#warning: not edited to usual standards | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

euphoricfilter · 2 years

Note

omg i LOVED open the way u wrote tae was so 😩✊💦💯✨ i’m addicted to ur writing style!!! if ur still doing requests could u pls do taehyung x reader where he’s your aunt’s boyfriend and he’s really into you and lowkey flirts with you but you don’t realize how much until you two are left alone 🫣 ends with smut and can be yandere hehe the rest is up to you bc i trust you dear author!!

𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭:

pairing: yandere! taehyung x f! reader

genre: smut || non-idol au || fluffy-ish but in a kinda dark way

summary: it’s wrong, but it feels so good.

word count: 4.5k

tags/ warnings: slight age-gap, stalking, infidelity, coercion, naive! reader, but she means well, anxiety, briefly mentioned panic attack, smut in the forms of: unprotected sex (this is fiction don’t be stupid), dom! tae, sub! reader, big dick! tae, ddlg themes, cry baby reader, thigh riding, fingering, dick riding, creampie, squirting, slight cum play, cockwarming

notes: yes! thank you for having so much faith in me, and i hope this lives up to your expectations :’)

request rules can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Taehyung remembers the exact day he fell in love with you. How he’d been mindlessly flicking through dating apps for a quick fuck; only to stumble across, well not you, but your aunt.

She was pretty. Conventionally attractive at most, a little plain, but seemed like she’d gotten around with enough men to please him for the night. The skimpy little lingerie pictures enough for him to know that she was somewhat desperate in her search for a partner and maybe all she had to offer was her decent body— by his standards.

And as he’d been scrolling through her other photos, mingled among half naked mirror selfies, there you were. The prettiest little thing he’d ever seen.

He’d found all your aunt’s social media before making the leap to message her, wanting to know just how close the two of you were and if this little plan of his would be worth it in the long run.

There were photos upon photos of you posted on every profile she had. Like a little trophy, your achievements now her own to flaunt to the world through the web.

You and your aunt were close. That much he had gathered from her social media. Peeved that he was unable to find your own, left to see your aunt’s grating face beside yours in every photo. Nothing a little editing couldn’t fix. He had already picked out a cute photo album for all the pictures he planned to take with you.

He later found out that his soon-to-be girlfriend was more your sister than auntie. With 15 years between your mother and herself, she’d always felt too young to be anything other than a sibling your mother was never willing to have, leaving you as an only child.

And only child who still lived home with their mother because the big wide world is too scary for some people.

That just gave Taehyung another reason to take care of you. While your mother bitched at you about finding a job, with him you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The ground you stepped on too precious, hands too delicate, body a temple that he planned to worship.

Your aunt was a little older than he would usually go for, but anything to have you in his clutches, the sacrifice was worth every second.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

It’s easy to woo a woman who’s desperate. A few sweet nothings and a big dick can get you a long way with a pitiful lady whose self-esteem lays in the depths of hell. Luckily, he lurked that low, and now he had a prize he was trying to win, kneeling before the devil himself to have you as his own.

It wasn’t long before your aunt had invited him to dinner with you and your mother. Caring more about your validation than your mothers, but he wasn’t all that bothered about the woman anyways. A spitting image of you if you were to age 20 odd years. But it wasn’t her he was after.

And Taehyung could feel his cock throb under his slacks at the sight of you, fidgeting under his gaze as he takes a little longer than proper watching you from across the table; though neither your mother nor his girlfriend seemed to notice, too hung up in their own little catch-up to care.

He could see your fingers itching to pick up the crayons left by the last little family that had sat at the table, your eyes trained on the maze from the kids menu. Probably mapping out the way in your mind, squirming when he assumes you’d escaped the maze.

And Taehyung wants to coo when your mother tells one of the waitresses to clean up the mess; pitiful pout on your lips that you hide behind your teeth when she turns to you, asking what you wanted to order.

Your eyes flit to the menu, then to your mother, then over to Taehyung before blurting you’ll just have salad. Unbothered, your mother shrugs, calling over the waitress again when she asks the rest of the table if they’re ready to order.

Taehyung thinks the little dinosaur shaped nuggets would have suited you better. Maybe a pretty pink milkshake to match your pretty pink cheeks.

He wouldn’t mind feeding you spoonfuls of whipped cream between bites of french fries, and then buying you a cute strawberry cake for afters. You look like you might have liked the brownies and vanilla ice cream better though.

Maybe he could spoil you a little, buy you both and when you shake your head, claiming to be too full; he’d pull you over his lap, teasing the edge of your panties as he makes you lick the chocolate sauce off his fingers.

And oh how sweet you would taste after that. He doesn’t think he’d be able to stop kissing you until your lips are swollen with his love, sticky with his spit and left over ice cream that he would clean with his tongue.

His mood sours when his girlfriend runs a hand along the length of his thigh, lovestruck smile plastered on her face as your mother asks questions on how the two of them met.

His little fantasy of your perfect little date being shattered by the shrill voice of your aunt as he fawns over your new sweater that your mother informs them that you’d ordered online.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

He eased you into it. His own little game of how long he can keep up his flirty little touches before someone noticed.

Carefully brushing over your back as he walked past you. His arm slung around your shoulder when you’d be stood by yourself in the garden as the rest of your family gathers around the grill. More interested in the smell of food than one another.

But Taehyung found you didn’t like large groups of people, family or not, loud noises picking at your brain, like an itch that won’t go away until tears gathered on your waterline and Taehyung would have to sit in the corner of your room with you until you calmed down. Your head in his lap as he runs his fingers through your hair.

Because he seemed to be the only one who cared that you’d had a panic attack, worried to leave you alone, to cry until your head hurt. To then feel sorry for yourself as you curl up between the arms of your plushies that line the bed. Now why would you do that, when he could hold you tighter than your little bear ever could?

“Thanks for helping her. Poor thing, her anxiety has been worse as of late. Must be school” his girlfriend whispers from the door, heart swelling with happiness at the image of you two together.

“Having such large family gatherings isn’t helping” he mutters, tongue poking the inside of his his cheek as your aunt waves him off.

“We’ll get her to stay up in her room next week then”

Other times, his fingers lingering over your own a little longer than they should as he gives you gifts.

You assume Taehyung must come from money. If the shiny looking pearls that hung around your aunt’s neck were anything to go by. Her dead-end, 9-5 job could barely cover rent, you doubted she was splurging on overpriced rocks and fancy dinners that she flaunts when she comes over. Making you scroll through endless pictures of 5 course meals that you have no interest in.

He never spoke of himself much. You had never heard of his parents, nor did he ever seem busy with friends when it came to your weekly dinners. Your aunt didn’t seem to care either way; having won the jackpot with a rich, hot boyfriend that would fuck her like a common whore at night and treat her like royalty during the day.

Taehyung was very generous, you knew that much. He often came a couple of times a week to visit you with your auntie. And each week he would have a new gift for you.

“You spoil her too much” your mother had tutted one afternoon. You hadn’t said anything, too preoccupied with the paint set Taehyung had wrapped in pretty wrapping paper. Pink with scattered little red hearts.

You’d started to keep the wrapping paper Taehyung gave your gifts in. Gluing them in an empty notebook with the dates written in your best hand writing beside them. Because it felt like a waste to throw such pretty paper away. And it always left you wondering why he had so much wrapping paper to begin with. Maybe he just likes giving, and then you read online that it was a love language, did that mean Taehyung loved you?

Gentle touches had turned to your knees grazing as you sat beside one another on the couch. To you sat between Taehyung’s legs from the floor, while he sat on the chair as you both played a game on the TV.

Some evenings while his girlfriend helped your mother in the kitchen he would lay your thighs across his own, fingers skimming the bare skin until goosebumps prickled in his wake. And he’d hide a smile behind his hands as you squirmed over his lap.

He starts feeding you at dinner, disguised as him asking for your opinion on a new recipe he was trying out. To suggesting what you order when you go out for dinner together with your aunt who was in awe of how well the two of you got along.

Compliments had started off simple too.

‘You look pretty today’ turning to ‘My y/n is so beautiful’ while his arms wrap around your waist. Praise of your beauty never ending, it seemed Taehyung had a compliment stored away on his tongue for all hours of the day. Even when you’d just woken up, hair tangled and eyes a little puffy from eating ramen so late the night before. He had given you a gentle ‘good morning’ as he brought you into his chest for a hug.

His heart had swelled once you’d gotten more comfortable with him. Albeit still awfully shy, you had now started to approach him first. The years of dating your aunt finally paying off as you gift him your own paintings. Thank you cards decorated with the little stickers he’d bought for you and way too much washy tape.

His favorite of your little gifts so far had been the small cakes you’d baked after hearing him tell your beloved aunt that chocolate was his favorite. It wasn’t. It was yours, but he liked the smile on your face when he’d said that, and the fact you both had something in common, even it were as insignificant as your aunt had pointed out.

He’d tugged your chair closer to his own that evening. Aware of your eyes watching his every little move as he shoveled your cake into his mouth. Low hum of appreciation rumbling in his chest as he gives you a cheeky smile.

He adores the way your cheeks had flushed red when he’d carded his fingers through your hair, “So smart. It’s delicious, darling”

And you hadn’t been able to contain your smile.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Baby, can you take Y/n to the train station? I think she’s meeting a friend out of town but her mum’s gone for the weekend and I have work in the morning”

And of course he’d agreed.

And that’s how he found you, wrapped up warm in your winter coat in the passenger side of his car; nose red from the bitter cold morning air. Perfect for kissing, but he doesn’t want to scare you off when he’s so close to where he needs you.

“Meeting a friend?” he asks as you shut the car door. Leaning over to help strap you in, you don’t seem to mind, unfazed as his arm reaches over your body, and Taehyung thinks you really must be perfect; needing his help, needing someone to just take care of you in the way you deserve. In the way he knows you need.

“Yeah” you nod, voice barely above a whisper, but he hears you, attuned to how soft you spoke.

“A close one?”

You shrug. “We used to be, but she moved out of town for school and thought we’d catch up while she’s on winter break”

She.

Taehyung’s lips curl up, “Must be nice to catch up”

You hum at that. Feet tapping against the floor.

“You don’t look very excited, baby” his eyes flit to look at your face, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

He’s moments away from touching your lips, ready to scold you that you shouldn’t chew on the skin until it bled, a bad habit he’d come to see you have; but the car behind beeps and he’s stepping on the gas, eyes-brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Just a little scared of taking the train” you admit, hands tucked under your thighs.

“Nothing to be scared of, i’ll be here when you get back” he smiles over at you, and you nod slowly at that.

“Is that really okay?” you ask him.

And Taehyung wants to coo, “Of course, baby. Just call me when you’re on the way home, and i’ll be here right as the train gets in”

“Promise?” you look up at him through your lashes and Taehyung feels his cock throb at your desperation.

“Pinky promise” he gives you his little fingers after he parks the car.

You connect your finger with his own, gentle smile tugging at the corner of your lips as he stamps your thumbs together.

“You got everything?” he asks, leaning over into the back seat to grab your bag.

“I think so” you nod.

“Money?”

You hum.

“What about my goodbye kiss?” he asks, and you simply blink up at him.

“Kiss?” you gape.

“Mhm” he nods, tapping his cheek.

“I thought kisses were only for family” you whisper and Taehyung’s head tips back against the seat.

“I am family, aren’t I?” he turns to look at you, and you think he looks sad, a pang of guilt striking through your heart at his disheartened expression.

Your head tilts a little, “I guess so”

You lean over the center console, hand landing on Taehyung’s thigh as you lean up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. Taehyung turns his head a little, your lips pressing against the corner of his own, though you don’t seem to notice as you keep your eyes closed.

“Good girl, now be quick or you’ll miss the train” he runs his thumb over your cheek.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

As promised Taehyung was there when you’d gotten off the train. His arm wrapping tightly around your shoulder as he pulled you into his chest. The gentle beating of his heart through his thick sweater lulling your anxieties, fingers holding onto his arms like you would crumble if he were to let go of you.

“I got you this” you’d told him once you’d gotten home, inviting Taehyung in to warm up with a hot coffee before he left, “I got one too, so we could be matching” you rock back and forth on your feet.

You drop the little keychain into his palm, character from a game he’d seen you play many times carved out of wood and delicately painted.

“It’s beautiful, baby”

Taehyung thinks he can see the cogs of your mind start to overheat at the pet name. No more anxiety there to overshadow the term of endearment. Your cheeks flushing pink as you flop down onto the couch beside him.

“Come here and tell me about you day then” he pats his thigh.

You look up at him, eye brows furrowing in confusion.

“Need me to help you, hmm?” his hands hold under your arms, tugging you up your your legs straddle one of his thighs. You squeak at the sudden motion, hands grabbing onto his shoulders for support.

He feels your thighs clench as he stabilizes you, cunt throbbing as he holds onto your hips.

“Taehyung” you whisper, fingers clasped onto his sweater.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, gentle smile on his face. Expression so innocent you feel bad for thinking he had an ulterior motive.

“We’re not meant to be doing this” you squirm, pouting when his hands hold onto your hips tighter.

“Doing what?”

Your mouth stays shut, humiliation bubbling through your body as Taehyung watches your face. You shake your head.

“Don’t be shy, baby” he smiles, hand coming to cradle your face in his palm.

You lean into his touch. Hips stuttering forwards as he urges you on.

A chocked whimper drips off your tongue like honey as your panties brush against your clit.

“Like that baby?” he asks, shushing you when you open your mouth to protest.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you” he hums, rocking your hips for you. Your head falls onto his shoulder as jolts of pleasure wrack down your body, slick staining your panties.

A broken moan slips off your lips as Taehyung rocks you harder, slowly brining you to the peak of pleasure, moments away from tumbling into what will be your first orgasm of the night. You whimper against his neck, warm breath fanning his skin as you now rock your hips, Taehyung clenching the muscles of his thigh to help you get off.

“Go on little one, cum for me” Taehyung urges, hands slipping down to grab your ass as your hips stutter. Your thighs shake, teeth sinking into the skin of his neck as you fall over the edge. Little stars scattered behind your eye lids.

“Well done, baby” he soothes, pulling you into his chest.

Your breath comes out uneven, tears cascading down your cheeks in little pearls.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Taehyung pulls your face away from his neck, thumb coming to brush away your tears.

“I did something bad” you snivel, trying to pull yourself off Taehyung’s lap.

He hold you down, tutting. “You haven’t done anything wrong” he shakes his head, easy laugh reverberating through his chest and you just shake your head.

“You’re— you’re dating my aunt, we shouldn’t— I shouldn’t— I just- ” you squirm out of his lap.

Taehyung grabs onto your back, cradling your head between the junction of his neck and shoulder, rocking the both of you back and forth as you let the tears fall.

“You’re okay” he hushes, gentle hands rubbing down your back as you hiccup, “It’ll be our little secret, yeah? Just wanna make you feel good, you’ve been such a good girl recently”

Your shoulders shake as more tears dribble down your cheeks, “been good?” you ask, voice a little broken from the tears.

“Very good. The best even, don’t you think you deserve a treat?”

“Taehyungie always gives me a treat” you use the sleeve of your sweater to wipe your cheeks, hips rocking forward a little.

Taehyung’s hands smooth down your back, “I haven’t given you a treat for being so brave. Going on the train all by yourself, i’m proud of you, darling” he hums, bouncing the leg you were sat on.

Taehyung can feel your cunt clenching around nothing through his jeans, your hips rutting against his leg like a little puppy. He tangles a hand in your hair, pulling your face out of his neck and he feels his head tip back at the look of your tear streaked cheeks, a little blotchy, your eyes begging Taehyung to defile you.

“Has anyone ever touched you here, baby?” his hands slip between the waist band of your sweats, finger toying with the cute little bow on your underwear.

You nod, thigh twitching as Taehyung eases his hand into your panties. Fingers parting your slit, gathering your wetness before he slicks up your clit.

You fall into him, arms slung over his shoulders as he draws lazy circles on your sensitive pearl.

“Yeah? Did they make you cum?”

“No” you whisper, and Taehyung laughs. A daunting laugh that sends a shiver down your spine.

“That was selfish of them, wasn’t it, darling?” he frowns, and if you weren’t so drunk on the pleasure that consumed your body, you may have noticed how condescending his tone was.

“Let’s take these off, shall we” he pats your behind, smiling as you lift your ass high enough for him to slip both your sweats and panties over your thighs.

His fingers return to your clit, letting you buck your hips up to meet his fingers. You whine when he dips them lower, stimulation suddenly gone, the orgasm that was slowly building dissipating as he nudges the entrance to your cunt.

You roll your hips forward, wad of slick dripping from your hole onto his jeans as you wait for him to push a finger inside of you.

“Taehyungie” you snivel, another wave of pitiful tears glazing your cheeks in saline pearls.

“What, doll? What do you want Taehyungie to do?” he urges, blood flowing south at the way your mouth falls open in a pitiful whine. “I cant do anything if you don’t ask”

You take a hold of his hand, pulling it towards your sodden core, “here, please”

“Yeah?” he asks, sinking a finger into you.

You let out a breathy sigh as he adds a second, using your thighs to bounce on his fingers, you pull your sweater over your breasts, matching little bra on display for Taehyung to see.

“So cute, baby. And all mine” he croons, crooking his fingers, as he leans forward to press a kiss to the swell of your breast, your cheeks heating from the crude squelch your pussy was making.

Taehyung uses his free hand to tug your bra down, watching your cute tits as your bounce over his lap, your knee nudging against his cock.

“Want you to come over my cock, darling” he groans, fingers slipping from wet core.

You unzip his jeans, fingers a little shaky as you help his pull both his pants and boxers off before they’re discarded on the floor somewhere.

It felt wrong. Fucking in the living room where anyone could open the front door and walk in. You might have been a little more worried if you mum wasn’t gone for a couple of days, and you knew your aunt was at work.

You felt a pang of guilt at the thought of your aunt. What would she think if she were to find out.

But Taehyung just wanted to make you feel good. Surely there was nothing wrong with that.

