Now you have to put up with all that twin feline energy.
You turn to face him, and even after a night of sleeping with his hair tousled and without his usual cheeky grin, Wooyoung still looks pretty damn good. He's comfortable, a little sleepy, but no less seductive than he ever was. Woo has always had this sensual aura about him. Underneath the overt sexuality and the bitchy attitude, there was something else—something dark and seductive. You want to kiss him right now, so badly. Your hand runs through his silky hair, letting it fall in soft waves on either side of his face. Dark strands that are long enough to be pulled through easily. The world's handsomest boy.
It's all too easy to fall in love with him.
He kisses your palm playfully and pokes his nose into it like a cat hungry for affection, and you don't mind his purring with pleasure.
You wonder what he's going to sound like when he cums, God, you need to help yourself.
"Let me think." You run your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. It's a deceptively gentle gesture before you pull hard on the roots of his hair, causing him to cry out in surprise.
"Oh, babe, why?" He purses his lips in offense, hoping you'll fall for his cute look. But you've known Wooyoung for years, and judging by the mischievous gleam in his eyes, he knew exactly what he was getting at.
"Firstly, you robbed me of my chance for great sex with your whining and dragging me home. Secondly, you behaved horribly when I tried to persuade you to take a shower and you kept me awake until the morning by clinging to me and fidgeting on the bed. Today I demand the royal treatment because you really messed up last night. This was not part of my plan for the prom at all."
Woo smiles back wickedly, practically baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.
"Peaches, are you really such a needy girl? Well, what are we going to do about it? San and I will have to do our best to make it up to you." He suddenly turns you over so that you are lying on your back, sandwiched between the mattress and his lithe body. Wooyoung is hovering over you, his hair falling all over your face, and you can't help but notice how sexy he looks in this position, which is annoying the hell out of you. He doesn't even have to try very hard to send you over the edge.
Strong hands are resting on the sides of your head, letting you enjoy the sight of the seductively bulging veins that run down his forearms. Fuck, you've always had a weakness for his hands, and who wouldn't when they look like this? Woo leans his head towards you until your noses touch, like a predator cornering his prey.
"Baby, I have my doubts that you'll be satisfied with anyone, so don't sulk. And you know Sannie and I will have to approve of someone running their fingers down your knickers." He smiles broadly at you, clearly enjoying your annoyance when you roll your eyes at him.
"Jung Wooyoung, stop it!" Your hand leaves an angry red mark on the bare skin of his chest, and he grunts. It will take all the patience in the world not to beat him to death or kiss him. "I swear I'll wash your mouth out with soap someday." Or maybe you'll lick him from the inside out. "And stop sticking your pretty little nose where you shouldn't. You don't have to worry about who I'm gonna fuck."
"So what if it bothers me? What are you going to do with it, Peach?" He bites his lips in anticipation and raises an eyebrow in expectation, as if he were challenging you to go on.
The way that smug look is on his face makes you feel a little pissed off. You get a little cocky and decide to use the same tactic he did. Wrapping your hands around his face, you're pulling him even closer, resting him on your forearms and your lips nearly touch. He has siren eyes that are deep and mesmerising, and the intensity of his gaze causes your cheeks to flush and you to bite down on your lower lip. The gleam in his fox eyes is proof that he is enjoying every second of your little game.
"Seonghwa kisses you like he's fucking your mouth with his tongue, it's fucking heaven and you can do whatever you want with that fact, baby. I would have ridden him like a stallion in front of everyone last night if it wasn't for you and San's drunken arses". You push him off of you, and Wooyoung rolls over to the other side of the bed as you sit up.
There's something in the air, and you feel you've said something wrong, judging by the way Wooyoung's eyes are flashing with an emotion you can't quite describe. It's a weird mix between anger, envy, desire and something else. But whatever it is, it is making your pussy clench in anticipation of it.
Damn, when did you start thinking with what's between your legs instead of your brain?
He stares at you intently, as if he's trying to decide whether he's going to scold you or fuck you senseless. As lust flashes through his languid onyx eyes like a shooting star, fast but unmistakable, and his pink tongue flicks out to wet his swollen lips, Wooyoung knows exactly what he's going to do to you.
You reach out to stroke his shoulder, and just as you expected, his skin is the most delicious shade of caramel. You can't help but want to run your tongue all over it.
Oh, shit. Now would be a good time to remind yourself: He's your best friend.
"Where`s San?" He asks you.
The expression on his face is, for the most part, neutral, with just a slight hint of lust and anticipation. He slowly licks his delicious lips and looks at you with bedroom eyes. You feel the warm moisture building up between your thighs. If he keeps looking at you like that, you're going to make a puddle of lust where you're sitting right now. You squeeze your thighs tighter to keep the liquid from dripping shamefully onto the bed, praying to all the gods that Wooyoung won't notice.
"I don't know. He wasn't in the bed when I woke up."
"Good."
What the hell is 'GOOD'? You need to collect your thoughts and leave this stuffy room, but the way Wooyoung's eyes slide over your body before, and slowly sucking his lower lip tells you there's nowhere to run.
"Come to me, sweetheart; I want you in my arms." He is stroking himself on his thigh, the silk fabric of his pajamas leaving no room for imagination as it outlines the taut muscles of his gorgeous thighs. His legs are spread a little wider to draw your attention to where he wants you now, and you can clearly see the imprint of his thick dick through the fabric. Damn. It's completely hard, and you can't help but notice how big it is.
His actions send signals straight to the nerves that control your cunt. The wet heat is running between your legs and your arousal is increasing. A palpable shiver runs through all body as you squirm and writhe under the intensity of his gaze.
The rational part of you is literally beating in a hysterical frenzy. It's your hope that your stupid brain will realise the full implications of what's happening, and that you'll be able to put a stop to it. Even if the boundaries of your friendship were highly questionable, you were friends. While the evil voice in the back of your head was cheering you on: "C'mon, what's the bad that can happen?"