“Up you go” Taehyung helps you straddle both his thighs, hard cock slapping against your leg, coating it in a sheen of his sticky precum.

He holds the shaft, one hand on your thigh to help lower you onto his cock. You whimper as the thick head pops through your entrance, your mouth falling open as a lick of pain shoots up your spine.

You stay with the tip sat inside you, your hips rocking a little to try and adjust to the size.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me” he shushes when you moan, trying to push in another inch.

Taehyung spits onto two of his fingers, bringing them down to toy with your clit. Your thighs quiver, sinking another inch of his thick cock inside of you. “Almost there, baby”

You pull up until the tip, dropping all the way so your ass meets his thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck, a fresh wave of tears dribbling down your cheeks.

“No need to cry” Taehyung eases his hands down your sides, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he feels your cunt convulse around his length.

“Feels good” you hiccup, “like feeling full”

Taehyung groans at that, hands gripping the meat of your waist, pulling you up his length before he slowly sinks you back down. You moan, breathy and cute and Taehyung wishes he could shove you against the couch and fuck you within an inch of your life but he supposes your first time together could be a little slower.

“Just like that” he praises as you start to bounce on his cock, wetness pooling around the base, coating your own thighs in your own heady arousal.

It was lewd, the noises your pussy were making as you dropped back down onto Taehyung’s dick. He uses the floor as leverage, fucking up into you, making sure his cock was as far into you as he could go.

You cry out, his name the only words you seemed to know as your orgasm slowly starts to build.

Your teeth nip at his neck, saliva painting his skin. “Wanna cum” you whine.

Your breathing stutters when his fingers find your clit, relentless as he flicks the swollen bud. Your thighs start to shake, leaving Taehyung to thrust up into you with all he had.

“Wait—“ you squeak, vulgar moan cutting you off, “feels like i’m gonna pee” you cry, trying to push yourself off Taehyung’s cock. He holds you down, continuing to fuck up into you.

“Just let it go, doll” he groans, head tipped back against the back of the couch.

“No” you cry, “I really have to—“ you’re cut off as you feel what you can only describe as an explosion of wetness leak from your cunt.

Taehyung’s cock slips out of you at the force of it, your thighs shaking as Taehyung holds you to his chest, fingers slowing down their figures of eight on your clit as he helps you ride out your high.

“Well done, baby. You squirted” he soothes, lazy smile on his face as he lines his cock back up with your cunt, “it’s almost over, i’m close” he tells you.

You simply lay slumped against his chest. Hips jutting forward in overstimulation as Taehyung slowly drags his cock through your walls.

“Too much” you try to pull away, only for Taehyung to bring his hand down, a harsh slap on your ass.

You hiccup at that, walls sporadically clenching around his length to bring him to his peak.

Taehyung’s hips stutter, thrusts sloppy as he nears his orgasm. You feel his cock twitch before he’s flooding your cunt with his thick cum, painting your walls white.

You cum again at the feeling as Taehyung continues to rock into you, his dick slipping out of your soiled hole before he’s pushing it back into you again, making sure his cum is as deep as it can go before he keeps you sat on his cock.

He slowly starts to soften inside of you, dick twitching in interest as your cunt continues to clench around his length.

And it’s not long before you’re dozing off, still impaled on his cock as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“My precious girl” he smiles.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #taehyung #taehyung x y/n #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #bts x reader #bts requests #taehyung imagine #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #bts yandere #bts au #yandere taehyung #our little secret

4K notes · View notes

withleeknow · 3 months

Text

wishful thinking. (05)

chapter five: say what you mean

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, kissing, we’re starting to dip our toes into angsty territory !!, less edited than i’d like but what’s new lol word count: 2.8k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you’re ready My head’s getting heavy, pressed against your arm Just to adore you, I adore you

Adore - Dean Lewis

Whenever Minho asks if you two could hang out together at your place, it usually means that you will end up in your bed.

Tonight you suppose is no different.

Even though you often cap off the night having engaged in activities that could make the Victorian lady in Hyunjin faint, it’s not all that you do. Both you and Minho never let yourselves forget that you’re friends first and foremost. Sex is the added benefit that should never take anything away from your friendship. He is still one of the people you’re most comfortable with, one of the few people whose company you enjoy.

You’re sprawled out on the couch in your small living room when Minho returns from the kitchen with a plate of freshly peeled tangerines, the same ones that he brought over earlier. You push yourself to half-sit up so he could squeeze himself between you and the armrest, before you go back to laying your head on his lap as you two resume watching a bad movie that you put on.

“I hate this so much,” you comment, your eyes glued to the TV screen.

“You picked the movie,” Minho says. “It’s not that bad. The plot is kind of decent.”

“I’m not talking about that. Jeez, if they wanted to make a movie where the main character is a graphic designer, you’d think that they would at least consult someone who knows literally anything about visual art. Look at that horrendous typography job, the text isn’t even aligned with the edges and corners. This is hurting my soul.”

Your cushions (Minho’s thighs) shake lightly as he laughs at your dramatic outburst over something as trivial as a fictional character’s poor standards of digital art. But you really aren’t kidding; the way the woman on screen is butchering the text alignment is quite literally making that very particular part of your brain want to shut down for the next five to seven business days.

“They should’ve consulted you first, is that right?” Minho asks.

“They really should have. I could’ve done wonders for them,” you say matter-of-factly. “I almost majored in graphic design, y’know.”

You have a habit of biting your tongue around others because you know that people don’t really care about the same things you do. Whenever the opportunity arises for you to share tidbits about your interests, excitement would tumble out of you only to be quashed soon after when no one wants to listen to your silly little rambles. It’s disheartening, you’re used to it.

But you never feel that way around Minho. He always lets you babble on about anything and everything, even if he might not know what the hell you’re talking about. He indulges you. He never makes you feel neglected or ignored.

“Hmm, my little genius artist.” He taps your cheek once, and when you turn your head to glance at him, he tells you to open up before he slips a slice of tangerine past your lips. “You’re right. Even I can tell that it’s horrendous.”

You hum appreciatively when the sweetness of the juicy fruit floods your tastebuds. Minho’s hand trails down your arm to rest on your stomach, just below your ribs where he fiddles with the worn fabric of your sleep shirt. If he moves his hand up, he would be grazing your bare chest underneath your shirt. You didn’t bother with a bra because, well, comfort above all else, especially within the four walls of your own home. Besides, it’s nothing that Minho hasn’t seen anyway.

He keeps on feeding you tangerines in between your complaints about bad design standards until the movie ends and the plate is cleared. The only sound in the room is the soft music on the TV as the credits start to roll.

You turn to lie on your back, staring up at Minho. “That was deeply disturbing.”

“You chose it,” he reminds you. “You went in knowing what the premise was.”

“Yeah, I have no one to blame but me. I had too much faith in humanity.”

“And you call me weird.”

“You are weird,” you say. “But I like weird.”

Minho looks down at you and for a moment, he says nothing. His fingers trace something on your stomach. A heart or an odd circle, you don’t know; you’re always bad at deciphering those. His eyelids fall a bit, softening the usual sharpness of his gaze.

Then he’s pulling you by your shoulders, guiding you to sit up and before you know it, you’re situated on his lap with one of his hands on your waist, the other on the back of your neck. Minho tugs you closer, meeting your lips in a kiss in which you waste no time returning.

He’s sweet, like the tangerines that you were sharing all evening. It tends to start like this - sort of randomly, whenever it feels right. He squeezes your side in a comforting gesture as his tongue slips into your mouth. There are times where it’s more urgent, where one of you is needy and desperately seeks the escape and release that can only be found in the other’s embrace. Other times, it’s slower, more gentle, where you can really focus on making each other feel fully satiated.

This, right now - you would pinpoint somewhere in the middle. There’s no fiery clothes-ripping urge, nor a need to lay the other person bare and knead every single knot of stress from their system. Today, there’s just languid wanting; an unhurried inclination to be close.

Him and his tangerine flavored kiss, you and your resolve built on shaky foundation.

You start rolling your hips over his, tugging on his shirt because you want to feel his skin against yours. Minho stops you though; he puts both hands on your hips and pulls his lips away from yours. You blink, dazed, confused.

“I...” he starts, trying to even out his breathing as he finds the words. “I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

Embarrassment instantly washes over you. The rejection is a little humiliating; it’s the first time you’ve ever felt like this around him. Your cheeks catch fire from the mortification, and you’re very aware that you’re still sitting in his lap, right over his crotch.

Wanting to climb off of him and just fucking bury yourself in a ditch, you start stuttering like an absolute fool, “Oh... Y-yeah, no, of course! Shit, shit, I’m sorry. Of course we don’t have t-”

Minho holds you in place, one of the hands on your hips goes to cup your cheek to make you look at him. It effectively shuts you right up.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have phrased it like that,” he says, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in an earnest apology. “I just want to keep kissing you. Is that okay?”

You’re at a loss for words. He’s holding your face, your waist, so delicately. He looks drunk on your presence alone even though neither of you have had a single drop of alcohol tonight, so sincere in his simple request that you feel your heart swell tenfold.

You want it too. You’re more than okay with just kissing him.

You don’t answer him verbally. Instead, you just nod and move to kiss him again, your hands tangled in his soft hair. The sweetness of the tangerines grows more and more distant as you chase his lips, but you can taste his smile. It’s infinitely more saccharine, and it only grows sweeter when he holds you close and knocks the breath out of you.

When you pull away for air, you slump against him, hiding your face in the crook of his face, shy all of a sudden. He keeps you there but continues with his onslaught of kisses - on your hair, your cheek, your neck, anywhere his lips can reach. Like he simply can’t get enough of you.

“You really like kissing,” you comment, giggling quietly as you do. “Even when we… y’know, bone.”

“Bone? You’re so romantic, babe.” You feel the rumbles of Minho’s chest as he lets out a hearty laugh, the sound of which fills the space of your modest home, embeds itself in every nook and crevice, in between every minuscule crack in your walls until the whole place feels warmer, brighter somehow. “Are you complaining?”

“No... just pointing it out.”

“Well, I like kissing you,” he says. “You’re not a terrible kisser, I guess.”

You sit up straighter and catch the teasing grin on his face before you roll your eyes. “Gee, thanks. You really know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“Says the girl who uses ‘bone’ to describe sex.”

“It’s a perfectly good euphemism for ‘sex’.”

“You might as well just say ‘boink’.”

“Literally shut up.”

“Sure.”

Then he’s pressing his mischievous smile against your mouth once more, and you can’t really wrap your mind around how it’s even possible that he keeps getting sweeter and sweeter. His sugary kisses send warmth tingling up your spine, make a fluttery sensation erupt in your stomach. You’re lightheaded, and not the kind that can be remedied by a sufficient fix of blood oxygen.

Even though you’re perfectly content with kissing, there’s a certain implication that comes with only kissing that you’re not sure what to do with. He’s literally inside of you on a weekly basis and yet, this feels much more intimate than anything you two have ever done.

Because friends don’t kiss each other the way he’s kissing you right now. Friends don’t kiss each other the way you’re kissing him back.

A chime from your phone breaks you two apart, the intrusion forcing a mildly frustrated grunt from Minho. You find the mobile device hidden between the cushions of your couch, and after you quickly scan the notification on the screen, you tell him, “It’s Hyunjin.”

“What did I say? It’s always him at the scene of the crime,” Minho mutters, speaking in the same tone that one would when their sibling interrupts a round of their favorite video game. “What does he want?”

“Just wants me to send him a photo of the sample portfolio from our class.”

“Ignore him. He can wait.”

“He’ll call me if I don’t reply.”

“He’s so annoying,” Minho grumbles but loosens his hold on you nonetheless. “Hurry back.”

“It’ll only take a minute, you big baby,” you chuckle, pressing a swift peck to his lips before you get up from the couch and head toward your bedroom with your phone in hand, searching for the binder that Hyunjin is asking about.

Once you’ve snapped the picture and sent it to your friend, you return to the living room. When Minho hears your footsteps, he holds out an arm, silently beckoning you into his embrace again. And you do. You slide into the space next to him, slotting perfectly against his side.

Your fingers absentmindedly trace along his forearm until they reach his wrist. “This is pretty,” you say, touching the thin link bracelet that he always wears, the one with a small charm hanging off the center in the simple outline of a dove.

“You like it? I’ve had it for ages.”

“Mhmm, it suits you.”

A moment passes where you both sit in silence as you fiddle with the gold jewelry, and you can feel Minho’s eyes on your face the entire time. After a while, he pries your fingers off his skin, only to swiftly take off the trinket.

“No, Min. What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer you. You attempt (in vain) to pull your wrist back but Minho is stronger. He holds it in place as he clasps the chain around your wrist.

“Minho, you are not giving me your bracelet.”

“Relax. It’s not like it was passed down from my great-great-grandfather. It’s just a random bracelet I bought when I was 18.”

“Why would you even give me your bracelet?”

He shrugs, as though he’s merely doing something as simple as letting you borrow you a pen. “It looks good on you.”

You look down to where his hand is still on your skin, his thumb gently sliding over your pulse point as he admires how the dainty gold reflects the dim lighting in your home.

And he’s right. It does look good, but he probably doesn’t mean it in the same way that you’re thinking of right now. You think it looks good because it’s something that belongs to him that’s now wrapped snugly around your wrist, like some sort of affirmation spoken in a language that only the two of you can understand.

Minho leans over and presses his warm lips to your forehead. It takes you by surprise, the way he does it as if it’s second nature to be this affectionate with you. It’s a tipping point, then suddenly your thoughts are running rampant.

The instruction has always been plain and simple: No strings attached.

But...

The chaste kisses with no expectation of sex, being protective when you’re in the presence of other guys, even giving you his bracelet to wear just because you said it was pretty.

Why do all of these sound an awful lot like strings?

You hesitate, then you ask, “What are we doing?”

“Hmm? You wanna watch another movie?”

“No, that’s not... What are we doing?” You don’t even know what word to put more emphasis on.

Minho looks at you and loosens his fingers. What he can’t understand through your words, you think he sees it in your eyes. “Say what you mean.”

“Are we friends?”

“Of course we are.”

“Are we still friends?”

“Do you not want to be friends anymore?” He cracks a smile, but you can tell that he’s just doing it to lighten you up. “You have terrible timing. I literally just gave you a bracelet.”

“Friends don’t do that.”

“Friends don’t give each other bracelets?”

“Friends don’t kiss like that.”

Minho seems a bit taken aback, though he regains his composure in mere seconds, his voice calm as he tells you, “Friends don’t have sex either.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. What are you saying? You brought it up.”

You open your mouth, only to subsequently close it because your thoughts were never really that coherent in the first place. You look away from him to glance down at your wrist.

“You’re being confusing,” Minho says quietly, honestly.

“I just… I don’t want anything to change.”

“Did anything change for you?” he asks.

“No,” is what you tell him after a long minute, when what you really mean to say is I don’t know. You can see it as it happens, some stars fading from his eyes, some light growing more faint in his irises. Though the despondence on his face disappears so fast that you’re not sure if it was even there at all, or if it was only a figment of your imagination.

Then you throw the question back at him. “Did anything change? For you?”

Minho’s answer is the same as yours - a clear No - and yet, it makes you feel like you’ve been punctured by something sharp. You don’t know why your heart drops upon hearing him say the exact same thing that you did, but you try not to let it show on your face. Your poker face isn’t anywhere as good as his, but you hope that it’s enough.

You give him a tight-lipped smile and nod a little.

“Then nothing’s changed.” He strokes your hair, emphasizing his point with a soft smile as he reassures you, “And nothing has to change. It’s a bracelet, don’t overthink it. We’re good.”

Sometimes, the decisions you make are bad because you can foresee the outcomes, or at least, you have an idea of the consequences will be later on and yet, you still choose to go through with it anyway.

Just like how you chose to watch a movie you knew would drive you crazy with its trivial details, you choose to accept the feeling of Minho’s bracelet around your wrist. You choose to believe him when he said nothing has changed, and that nothing has to change. You choose to sweep under the rug the thoughts that you’ve been having about him lately. You choose to overlook the reason why you’ve been having those thoughts instead of facing it head-on because you’re terrified of what you’d find if you dig deeper.

You choose to let the conversation end here though it still lingers in your mind, and you choose to let him kiss you goodnight when he leaves because tonight has already been a series of bad decision after bad decision anyway.

And when you fall asleep, it’s the soothing coolness of the golden dove against your skin that lulls you to slumber, like he’s here right beside you to hold you through the night.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken @extrhotjne @caitxx1 @palindrome969 @todorokiskitten @azuna-sz @meanergreener @nxzz-skz @jazziwritesthings @poutypoutybin @bookyeom (italicized = can’t tag)

series taglist: @eyesforlino @armystay89 @nuronhe @becomingmina @astro-doll-the-star @hyuneyeon @jisunglyricist @yoontaethings @thisisnotjacinta @cupidcure @wyzminho

339 notes · View notes

kepamount · 1 year

Text

clueless

mason mount x reader one shot - fake dating, smut and fluff

warnings: explicit smut, unprotected sex, virgin reader, first time sex, dom!mason and sub!reader, dirty talk, praise and degradation, body worship, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, overstimulation, I think that's it but pls lmk if I missed anything!

word count: 18.1k+ (she's a mammoth, ofc)

a/n: this is unedited and it’s also 2 different wips mashed together so pls forgive any mistakes or inconsistencies, i’ll edit this tomorrow! happy valentine's day! ik i've been very quiet recently but i'm gifting you guys with this to make up for it! the buildup is very long but the smut is hopefully worth it lol, it's very soft by my usual standard but i think you guys will still like it! lmk what you think <3

‘You’re late,’ I say as I open the front door, not bothering to welcome him in before I turn and head back into the kitchen, his amused chuckling making me roll my eyes. I continue with the washing up, hearing him shut the front door and enter the kitchen a few moments later.

‘You’re late too. I said to be ready for half past. It’s quarter to and you’re still washing up,’ he points out, helping himself to a cookie from the jar on the counter before sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. ‘I only started washing up because you weren’t here yet. What do you expect me to do? Sit by the door waiting for you?’ I ask without looking at him, washing the dishes with vigour to get my irritation out. ‘Yeah. That’s exactly what I expect,’ he responds, smirk audible in his voice, and I look over my shoulder to shoot him a death stare, looking at him properly for the first time.

Annoyingly, he looks as handsome as he always does, dressed in a pair of baby blue joggers and a white t-shirt with some obscure designer logo on it. His beard is at the perfect length, and so is his hair, fluffy and soft-looking. His skin is just about holding onto its tan from the World Cup and he looks like he’s been spending a lot of time in the gym, clothes tighter around his muscles than they used to be.

‘Can we go? As nice as the view is from here, I don’t want to spend my day off watching you wash up,’ he says impatiently, his demand annoying me so much that I almost don’t notice the comment on my ass. ‘Maybe if you hadn’t been late,’ I say irritably, rinsing off the last dish before washing my hands and drying them, the boy eating another cookie.

‘Stop eating all my cookies,’ I snap, so close to snatching it out of his hand, and he rolls his eyes before finishing it off. ‘I’ll buy you more.’ ‘I made them myself.’ ‘Oh, so that’s why they taste like shit then,’ he grins, and I take a deep breath to compose myself, heading towards the front door before I put his head through my kitchen wall.

I sit down on the bottom step of the staircase to put my boots on, doing up the zip slowly so I don’t catch my socks in it (it’s happened one too many times, and I’m sick of having holey socks). I’m wearing an outfit inspired by Clueless – a white bodycon ribbed dress with a thin pink cardigan over the top of it, and white knee high boots that add a couple extra inches to my height.

I check my reflection in the mirror beside the front door, Mason leaning against the doorframe and inspecting his nails in a way that indicates how bored he is waiting for me, and I make sure my phone, keys, lipgloss and powder are all in my little white Hermes Kelly bag before I turn to face him.

‘Ready?’ Mason asks, not waiting for an answer before he opens the door and walks out. Chivalry is dead. I lock up behind us, the boy already sat in the car by the time I head down the patio steps, and I’m surprised when he at least has the courtesy to push open the passenger side door for me. The kindness of the gesture is lost when the door hits me and nearly knocks me over, Mason laughing uncontrollably as I scowl at him.

I climb into the car, shutting the door behind me before adjusting the seat to my liking. He starts the engine, racing out of my driveway as I connecting my phone with Bluetooth to the car. He doesn’t say anything but his pursed lips say everything for him – he’s always complaining about my passenger-princess tendencies. I shuffle my Summer Walker playlist, Mason groaning when the opening notes of ‘Tonight’ start playing out of the speakers on either side of us. He skips it, but when he realises the next song’s Summer as well, he doesn’t bother trying to turn it off, letting me skip it back to the last song.

‘All you listen to is RnB. Doesn’t it get boring?’ he grumbles as I sing along obnoxiously loud, flexing my vocals by acing Summer’s runs. ‘Better than the music you listen to.’ ‘I listen to music by people that you’re friends with.’ ‘That’s beside the point. They might be my friends but I can acknowledge that their music is not good.’ ‘It’s not a flex to have no taste.’

‘I know you, a footballer, are not trying to tell me, a singer-songwriter, about music taste. I don’t try and tell you about… football stuff,’ I say pointedly, and he shoots me a side-eye. ‘Because you haven’t got a clue about football.’ ‘Neither do you but I don’t say shit,’ I say sweetly, getting a half-hearted dirty look in response.

‘What are we doing today?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘You haven’t planned anything?’ I ask jokingly, and he doesn’t even dignify it with a response, both of us knowing fully well that I always plan our dates. ‘It’s Valentine’s next week. You have to plan that at least,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes at the reminder. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I’m sick of always planning our dates! You’re the boy. You should take responsibility for date planning, not me.’ ‘How feminist of you,’ he says sarcastically, and I scoff. ‘Feminism’s about choice, and I choose to be treated like a princess by my boyfriend.’ ‘Maybe you should find a real boyfriend instead then,’ he says dryly, and I let out an irritated huff.

Mason is my fake boyfriend – our agents work for the same company and thought it would be mutually beneficial for us to be in a PR relationship. For me, they thought dating Chelsea and England’s starboy would only boost me to higher levels of fame and introduce me and my music to an entirely new audience, and they were right – I never thought I’d have Chelsea fans asking me for photos outside Stamford Bridge before matches.

Mason, however, is getting a lot more out of this than I am. In the last year or so, he’s been getting a bit of a negative reputation – being pictured with influencer girlies, hanging with the wrong crowd, getting drunk a bit too often, not to mention the dip in his form on the pitch. His agent decided to find him a good, clean-cut girlfriend who would lead him back onto the straight and narrow, as well as help to change the minds of Chelsea fans who think he’s a lazy waste of space.

My reputation is perfect to improve Mason’s. I’ve never been involved in any kind of controversy and I’m always on my best behaviour when I’m out in public. On top of that, I went on a friend’s podcast about a year ago, and when the conversation turned to NDAs and celebrity flings, I confessed that I’ve never dated and I’m a virgin. All of a sudden, I became the nation’s sweet, pure and innocent sweetheart. I hate to benefit from the patriarchy but my virginal status has made me a supposed ‘good role model’ for the young girls of today, so my fanbase has increased drastically.

‘Maybe I will. Then you can kiss your improved reputation goodbye.’ ‘More than I can do to you. Maybe then I can find a less boring fake girlfriend. Someone who’s actually been touched by a man before,’ he says pointedly, bringing up the contract I made him sign despite his reluctance for the thousandth time.

Mason and I actually knew each other before this whole thing started – we ran in the same social circles, and we always got along relatively well. But, as soon as I laid out the rules about what he could and couldn’t do with me, things quickly went sour in our relationship.

Because the entire world thinks he’s dating me, he’s not allowed to flirt/date/kiss/sleep with any other girls – it would only tarnish his reputation even more if it got out, defeating the point of this relationship. I assume he thought I’d sleep with him (so that he’d still be getting some), so he didn’t take it well at all when I told him I didn’t even want him to kiss me, let alone sleep with me.

He thought I was being unreasonable, and that no one would believe we were together if there wasn’t any PDA, but I thought it was perfectly reasonable that I didn’t want to waste all my firsts on a fake boyfriend– I just about allowed him to hold my hand or put his hand on my lower back (not too low though). As time’s gone on, we’ve been getting along less and bickering more, so now he barely even does those things. It’s like he hates touching me – he practically jumps a mile in the air whenever our arms brush against each other. It doesn’t bother me much though – I’d much rather be touched by a man that actually wants to touch me.

‘You need to tell me what we’re doing so I know which way to go,’ he says, coming to a stop at a junction. ‘The Vault. I need to get my nails done, and do some shopping.’ ‘You’re having a laugh. You basically want me to be your taxi driver and bag-holder today. That’s not a date,’ he says, sounding outraged, and I roll my eyes. ‘We can go for dinner there too. And anyway, celeb couples always go shopping together,’ I say mildly, the boy still shaking his head despite how he takes the turning for the route to The Vault, a designer outlet around five minutes away from my house.

He drives in a stony silence but I don’t let his bad mood dampen my good one, still singing along to Summer Walker and watching the world pass us by out the window. This weather is still freezing at the moment but it’s a beautiful day regardless of the temperature. The sky’s a lovely clear blue, not a cloud in sight, and the sun is beating down brightly.

It’s not long until we arrive at the shopping centre, and Mason pulls up in front of the main entrance, both of us getting out of the car. Mason grabs a matching baby blue hoodie out of the boot before handing the valet the keys while I fix my skirt, making sure I look picture perfect.

He waits for me to join him, offering his hand reluctantly, and I take it, letting him lock his fingers with mine. We walk through the automatic doors into the warmth of The Vault, and I let out a happy sigh. I love this place so much – the fluffy carpets, comfy chaise lounge chairs and crystal chandeliers everywhere scream luxury.

‘Where to first?’ Mason asks, and I point towards the directory stand, the nail shop on the third floor. He leads me to the lift, letting me in first and pressing the buttons so I don’t have to get my hands dirty. He’s lacking in a lot of things, but he’s always a gentleman in public, and I appreciate it even if it is just for the eyes of everyone else.

When we enter the nail shop, whispers run around the room. It tends to be only rich people that shop at The Vault, but it’s not every day that two international stars walk in together. ‘y/n, darling! How are you?’ my nail tech asks, appearing from the back room to come and give me a hug. ‘I’m good, Christie. How are you?’ ‘I’m good, my love. So introduce me then,’ she prompts, not one for subtlety, and I cringe internally as I say, ‘this is my boyfriend, Mason. Mase, this is Christie, my nail tech.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ he says with a brilliant smile, his charming behaviour making me supress an eyeroll. I never get this charming side – he reserves it for everyone else, and I get the annoying dickhead side instead. ‘Such a good-looking boy,’ Christie says to me, and I force out a little laugh, making myself nod in agreement. ‘Not as good-looking as my girlfriend, though,’ he jokes naturally with a little smile at me, affection in his eyes, and I’m taken aback at how good his acting is.

‘Of course, of course. Now, come, let’s get started,’ Christie says, leading us to her table in the corner, everyone’s eyes following us across the room. I take a seat, hanging my bag on the chair, and Mason hovers awkwardly beside me. ‘Sit here, Mase,’ I say, motioning to the seat beside me, but he shakes his head. ‘I’m gonna do some shopping. I’ll be back in a bit,’ he says, and I feel a little bit guilty for dragging him here.

‘You can… go, if you want. I’ll get Isla to pick me up later,’ I say, but he waves it off immediately. ‘Nah, it’s fine, I don’t mind looking around the shops. I’ll be back soon, alright?’ he says, and I nod, mustering up a smile for him as he goes. The other girls in the shop watch him as he walks to the exit, sparking jealousy in me, followed by surprise at myself. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but the thought of these other girls fancying him makes me rage internally.

Christie starts removing my old set, distracting me as she chatters away about the latest drama in her tumultuous life. Last time I saw her, she was dating a Brighton player, but now apparently she’s moved on from him and she’s got a Kpop boy in her DMs. I get my nails done every three weeks, and she has a different love interest every single time.

Mason reappears when Christie’s painting gel polish onto my new set, a smile on his face when I meet his eyes. All the girls are watching him again but his eyes don’t stray from me, satisfaction filling me. Ogle him all you want, ladies, but he’s my fake boyfriend.

He has a Starbucks cup in his hand which he puts down on the table as he sits in the chair beside me. ‘An iced blonde caramel macchiato with soy milk and sugar-free syrup,’ he announces, and I can’t hold back my smile as I look at him in surprise. ‘You remembered my order?’ I ask, and he lets out a laugh. ‘Not off by heart. It’s in my notes app so I don’t have to ask you every time,’ he says, the truth touching me even more. He knew he won’t be able to remember so he made a note of it. It’s sweet.

‘You’re cute, Mount,’ I say affectionately, maybe giving him the first compliment since this relationship began. ‘You’re about to find me even cuter,’ he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of gourmet jelly beans that he must have gotten from Selfridges – their confectionary section is massive. ‘Mase,’ I say, dragging the word out in a way that makes him grin.

‘Thought you might want a snack, because you’ve probably only had fruit for breakfast,’ he says, knowing me so well, and I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, because jelly beans are really gonna make up for a light breakfast.’ ‘Better than nothing.’ ‘I suppose. Thank you,’ I say, leaning towards him and planting a kiss on his cheek, the boy raising an eyebrow when I pull away. I only save cheek kisses for when he’s not being at all irritating, and he knows that. The smirk on his face clearly means he’s satisfied at being in my good books for once.

Christie has one of my hands in the UV nail lamp and the other in her hand, intricately painting on a heart, so I can’t pick up the drink. I lean towards it to try and take a sip but it’s a little too far away, and I don’t want to move too much for fear of getting told off by Christie (the woman doesn’t play). ‘Here,’ Mason says, lifting the cup and holding it to me. I take a long sip through the straw, our eyes locked together, and I feel weirdly shy under his gaze, dropping eye contact after a few moments. He lets out a soft chuckle, amused at my nerves.

Come on, bitch, pull yourself together. Don’t let Mason Mount get you flustered. ‘Want a jelly bean?’ he asks and I nod, Mason opening the packet and getting one out. I stick my tongue out, and he falters for a moment, victory filling me. He puts the jelly bean on my tongue, eyes on mine, and I take the jelly bean into my mouth, chewing it with a small smile, the boy rolling his eyes.

We go on like that while Christie does my nails, Mason feeding me jelly beans (whilst eating more than double the amount I do) and holding up my drink for me to have a sip every couple minutes, his phone in his hand as he scrolls distractedly through tiktok. We start an unspoken game, trying to get each flustered and seeing who can hold eye contact longer. I hate to admit it, but he’s definitely winning, and it really pisses me off.

Yes, I’m a virgin, but I still own and use my sexuality – I might know nothing about the actual act of sex but I know how to make a guy want it. Before I was with Mason, I’d get a kick out of leading on these rich and famous guys only to leave them hanging. Not over a long time, of course. Just for a couple hours at parties or in the club. There’s something so fun about letting a guy think he’s gonna get to take you home but leaving with your girls instead. It’s always the same, with prolonged eye contact, suggestive actions (putting on lipgloss or sipping a drink with puckered lips through a straw), and light physical contact. But Mason’s never fallen prey to any of that – he’s never tried it on with me.

I suppose it’s a good thing, because he’s really fucking annoying and I don’t want to sleep with him. We’re at a mutual agreement that this is nothing more than a fake relationship and all we have to do is tolerate each other, so it’d ruin that if either of us ever tried to make it something more. Not that either of us want to, of course. We literally can’t stand each other.

‘Shall I add his initials?’ Christie asks, breaking me out of my thoughts, and it takes me a moment to register her question. In that moment, Mason answers for me. ‘Yeah, add my initials,’ he grins, and I barely stop myself from shooting him a dirty look. ‘Shall I do it on your ring finger?’ she asks, and I cringe internally. I’m about to get the initials of a guy who doesn’t see me romantically painted on my ring finger nail. The finger I’m supposed to save for an engagement ring.

‘Um… do his initials on the right ring finger, and his number on the left ring finger. 19,’ I say – it doesn’t make much of a difference but it feels better than the other option. The base colour of my nails is nude, and the hearts are white and pink. Christie uses white to paint his number onto the pink heart on my left ring fingernail, and pink to paint his initials onto the white heart on my right ring fingernail. I hate to admit it but it looks really cute, and I get a warm feeling in my chest at having a boys’ initials on my nails, even if they are Mason’s.

‘Kimmy! Come and get some photos of her nails,’ Christie says, the social media girl rushing over with her phone. She has me putting my hands in different positions and angles, finally satisfied after five minutes of pictures and videos. Mason’s waiting for me beside the door with my bag and my drink in his hands, and I rush over, quickly saying goodbye to the other technicians.

‘£120, like usual?’ I ask Christie as I take my drink from Mason, the boy still holding my bag, and Christie shakes her head. ‘Your boyfriend paid already,’ she says before bidding me goodbye and disappearing off into the back. ‘You shouldn’t have p-’ ‘It’s fine. I made you get my initials so it’s only right,’ he says offhandedly, and I raise an eyebrow, a small smile on my lips. ‘It’s okay if you wanted to pay for them. You can just admit it,’ I joke, and he rolls his eyes.

‘It’s your Valentine’s present,’ he says, my jaw dropping. ‘You’d better be joking,’ I say threateningly, a small grin on his face. ‘I’m joking. I’ve already got your gifts, babe,’ he says easily, taking my hand into his, and I hear lots of ‘aww’s from the girls behind me. ‘Good,’ I reply sternly, letting him lead me out into the corridor, walking leisurely past the shops.

‘We actually do need to plan something for Valentine’s though,’ I say quietly once we’re out of earshot of anyone else, and he remains silent. ‘I know you’d rather not spend a random Tuesday night with me but it looks suspicious if we don’t do anything. And if we don’t plan something, our agents will, and their plans are always boring,’ I continue, met with even more silence. ‘Let’s not do the usual dinner and drinks. We could do an activity instead! Bowling is always cute. Or mini golf, even though I’m shit at it. Maybe even-’ ‘y/n,’ Mason cuts me off, hesitating to continue speaking before he sighs.

‘I’ve already planned Valentine’s,’ he admits, and I stare at him blankly for a long few moments. ‘What?’ ‘I’ve made plans for us already,’ he says, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I ask, and he sighs again. ‘I thought I’d surprise you. I heard you talking with Steph about how you’ve never done anything for Valentine’s with a boy, and I know you don’t want to waste all your firsts on a fake boyfriend, but we have to do something on Valentine’s anyway so I thought I’d make it special for you,’ he says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, and I feel myself melting inside. I think I might even cry.

‘That’s… really nice. Thanks, Mase,’ I say softly, and he just waves off my gratitude, clearly feeling awkward. ‘It’s alright. It was about time I planned a date anyway, so I thought I’d show you how it’s done,’ he jokes, and I shove him lightly, laughing. ‘The dates I plan are always fun!’ ‘Oh, yeah, this date has been really fun,’ he says drily, and I feel a bit sheepish at that. I wanted to piss him off but now I feel guilty.

‘Let’s just go then,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s fine. Do your shopping first.’ ‘It can wait. There’s nothing urgent I need to get,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Where are we gonna go instead?’ he asks, and I think it over for a moment. ‘Back to mine,’ I say, a smirk finding his lips.

‘Say less.’ ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ I warn, the boy chuckling. ‘What are we gonna do at yours then?’ ‘Valentine’s baking!’ I say excitedly, the boy staring at me deadpan. ‘Baking?’ ‘Yes. You’re always eating my baking so now’s your chance to make up for it and do some baking of your own.’ ‘I’m always eating your baking because that’s what you’re supposed to do with it. Not just let it sit in a jar on your counter until it goes off,’ he says pointedly, and I roll my eyes.