He was inviting you, and who were you to refuse? Not that you wanted to.
They'd go crazy if San and Wooyoung knew what thoughts and fantasies lived in your head every day. Huh. They had no idea their sweet chagia had such a dark and dirty mind. You take a deep breath.
Screw it.
You slowly crawl across the bed towards him. He watches you with a squinting, predatory look on his face until one of your legs has been thrown across his body and you're almost sitting on top of him. Almost, as your thighs struggle to keep you in that rigid position, but apparently Woo wasn't in the mood, and his broad palms force your hips down so you're sitting all the way in his lap. Before you realise what you're doing, you're pinned against his crotch, his hard cock touching your aching clit as you move against him, demanding physical stimulation. The contact was so good that it sent a shiver down your spine, and you almost moaned at the tiny moment of pleasure it gave you. Damn, it was massive—so thick you started salivating in your mouth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You're up to your neck in shit.
"There you are, starlight, in my hands." His voice, once so high and soft, was now hoarse and deep. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer to him, so that there was hardly any space between the two of you. "Baby girl, are you still upset about Seonghwa?" It's a nickname he rarely uses, and it sends an electric shock through your lower abdomen, triggering a feeling you're not sure you can control right now. He leans in close to you and presses his wet lips against the side of your ear. "Tell me what I can do to stop you being angry with me."
"Kiss me, make me feel good." The evil little voice in the back of your head chimes in with glee. "Blow my brains out until my head feels empty and light." It says.
A whole new sensation takes over. Your body starts to heat up in anticipation of what is to come. Then the room will seem to shrink and the air will fill with a tension and a desire.
"I don't know. You've really pissed me off." You look up at him through your impossibly thick lashes, your lips in a fake pout. You weren't the innocent one; you could have played just as badly as they did. "You'll have to try harder, pretty boy." You let your finger nails run down the length of his neck. Wooyoung tilts his head back to reveal a chin line that could have been carved from the finest marble.
As his hands lazily caress your thighs, lifting your T-shirt higher and higher, your skin burns under his palms. Damn, he's scalding you.
The wetness between your legs is becoming more and more intense as the conversation goes on and on. Your juices seep through the thin lace of your panties, dripping from your pussy, leaving little dark streaks on the silk of his trousers where they touch your thighs. The air between you crackles with tension and desire; you feel yourself sweating; you're so hot and needy; and Wooyoung is no help at all.
His aura is one of dominance, and you swallow in anticipation. A storm is about to break and you don't want to be safe.
"I'll do whatever you want me to do for you, Y/N."
You're done for.
"Then kiss me, stupid boy, make me feel good."
He growls back at you, embracing you on the back of the head and practically forcing your faces together. The palm of his hand clenches possessively on the back of your neck with palpable pain, and the sound that comes out of you is something between a sob and a moan. With the sudden movement, you feel yourself pressing even harder against his dick, and it sends a pleasurable pulse through your clit.
Wooyoung presses his forehead against yours and your lips are just a breath away from each other.
You stare back at him without blinking. His eyes are half closed as he watches you in silence, like a tiger stalking its prey, ready to pounce with its jaws clenched. It is in a low, dangerously calm tone that he speaks. "Are you sure this is what you want to do, baby girl? I'm biting." It's mixed with your sighing and seductive lips, and you can barely make out the words.
"P-please…"
His moan is loud, guttural, and mildly painful, and then…
O MY GOD.
Those soft lips are pressed hard against yours in an urgent, hungry kiss. His mouth is insistent and demanding, his thumb digging into the skin of your neck, turning the touch into a rough grip, and his tongue gliding along the bottom of your lip. Slowly, as he pulls your lips apart, he moves in quickly, and you shudder at the sensual sensation as he runs his tongue over the roof of your mouth and licks your teeth. It should have been dirty and rough, but instead you find yourself moaning with wanton need.
"Wooyoung..." The moan of his name was so desperate, so needy, so full of lust and desire.
"Goddamn, I love it when you say my name."
He kisses you with renewed ferocity, biting your lips almost to the point of bleeding. Wooyoung is too passionate; he licks your mouth with his tongue, and literally shoves it down your throat. He kisses you like he's dying of thirst and you're the only way to make him drink. Spittle runs down your chin, it's wet and dirty, but you can't stop, you don't want to stop. Wooyoung's tongue is practically fucking you in the mouth.
And God, you want more. It feels unreal, too extreme to be a reasonable response to a kiss, the heat between your legs, your clit throbbing with need, your nerves on fire.
Wooyoung lets go of you for a moment and you stare at him with your eyes wide open. Your heart is pounding wildly and your breathing is so ragged that you're practically choking to death. Licking away any remnants of the kiss you shared, his wet pink tongue pokes out from between his plump lips.
His hand slides down your face, cupping your chin and tilting your head slightly so that your eyes meet his, his gaze clouded with lust as if his fingers were digging deep inside you. You can't say a word as a wicked smile spreads across his sharp, enchanting face.
Now you have a better understanding of all those damsels who are ready to spread their legs at the flick of his fingers.
"Tell me you want more, baby. I have a feeling this apology isn't enough. I need to do more than that. I'm so desperate for forgiveness.
"Don't I need to be forgiven too, Woo? You shouldn't be so greedy. That voice, oh shit.
You turn sharply around and find yourself staring into San's beautiful cat eyes. He's so damn good-looking you swallow a groan. It must be illegal for someone to look this good in normal jeans and a plain black shirt. But San had a body worth dying over.
A real girl's dinner.
What the hell are you going to do now? How long had he stayed there?
"San-ah… how…" You find yourself stuttering. Your mouth dries up and you can't utter a word, but even if you could, your brain can't form coherent thoughts. You can't bring yourself to look away from him, and something deep inside you knows that he will punish you if you try.