‘Okay, fair point. But speaking of baking going off, those cookies are on their way out so they need replacing,’ I smile, and he just grumbles under his breath. ‘Fine, we’ll go back to your house and do baking, but you owe me a homecooked meal afterwards,’ he bargains. ‘Deal. What do you wanna eat?’ ‘You,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. ‘Other than me,’ I say, and he considers it for a second. ‘Tacos.’ ‘So me and tacos for dinner?’ I ask amusedly, and he laughs, pulling me into his arms. ‘Sounds perfect.’

‘Oh, my feet are killing me,’ I sigh as we walk through my front door, Mason letting go of my hand so I can sit on the bottom step of my staircase. ‘Sorry. I should’ve told you to wear more sensible footwear,’ Mason says as he locks the door after himself, and I shake my head. ‘It’s fine. I would’ve worn these anyway. They’re my V-Day boots!’ I say happily, clicking my heels together.

After finding out I had surprise plans for Valentine’s Day, I bought a new pair of boots for the occasion. I already had a pink mini dress in the exact same shade as the hearts on these white boots, and I was sold the second I saw that the heels are heart-shaped. Mason said it was a bit morbid that every step I took was stamping on hearts, but I thought it was cute.

We’ve been bickering and having stupid arguments all day but, overall, I’ve really enjoyed spending Valentine’s Day with him. He’s been irritating as usual, but he’s also been sweet and romantic as well, which was definitely surprising. I didn’t say anything about it though, because we’re in a good patch at the moment and I don’t want to ruin it.

After he paid for my Valentine’s nails the other day, we come back and baked some Valentine’s cupcakes and cookies. We filmed a vlog for my YouTube channel and Tiktok videos for both of our accounts, like we always do when we do stuff like this. The difference this time was the lack of acting – our affection, flirting and joking together was all real. We bickered, like we always do, but it was light-hearted, and he kept resolving it with stuffing chocolate in my mouth or pulling me into warm hugs.

After baking, I cooked chicken tacos and we sat together at the kitchen island to eat. We chatted idly as we ate, and he actually complimented my cooking. When he got a call from his parents saying they were on their way to his house, the night ended abruptly and, despite my disappointment, I was relieved. I’d felt myself starting to look at him differently and that scared the shit out of me, so I was happy to send him on his way with a box of cupcakes and cookies for his family.

We didn’t speak again after then until last night, when he messaged telling me to be ready for 10am. He showed up on time, with gifts too! I proudly put the bouquet of red and white roses into a vase as he watched with a satisfied grin, making sure to put the single pink rose in the middle. He also insisted on me opening the box of chocolates so I could try one, and it was the best chocolate I’ve ever had. I googled the brand, To-ak, and I couldn’t believe my eyes at the price. He spent £300 on a box of chocolates for me.

We started the day with breakfast at my favourite brunch spot in The Vault. We got one avo-and-egg on toast and one plate of berry pancakes, sharing both dishes like a real couple. Then he drove us into the city for bowling and mini golf – he said he wanted to burst out laughing when I mentioned both of those things at The Vault last week. He tried his best to coach me at both activities (and I had no complaints at his body pressed up behind mine as he guided my movements and held my hands) but he still managed to beat me at both. I didn’t mind though – I would’ve gotten the ick if my athletic fake boyfriend lost to me at bowling and mini golf.

Then we went for Afternoon Tea on Park Lane followed by watching A Midsummer Night’s Dream on the West End. Mason has no interest in theatre but he knows I love it so he sucked it up, and even bought us box tickets so we had a perfect view of the stage. I didn’t even realise I was starting to get cold until I’d shivered, and Mason took his jacket off to lay it across my lap before moving closer to me, wrapping an arm around me to keep me warm.

After the theatre, he took me to dinner at Le Gavroche, an expensive French restaurant. I was too fussy to eat most of the food but I was still more than happy to be there, sitting opposite a pretty boy in a fancy restaurant, flirting over champagne and French cheese. And he got me McDonald’s nuggets on the way home so I wouldn’t complain about being hungry.

Now we’re back at mine. I invited him in, without any reason as to why, but he accepted. We’ve both been so… lovey-dovey and cute today. It’s so weird actually getting along with him but it feels right at the same time, which is scary. Multiple times today, I’ve had to remind myself that our relationship is fake, feeling a jolt at the thought.

‘Who buys new shoes for Valentine’s Day?’ he asks amusedly. ‘Bad bitches,’ I say proudly before trying to take them off. With them being brand new, the zips are very stiff, and I’m holding them at a stupid angle because of my long nails. ‘Let me help,’ Mason laughs after a few seconds of watching me struggle, dropping to one knee and lifting his hands to the top of my left zip. His skin brushes against mine, the contact at my inner thigh making me shiver, and his eyes remain locked with mine as he undoes the zip, carefully pulling the boot off my foot and leaving me in my thigh high socks. He does the same with the other, the completely innocent act making my stomach clench.

He stands up, holding out a hand to help me up, and he keeps my hand in his as he leads me to the kitchen. ‘Don’t tell me you’re hungry,’ I tease, getting a look of feigned offence in response. He ate every last crumb on both of our plates and shared my nuggets with me in the car – the boy can eat but I’ll be shocked if he has any more room.

‘I’m thirsty,’ he says, letting go of my hand to get a glass out of the cupboard, about to pour himself some water. ‘Let’s have some wine,’ I say suddenly, Mason raising an amused eyebrow at me. ‘I have to drive home, and I’ve already at the limit with that champagne,’ he reminds me. ‘You can stay the night. I have a couple guest bedrooms you can choose from,’ I say quietly, his gaze warm on my skin as his grin grows.

‘Yeah?’ he asks, and I nod, struggling to keep eye contact with him, the butterflies in my stomach going wild. I wasn’t even propositioning him – I just thought it’d be nice to finish the day with late night chats over a glass of wine, not a quiet and empty house. ‘Okay, I’ll have some wine.’ ‘Which one do you want?’ I ask, opening my wine cupboard and moving aside to show him. ‘I want the one in the living room,’ he says, and I blink in confusion. ‘Living room?’ ‘Yeah. There’s a bottle of wine in your living room,’ he repeats, and I frown. ‘What? Where?’ I ask, heading towards the living room.

I gasp when I spot the presents on the coffee table, looking back at Mason who grins at me. ‘You didn’t think I just got you flowers and chocolate, did you?’ he asks, looking very proud of himself, and I rush into the living room excitedly, wanting to see my gifts. I take a couple photos first, knowing I’ll want to remember this moment, and he just watches on with a self-satisfied grin. ‘Which one shall I open first?’ I ask, and he points to the bottle bag amusedly, both of us already knowing what it is after what he said.

I get through the gifts pretty quickly in my excitement, tearing the co-ordinated pink wrapping paper and being careful not to drop the confetti and the glitter in each gift bag on the floor. Every single gift is so me; the rosé wine, the pink crystal butterfly hairclips, the signed Summer Walker vinyls, the Huda Beauty pink eyeshadow palette, the pink lego flowers set and the dusty pink knee-high boots with my name printed on the soles. I never realised he knew me so well, but every single gift is perfect. The boots are even my size!

‘One left,’ he says, handing me a pink velvet jewellery box, and my eyes fill with tears before I even open it. ‘y/n, don’t cry!’ he exclaims, alarmed, and I blink back the tears quickly, opening the box with shaking hands. I gasp at the set inside, a hand over my mouth and my eyes wide. ‘It’s called pink sapphire, which I didn’t even know was a thing but, apparently, it is. It’s also custom so I can’t really return it, but I’ll just, like, give it to a charity auction or something if you don’t like it,’ he says, obviously nervous, and I shake my head.

‘I love it, Mason. It’s so beautiful,’ I whisper, already enamoured with the pink sapphire stones set into the pendant on the silver necklace, the silver tennis bracelet and the silver hoops. ‘That’s good then,’ he says, actually letting out a sigh of relief before he helps me put it all on, watching with an affectionate smile as I admire myself in my front camera.

‘This is all too much, Mason. It must have cost you a bomb,’ I say, and he waves off my concerns. ‘It’s fine. I fucked up your birthday so this is the least I could do,’ he says lightly, trying to sound casual, and I try not to laugh at the reminder of the half-dead bouquet of flowers and box of Thorntons chocolates he got for my birthday (I’m not one to sneer at Thorntons – chocolate is chocolate – but it was a Christmas box that was out of date by three years).

‘Well, I got you something too, but don’t get your hopes up too much. They’re not as good as what you’ve got me,’ I warn him, getting up and getting the gift box I hid in the corner of the room, a big grin on his face. Despite my warning, I already know he’s gonna love everything I’ve got him – I’m a very good gift buyer and I’ve been planning this for a while. I may or may not have also put in minimal effort for his birthday and felt bad about it, so I’m trying to make up for it with this.

He looks very happy with the black tracksuit I got from some streetwear brand that him and his friends are all obsessed with, and he’s even happier with the custom silver chain I got from one of my jeweller friends. But his favourite is the blue Van Cleef bracelet, even before he spots the letters of his name engraved on the inside of each clover.

‘You’re sweet,’ he grins, pulling me into his arms and kissing the top of my head, a warm feeling flooding through my body, my heart singing. ‘I’ll get some glasses for the wine,’ I say, rushing back into the kitchen and taking a few seconds to compose myself, staring at my reflection in the fridge.

I’m supposed to hate Mason, or strongly dislike him anyway. But we’ve been getting along, and maybe I don’t dislike him after having such a romantic day with him. Maybe I actually like him a little bit, even more after getting all those thoughtful gifts from him. And maybe he likes me as well. He knows me well, at least, and cared enough to plan a day he knew I’d love and buy me perfect gifts. And now we’re about to sit alone in my living room, drinking rosé wine late at night. This probably isn’t a good idea, but the desire pulsing through my body pushes the hesitation out of my mind.

I bring two wine glasses back into the living room, Mason popping the bottle open and pouring us two half glasses. We clink our glasses together and both take a sip before Mason lifts my legs across his lap, both of us comfortable on the sofa. I sip on my wine as Mason scrolls through Netflix to find something for us to watch, not able to settle on anything. I’m not at all helpful either – I’d much rather sit here and talk to him so I just keep making noncommittal noises when he asks what I want to watch.

‘I’ll put music on instead,’ he says, opening Spotify and clicking on My Mix, the playlist starting with Summer Walker. ‘Why am I not surprised?’ he chuckles, putting down the remote and finishing off his wine. ‘Aren’t you gonna complain and try to turn it off like usual?’ I ask, and he shrugs with a rueful smile. ‘Maybe her music’s growing on me,’ he admits, and I gasp excitedly. ‘Good! I’ll send you recommendations, and then you can start listening to SZA and Jhene after,’ I say, knowing it’ll annoy him if I make a big deal out of this, and he groans with a roll of his eyes, making me laugh.

‘I’m joking.’ ‘I know, but it’s even more annoying because I’ve already got SZA and Jhene on my Spotify because of you. All of your stuff is growing on me. RnB, The Vault, 90s romcoms, wine and champagne. I even like the colour pink now,’ he says lightly, one finger gently running across the thin strap of my dress, my shoulder tingling in the wake of his touch.

‘I’ve started liking your stuff too. I go to your football matches, and I actually enjoy watching them. I’ve started going to the weird bars you like, full of white people who think they’re cool. I listen to your favourite American rappers. And maybe the colour blue isn’t so bad,’ I say quietly, a little grin on his face.

‘It’s not a surprise, though. We’ve been seeing each other at least once a week since this relationship started nearly 11 months ago. That’s a lot of time to spend with someone. We were bound to rub off on each other,’ he says, and I nod in agreement. As much as we argue and haven’t been getting along for the majority of this relationship, our lives are so intertwined now. It feels wrong to say our relationship’s fake because we behave exactly like a couple. It’s more accurate to say it was a relationship without the feelings, but maybe that’s not even true anymore.

‘I never would’ve guessed you’d like romcoms though. Which ones are your favourites?’ I ask, and he thinks for a moment. ‘I like How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.’ ‘That’s only because you think Kate Hudson’s fit.’ ‘Says you, Matthew McConaughey’s biggest fan,’ he says pointedly, and I remain silent, knowing he’s right. ‘And I like 10 Things I Hate About You as well. But I think Clueless is my favourite,’ he grins, my heart melting. I’m the personification of the film Clueless, and we both know it.

‘Clueless, really? What do you like about Clueless?’ ‘I like Cher. She’s cute, stylish, funny, pretty, kind-hearted, and completely oblivious,’ he lists off, brushing my hair back with his hand, my heart fluttering. ‘Oblivious?’ ‘Well, maybe clueless is a better word,’ he says lightly, and I roll my eyes at the bad joke.

‘How is she clueless?’ ‘She’s so wrapped up in her own little world that those pretty brown eyes of hers can’t see how people feel about her,’ he says softly, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. ‘Cher’s eyes aren’t brown.’ ‘I’m not talking about Cher anymore, babe,’ he murmurs, our eyes locked together, my entire body alight with nerves. ‘What am I not seeing?’ I ask, his lips quirking up at the question. ‘You really can’t see how I feel about you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, heart hammering in my chest.

‘I tried my best not to feel any way about you, because I know you want a big romantic love-at-first-sight relationship and I didn’t wanna try and steal that away from you, but I can’t pretend anymore. Not after the nail shop last week. Sitting with a girl while she’s getting her nails done should be the most boring thing in the world, but I’d spend every day of my life feeding you jelly beans and macchiatos, and watching you smile at pink hearts on your nails. And I can’t even describe the feeling of seeing my initials and my number on your nails, your ring fingers. All I could think was that I want to put more than my number on this finger,’ he admits in a low voice, lifting my hand and touching my finger where I’d wear an engagement or wedding ring.

‘But I thought you hated me,’ I whisper, so overwhelmed by a trillion different emotions, and he lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at my hand in his. ‘I’ve never hated you, y/n. It was childish of me, I know, but we fell out at the start because you told me I couldn’t kiss you or touch you. If I hated you, why would I have a problem with that?’ he asks, and I could slap myself for not even thinking about that.

‘I thought you were just annoyed that you wouldn’t be able to kiss or touch anyone the whole time we’re together.’ ‘y/n, I’m not a sex addict or something. I can go without physical contact. It’s been difficult being around you so much and not being able to release my frustrations properly, but still,’ he says amusedly, and I feel my body warm up. With the combination of the wine and what he’s saying, I’ll end up letting him have his way with me tonight.

‘So you like me?’ I ask, and he laughs again. ‘That’s putting it a bit simply but, yeah. I do. I think you’re the most amazing girl in the world,’ he says simply, complete honesty in his eyes, and I’m silent for a long few moments, mind working at a million miles an hour. ‘If you like me back, this would be a really good time to say that,’ he says amusedly, and I let out a little laugh.

‘I think I like you too.’ ‘You think?’ ‘I don’t… these feelings are really unfamiliar to me. I’ve only ever had schoolgirl crushes on guys. I’ve never felt this way before. I get this tight feeling in my chest when I look at you. I like being around you, even when we’re arguing. I love that people know me as your girlfriend, and I love that girls can look at you but they know they can’t have you because you’re my boyfriend. I think you’re annoying and cocky but I like that you’re annoying and cocky,’ I say, my admission making him laugh.

‘That probably means you like me.’ ‘Yeah, but then… I like wearing your hoodies and jackets because they smell like you, and I get this funny feeling in my stomach at your scent. I pretend to get annoyed at your dirty jokes but I get butterflies whenever you say them. I always wear tight and tiny outfits around you, even when it’s freezing, because I want you to want me. And I can’t think straight when I watch you play football and you’re all angry and sweaty. So I don’t think saying that I like you really covers how I feel,’ I breathe out, his eyes darkening, lips parted in surprise.

‘That’s… fuck. How can you be hot and cute at the same time?’ he asks faintly, and he moves the hand that isn’t holding mine to rest on my bare thigh, between the top of my sock and the bottom of my mini dress. ‘Hot and cute?’ ‘Babe, you just admitted you’re sexually attracted to me in the most innocent way possible,’ he chuckles, fingers tracing patterns across my skin, the area between my legs throbbing with need.

‘Because I don’t… I’ve obviously been attracted to people before but never like this. Never enough to want to act on it,’ I say, the realisation dawning on us both a moment later. ‘You wanna act on it?’ he asks with a little grin, tips of his fingers toying with the hem of my dress. ‘Yeah, I guess. It’s just scary,’ I whisper, and he laughs softly.

‘You don’t have to be scared. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do or don’t feel comfortable with. We don’t have to do anything at all. I don’t expect us to go upstairs to your room now that we’ve had this conversation. It’s a big step,’ he says gently, making me want him even more.

‘What if I did want to go upstairs to my room though?’ I ask, biting down on one of my nails nervously, his eyes zoning in on my lips. ‘You know I wouldn’t say no.’ ‘Yeah, but, like… tell me what you’d do,’ I prompt, a smile playing at his lips.

‘I’d take it slow. I’d kiss you first, for as long as possible because I’ve waited for what feels like a lifetime. Then I’d undress you and kiss all over this perfect body. And then I’d put my fingers in you, nice and gentle so it doesn’t hurt, and I’d make it feel so good for you, babe. I’d stretch you out slow so I can hear all your pretty noises, and then I’d eat you out until you cum on my tongue. And then I’d fill you up with my cock bit by bit and I’d fuck you slow, babe. Have you moaning my name in my ear when you cum around me.’

By the end of his perfectly-woven story, my mind is completely blank and my underwear is soaked. It’s pretty much exactly what I’ve always wanted my first time to be like – the only thing missing from my fantasy is a view from the most expensive room at The Shard after a romantic dinner, but I wouldn’t trade my evening with Mason for that.

‘Okay,’ I whisper, Mason chuckling softly. ‘Yeah? Are you sure?’ he asks, and I nod nervously, my stomach doing flips. ‘Don’t be nervous,’ he says, hand rubbing my leg soothingly, and I nod, trying to calm myself down. ‘Let me kiss you first,’ he murmurs, my heart skipping a beat. What if I’m a horrendous kisser and he gets the ick? Or what if I accidently bite him? Does my breath smell?

‘y/n, relax. It’s just a kiss, babe. You have kissed someone before, haven’t you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, his eyes widening in shock. ‘So I’m about to be your first kiss as well?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘That’s a lot of pressure, you know,’ he says with a small smile, lifting a hand to a lock of my hair, twirling it around his fingers. ‘It’s not. You could be a terrible kisser and I wouldn’t even know,’ I say, the boy laughing gently.

‘You’d be able to tell. Bad kissers are obvious.’ ‘And you’ve had your fair share of those?’ I ask, his gaze softening at the mild jealousy in my tone. The situation is obvious to both of us – he’s about to be my first everything, and I’m about to be just another in a long list for him. ‘I wouldn’t say fair share. A couple. But don’t think about them. I’m not thinking about them. I’m thinking about you only, babe,’ he whispers, our eyes locked together, and that’s all the reassurance I need.

‘Can I kiss you, y/n?’ he asks softly, and I nod, a small smile on his face. He begins to lean in, and my eyes flutter shut, my heart hammering in my chest as his lips gently brush against mine. He pulls back momentarily, as though he’s waiting to see if I’m still okay with it, and I feel myself leaning towards him, Mason letting out a chuckle as our lips meet again.

He slides his arms around me, lifting me up into his lap so he can pull me closer, his mouth pressing harder on mine, and I soften against him when he parts my lips with his.

It’s a tame and sweet kiss, one that makes the butterflies in my stomach melt into a puddle of want. His hands stay on my back, his lips gentle against mine, but I want more, need more from him. I adjust myself slightly on his lap, the movement making his breath catch in his throat, and the realisation that he’s getting hard beneath me only makes me even more desperate.

We break apart after a few moments, none of the panting and dark eyes I’d expect after a kiss, and I’m almost disappointed. I know he’s trying to be gentlemanly for my first time, but I don’t want him to be a gentleman now. I want him to do whatever he wants to me. I want him to enjoy this too.

‘Was that okay?’ he asks, and I nod after a split second of hesitation. He notices it, eyebrows furrowing in concern. ‘No, it wasn’t. Are you okay? Do you want to stop?’ he asks, and I shake my head, feeling embarrassed about being so desperate for him. ‘The last thing I want you to do is stop,’ I say quietly, the realisation on his face quickly followed by dark amusement.

‘What do you want me to do then, y/n?’ he grins, and I pout at him, hitting his chest lightly. ‘Don’t make me say it,’ I complain, the boy laughing. ‘How will I know if you don’t say it?’ ‘Mason.’ ‘y/n. You have to communicate with me, baby,’ he murmurs, eyes dark and big as he looks at me, and I let out a little sigh.

‘I want more. I don’t want you to hold back,’ I admit, and he shakes his head amusedly. ‘It’s your first time.’ ‘I know, but I want you to enjoy this as well.’ ‘I enjoy anything with you, babe,’ he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Don’t lie. That kiss was cute for a first kiss, but it must have been boring for you. I don’t want to bore you, Mase.’ ‘You don’t bore me. Babe, we’ve got all night for not-boring kisses. I just wanted your first one to be the perfect kiss that you probably always dreamed about,’ he says, a smile finding my face at that. He’s cute.

‘I don’t… how do I say this?’ I mutter, so embarrassed at the thought of what I’m about to admit, and he just waits patiently for me to speak. ‘I always dreamed of romance, yes. But I dreamed of it for dates and my wedding and holidays with my boyfriend. It was never something I dreamed about in the bedroom,’ I say quietly, and he tilts his head questioningly. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The thought of romantic sex doesn’t…’ I trail off, the look in his eyes like he’s just stumbled across gold.

‘y/n, that’s… are you saying you’re into other things?’ he asks quietly, in complete shock, and I nod, feeling mortified at this conversation. ‘Like what?’ ‘Don’t make me say it, Mase,’ I whine, the boy laughing. ‘No, this is not what I expected from you at all. You have to say it otherwise I won’t believe it.’ ‘No, Mason. I can’t say it,’ I say firmly, knowing I’ll die of humiliation if he makes me say this out loud.

‘Fine, okay. I’ll ask then. Do you want it rough, y/n? Want me to use you to make myself feel good? Want me to kiss you and touch you and fuck you like a slut?’ he asks with a dark grin, my mind entering overdrive, my lack of response giving him the answer he was expecting. ‘My baby’s not so innocent after all then, is she?’ he asks lowly, hands tightening on my waist, pressing me down onto his lap. The friction makes me let out a soft sigh, his eyes darkening at the sound.

‘Fuck. This is… probably not a good idea. I can’t be rough with you for your first time. I don’t wanna hurt you.’ ‘You won’t. You’ll know better than I will what I can and can’t handle,’ I say quietly, and his lips quirk up amusedly. ‘You’ll be able to handle anything I give you, won’t you, baby?’ he murmurs, looking satisfied at the way I take a deep breath to pull myself together, my nod making him grin wider.

‘Gonna be a good girl for me?’ ‘Mmhmm.’ ‘Good. Don’t want to have to punish you, do we, babe?’ he asks, and I feel my heartrate speed up at the mention of punishment. ‘You want to be punished? Such a dirty girl, y/n. Want me to spread you over my lap and slap your perfect ass until you’re crying?’ he asks lowly, and I struggle to hold his gaze, the thought of it making my core ache.

‘Mase, please.’ ‘Please what, babe?’ he asks, and I don’t even really know what I’m asking for. ‘Kiss me again,’ I ask, one of his hands snaking up to the back of my neck, pulling my head closer to him so our lips can meet again.

He definitely doesn’t hold back this time, the kiss making my mind focus on nothing but him. I never could’ve dreamed that kissing would feel this good, his lips enveloping my mouth, his tongue sliding over mine. It’s passionate and deep and messy, and all I can’t think straight with his scent filling my senses, his soft hair between my fingers, and his hands sliding up and down my back.

His hands tighten at my waist again, guiding me to move forward on his lap, the movement making me let out a whimper against his lips. That must be his final straw because he breaks apart, both of us out of breath this time.

‘Am I a bad kisser?’ I ask, the boy laughing. ‘No, y/n. You’re perfect,’ he smiles, my heart fluttering. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I just need to grab something from my car,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow.

‘You’re not running away, are you?’ I ask suspiciously, and he laughs. ‘I’d have to either be gay or stupid if I decided to leave now,’ he says lightly, making me giggle. ‘I have condoms in my car. Unless you’ve got some?’ he asks, the situation suddenly feeling very real, my body humming with arousal.

‘I don’t. Do we need them though? I’m on birth control,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘It’s not worth the risk. You’d probably be put off for life if you get pregnant from your first time,’ he says drily, making me laugh. ‘It’ll be fine.’ ‘Don’t tempt me, y/n. Seriously,’ he says warningly, and I gaze at him with big innocent eyes. ‘I wanna feel you though.’ ‘You will feel me, babe. You can’t even notice the condom,’ he says, trying to sound firm but I can tell he’s being swayed.

‘Fine, okay,’ I give in, the boy breathing a sigh of relief at me not trying to persuade him anymore. ‘Go upstairs for me, babe. I’ll be up in a minute,’ he says as I get off him, the boy following me out of the room. He slaps my ass lightly as I take the first step, and I can’t help but giggle to myself as I head upstairs.

I enter my bedroom, putting on some music through my speaker before tidying away all the stuff I left out while I was getting ready earlier. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs as I’m putting my straighteners away in my bathroom drawer, my stomach churning with nerves and excitement, the latter just about outweighing the former.

I step back into the bedroom to see him entering the room too, a smile on his face when he meets my eyes. ‘Are you still sure you wanna do this?’ he asks, and I nod instantly. Yes, this is scary, but I’m ready. I don’t want my first time to be with anyone but him. ‘Come here then,’ he grins, holding out a hand to me, and I cross the room to take it, letting him pull me against him.

Our lips meet in another pulse-racing kiss, his hands trailing all over my body as I grip onto his strong shoulders before snaking my hands up to tangle my fingers into his hair. My skin tingles in the wake of his touch, his needy hands squeezing my ass, pressing into my waist, sliding across my back, running through my hair.

His tongue slides across mine as he slips his fingers beneath the hem of my dress, slow on their journey up my legs, bringing my dress up with them. ‘Can I take this off you?’ he asks against my lips, and I hum out my permission. He doesn’t waste any more time, his fingers slipping the straps off my shoulders and pushing the material down my body, the dress landing in a pool at my feet.

He wraps his arms around me, lifting me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he walks us towards the bed, putting me down gently. He looks down at me, pupils impossibly wide and dark as they trawl over my body, clad in just a lacy pink bra, matching pants and my thigh high white socks with little pink bows on them. I take the opportunity to admire him too. He’s in a pair of loose jeans and a soft blue jumper, a silver chain tucked into it. His hair’s all fluffy from me running my hands through it, and he looks more handsome than he’s ever looked in his life.

‘You’re so beautiful, y/n,’ he murmurs, climbing over me and capturing my lips in another kiss. He breaks the kiss quickly though, moving to press kisses along my jaw and down my neck. When he reaches my collarbone, I realise he’s kissing all over my body like he said he was going to. ‘Can I?’ he asks, hands slipping beneath my back, fingers on the clasp on my bra, and I nod. He expertly pops the clasp open, helping pull the straps down my arms.

‘I’ve always loved your boobs,’ he admits, my laugh cut off by a gasp when he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, the other breast in his hand, fingers roughly gripping the flesh. He switches to the other nipple, rolling the first between his fingers so as not to neglect it, and I feel my back arch at the sudden pleasurable shocks.

‘Does that feel good?’ he asks, words muffled by how they’re spoken around my nipple. ‘Mmm, so good,’ I whimper as he gropes and sucks on my boobs like a teen boy. I’d laugh if my mind wasn’t distracted with the intense pleasure.

He continues kissing down my stomach and, to my surprise, he leaves my pants on and skips the area entirely, kissing my thighs until he reaches the tops of my socks. ‘These fucking socks,’ he murmurs, pulling one of them away from my leg before letting go of it, the material slapping back against my skin. ‘You like them?’ ‘I fucking love them, baby. You look like such a cute little slut in them,’ he grins as he pushes my legs apart. I expect his eyes to focus in on my clothed core but he keeps his eyes on mine, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, little tingles running through me at the feeling of his lips somewhere so intimate.

‘Turn over for me, babe,’ he prompts and I do as he says, lying on my stomach. He moves my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck before moving down the line in the middle of my back. His journey to the dip just before my ass is slow, my heart suspended in anticipation. When he reaches my ass, he gently nips at one cheek before pressing soothing kisses in the same place, a blissful sigh escaping my lips.

The sound seems to knock him out a reverie, the boy turning me onto my back and hovering over me to kiss me again. He keeps himself elevated leaning on one forearm, the other hand pressing into the curve of my waist. I let my hands rest on either side of his face, his beard soft against my skin as our lips move in sync, tongues clashing messily. Nothing about this kiss meets the expectations for a first time, but it’s exactly what I want.

He turns us over, my body weight resting on top of his, and his hands instantly slide down to my ass, gripping it tightly before slapping it, the sound loud in the room. I giggle into our kiss, his lips curling up at the sound as he brings his hands up my body, a shiver running through me at the feeling of his fingers gliding across my bare skin.

I break apart from him after a moment, sitting just below his stomach with my legs straddling him. He looks up at me in awe, trying his best not to stare at my bare chest right in front of him. I slip my fingers beneath his jumper, feeling his warm skin, and he sits up so I can take it off him, bringing up the t-shirt underneath with it, leaving his top half bare. I’ve seen him shirtless a couple times but never so close like this, and I let my hands explore his torso, up and down over the contours of his muscles.

‘My girls would kill me if they knew we were doing this,’ I admit distractedly, eyes focused on his abs. ‘Why? Because they hate me?’ he asks, leaning back on his elbows with a cocky grin, and I let out a little laugh. ‘Why do you get such a kick out of the fact my friends hate you?’ ‘Because they’re the closest people to you, and they’re probably always telling you that I’m not shit and you need to get your agent to end the relationship, but look at us,’ he says proudly, and I roll my eyes amusedly.

‘Well, that’s not the only reason they’d kill me.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘They’re always telling me I should sell my virginity,’ I tell him, tracing my nails over the lines of his abs. ‘Sell it? You’re not a prostitute.’ ‘I know, but I could get a good few million for it from some rich middle-aged business man,’ I say, and he just raises an eyebrow.

‘We could make a few million other ways,’ he murmurs, hands resting on my waist. ‘How?’ ‘We could make a porno,’ he grins, my core pulsing at the thought. ‘A porno?’ ‘Yeah. Your pretty face and pretty body and pretty noises in a sextape would make us more than a few millions. And I bet your pretty tits, pretty ass and pretty pussy would make us billions, baby,’ he smirks, pulling me close for another kiss, arousal flooding through my body. He hasn’t even seen me fully naked yet but he’s so firm about the attractiveness of my body – it definitely gives me a confidence boost.

The aching between my legs is too much, and I find myself pressing down onto him to relieve it. He tenses beneath me, clearly just as worked up as me with the way he grips onto my hips, controlling my movements so I’m grinding down onto him, both of us breathless. Gentle waves of pleasure roll through my body, my lips letting out quiet sighs against his mouth.

‘Does that feel good, babe?’ he asks, breaking away from me and kissing along my jaw. I let out an ‘mmm’ sound which he takes as an answer, lips lifting up into a grin against my skin before he nips at it, the pleasurable pain making me whimper. ‘Fuck, you sound so pretty,’ he mumbles into my neck, still rocking my body against his.

‘Can I ask you something? A personal question?’ he asks, and I sit up after a moment, feeling nervous as I nod. ‘What have you actually done? Sexually? Because I know you’re a virgin but I’d assumed that you’d kissed someone before, so maybe my assumptions are all wrong,’ he says, and a small smile finds my lips at the question.

‘I haven’t done anything. You’re the first person to kiss me and touch me and see me like this,’ I say, a tiny smirk on his face. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘What about what you’ve done? Have you ever touched yourself, babe?’ he asks, and I avoid his gaze, feeling a little bit of embarrassment unfurling in my chest. ‘I tried, once.’ ‘Why only once?’ ‘It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like anything, really. So I just never tried again,’ I admit, the boy grinning.

‘So you’ve never had an orgasm before?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘Good. I’ll make your first one amazing, babe, I promise,’ he murmurs, pulling me down for a brief kiss before lifting me off him. He gets up off the bed, about to take his jeans off, but I grab his hands to stop him.

‘Let me,’ I breathe out, kneeling at the edge of the bed and looking up at him as I flick his jeans button open. He watches how I pull the zip down before bunching the material in my hands, slowly pulling it down his legs, leaving him in just his Calvin Kleins, his boner right in front of my face. My curiosity gets the best of me and I palm his cock through his boxers, the groan he lets out making my pants flood.

‘Fuck, baby, don’t. I’m gonna end up cumming in my fucking boxers like I’m the virgin here,’ he warns me, making me laugh. He moves my pillows aside, sitting at the top of the bed with his back against the headboard, and he pats the bed between his legs, motioning for me to sit there. I crawl up the bed, sitting with my back against his front, my body enveloped by his.

I rest my hands on his thighs as he snakes his arms around me, his lips landing on my neck. I tilt my head to allow him better access, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his kisses, and his hands slide down my stomach and under my legs. He pulls my legs up to bend at the knees before slipping his hands between my thighs, parting them.

‘Shall we come up with a safe word for you, babe?’ he asks against my skin, and I nod. ‘Think of one,’ he prompts, and I wrack my brains. ‘Clueless?’ I suggest, the boy chuckling, his warm breath fanning across my bare shoulder. ‘So you’ll say ‘clueless’ if you need me to stop, okay?’ ‘Okay.’ ‘Good girl,’ he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

‘Make sure you tell me if you want me to stop,’ he reminds me as his hand slips down between my legs, fingertips gliding across my saturated underwear, making me shiver in his arms. ‘Fuck, you’re so wet, babe,’ he whispers, my breaths already becoming shaky with his finger gently running up and down my pants. He doesn’t waste much time before sliding his hand beneath my underwear, ending his teasing quickly which I’m grateful for. His fingers glide lightly across my wet folds and he quickly finds my clit, fingers pressing against the bud. I let out a high-pitched whimper, head falling back against him and he lets out a gentle chuckle.

‘Does that feel good, baby?’ he asks as he rubs at my clit in slow circles, and I nod, exhilaration filling me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, my body humming with desire and pleasure, soft breaths escaping my lips.

He pulls my pants aside to exposing my glistening core to the cool air of the room, a shudder running through me. ‘Ready?’ he murmurs, and I nod. He slides a finger in slowly, my body reacting to the unfamiliar intrusion by clenching my walls around him, and he doesn’t move at all for a few moments, letting me getting used to the unusual feeling.

‘Does it hurt?’ he asks, pressing soothing kisses to my neck again, and I shake my head. ‘Just feels a bit weird,’ I reply, feeling his laugh against my skin. ‘You’re so tight, baby. Can’t wait to stretch you out, make you feel so good, y/n,’ he whispers, starting to slowly move his finger back and forth.

The feeling soon starts to become pleasurable rather than weird, my walls not clenching as hard around his finger, and he takes advantage of it, sliding in another finger with the first.

‘Mase,’ I whisper softly. ‘Too much?’ he asks, and I give my body a few moments to get used to the feeling before shaking my head. ‘Such a good girl for me, babe,’ he murmurs, slowly thrusting his fingers into me, letting my body get accustomed to the burning stretch. My eyes fall shut, arousal gushing out onto his hand, causing faint wet sounds that make my skin heat up.