"What is it, Gongjunim? Did the cat eat your tongue?" He raises an eyebrow at you, a shit-eating grin playing at the corners of his lips. As if in mockery, his soft, patronising tone of voice slides over your skin. San combines a sensual, gentle nature with a seductive one that makes you feel he's looking for a weakness before pouncing. His fucking duality. One moment he's a little sweetheart, the next he's a lecherous demon who wants to sink his teeth into your throat and devour you. "Come on, Chagia, I promise I won't disappoint you; I'm very good at excuses."
Responding to his sultry purr, your pussy clenches shamefacedly.
The excitement of it all makes your brain feel like mush and sets your skin on fire.
You start squirming in Wooyoung's arms, and now that San's here, you belatedly realise what you've gotten yourself into. Is it time for a change of scenery or something? No, you want to stay. Desperately.
You need them to blow your brains out, to make you dumb and submissive and a pretty little toy for them to play with. Sometimes you have to stop before you cross the line, but where is the line when you're literally sitting on your best friend's hard cock?
Hell, you don't know what you're supposed to do - run or beg - but you clearly know what they want to do to you, judging by Wooyoung's dick twitching between your thighs and San slowly licking his lips as he looks at your bare ass peeking out from under your shirt. His shirt.
There must be some kind of telepathic connection between Wooyoung and San. After a few seconds of intense eye contact, San pulls his T-shirt over his head, tosses it aside and slowly walks over to you. The grin on his face seems to have changed; it has become even darker than before. Hungrier.
And you don't think this is a good time to start drooling. But damn it, you want to lick him from head to toe.
Between the three of you, there's a chaos of emotion and desire. It's mixed with adrenaline and a distant fear of what's going to happen. There has to be an end to this game of predator and prey, and why not do it now? Sighing, you finally give in.
In the morning, you'll consider the consequences.
"Maybe you should kiss me too, San-ah, and I'll start thinking about forgiving.
Hot lips instantly press an open, wet kiss to your shoulder. The bed buckles under the weight of another man's body. San's strong arms are wrapped around your waist and his fingers clench your t-shirt into a fist. He's hot, warm and hard, and you can feel the hardness of his dick through your trousers as he presses down hard against you. His mouth is sucking, biting and licking your skin as if his life depended on it. Sharing an understanding look with Wooyoung, San slides his lips higher up your body.
"Sannie…" Before planting a hot kiss on your neck, you whimper as his teeth sink into your sensitive flesh.
The moan that comes from the back of your throat is so deep that for a moment you wonder if it's coming from you at all.
Pure pleasure shoots through you as you feel Woo's long tongue on the other side of your neck. He lets out the sexiest moan deep in his throat, as if he's having the time of his life, savouring every second of the way his lips explore the nape of your neck. You're distracted. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he pulls the skin between his lips, leaving a purple hickey on the back of your neck.
"Oh, my God, boys."
"That's my darling, Chagia." His voice is sultry and seductive, and you can clearly hear the saturi again, as it tends to do at times when San is in a highly aroused state.
"You're so beautiful, my peach." Wooyoung whispers to you, and you just melt away completely.
You whimper as Woo begins to run his hands up and down your thighs and arse, squeezing and pulling. He mooed softly as you made little circular movements with your hips and rubbed his cock against you. Woo punishes you by slapping your bottom if you cuddle too hard. You'll need to be obedient as they play with you.
The sound fills the room along with the collective moaning of Wooyoung's and San's.
"What a dirty little girl you are. I think you need to be taught how to obey." Woo spanks you a few more times and you wiggle your hips in an impatient way.
It feels so good.
San pulls your t-shirt up to your breasts while all your attention is focused on Wooyoung. Your little thong is completely transparent and does nothing to hide your sex or the excitement building within you. They are practically digging into your needy pussy because of the position you are now in. A chorus of gasps and moans can be heard from your best friends as their eyes focus on that big, wet spot. San's greedy hands press you even closer to his body, so that you can feel his full erection on top of your plump, bare bum.
"You're so fucking wet." Wooyoung hisses. "Like a bitch leaking just thinking about our cocks in your tight little cunt. We'll destroy you, Peach."
Before you realise what's happening, Woo's hands slide down your back, your nipples tensing in the cool open air. The soft fabric of your t-shirt falls to the floor, and suddenly, hot wetness envelops your left nipple and he sucks hard on it, the pressure causing pain that turns to pleasure as his tongue touches the hard bud. Your head immediately falls back onto San's shoulder as you open the soft space of your throat to his insatiable mouth. You let out a long groan, and your hand rests on Wooyoung's head, tugging lightly at the soft lengths of his hair.
You feel like you could explode at any moment, even though they haven't done anything to you yet. You're burning, almost feverish, as the growing fire between your thighs reaches unbearable levels. You can't breathe; your skin is hypersensitive. Your head tilts to the side, and you whimper San's name in the most pathetic intonation possible. His hand slides lower and lower, past your waist and your stomach, to the place where you most want to feel him. It hasn't even come close to touching your pussy yet, but the thought of it is enough to make you squirm with excitement.
His hands move down low enough to touch the skin of your naked legs and up slowly, frantically, until he reaches where you are starting to get aroused. The palm of his hand encircles your pussy in a possessive way, the small mound of flesh lying so perfectly in the palm of his hand. You tremble a little at this, and try to spread your legs wider so that his fingers can rub against the moist slit, so that he can dive in between the warm folds until your pussy spreads out beautifully for him, so that he can rub your clit with ease.
"Mmm… what a wet little thing. I bet my Gongjunim has the most beautiful pussy I have ever seen in my life. Fleshy, shiny, and pink - just the way I like it. He gasps for breath. He puts his hands on your hips and rubs his hard cock against the curve of your ass a couple of times. "Do you feel that, Chagia? No one can make me as hard as you can." On your skin, his breath feels like fire. Hoping for a little more friction, you arch your backside. The gesture reveals a hiss from his side.
San's fingers, one tempting back and forth with a feathery touch, spread the excitement building in your slit beneath the thin material. Your pussy clenches around nothing at all in the most uncomfortable way, and you know that he can feel it.