‘Feels good?’ ‘So good,’ I whimper softly, nails digging into his strong thighs as he curls his fingers inside me. The intense pleasure makes me clamp my thighs shut around his hand, the boy chuckling softly. ‘You can take it, babe, come on,’ he says soothingly as he pushes my legs apart again, hooking one leg with his own to keep it restrained from meeting the other.

‘You’re so sensitive, baby,’ he says amusedly, curling his fingers again and brushing a spot inside me that makes me whine pathetically. And then he begins to rub his palm against my clit with each movement of his hand, my head falling back onto his shoulder and my back arching, a quiet moan escaping my lips.

My body squirms between his legs, but he holds me firmly in place and keeps my legs apart, fingers continuing to thrust into me at a gradually quickening pace, whine after whimper slipping out from my lips as Mason whispers filth into my ear, making me lose my mind.

‘Look at you, babe. Grinding on my hand. Does it feel good, baby?’ he asks cockily and, sure enough, when I force myself to open my eyes, I see that I’m grinding against his fingers unconsciously, each movement of my hips resulting in his hand brushing my clit and sending a gentle wave of pleasure through me.

‘So good, Mase,’ I moan softly, the boy cursing at the sound, kissing and biting at my neck to leave marks, making my eyes flutter shut once again. ‘You sound so pretty for me, babe. So pretty. Gonna make you feel so good,’ he whispers against my skin, but the words barely register, my focus on the unfamiliar feeling of my stomach tightening.

‘Mase, I think I’m close,’ I say breathlessly, and he lets out a gentle laugh against my neck. ‘I know, babe, I can feel it.’ ‘I didn’t think… girls really cum from their first time,’ I say, words broken up with a moan prompted from his fingers spreading apart to open me up. ‘Girls don’t cum from their first time if the person they’re with is shit as sex. Lucky for you…’ he grins against my skin, thumb pressing onto my clit, and I let out a loud moan, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘Fuck, I need to taste you,’ he says, sliding his fingers out of me and lifting them to his mouth, licking my arousal off his skin. ‘Mmm, you taste so good,’ he says appreciatively, satisfaction filling me. I’m glad to hear my vagina’s to his taste.

‘Lie back for me, babe,’ he says gently as he gets up, moving to lie on his stomach further down the bed. I rest my head on one of the pillows, looking down at him as his hands slide up my legs, fingers hooking around the waistband of my pants. ‘Can I?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slowly pulling the material down my legs before throwing it over his shoulder.

He pushes my legs apart slowly, revealing my soaking wet core to him, and his lips part in disbelief, eyes darkening as they focus between my legs. ‘Fuck. Such a pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me,’ he murmurs, collecting up my wetness with two fingers, the contact making me clench. He lifts his fingers to my lips this time, and I open my mouth, taking in his fingers and tasting myself on them.

‘Doesn’t your pussy taste so good, babe?’ he grins as I lick his fingers clean of my own arousal, and I nod, feeling even wetter at how dirty he is. ‘Could eat you all night,’ he says, wrapping his arms around my legs to lift them over his shoulders, pulling me close so his face is mere millimetres from my core.

He keeps his eyes locked with mine as he presses his tongue flat against my folds before swiping it upwards, a soft moan escaping my lips. He starts with slow and gentle licks across my folds, the steady stimulation making my brain fuzzy with pleasure, but he can’t keep himself controlled for very long. He pushes his finger into me again, my walls clamping down at the suddenness of it as I gasp, the slight pain soothed by his tongue flicking across my clit.

The sensation is so foreign but so good – he alternates between thrusting a finger into me whilst sucking at my clit, and poking his tongue between my folds whilst drawing slow circles on my clit with his thumb. I grip onto his locks, my high-pitched whimpers becoming more frequent, and I can’t decide whether I want to pull him closer or push him away, not sure whether it’s not enough or too much.

He decides for me, pulling me so close I’m surprised he can breathe. He begins practically making out with my pussy, the loud slurping sounds so obscene and crude that it only makes me wetter, my moans more and more desperate with every movement of his lips. His nose nuzzles against my clit as he eats me out, the irregular waves of pleasure sending my body into overdrive, the knot getting tighter and tighter as I squirm beneath him. He tries to keep me still with one forearm pressed down across my stomach, the other hand squeezing my boob and tugging gently at my nipple.

‘I’m think I’m gonna…’ I breathe out between moans, clenching sporadically as my body twitches, and I can feel him grinning against my folds. He replaces his mouth with two fingers pushing into me, thrusting into me fast and hard.

‘Gonna cum for me, y/n? It’s gonna feel so good, baby, just let go. Cum for me, babe,’ he murmurs softly, voice just about discernible over my loud moaning, and when he flicks his tongue across my clit before sucking it into his mouth as he curls his fingers inside me, I feel the knot in my stomach undo itself.

I cry out his name as my vision blurs, walls clenching around his fingers and holding them in place with an iron-like grip, thighs closing around his head. He works me through my orgasm with sucking gently on my clit, his free hand groping my boob, providing me with a gentle bliss in comparison to the intense pleasure burning low in my stomach.

When I feel myself coming back down from my high, I let out a sigh, body relaxing into the bed, and he slowly pulls his fingers out of me, a shiver racking through me. I just about manage to lift my head to watch as he lifts his hand to his mouth, slipping the fingers covered in my cum between his lips, eyes closing as he lets out an appreciative groan.

‘You did so good for me, babe. Such a good girl, took it so well for me,’ he praises as he moves back up the bed, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against his body. I feel something very stiff poking into my hip, getting wet again already at how hard he is.

‘How did that feel?’ he asks with his lips pressed against my forehead. ‘Good.’ ‘Just good?’ he chuckles, and I laugh. ‘Yeah. I’d be exaggerating if I said anything else,’ I joke, and he tilts my head up so our eyes meet, his eyebrow raising. ‘Your moaning said otherwise, babe,’ he grins, and I roll my eyes. He starts mocking my sounds and I hit him gently, hiding my head in his shoulder out of embarrassment.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking. It was sexy, y/n. Nothing’s ever turned me on more. You can feel the proof of that,’ he says drily, and I laugh softly, looking down at the tent in his Calvins. The thought that I caused that gives me a little thrill. I trace my finger down his v-line slowly, stopping when I reach the waistband of his underwear.

‘Can I?’ I ask, looking up at him, and he nods with a small grin. I slip my hand beneath the waistband, taking his cock into my hand, the thick and heavy weight so unfamiliar to me. I gently tug on it out of curiosity, watching his face for his reaction, and his eyes flutter shut, veins protruding from his neck. I move my hand up to the tip, feeling pre-cum leaking out, and I lift my hand to my mouth to taste it, the boy watching me with dark eyes.

‘Fuck, you’re a dirty little slut, babe,’ he murmurs as the subtly salty taste coats my tongue. ‘Tastes bad, doesn’t it?’ he asks amusedly, and I laugh. ‘Not bad. Just… not good either,’ I admit, the boy chuckling. ‘I’ll start drinking pineapple juice every day, just for you,’ he promises with a grin, and I clutch my heart, pretending I’m honoured.

‘How long’s it been since you last had sex?’ I ask after a few seconds of silence, my fingertips tracing his muscles again. ‘Since before our relationship started. Probably a couple days before we signed the contract. I don’t remember exactly,’ he admits, and I nod, processing the information.

‘So you must be really worked up then,’ I say, looking up at him, and he laughs softly. ‘I’m worked up, but it’s because you’re lying next to me naked and looking at me with your big eyes,’ he says with a small smile. ‘Surely the amount of time has an effect as well?’ ‘Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve… been frustrated for 11 months,’ he says, and I realise belatedly what he means.

‘Oh. You mean you’ve masturbated?’ I ask, the boy laughing, probably at how innocent of a question it was. I should’ve known really – he wouldn’t have gone nearly a year without an orgasm. ‘Yes, babe, I have. Regularly. It’s good for you,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘That’s why you do it?’ ‘Well… no.’ ‘Why then?’ ‘The reason anyone masturbates. To keep myself… satisfied when I’m frustrated but can’t get any,’ he says, and I don’t reply for a few moments.

‘Do you watch porn when you do it?’ I ask out of curiosity, an amused smile on his lips at my innocent questioning. ‘Sometimes.’ ‘Why only sometimes?’ I ask, and he hesitates to speak. ‘My answer might make you uncomfortable.’ ‘It won’t,’ I say firmly, part of me already knowing what he’s going to say, desperate to hear it out loud.

‘The other times, I think of you. I’d go home hard almost every time I saw you, whether it was our good days or our bad days. Making you happy turns me on. Arguing with you turns me on. You smiling at me, rolling your eyes at me, saying my name nicely or not-so-nicely. All of it turns me on. Every single thing about you is so sexy to me, y/n, and just being in your presence makes me want you so much,’ he says quietly, my entire body burning with longing for him, satisfaction settling in my heart at hearing how much he’s attracted to me.

‘If you had to name one thing about me that turns you on the most, what would it be? Just for future reference,’ I say, unable to hold back my smile, and he laughs, the smile on his face so beautiful that my heart aches. ‘I can’t name one thing, babe. It’s everything about you. But… I do love seeing you in a Chelsea shirt with my name on the back,’ he admits, and I wait for him to elaborate.

‘I’m possessive, so I love seeing my name on you and knowing that any guy that looks at you will see it. They can look at how beautiful you are, but they can’t touch because you’re mine,’ he says, my butterflies going wild at hearing him claim me. ‘And I’d think of fucking you from behind while you’re wearing it and seeing my name on your back,’ he adds on shamelessly, my stomach turning with desire. Now that he’s said it, I want him to do just that after his next match.

‘Sorry. That was too much,’ he says, thinking I’m silent because I’m uncomfortable, and I shake my head. ‘It wasn’t. It makes me feel good that you want me,’ I say, a small grin on his lips. ‘Seems like I’m good at making you feel good,’ he smirks, the double entendre not going unnoticed, and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a smile.

‘You’re far too confident for a guy that hasn’t actually fucked me yet,’ I say pointedly, his eyes widening. ‘You really don’t want a gentleman, do you? I was just giving you a chance to recover from your first ever orgasm before I give you another one,’ he mutters amusedly. ‘Wasn’t much to recover from,’ I joke, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Your thighs trying to crush my head said different, babe. So did your pussy trying to break my finger,’ he reminds me, and I fall silent, not able to come up with a retort.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ he chuckles, getting up from the bed and picking up his jeans. I panic for a second, thinking he’s about to go, but he just gets a condom out of the pocket. ‘Are you sure you still want me to fuck you, babe? You can tell me if you’re tired or not ready or you just don’t want to,’ he says softly, and I shake my head. ‘I still want you, Mase,’ I say quietly, crawling to the edge of the bed beside where he stands, taking one of his hands into mine and pulling him close.

‘But I want you raw,’ I whisper, taking the condom out of his hand, and he lets out a little sigh. ‘y/n-’ ‘Please. I want you to cum in me,’ I say softly, looking up at him through my lashes, and he groans. ‘Fuck, y/n, don’t say that.’ ‘It’s true, though. I want it in me, not in a condom.’

‘And what if you get pregnant?’ ‘I won’t, I’m on the pill!’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Is it 100% effective?’ ‘Well… no, but Isla and Steph are both on it and they’ve never gotten pregnant,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘So just because they have sex without condoms, you want to as well?’ ‘No, I want to because I want to feel you, without anything separating us, and I want you to cum inside me,’ I say, and he looks skywards like he needs help from God to have this conversation with me.

‘If you really don’t want to, that’s fine. But-’ ‘No, I want to. I just don’t want to risk anything happening to you,’ he murmurs, lifting a hand to caress my face gently. ‘Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m consistent with the pill, so I won’t get pregnant. And you’re clean, right?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘So it’s gonna be fine then. Please, Masey,’ I say with a pout, and he finally gives in.

‘Okay, fine. If my dirty girl wants it raw, that’s what she’ll get,’ he grins, my core throbbing at the thought of him cumming inside me. ‘Lie back for me,’ he instructs and I do as he says, on full display for him, his eyes trawling over my body appreciatively. ‘You’re so perfect, baby,’ he praises, taking his boxers off, and my heart pounds at the sight of him stood there in all his glory. Flawlessly toned body, dark ink on fair skin, and a cock that makes my pussy wet.

‘That’s… not gonna fit in me,’ I breathe out, the boy laughing as he climbs over me, his lips meeting mine in soft kiss. ‘It will, babe.’ ‘Will it hurt?’ I ask nervously, and he doesn’t answer for a moment. ‘Maybe. But we’ll go slowly, and I’ll stop if you ask me to. Okay?’ he murmurs, and I nod, taking a deep breath to try and calm myself.

He kisses me again, turning us over so my body weight rests entirely on him, his hands trailing up and down my body. We both gradually get more and more worked up, moaning against each other’s mouths, our hands fervent and desperate on each other. My core is impossibly wet, my arousal soaking his skin too, and when he reaches a hand between my legs, slipping his finger between my folds, a pornographic moan escapes my lips, the boy groaning at the noise.

‘You’re definitely wet enough. Are you still sure you want this?’ ‘Yes, Mase, please. Need you to fuck me,’ I murmur against his neck, the boy wasting no time in turning us over, on his knees between my legs. He runs the tip up and down my folds, soaking his cock in my arousal, and my walls clench around nothing, desperate to feel him inside.

‘What’s your safe word?’ he tests me. ‘Clueless.’ ‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, the praise making me smile to myself, and I watch as he pumps his cock a couple times, his eyes fluttering shut at the stimulation. He’s so fucking sexy – just the sight of him like this makes me feel like I could cum.

‘Legs around my waist, babe,’ he says as he moves to hover over me, and I wrap my legs around him, hooking them together at the ankles. ‘Ready?’ he asks, and I nod, heart warm at the gentle kiss he presses to my lips.

I feel the head of his cock running along my folds again before he starts to push inside me. The pain of the stretch catches me off guard – I didn’t expect it to hurt like this – and I gasp, my entire body tensing. ‘Hurts?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I squeak out, gripping on to his shoulders, and he leans down to press comforting kisses to my jaw. ‘Shall I stop?’ he asks against my skin, and I shake my head. It hurts but I still want him.

‘The tip’s usually the worst bit and that’s nearly in. You’re doing so well,’ he whispers soothingly, pushing further in bit by bit, the pain throbbing between my legs. He keeps whispering praise and encouragement in my ear, telling me I’m taking him so well and I’m being such a good girl for him, and it makes me even wetter, letting him push in all the way with less and less pain.

‘Well done, babe, you did so well,’ he says softly once he’s all the way in, kissing me sweetly as my body tries to get used to the unfamiliar intrusion. Despite my best efforts to keep my body relaxed, my walls keep clenching around him, as though they’re trying to force him out.

‘I know you don’t mean to, but- fuck. Your clenching is not doing me any favours,’ he murmurs with his head buried in my neck, and I try my best to stop, feeling bad for him. He hasn’t had sex for almost a year and now that he’s finally in me, he’s staying still so he can let me adjust. This is probably torture for him.

‘You know you’re the first girl that I’ve not used a condom with?’ he says against my skin, my heart singing at the news that I am one of his firsts after all. ‘Really?’ ‘Yeah. And I hope to God that you decide to keep me around after tonight, because I cannot go back to condoms after being in you raw and you’re the only person I trust to fuck without one,’ he admits, the butterflies going wild again.

‘Of course I’m gonna keep you around. Our contract doesn’t expire for another month yet,’ I joke, the boy laughing against my neck, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘What about after that? Will you sign the renewal?’ ‘Will you?’ I ask, wanting to hear his answer first. ‘I’d rather have a real relationship with you instead,’ he says, a happy sigh escaping my lips, the sound making him laugh.

‘How are you feeling now?’ he asks, and I realise that the conversation distracted me from the uncomfortable feeling from before. Now my body’s already become accustomed to him inside me. It doesn’t hurt anymore – I just feel full.

‘I feel okay. You can move now,’ I say, and he lifts his head up to meet my eyes. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Mmhmm. I’m ready,’ I breathe out, kissing him again. ‘I’m warning you, though, babe. I don’t think I’m gonna last very long.’ ‘That’s okay, Mase.’ ‘No, but seriously. I might cum before you.’ ‘It’s fine, Mason, don’t worry. I’m not gonna get pissed off at you for cumming first,’ I laugh, the boy nodding with a small smile.

He starts moving, slowly pulling partway out before pushing back in gently, both of us sharply intaking breath at the feeling. It’s weird at first, and a little bit painful, but as his pace becomes more steady and his thrusts become more forceful, the pain ebbs away into pleasure.

‘Does it feel good?’ ‘Feels so good, Mase,’ I whimper, his skin so hot against mine, hands pressing into the bed on either side of my head. ‘Fuck, you’re so tight, babe,’ he curses, and it really does feel like he’s just about fitting in me, cock dragging against my walls and sending blissful waves of pleasure through me.

I can feel the way he’s restraining himself from pounding into me the way he must want to, instead rolling his hips against mine in slow and shallow thrusts, body moving against my clit, making me clench around him unintentionally.

‘Babe, you really need to stop clenching before I cum,’ he warns me, and I widen my eyes innocently. ‘I’m not doing it on purpose, Mase. I can’t help it. Just love how you feel inside me,’ I murmur, the boy groaning as his dick twitches.

‘Fuck, I’m so close,’ he murmurs, the whiny tone of his voice making me gush around him, and I decide I need him to cum in me right now. I dig my heels into his back as he thrusts into me, keeping him buried deep inside, and I clench around him, pulling his head down so I can whisper in his ear.

‘Cum for me, Mase. Wanna feel your cum in me,’ I breathe out against his ear, and it pushes him over the edge, the boy letting out a moan into my neck as he hits his high, his cock pulsing in me as he cums, his release deep in me. He lets out heavy breaths and gentle grunts, lifting his head up and pressing a kiss to my lips once he’s done.

‘I’ve never cum that quick in my life.’ ‘Yeah, right. Starting to think you’re a two-pump chump,’ I tease, his mouth dropping open. ‘It’s nearly been a year-’ ‘I know, I’m joking,’ I laugh, kissing him again. We’ve kissed so many times tonight but every single one feels like a first kiss, filling my body with so much happiness.