"Do you like this chagi? Wooyoung's mouth on your full, pretty tits? My fingers on your sweet little snatch?" San's tone is almost mocking. His tongue is licking his lips; his fingers continue to stroke your clothed pussy in a leisurely manner; and he watches intently as Wooyoung literally chokes on your breasts. "We are gonna fuck you until you squeal like the slutty little bitch you are." He growls into your ear, and the sound of it makes you pull on Woo's hair with all your might.
And you always had the impression that Wooyoung's mouth was dirty.
A soft moan slips out of the brunette's swollen lips, which are now wrapped so tightly around your nipple that you're sure they're going to leave a mark on it. As he pulls back with an audible pop, you let out a small sound as you look at his ecstatic face. His eyes are half closed, his eyelids flutter slightly and a beautiful flush of colour has appeared on his cheeks. His plump lips are glistening with the saliva and the service he is giving to your tits.
"Are you feeling good, peach?" He chuckles weakly as he watches you fall apart in San's skilled hands, leaving you as beautiful as ever in his eyes. Woo gives your nipple a hard pinch, only to then let his tongue run over it. The sudden change in sensation causes your head to begin to spin, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure.
"Please… I need… more… Youngiee." You stammer out the words, your voice shaking and your body trembling.
"You look so pretty when you beg. But do you want to know something, сhagi? You'll look even more beautiful with your cunt stretched around my dick. I will ravage your tiny pussy, Gongjunim. I'm going to make you mine." San finally kisses you; though it's hard to call it a kiss, he dives into your lips like a hungry man, sucking them so deeply and passionately, with an insistence that you don't even think you'll ever understand.
His tongue is merciless as he explores every millimeter of the inside of your mouth. This kiss is heavenly, and with every second that passes, you find yourself wanting more, wanting him to spoil you in every way that he can. To have his way with you until you have no more patience. And it is these thoughts that make you wriggle in Wooyoung's arms. You try to rub your thighs together, hoping to relieve the unbearable heat inside you.
"The taste is so damn good."
You can feel Woo squeezing your breasts almost in sync, his warm tongue sliding over the plump flesh once more, licking at the aroused nipples, and his teeth scratching the sensitive skin with the lightest of touches. You savour the lightning bolts of pleasure that the two of them cause to bounce around your body. It's almost painful, but you know you're loving this.
Half gasping, half squealing at the sheer, blunt pressure of San's nimble, kneading fingers finding their way to your labia through the mesh of the thong. Your lower abdomen clenches in a reflexive spasm, and your hands are sticky with sweat as you grasp the wrist of his hand.
"Oh, your pussy is so sensitive, isn't it, Chagia?" San cooed with feigned tenderness, and with a strange sadism, he pressed his middle finger against your cunt, sliding it right over the spot where your clit was, causing your hips to shake. The lubrication of your arousal made it much more effective for him to stimulate you, and he would literally bring you to orgasm with minimal effort. He purred softly as you responded, like a big cat purring, and just when you thought he couldn't fuck with your sanity even more, he turned his head and spat on your lips, a glob of saliva dribbling into your open mouth and you choked out a moan.
It's so rough and dirty, but your body responds the best it can, arching into his arms and pressing your breasts even harder against Wooyoung's face.
The brunette moans in response and lifts his foxy eyes to you. You can see the corner of his lips curl into a smirk before he bites down hard on your nipple. Fuck, your life will never be the same. And they haven't even got around to fucking you properly yet. It's like heaven and hell at the same time.
"I want to hear you whimper, Gongjunim." San's hand grips the back of your neck very tightly, causing you to gasp for breath from the sudden lack of air. Your eyes begin to roll up at the possessive touch of his hand on your throat, and you begin to jerk your hips, your clit pressing against Wooyoung's cock, and he lets out a long, hard moan.
"Please, Sannie." You're breathing out.
"Look at her, San, our girl, slobbering like a brainless slut." Wooyoung wipes the viscous saliva from your parted lips, then pushes his fingers into your mouth with a sharp, deep thrust. For a second you choke and begin to gurgle around the long phalanges.
He hadn't removed the rings yesterday and now the heavy metal makes your tongue feel cold. "Think of the way my dick is fucking your little throat, starlight. Suck it hard." You wheeze and gurgle, your saliva bubbling at the corners of your lips, but you have done exactly as you have been told.
It was rough, it was horrible and it was so wet that it was almost disgusting to watch. But Woo enjoyed it; he literally raped your mouth with his fingers in a sort of sadistic sense. A few thick strands of saliva would stick to your swollen lips as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.
"Look at you. Taking my fingers in your mouth like that. Such a good girl."
This whole game has been nothing more than a distraction from the main action. There's a short circuit in your body as a sharp sensation pierces every nerve in your body. San suddenly slaps you hard on your wet pussy, the contact sending sparks of pain and pleasure flying across your skin, and you let out a squeal.
"Oh my God. Oh, my God. I'm going to… I'm going to…" You go over the edge as you feel your juices pouring down your legs, your vaginal muscles contracting, forcing more fluid to pour out of you, the combination of their names coming weakly from your lips as your orgasm washes over your weakened limbs.
"Fuck, Peach is so hot… You're squirting." You belatedly realise that Wooyoung is also cumming as he throws his head back in pleasure, his eyes rolling up and his mouth opening in a long, whimpering moan.
You can hardly catch your breath when you feel San rest his chin on your shoulder, his grip tightening around you, whispering in your ear.
"One more gongjunim; give me one more orgasm and then I'll caress you."
"Ah, San." The searing sensation of his fingers roughly pinching your clit through the wet material of your thong causes you to cry out hoarsely in agony. The sound of your wet, sensitive cunt splashing was clear and vivid; the sensation was brutal, but so indescribable you were ready to faint from pleasure.
He's going to tear you apart.
"Cum for me, Chagia. I know you can do it. Sperm for us; make Youngie and me proud of you".
Your eyes rolled back in your head and you swore that your cunt was on fire, your whole body shuddering in electrifying spasms of pleasure that made your toes curl up and your thighs shake. San's hand was still firmly around your throat, holding your head upright as you had your orgasm.
It had shattered you so badly that the fall seemed dramatic, and you went completely limp as the orgasm dissipated, turning you into an inconsolable, whimpering, disorderly mass.
They had blown your brains out.
"There you are, Gongjunim, I got you. You did so well." San muttered, but your mind was too tired to admit it. Amused at how angry and lost you looked, you saw stars as Wooyoung's hand tilted your head to the side in a teasing way to look at your confused face.
"You're no longer angry with us, are you, Peach?"
San removes his hand from your throat and allows Wooyoung to pull your face up to his own. Gentle fingers caress your cheekbones and soft lips wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. At one point, you didn't even realise you were crying. It's such a contrast to his previous behaviour; here he is your usual adored Jung Wooyoung, a little clingy, a little annoying and with an unrealistic maternal instinct. Your best friend.
Fuck. Now it is time for you to start crying for the real time. You begin to sob, pushing Wooyoung away from you in a desperate attempt to get out of his arms. You can feel the wetness underneath you and it makes you feel worse and worse. You need to get out of here now. Your behaviour frightens them to death and San's hands are on your body again, squeezing your shoulders gently.
"Stop, stop for a second, Y/N. It's all right, Chagia. We have you."
You freeze at the sound of your name, like a deer caught in the headlights.
In anticipation of his next move, your whole body tenses like a string. Wooyoung's fingers intertwine with yours. It's a familiar gesture, so familiar to you, so ordinary, so perfected over the years of your friendship. San lets you go when he realises you're not going anywhere, and his face comes to rest next to Wooyoung's as you look at him.
He's handsome, too, to the point of madness, and trembles at the knees. His cheeks are flushed. There's still a lingering gleam of lust and excitement in his eyes, but with a touch of strange emotion. His plush lips are soft and swollen from all the kissing, and his body glistens with sweat. And the reason he looks like that is because of you. You look at Wooyoung and see that he looks exactly the same, but the emotion in his eyes is more obvious than ever.
You want to crawl off his lap and cower in shame in the corner of the room so you don't have to look at all that tenderness and loveliness in his foxy eyes. You can handle his cheeky, flirtatious backside with ease, but this kind of Wooyoung is new territory for you.
"We… shit. This shouldn't have happened. This is the first rational thought to come out of your mouth all day. And you should have said it a lot sooner, before your two best friends made you cum twice with a squirting orgasm.
"Chagia, I think there's something we need to talk about, but first let's get you back to your normal self."
You don't argue; just nod and realize that San is absolutely right. You look like a complete mess, covered in saliva and lubricant. You can feel Wooyoung's cum seeping through the fabric of his pajama bottoms and drying on the inside of your thigh.
You look fucked.
"Yes, I think we have a lot to talk about."
It sounds terribly stupid, but what else can you say? Can we forget it? Or can we fuck again?
All your years of sexual longing for them have turned into a resounding slap in your face.
"Go take a bath, Peach, and we'll talk. San and I will take care of the rest."
For some reason, this sentence gave you a vague feeling of déjà vu. But you pushed the thought out of your head as quickly as it had come.
"Okay."
You finally slide off Wooyoung's lap, ignoring their stares at your almost naked body, there's no point in covering up or acting like a shy maiden, San's fingertips were rubbing your pussy just five minutes ago, bringing you to some kind of crazy orgasm, and the entire lower half of Woo's body is drenched in your secretions. If you've ever wanted to imagine how your friendship would turn out, this is it.
You trudge to the bathroom on your tired legs, pulling off your disgustingly wet thong on the way and throwing it on the floor. You turn on the light, turn on the tap and the whole room is immediately filled with the warm steam of hot water. Outside the door you can hear the muffled voices of the boys, who seem to be having some sort of heated argument, judging by San's irritated moaning and Wooyoung's loud whining.
You don't want to go into details; you still have time to destroy yourself. Your eyes catch sight of your reflection in the mirror. Tomorrow has come much earlier for you, if the fucked-up look on your face is any indication. Dishevelled hair, hickey marks, bruises and swollen lips from biting. What a beautiful morning after graduation!
"Wooyoung, you should have waited for me." San's voice is much louder now.
"As if I'm the only one who fucked her. Don't try to tell me it's all my fault."
You still don't want to join the conversation.
A pink, glistening puddle of something that smells like candy spreads across the bathtub. Thanks to Mingi, you have a whole collection of these colourful bombs. He's always had a soft spot for all things cute and charming, and he's taken every opportunity to spoil you to death with them.
With a tired sigh, you take another look at yourself in the mirror. So, Peach, are you ready for the consequences?
Turning away from your reflection, you lock the door with a click.
#ateez#ateez smut#ateez x reader#kpop smut#ateez fanfic#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#yunho x reader#yeosang x reader#san x reader#mingi x reader#wooyoung x reader#jongho x reader#hongjoong#seonghwa#yunho#yeosang#san#mingi#wooyoung#jongho#ateez ot8#ateez imagines#seonghwa smut#ateez san#san smut#hongjoong smut#ateez wooyoung#yunho smut#woosan
857 notes
·
View notes
Text
Roommate Yuuji Itadori Catches You Watching Porn
Pairing: Yuuji Itadori x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, roommates to lovers, voyeurism, caught masturbating, couch sex, blowjob, toy use, watching porn together, couch sex
A/N: Got another roommate Yuuji thing that I'm working on but I wanted to write this one first.
Roommate!Yuuji has always looked at you like you were special. From the moment the two of you moved in together he tried to be a good roommate, always knocking before entering your room and getting so flustered if he saw you in any state of undress.
Roommate!Yuuji kept his lewd desires to himself, always masturbating in the shower in the morning or very late at night when you're asleep. He would sometimes hear you if he got home late but not wanting to embarrass you he didn't say anything about it.