‘Did I hurt you?’ ‘It hurt a bit at the start but then it felt good,’ I say shyly, Mason grinning. I can feel his cock softening inside me, not stretching me out so much now. ‘If you ever let me fuck you again, I promise I’ll make you cum first,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Well, as it stands, there’s not much making me want to sleep with you again,’ I joke, Mason rolling his eyes.

‘You’re never gonna move on from this, are you?’ ‘Nope. You’ll be hearing about it for the rest of your life.’ ‘Rest of my life? Who says I wanna keep you around that long?’ ‘Things in your life clearly don’t last very long then,’ I fire back, Mason bursting into laughter, prompting me to laugh too. Sex always felt so scary to me, so serious and real, but this has been perfect, with all the laughing and joking and tenderness.

‘You still want me to fuck you?’ ‘Can you?’ ‘Yeah, I’ll get hard again in a couple minutes.’ ‘That quickly?’ I ask in surprise, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m in bed with the sexiest girl on Earth, and she’s naked and has my cock in her. I’m surprised I’m not already hard again,’ he says as though it’s obvious, my heart melting at hearing him compliment me again. I don’t think I’ll ever doubt myself again after this.

‘I do still want you to fuck me. I… don’t want today to be over yet. It’s been perfect,’ I say, the boy smiling softly. ‘I’d make every single day like this for you if you asked for it,’ he says, and even though it’d never be possible, he says it with complete sincerity, as though he really would want to. ‘You don’t have to take me on the best date ever and buy me lavish presents every day. But this part would be nice to do every day,’ I say coyly, Mason laughing gently.

‘Okay, babe. I’ll fuck you every day if that’s what you want,’ he promises me, and I feel myself getting wetter at the thought of him coming home to me waiting for him to fuck me. ‘Is that what my dirty girl wants?’ he asks, hand tightening on my jaw, holding my head in place so he can stare deep into my eyes, and I just about manage to nod in his tight grip. He’s giving me whiplash with the way he’s switching the mood.

‘Want me to come home to you and fuck you after you’ve been waiting all day? Because you know I would, baby. If you’re in the kitchen baking me something sweet, I’ll lie you across the counter and eat something even sweeter. If you’re watching TV in the living room, I’ll slip my fingers into your pants and make you cum all over my hand like a good little slut. If you’re in the dance studio, I’ll bend you over in front of the mirror so you can watch how pretty you look with my cock in you. If you’re recording, I’ll sit you on my cock and record all your pretty moans so you can listen to them when I’m away and remember how good I make you feel. I’ll fuck you after my matches and after your shows when we’re both all worked up and desperate for each other. I’ll fuck you with my fingers in the car after our dates, and then I’ll flip up your skirt as soon as we’re inside and fuck you against the front door. I’m yours now, babe, and you can have me whenever and wherever,’ he says lowly as he kisses along my jaw, his words making me moan softly. The thought of having him in all those different ways sends a fresh wave of arousal through me – I want him in every single one of those situations and my life won’t be complete if I don’t get it.

‘Want me to fuck my cum back into you?’ ‘Please fuck me, Mase. I need it,’ I beg pathetically, the boy grinning against my skin. He sits up on his knees again, pulling out of me and focusing his eyes between my legs. I can feel his cum dripping out of me a few moments later, his eyes darkening and smirk growing at the sight. I reach down and scoop some of it up, lifting my hand to my mouth and swiping my tongue across one fingertip, able to taste both of us. He watches me with a heavy focus, so I decide to help him along to getting hard again.

I reach my hand back down, his cum still on my fingers, and I think about pushing it back into me, but my nails are too long for me to put my fingers inside myself, so I rub it across my clit instead. I curse under my breath, keeping my eyes on his face as I smear his release across my folds and my clit, rolling my hips to meet the movements of my hand. He looks desperate for me, eyes so dark they’re almost black and lips parted to let out heavy breaths.

‘You’re so fucking hot, babe, oh, my God,’ he groans, hand fisting his cock, and he’s already hard again, abs clenching at the stimulation he’s giving himself. ‘Mase, fuck me, please,’ I whimper, still rubbing slow circles at my clit, and it’s like my begging knocks him back into action. He moves my hand away, replacing it with his own, and even though he matches my pace, it just feels so much better, my back arching under his touch.

He pulls off my socks, both of us now completely naked, and he lifts one of my legs to rest my ankle on his shoulder. He’s still resting on his knees, and he kisses the inside of my ankle as he buries himself deep inside me with much less resistance this time. I feel so much more exposed without his body covering mine, but the infatuation in his gaze as it travels across my body makes me feel confident rather than uncomfortable.

‘Can I move?’ he asks, and I nod, the boy slipping his hands beneath my back to lift my body up from the bed slightly. ‘Use your safe word if I’m being too rough,’ he says, the only bit of warning before he pulls almost all the way out before slamming all the way back in. There’s slight pain but it only adds to the pleasure, my eyes rolling back as I let out a high-pitched moan.

‘Fuck, baby, your moans are so fucking pretty. My pretty baby sounds so desperate and good for me,’ he murmurs, moving my body back and forth to meet his strong thrusts, his cock so deep it feels like it’s in my stomach. His hands are tight at my waist, holding me in a bruising grip, and his thrusts are just as forceful, but the kisses he presses to my ankles and legs are so soft and tender in comparison, my mind in a mess at the conflicting sensations.

He's much more focused on my pleasure now, watching my face intently to see my reactions as he fucks into me at a steady pace, the sounds of my moaning and skin slapping against skin drowning out the gentle music in the background. My body’s so stunned at the unfamiliar feelings, but the thing that makes me squirm the most is the look on his face as he watches me, a mix of cockiness, affection and intense desire.

‘You’re taking it so fucking well, y/n. My pretty girl loves having my cock, isn’t that right?’ he murmurs, voice strained with the effort of fucking me, and I can’t even respond, just moaning his name desperately. I feel the knot in my stomach starting to tighten as I watch his muscles rippling with every movement, the blood vessels in his body corded tight.

‘Getting close?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod, the boy adjusting his position so he’s lying over me again, one leg slung around his waist with the other bent up between our bodies. He fucks into me with renewed energy, the new position meaning the head of his cock is brushing against a spot inside me that makes my eyes tear up, and his grunts of effort are directly against my ear, driving me wild.

‘Fuck, Mase, feels so good,’ I moan in a high-pitched tone against his ear, the boy cursing, his pace increasing after hearing the desperation in my voice. He rests his weight on one forearm, his other hand slipping between our bodies to draw harsh circles at my clit. It’s all too much – his cock hitting the soft spot inside me, his fingers rubbing at my clit, his noises in my ear – and I feel myself hurtling towards my high.

‘Is my pretty baby gonna cum on my cock for me? Come on, babe, you’re so close. Cum around me like a good little slut, baby,’ he murmurs against my ear, thrusting particularly hard as he presses down on my clit, and I cry out his name as my orgasm washes over me. My walls clamp down around him, so tight he can’t move, so he gets me through my orgasm by rubbing harshly at my clit, sucking bruises onto my neck as my nails dig into his back, scratching lines across his skin.

My walls loosen around him once I start coming down, and he takes the opportunity to start fucking into me again, chasing his own orgasm. The overstimulation is too much, my body still twitching with aftershocks, body squirming beneath his.

‘Come on, baby, you can take it. Be a good girl for me,’ he breathes out, words broken up with curses and moans, and despite the tears running down my face, I want to do as he says. So I do my best to get him there, engaging what sanity I have left to meet his thrusts, clenching around him, kissing and biting along his jaw.

‘Fuck, y/n, I’m gonna cum, babe,’ he groans, burying himself deep in me as he moans my name, filling me with his release again. He thrusts into me slowly to get himself through his orgasm before pulling out when he’s done, cum dripping out of me.

‘You’re such a good girl for me, baby,’ he murmurs, collecting up the cum that’s trickling across my skin before pushing it back into me with a two fingers, prompting an ‘mmm’ sound from low in my throat, legs closing around his hand.

‘Let me clean you up,’ he says, half to himself, and he gets up off the bed and pulls his boxers back on before heading into the en suite. My body relaxes back into the duvet, skin damp with sweat and chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and I focus on the music so I don’t drift off to sleep, my body exhausted.

I can feel Mason’s hands on me as he cleans me up with a damp towel but I don’t register anything he says and I can’t focus my eyes on him either, lids sliding shut after a few seconds. When they reopen, it’s clearly been a while – Mason’s pulled the covers over my body and put a fresh pair of pants on me. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand and a bottle of water beside him. All the presents he got me are sitting on my vanity table, the bouquet of flowers on my bedside table, and I admire them with a warm feeling in my chest.

‘Mase,’ I say, voice hoarse, and he turns to look at me with a smile. ‘She’s back,’ he grins, lifting one of my hands to press a kiss to the skin, contentment filling me. ‘You okay?’ ‘Mmhmm,’ I hum in response as he hands me a bottle of water, watching as I gulp it down.

‘Why are you sitting there?’ ‘I thought it was a bit… presumptuous to get into bed with you without asking,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You were just inside me.’ ‘Still.’ ‘Mason, I don’t have a problem with my boyfriend getting into bed with me,’ I say with a small smile, and he tilts his head amusedly.

‘I’m not your boyfriend. Well, I’m your fake boyfriend. I haven’t asked if I can be your real boyfriend yet,’ he reminds me, and I roll my eyes. ‘You don’t have to ask.’ ‘No, babe. You told me you dreamed of romance in a relationship, and I want to be the man of your dreams, so I’m gonna ask, with a big gesture and everything,’ he says, and I pout.

‘So I have to wait?’ I ask, and he shakes his head with a grin, reaching over and plucking the single pink rose out of the bouquet, handing it to me. When I hold it, I realise it’s not real, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion. ‘It’s a forever rose. There was a card that I wrote to go with it but I chickened out and didn’t give it to you,’ he says, picking up his jeans from where they are on the floor, fishing out a note and handing it to me.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y/n. You’ll be in my heart until the last rose dies. Yours forever, Mason x

My eyes fill with tears, the boy laughing as he moves to sit beside me, pulling me into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ‘You’re so cute, babe,’ he murmurs, and I shake my head. ‘No, you’re so cute! That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,’ I reply tearfully, Mason stroking my hair with a soft hand.

‘Look at the rose again,’ he prompts, and I do as he says, inspecting it. As I move it, I notice the light glinting off something between the petals. I pick it out with my nails, gasping at the sparkling pink sapphire set into a silver ring. ‘It matches the jewellery set. It’s a promise ring,’ he says, taking it from me and slipping it onto my left ring finger.

‘A promise for what?’ ‘A promise that I’ll replace it with an engagement ring and then a wedding ring, if that’s what you want. A promise that I’ll love you forever, y/n,’ he says softly, and I turn to look at him with wide eyes. ‘Love?’ ‘What else, babe? Since the moment I saw you, I knew. You were gonna change my life, and now I can’t imagine it without you and all your pink. I love you, y/n,’ he whispers, and I let out a teary laugh, pulling him in for a kiss.

‘You still haven’t asked me,’ I say suddenly, breaking apart from him, and he laughs. ‘y/n, will you be my girlfriend?’ ‘Yes!’ I exclaim, pulling him back into a kiss. ‘I love you too,’ I whisper into the kiss, feeling his lips curve up into a smile. ‘Are you sure?’ he asks, breaking away from me, and I laugh. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve only just realised it, but I know it now. I love you, Mason Mount,’ I smile, the boy pulling me into his arms with a chuckle. ‘I love you more, my clueless girl.’

#mason mount #mason mount smut #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #chelsea fc

2K notes · View notes

adiluv · 7 months

Text

✦ : ❝ 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 !

꒰synopsis—wc꒱ in which he cares for you, in his own ways; 2565 words.

꒰warnings꒱ akademiya roommate wanderer, pre-established relationship ꒰mutual pining꒱, reader is an amurta scholar, lightly edited.

꒰adi moment꒱ here's my little love letter to roommate wanderer, because i fr love it! might write more for this since i've got a ton of ideas that didn't make it in here! the reader is very briefly mentioned to wear glasses btw, though you can just ignore it if you don't use them—doesn't have any impact. hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

“Boring.”

“Unsubstantial.”

“Confusing thesis.”

“Oh, and look.” He flits the paper over in your direction, tapping at the short paragraph you’d written on it. “This one’s missing a thesis entirely.”

Your eye twitches at the blatant snark within his final remark, gaze focused on the Wanderer as he lets out a sigh, dropping the stack of papers in his hands to rest on his lap before lazily leafing through them once more. He doesn’t seem to be any more pleased by this second inspection than he was the first, gorgeous features contorting into a frown as he glances up at you.

It’s almost impressive, how much effort it takes for you to maintain your amicable expression, biting the inside of your cheek to an almost painful degree and praying that the ever growing darkness in your eyes doesn’t expose the extent of your frustration. To say that your hands were aching would, at this point, be a heavy understatement.

Perhaps it was simply foolish of you, asking for his assistance and deluding yourself into believing that he might aid you without any traces of his usual sass and impudent attitude.

Perhaps you should’ve expected him to hold you to his unbelievably high standards, refusing to allow you to move onto the rest of your paper before you’d presented him with an absolutely perfect introduction—which, in your mind, still makes no sense considering that your papers aren’t expected to be nearly as perfect as his—field work of more importance for an Amurta scholar like yourself.

And, perhaps, your mental well-being would be in far better condition if you’d simply decided to try and complete everything yourself. ꒰… Though, it was hard to deny the sneaking suspicion that he still might’ve involved himself had you not gone to him first—meddlesome as he is.꒱

You half-expect him to return the parchment to your hands, demanding that you rewrite them for the nth time before seeking out his judgment once more—but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls one of your drafts from the stack, slapping the rest onto the empty space beside him in order to give the chosen sheet a once-over. He nods, holding it out to you, and allows you to take it from him before he speaks once more.

“This is the most tolerable.” The Wanderer begins, and you’ve lived with him long enough to understand that it’s a compliment, “Just cut out some of the filler, and it’ll be usable.”

There are practically tears in your eyes as you reread it—fingers having suffered numerous cramps in the efforts of producing a favorable outline—and the extent of your reaction certainly isn’t lost on your roommate, who’s taken to eyeing you as though you’ve gone mad. He scoffs, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You’re looking at that thing like you’ve completed the entire paper.”

“Honestly?” You laugh, though it comes out sounding slightly strained. “I’ve got half a mind to submit this introduction alone and just be done with it.”

He narrows his eyes at you, lips thinning, as if trying to figure out how serious you’re being. There’s a beat of silence before he finally responds.

“Don’t."

ii.

While beings can survive in a Withering Zone, the effects are extremely harmful to humans, who require a Vision to simply resist its power. Even brief exposure could cause serious effects…

Withering Zones are initially created as a… Nascent Zone which attracts a small amount of monsters and begins to corrupt the surrounding area…

Something, something, Fetid Boughs… branches… tumors, affect people…

..!

You don’t even realize that you’d fallen asleep until your face collides with the surface of your desk, eyes snapping open in a panic as you frantically peel yourself away from the wood. The entire world feels as though it’s spinning, senses dulled by exhaustion, hands sliding beneath the frames of your glasses ꒰and surely smudging the lenses, though you hardly had it in you to care anymore꒱ before sliding down the length of your face in an exaggeratedly annoyed motion.

The Akademiya was going to be the death of you.

Annoyingly enough, the information within your stupidly thick textbook seemed just as foreign to you as it had when you’d first sat down for the evening, a simple fact that stranded you somewhere between a mental breakdown and full-blown insanity. The life of an academic truly was far more trouble than it was worth.

The flame contained within your lantern flickered, almost tauntingly so ꒰though perhaps that was the lack of sleep getting to you꒱, besides you.

At this point, you longed for nothing more than to cast aside your studies for the night, lay down atop your tantalizingly soft mattress, and go to sleep—abandoning your problems and forcing your future self to deal with them in your stead.

As things often are, however, making such a decision would be incredibly troublesome, the scholar responsible for your agony having already declared his intentions of quizzing you the very next morning. An awfully strict man, well in on the years, and he didn’t seem nearly fond enough of you to extend any sympathy towards your plight—something that you ꒰regrettably꒱ couldn’t help but understand, seeing as you’d been given a full week to prepare and foolishly chose to wait until the very night before.

Throwing your head back, you blankly stare up at the ceiling, vision swimming in off-which as you attempt to reel in your concentration. It wasn’t working—though you hardly even expected it to—past instances of your procrastination having left you well aware of the outcome.

You’d stay up all night, reviewing and reviewing and reviewing—as though your life depended on it—pass out an hour or so before you’d have to get up for the day, regret every single one of your life’s choice while rushing out of your room, swear off ever procrastinating again… and then repeat the cycle in a month’s time when the lesson wore off.

The sound of your bedroom’s door creaking open is enough to pull you out of your thoughts, though you make no effort to face the intruder until you register a sharp flick on your exposed forehead. Your body jerks, and you turn towards the Wanderer with a sudden start, about to scold him for the ludicrous amount of strength that he always puts into the gesture before you notice the bowl that he’s placed directly in front of you.

You blink. He says nothing, instead choosing to remove the pen from your hand and slot a spoon into its space, and you reminisce to the time where he’d attempted to teach you to use chopsticks only for you to spill soy sauce all over yourself.

“... Hat Guy?” You murmur, slightly softened ꒰gorgeous꒱ features cringing as the nickname escapes your lips.

“Call me that again and I’ll eat this myself.”

“Really, you’re no fun at all, Wanderer…” Your tone is lighthearted, mirth within your tone as he rolls his eyes.

He chooses not to respond to that statement, and you choose not to try and stretch out the conversation, instead leaning slightly towards the bowl in order to get a better look at its contents. Shimi Chazuke, his favorite food, as you’ve come to find out, pieces of eel piled atop the rice to an almost shocking degree—considering his habit of hoarding all of it whenever he went through the effort of making the dish.