Roommate!Yuuji had no idea that you were the kind of person to masturbate in the living room. Then again he was supposed to be gone for the rest of the day and he was very quiet when he walked in. He could only see you from the back but there was no mistaking the distinct sloppy sounds of you fucking your pussy and the loud moaning coming from the tv screen.
Roommate!Yuuji wanted to pass by but he paused hard when he saw you were watching an actor who looked a lot like him, older but still pretty close. Not only that but you were fucking yourself with a pretty pink dildo, the exact same color as his hair and moaning the first few letters of his name. His cock was so hard, there was no way he could let it go down on it's own now.
Roommate!Yuuji didn't mean to scare you so much you dropped the dripping dildo on the couch. Fuck, your nipples are hard too, he wanted to suck them so badly. His cock was in his hand, hard and leaking with cum from watching you. He feels like a total perv but his horniness is bigger then his shame. And with your mouth open like that it looks perfect for fucking.
Roommate!Yuuji wants to confess before he does anything. If he read your signals wrong he can move back with his old roommate. Was he wrong, or do you love him back, lust for him? Yeah? That is really good because he's been pining for months. You want him to ask you out on a proper date of course but he's the one who interrupted you, so you think he should take responsibility and help you finish. Oh you're embarrassed for getting seen, but you want to suck his cock more.
Roommate!Yuuji braces against the couch as you suck him off and finger yourself at the same time. He's still looking at the tv screen wondering how many times did you get yourself off to stuff like this while thinking about him. You won't have to anymore, you live in the same apartment, whenever you feel horny come to him, he'll fuck you any time you want. His cock is at your disposal.
Roommate!Yuuji finishes on your face before he sees another porn start playing with the same actor, this time he's fucking his co-star over the couch. Would you like that too? What else would you wanna try? Tell him about the porn you watched and he'll fuck you just like that. He doesn't mind watching it with you. It can be a good way to get fammiliar with each others tastes.
Roommate!Yuuji is following the exact rhythm from the porn you're watching, but his touch feels more gentle, his words too being ones of love and praise, how he finally has your warm pussy after so many dirty dreams. He will try his best to please you, he swears it. It's probably gonna take a while for the two of you to get rid off all the pent up desire, not really a bad thing if you ask him.
Roommate!Yuuji finishes inside of you just like the actor in the porn did. This is his first time giving anyone a creampie and he thinks he's already addicted. Not just that he's officially addicted to fucking your pretty pussyhole, it feels like fate to him that you became roommates because no one else ever made him feel so happy and complete.
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#yuuji itadori x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#yuuji itadori smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jjk fanfic#yuuji itadori fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagine#jjk imagine#yuuji itadori imagine#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jjk x female reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kiss and Tell
(Can be found on ao3)
Steddie
WC: 2,279
Tags: Post Season 4, Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder, Eddie Munson Loves to Talk, Minor Angst, Mostly Fluff, Queer Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, But He Already Knows (Sort of), First Kiss, Lots of Kissing
Based on this post that I made. Happy reading! <3
--------
Steve has a staring problem. He knows this. He's been told this. And it's not something he can help or fix or find an alternative for. This is just what he knows.
It's something he's tried to maintain since he was a little boy. And, on that same note, is something he picked up while being a boy in a room with two adults who were fast talkers and big negotiators and all-in on the nature of their careers. But his parents certainly hate that he has a staring problem. Which, that's not unusual, most people hate that he does. Because he doesn't look them in the eyes for more than thirty seconds at a time. And even if he does, he doesn't hear a single thing they said, politely asking they start over, and feeling hurt when they just scoff as loud as possible and walk away from the conversation all together.
The audio just doesn't process. Never has. Probably never will.
He listens to music, but doesn't understand any meaning. He talks over the phone, but must have all other sound blocked out and the curtains shut and his eyes closed to imagine what the words look like leaving the other person's mouth. He argues, but loses track of the original point of the argument—when he laughs instead of apologizes.
And it would be fine—if—he wasn't close to losing his life every year. Where he has to listen to everybody and the important tiny details and the plans and the reasons for what they're doing. Which leads him to danger. Which gives him a bruised face. Which makes the listening even harder, once the concussion leaves and he's just got the leftover damage of his quirkiness.
It would be fine—if—he wasn't made to feel so stupid for what he must do. The jabs and the constant reminders and the...yeah, his sob story.
But there was Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, who he could keep up with. Because they'd talk about the same things over and over, until he could practically relay all the information, pulled straight from the deep crevices of his brain, and it ends up that they had forgotten, rather than him.
And there was Nancy Wheeler, who was polite enough to repeat things. Who had flash cards and a soft, focusing voice. It was easy to write off looking at her lips. "Eyes up here, Steve," she'd say. "Sorry," he'd respond sheepishly, "getting lost." And he'd chuckle and she'd giggle and then they'd kiss a little and he wouldn't be reminded that he's just a little weird. That, maybe, he just isn't normal.
Robin Buckley makes things easy-ish. She talks fast. And a lot. And she never looks him in the eyes, unless she's asking for a very serious favor, or he has something on his face, or she just feels the need (she claims it's that she hasn't looked in a while, but he shrugs her off every time). (If he can get away with staring at her lips, then she can get away with never looking him in the eyes.) He's mentioned, though, that he has a hard time following her sometimes. That he needs the words repeated a few times. Explained the lip thing, with a tense voice and a quake in his chest and his fingers tapping at the sides of his thighs. And, for a brief moment, he had felt like a creep. Like one of those weirdos that preys on the idea of women kissing. And he wanted to open up Family Video's register, shove his head inside, and sort himself out into the container of fives. But she shrugged, said "Okay," and went back on some ramble, to which he was immediately drawn to her mouth. And saw her repeat the name, Vickie, at least twenty times. He grinned and then when the store was empty, he leaned across the counter and teasingly said, "You have a big fat crush on Vickie, don't you?" To say that he was proud of her sputtering is an understatement.
Now, Dustin and the others were harder to get through. Because they moved at their own pace. And they don't really stop to add him to the conversation. He gets it, to an extent. He knows that he's not really all that intrigued in what they enjoy. (Even if he really leans into the conversation when they mention Sherlock Holmes or Dracula or Star Wars or, even, Star Trek. And he pretends to not be interested in their science fair projects. Or the one time he caught them huddled around a Sports Illustrated, in which he fought the urge to chat their ears off about both baseball and basketball statistics.) But there's a point in the conversations where he's made to feel a little dumb; even if he was staring where they were speaking, but they always grow frustrated, a huff of air released, when they notice he's not "paying attention" (translation: looking them in the eyes. "Because, Steve, it's just talking etiquette!" Dustin had shouted once).
He loves all of them anyway. Even if he misses words. And he loses track of what they were saying. He just wishes they were a little bit more forgivable about it at the end of the day.
Then, Eddie Munson is walking along side him in an alternate universe. He's peeled the vest off his back and chucked it at Steve. And they're talking. Jealous of one another, but talking. But, Eddie's voice goes soft and quiet, his eyes pointing towards Nancy's back.
Steve is looking at Nancy, words fading into the background. And it's not a moment of realization. Or a moment of longing. Yearning, what say you. No—it's one of his moments in which he's "listening," but not processing. So he looks back. And for a mere second, Eddie's eyes are big where Steve stares. Big and wet and curious. Big and wet and persuasive. Big and wet and not at all his lips and Steve is still not listening.
But his lips. Well, Steve's seen lips. These are pretty. They're pink. Chapped and bitten and plush appearing. Mesmerizing. Stretching over Eddie's sharp teeth, exposing dimples and smile lines, making his recent stubble more noticeable than it's ever been before. But his lips are pretty.
Like girls lips, Steve muses. Not really taking in what that means. Because Eddie's saying something about true love. And—shit—okay. Steve can get behind an act of true love. He can get behind sharing denim and coating Eddie's clothes in blood and staring down his lips and—god, his eyes, Steve can't help but notice once more.
Eddie's like a vulnerable cow. With pretty lips, he has to point out. Or a baby deer. With such pretty lips. And he's talking and Steve's finally listening. But it's not just processing. No, Steve's intrigued, interested even. He tilts his head like a curious puppy. Leaning in. Eddie's breath ghosts the tip of his nose. And, sure, it's a little rank. But weirdly sweet. Warm where Steve is otherwise cold. Warm in places Steve's never considered to feel warm in, but he's willing to give in, to wrap up in whatever Eddie has to say. If it all means more of him.
So, it makes sense that after all that they go through, Steve finds himself in Eddie's orbit. As a friend. As a trauma bond. As everything Eddie needs him to be.
He sits on the Munson's couch. On the cushion that dips a little too low. The lights orange and dim and casting beautiful streaks of almost candle light on Eddie's soft, beautiful features. Highlighting where his nose is the most bulbous. His pronounced Cupid's bow. The outer edges of his irises, golden and honey against the off-white of his scleras.
Eddie talks like Robin does. Excited. A lot. Fast. But his voice is soft, focused on the information—like Nancy's. It's teasing, like Dustin's. Soft, though. So gentle. Murmured. Which makes sense, if Steve were to stop and think about it for just a moment. With how late it is. With the little amount of weed they smoked. And it all just fits, with how slow and careful Eddie's lips move. As if testing the words. As if searching for what he means.
But, god, Steve is following along. Of course he is. Hanging onto each one of Eddie's words.
"So, the cashier at the record store got all apprehensive about selling me this tape. Which, I guess makes sense because it's a special edition. Comes with a photo card or whatever, but like—Come on, y'know? If he wanted it so bad, he should'a bought it the moment it dropped. Not my fault he slacks on not just his job, but also his opportunities," Eddie rambles. And, that's right, he's complaining about the music store encounter he had today. Trying to buy some album for some band. Steve got lost part of the way through, so he's not sure who exactly Eddie was getting a tape for. The style of music. But he has most of the information. He just—
Has to squint harder.
So, Steve leans in. As casual as he possibly can. And narrows his eyes at Eddie's lips. The word pretty comes to mind again. Because of course it does. And he can't pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. For some reason, the tips of his fingers tingle a little. Wanting to reach out. Trace his lower lip, right where it sticks out, just above the divot of his chin. Would it be soft, he asks himself. Does he wear chapstick? Steve sighs softly. I wish I could...taste it. His eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. But he ignores that in favor of whatever Eddie is saying. If only he could make it out. He leans impossibly closer.
And there it is again. The soft puffs of warm air. On the tip of his nose. His own lips. Tickling his stubble. Eddie's breath smells like weed and strawberry Tab; a little bit of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Maybe the smallest trace of pepper—
"Uh, Steve?" Eddie nervously calls out. But gets no response. Steve is only a couple inches away from his face. Eyes hooded. Glassy. Zeroed in on Eddie's lips. He's not talking. Doesn't even give a hum. Just...keeps staring.
Eddie sucks in a breath. Eyes darting over Steve's face. He doesn't talk again, hoping maybe Steve will stop. But, nope. In fact, the only thing Eddie gets as acknowledgement for the fact he's stopped talking, is that Steve pouts. Upset. As if his lips no longer moving is some great catastrophe to Steve, some tragedy, some misfortune.
And, Eddie, the awful wreck that he is, can only assume that this means one thing.
Steve wants a kiss. And is, maybe, too chicken shit to close the gap.
So, with no other option. And definitely not wanting to get away from the heated, stirring, calm mask of Steve's face—Eddie presses his mouth against Steve's. Hesitantly smushing their lips together. Dragging his lower lip against Steve's soft scowling one.
And he pulls away. Because Steve isn't doing anything in response.
No, in fact, Steve is extremely expressive now.
Wide eyes. Mouth opened into a silent "Oh." His cheeks are flushed. And as quick as it came upon him, whatever realization that was, fades. Like a cartoon character, Steve's face melts into one of pure infatuation. Mouth lilting. His posture slouching. Eyes going soft against the extreme red of his face.
"Do that again," Steve whispers.
Eddie obliges. And he obliges. And he keeps obliging until they're under a cool top sheet, skin slick with sweat and eyes piercing one another's mouths.
That's when, in the silent air of Eddie's tiny bedroom, Steve admits the greatest thing in the world. "I don't really process when people are talking unless I'm looking at their mouth. I have to read their lips. I didn't—I wasn't trying to kiss you at first, but—" And the motherfucker giggles. "If that's all it took..." Then he's kissing Eddie again. Like it's the last thing he'll ever get to do. And Eddie thinks, If I die from running out of breath doing this, then I've done everything in my life correctly.
So, sure, Steve has a huge staring problem. And he doesn't really listen. And it's something he'll never fix, even if there's a way to.
But he finds that his technique—the thing he's crafted since he was a little boy—no longer works. At least, not on Eddie. Because suddenly, looking at his gorgeous pink lips makes Steve only able to think about one thing: Kissing. And he can't follow along unless he fulfills that want.
Eddie could be in the middle of a deep, all inclusive description of his recent trap in the campaign he's crafting. He could be singing. He could be complaining about some movie he rented. But that doesn't matter. Because he stops talking the moment Steve leans in and kisses him. Kisses like he needs it to live.
And though he rolls his eyes. Huffs a breath. Smirks and barrels on. There's that giddiness, that love pooling in Eddie' heart. Just knowing the effect he has on Steve. And the way he's affected, too, when Steve just whispers, "Sorry, I got lost again. Start over?"
He obliges. And he keeps obliging. And his lips are usually swollen by the time he's finally done rambling.
Steve stares. Eddie talks. And it's the combination of a lifetime.
--------
❤️
#stranger things#fanfiction#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#fluff#first kiss#Steve Harrington has a bisexual awakening#Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder
951 notes
·
View notes
Note
Toji finngering u from behind while having his biceps crushing ur neck position does it make sense
18+ only content
the way I started giggling as I read this please this is so hot
tags: fem reader + explicit smut + he has you in a chokehold but he isn't choking you or anything although I wish he would :(
Toji would grumble when it came to your antics, such as when you wanted him to tie a ribbon around his bicep after watching those videos on your phone and having him do a pushup with you on him.
Seeing that light in your eyes is the reason he does it even though he pretends that it's going to kill him and you know him well enough he does that to make you giggle and roll your eyes and whine for him.
However, he wasn't expecting you to text him with a request.
He had just left for the gym after letting you drown in honey-sweet kisses that had him gripping onto your ass for dear life not wanting to go but Toji was well aware of how you acted when he got back home.
Incoming Message
You: I want you to put me in a chokehold when you get home, please? 🥺🙏🏻
When he read the message he couldn't help but chuckle and decided to work a little on his arms, the burning in his muscles was a pain he welcomed and of course, your marks down his back and love bites.
During his session with a few friends he met at the gym, Toji thought about you and what you were doing at home waiting for him, probably getting ready to take pictures to send and tease him with.
Two hours passed by like it was nothing and before he knew it Toji was unlocking the front door to a dark apartment. "I'm home darlin'!" He called out kicking his shoes off leaving them by the door as usual.
He knew you'd probably tell him not to and with the way you do it, Toji couldn't deny that it made him a bit turned on so sometimes he likes to get you riled up and bouncing up and down on his dick like a cowgirl while you whine and cry about him being too big to handle.
While lost in his thoughts he pushed open the door to the bedroom to see you belly down writing in your journal with your earbuds in, makes sense as to why you didn't hear him come in or anything.
A lot of the time people wouldn't think Toji is listening but he is, and he knew you would really enjoy being surprised, it's something you talked about before falling asleep or when you didn't think your husband was paying you any attention, but he was.
When the bed dipped with his weight you shrieked feeling his large hands grip your ass while kneeling between your legs. "Good thing you keep the door locked or I could've been someone else." He scolded slightly with a soft ass slap that made you squeal with glee.
"A masked intruder?" You teased feeling him drop his weight a little as he straddled you leaning over to press a wet kiss to your cheek.
"You'd like that, ya pervert." Toji teased back letting his hands follow the curve of your body until he reached his shirt you always wore after he did during the day, it smelt like him and it calmed you.
Like now.
His scent was musky and all male, his pheromones drove you wild with lust and need making your cunt slick with arousal. "Who's the pervert now?" You teased feeling his hands slid under your shirt.
"Takes one to know one." He shot back and moved to kneel between your legs again, you were in the perfect position for prone bone, one of your favorites. With the material bunched around your waist he saw you didn't put on any panties making him chuckle and groan.
You tried to roll over but Toji stopped you with one palm on your back as he moved closer to snake an arm around your neck letting your chin rest on the crease of his elbow as he played with your pussy.
Your soft whines made his dick twitch as did the warmth and wetness of your cunt that tried to suck his fingers in. "Isn't this what you wanted, sweetheart? Wanted me to have you pinned down while I take care of your needy pussy?" His words were thick with desire as he whispered in your ear grinding his hips on your ass when he could.
Toji was careful to make sure he didn't hurt you, but it was enough that you felt the pressure of him, his fingers thrust in and out of you with wet squelching that roared in your ears as he rubbed your clit.
His fingers were thick and always was able to provide you the stimulation you needed, and he knew your body like the back of his hand so it was easy to have you coming for him, hearing you sing his name so prettily like a dove.
#💌incoming#we aren't going to talk about how I suck at writing LMAOOOOO#toji x reader smut#toji smut#fushiguro toji x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut#toji x you
488 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
sony-sony
Untitled
elbowcolumn31
The Journey of Stroud 431
editsbutterfly
welcome
rednecksandrebels
Rednecks and Rebels
sacredlybound-blog
Sacredly Bound