Seemingly dissatisfied by your hesitance to dig in, he decides to offer some explanation for the gesture. “I made this in order to encourage you, yet it seems as though you won’t even be able to keep your eyes open long enough to properly enjoy it.”

“You did all of that for me?” You ask, brain having already turned to mush and doing absolutely nothing to stop tears from welling up in your eyes—donning a dopey smile as you stare up at him. A flash of red paints his features, and without his hat, he turns away from you to save face.

“... The eel is good for brain function, so you should at least eat that. Perhaps it’ll give you the intellect to curb this foolish habit of yours.” You giggle, and he huffs, the lack of bite within his statement clear to the both of you. “Throw out the rest if you don’t want it. I don’t care.” He does, but you choose not to mention it.

“And here I was thinking you were going to be fully nice to me.” You tease, taking a bite and savoring the taste. The Wanderer lets out a scoff as the entirety of your body relaxes, though the increased intensity of his blush betrays his true sentiments of the matter. “... Thank you, though. It… It really means a lot.” You continue, trying to be as earnest as you possibly can when you’re a moment’s notice away from collapsing into the bowl.

“Don’t mention it.” He grumbles, lips pressed together, and it’s enough for you to decide that you won’t be following that command. “... And take a break. The human mind isn’t good at processing information while deprived of sleep.”

“Pfft—You say that as if you aren’t a human yourself.”

He pauses at that, and for a split second, his expression shifts into something somber. At least, that’s what you assume, because the very moment that you can comprehend the change within his mood he’s already turning his back towards you and walking out of your room. “... Take a break.”

The door closes before you can respond. And with steam wafting from the bowl, contents still too hot for you to indulge in, your torturous study session is made the slightest bit more tolerable.

iii.

As it turns out, leaving your umbrella within the confines of your home while the sky is violently gray outside was ꒰regardless of the fact that you only had one lecture that particular day꒱ an absolutely terrible idea. Deciding to run through the storm pouring over the Akademiya instead of simply waiting it out was an even more foolish course of action, clothing completely soaked through and body dripping wet by the time you stepped into the safety of your abode.

… In hindsight, you probably should’ve just gone back for the damned thing when you’d noticed Kaveh—notorious for forgetting them—walking around with one in hand. At least then, even if you might’ve been a few minutes late, you wouldn’t be missing a full day of academics in order to recover from the sickness you’d come down with. Nor would you have been placed beneath the Wanderer’s surveillance, your ‘beloved’ roommate having insisted ꒰for some strange reason꒱ on staying home to keep watch on your condition.

It was sweet, at first. Oddly domestic, considering just how emotionally constipated the man is, almost always attempting to convince you that he didn’t care for you in the slightest—even when his actions made it clear that he didn’t think as lowly of you as he insisted.

But by the Archons was he attentive. Too attentive, really, confining you to your bedroom and feeding you medicine so bitter that you’d had to pinch your nose closed in order to keep from gagging. Reminders that his actions were for the sake of your own health did little to reassure you, did nothing to lessen the sting of annoyance that pierced your chest whenever he pushed you back down onto your mattress or pulled your blanket from your shivering form, berating you for making your fever worse despite the chills you felt running through your veins.

And you, being the stubborn thing that you were, would simply go through the effort in reuniting it with your body, lounging in bliss until he next returned to check in on your condition.

Like right now, for example.

“Would you stop covering yourself already?” There’s a rag in the Wanderer’s hand as he opens the door, a deep scowl tugging down at his lips as he walks over to you—long strides, like he’s in a hurry—before the duvet is unceremoniously stripped away. While he’d previously contented himself with placing it on the other end of the bed, he takes things further this time, mink bunching up between his fingers and pattern distorting as he pulls it away from the bed entirely. You don’t even have the chance to protest before he continues talking.

“Do you even know how hot you are right now?” And if you were in better condition, and if he didn’t already appear to be so irritated with you already, that would've been the perfect opportunity to mess with him. “It’s almost as if you’re trying to die, you know that?”

“Not my fault I feel like I’m freezing.” You retort, knowing full well that it… technically is, pouting as you watch him drop your salvation to the floor, now nothing more than a useless heap. Although there wasn’t anything that was physically retraining you from getting up in order to reclaim it once he was busy doing anything else, the lightheadedness you were experiencing certainly didn’t make the option seem all that appealing. He seemed to realize that, too, placing it in the furthest corner of the room.

Smart, yes, but dreadfully annoying.

“Oh,” his tone is practically dripping with sarcasm as the sound escapes his mouth, “so I should believe the person who looks halfway to the grave?”

“... Maybe?”

He slaps the rag onto your head with a loud smack, wet and cold, a shiver running through your spine as your hands instinctively shoot up to remove the offending object. He catches both of your wrists without so much as a word, barely having to battle your weakened self in order to lower them back down to your sides, grip lingering for a few seconds until he’s entirely certain that you won’t make another attempt to take it off. And perhaps you’ve simply become delusional in your feverish state, but you find yourself missing his touch once he finally moves his hands away.

You’re saved the embarrassment of admitting this, however, when he speaks—pools of indigo scrutinizing your movements as he straightens up.

“The lavender melon soup I’m making is almost done.” He informs you, and your weary mind stews in confusion for a few seconds before remembering that they originate from Inazuma, practically all the way on the other side of Teyvat.

While the abolishment of the Vision Hunt Decree made it possible for merchants to import the fruit, it was still considered a novelty within Sumeru, prices too stupidly high for you to justify the purchase. You frowned, unsure of just how much mora he had to shell out in order to buy them. “... If I come back and see you with that blanket again, it’s not going to be the illness that ends you.”

You laugh at the threat, and he sighs, mumbling an 'I mean it' before retreating into the kitchen. You decide not to test him any further.

… And, apparently decide to find another source of warmth, because you wake up the next morning atop the couch with your fever broken and your face buried in the Wanderer’s chest. There's nobody around to tease the both of you for the compromising position—this time—though you still end up turning up to your classes totally red-faced, mute against the concerned inquiries of your fellow scholars.

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

#꒰📍꒱﹕my writing ⋆#gn reader #genshin impact #genshin impact wanderer #genshin impact scaramouche #wanderer genshin #scaramouche genshin #wanderer #scaramouche #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact oneshots #genshin oneshots

334 notes · View notes

ivymarquis · 5 months

Text

A Little Death

Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 7k Kinks/Content/Warnings| The author has decided she can't be assed to edit this, Chubby!Reader, Kidnapping, nondescript mentions of torture. Ambiguous mentions of S/A (vague enough you can chose to ignore that part if you want tbh), Reader is traumatized from her ordeal but working through it. Fingering, PiV, riding, squirting, Simon has a moment where he's worried he triggered reader after sex but that is an incorrect assumption on his part.

On days like this Simon can almost pretend he’s normal.

The game’s on, a beer in one hand while the other has been commandeered by his girlfriend with a simple “Gimmie.”

Simon has never been one to worry about his nails beyond clipping them for practicality’s sake.

Having a SAS lieutenant for a boyfriend means she deals with what she insists is Simon’s paranoia and he insists is a healthy level of suspicion about the outside world. Having a nail technician for a girlfriend means every so often she’ll commandeer his hands to ensure they’re up to her standards. As it turned out, adhering to regulations wasn’t up to par for her.

His neighbor is a popular woman.

It sets him on edge, all the traffic. One or two people at a time, usually other women- sometimes with a man in tow, other times not. They show up, they stay for maybe an hour or maybe 4, and they leave. Within 30 minutes someone else is knocking on her door.

Normal men humor their partners about things they don’t particularly give a fuck about when left to their own devices, as an acknowledgment of its importance to them.

And so he sits, beer in one hand as she works on the other. Once she’s finished she gathers up the towel that acts as a catch for the various clips and trimmings before making her move to switch sides, Simon easily acquiescing to her whim.

“I’m not keeping you up, am I?” She asks one night. Music plays lowly from a laptop on her patio as he steps onto his for a smoke break. Just because he’s got his vice doesn’t mean he wants the whole flat smelling like it.

“Don’t sleep much anyway, pet. Bit of music won’t change that one way or another.”

Despite his insistence that he’s merely humoring her, he soaks up the attention she readily gives him. When she’s done and tidied after herself she returns with a small bottle of lotion.

He’s got one arm wrapped around her shoulders, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her head as she massages his hand. If he plays his cards right tonight he can probably get her to soothe some of the aches and stiff muscles that always plague him. For now he melts as she seems to know exactly what points to hit in his palm and forearm.

It’s domestic and normal and Simon can almost ignore the burner phone he keeps on him at all times.

It goes off at 5am on a Sunday, Simon already awake and having been watching the ceiling fan since 4:30. He can’t fall back asleep but can’t bring himself to separate from her.

She burrows further into his chest as his shifting disrupts her. He’s fairly certain she would crawl inside his ribcage if she could, curl up right next to his heart and never leave.

Simon would gladly let her.

She’s a nail technician, he comes to learn. Sure as shit, he eventually memorizes the traffic that comes and goes on a roughly two week interval. Some of them are steadfast in their appointments. 2 o clock every other Thursday. 4 o clock every other Friday. Others not so much- they come around frequently but the days and times are random after the 14 day mark.

The familiarity of some of the faces takes him slightly less on edge. He will never relax, not truly, but it settles him down now that he knows the pattern.

It also explains why her hands have two completely different designs on each one. Color, pattern, the shape of the nails. Her left and right hand look like they belong to two different people.

Simon doesn’t use social media, for obvious reasons. His little neighbor has formed an entire career for herself based off of it.

But the phone buzzes on the nightstand, an omniscient presence that always hovers heavy in the air.

“Price?” Is all he gives for a greeting. Trying to keep his words short and concise. He doesn’t want to wake her, still under the lull she draws him into without trying.

He keeps his work and his personal life separate with no intention of ever melding the two.

“Laswell’s got intel. We meet in 2 days, back on base at 06:00.”

He is about to respond, both an acknowledgment and a hopeful end to the conversation, when she stretches next to him with a groan of protest at being awoken so early.

“Tell your other girlfriend I said hi,” she grumbles, already knowing it’s Price on the phone and that the clock is officially counting down on the time they have left together.

“You know at a certain point I'm going to just decide you’ve got a whole secret life with a wife and kids and a picket fence.”

He doesn’t want his work to ever follow him home. Not to her. He keeps them strictly separate. She knows he’s military- specifically SAS- and that he works in counter terrorism and that’s about all he’s willing to tell. She doesn’t need to know details. And more importantly the details don’t ever need to know about her.

His past missions have haunted him in the worst way possible. He’s finally rebuilt something for himself as the ghost of a dead man, and doesn’t want anything to ever tarnish what he’s found.

He can’t entirely blame her. It takes a leap of faith to accept the little he offers her. What does he have? A dead man’s name and most likely a violent end waiting for him.

Eventually he does offer a small peace offering. Price is enough to settle the concerns that she hides as jokes. Provides enough credibility that she can let go of the concern that he’s living a double life.

Well, he is. But not the kind that nags at her.

Price knows her; Gaz and Soap know that he’s got someone waiting for him at home, but Simon is already at his limit of how much intermingling he can handle. They’re both compromising, both making allowances for their comfort levels for the sake of the other. But he has to draw the line somewhere.

If Simon had his way Gaz and Soap would be none the wiser, but a night of frantic coupling before he’d left had Simon bearing marks that are incredibly obvious in the changing room.

“Steamin’ Jesus L.T.! You get jumped by a wildcat?” The chortle from the Scot makes it obvious that Johnny is yet again not afraid to push Simon’s buttons.

There’s no denying what they are, nor how he got them. Neither Soap nor Gaz are stupid.

Long, red scratch marks criss cross the broad expanse of his scarred back. He certainly hadn’t complained when his lovely girl had left her mark on him- those nails dragging across his skin had only encouraged him as his hips clapped wetly against hers, hands gripping her knees as he pressed them to her shoulders.

Most nights he is soft and gentle and strokes her skin while his lips press either in her hair or the soft expanse of her neck. He doesn’t roughhouse her tonight, but the knowledge he’ll be gone for weeks and tonight is their last together for the foreseeable future?

Well, the pair of them are a bit amped about the impending separation. It’s a good thing neither of them are particularly known for their good sleeping habits, because there’s not a lot of that usually happening on the nights before Simon leaves.

Leaving without waking her up is an impossible task but he tries anyway.

Whereas Simon finds sleep difficult to achieve and eventually sleeps like the dead once he finds it, she drifts readily enough but will wake at the drop of a hat.

Usually she’ll settle soon after. Eyes following his form in the dark, waiting expectantly for him to come back after he dresses to kiss her goodbye.

They carve out a routine for themselves. One for when Simon is home, and one for when he’s preparing to walk out the door until eventually coming back through it.

His therapist is equal parts shocked and pleased to hear that Simon is taking the leap and opening himself up emotionally to someone.

His therapist is less pleased about the way he simply buries himself in her life when he’s on leave.

Simon is nothing- has nothing- when he is not acting in the line of duty. He is a dead man with nothing to his name and no one who gives a fuck if he ever walks back through the door that isn’t tied to his military career.

He thrives on the stability and schedule on base. On the simplicity of nights spent out on the field. Wake up, piss, dont die, go to sleep. Wake up, repeat.

Some days the only thing keeping him from trying to end it all (again, he bitterly acknowledges) when he’s gotten too far into a bottle of bourbon is his therapist and the thought of his team’s face at the news.

Until, at least, he meets her.

The mission is brief but successful. Simon is pleased.

The deepest of the scratch marks has just finished healing and he’s already missing the sensation of her nails dragging against his skin- and he’s not picky about the context, either.

There have been plenty of nights he’s fallen asleep with his face buried in her chest with one of her hands scratching gently at his scalp and the other tracing in broad strokes across his back.

Of course those nails also feel divine scratching at his abdomen while she is on her knees for him.

There’s a process he goes through when he gets home. It lets him shed the mantle of Ghost- to calm down as much as he’s able and be better equipped to deal with civilian life. Helps him give her the illusion that she is with a normal man who’s not holding onto himself with a death grip, desperately trying to keep the pieces together.

He feels fine when he leaves base and heads home. Everything is normal.

Until he turns the corner and sees the door ajar.

Fear runs ice cold in his veins, hackles raised and on guard.

I’m just being paranoid, he tries to self soothe as he steps towards the door. She tells me all the time.

Course, it was one thing when he gripes about how she answers the door without looking to see who it is. She doesn’t leave the fucking door open.

“Wish you’d at least look at the peep hole before just opening the bloody door,” he grouses into her hair, pulling her in so she’s tucked up to his side.

“If I’m expecting someone to come at 3 and there’s a knock at 3, I already know who it is, Si.”

There are times when he is grateful that she has, by comparison, lived a life where she thinks he is paranoid and needlessly worries. She hasn’t had the experiences he has, and he doesn’t wish that upon her. He’s grateful with the knowledge that every time he’s sent out, thus far, that she’s been tucked away safe and sound until he returns.

But of course the other shoe was always going to drop eventually.

“Price?” Simon doesn’t know who else to call.

He’s standing in the middle of his flat, evidence of an altercation scattered around the living room.

She put up a fight if the state of the flat is anything to go by. He wants to be proud of that at least, use it as hope-

He just feels hollow.

A group the 141 has dealt with prior are the ones all the signs point to. They wanted the team’s attention and by God they fucking got it.

Simon doesn’t understand how they found she has any ties to him. He’s so careful- keeps her tucked away and hidden from any potential cross over with his work.

The next few days are a blur and Simon’s mental health has seen better days.

He resigns himself, even when Laswell gets a hit and the 141 are loaded into a helo, to the fact that at best this will be a body retrieval mission.

Even as Soap gives a reassuring knock into his shoulder- we’ll get her back, LT- as confident as ever.

His sweet girl is dead, just like every other person Simon has ever cared about.

He doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve losing them all. The only ones he has left are his team, and that’s a tenuous state at best. His family was good. They were normal people with normal lives. She is good and a normal person.

Her only sin is being foolish enough to love him.

Some time between getting on the bird and offloading, Simon forces the thoughts in a corner and blocks them off.

Simon, the terrified boyfriend, gives way to Ghost so he can get through this in one piece. He just wants to find her, bring her home and bury her body. He’s numb to anything beyond the scope of the plan he’s formed in his mind.

It’s laughably easy. A fringe group the 141 has had altercations with- she’s not exactly a high profile prisoner. They just wanted to fuck with Simon.

There’s no satisfaction or vindication as they clear the building floor by floor.

He feels nothing.

The further they venture into the building with no sign of her, the pit in his stomach sinks just as far. There’s no sign of anything concrete or anywhere they’d keep a prisoner.

And then there, in a corner of a hallway, Ghost spots it-

An acrylic nail lying broken on the ground, dried blood clotted on the tips.

For the first time in days, Simon feels something.

It’s not hope. He doesn’t dare hope.

But it’s confirmation that she has, at some point, been in the building.

It’s also confirmation that she gave it a fighting chance.

She’s a civilian- nothing much she can do against professional criminals. But she tried and Simon has to find something in that.

They split into pairs down a hallway clearing rooms. Every door that opens only to not have her in it is like a knife that keeps twisting in his abdomen.

Just let him have this one thing.

It’s just as Ghost and Soap have called out clear on another room that he hears Price’s voice call to him down the hall.

There’s only one reason Price would be calling for him specifically.

As he approaches he can hear the captain again, softer this time. Can’t make out what he’s saying but everything feels slow; like he’s moving under water.

As his mind prepares him for every horrific potential image waiting for him beyond the threshold of the door- there’s nothing that prepares him for what he sees.

She’s alive.

Wide eyed and panicked, which is to be expected all things considered, but she’s here and she’s breathing.

Simon forgets himself entirely. He swings wildly from feeling nothing to feeling everything and it bubbles up all at once as he barrels towards her.

He forgets that while she knows Simon is SAS she knows nothing of Ghost. Simon works in counter terrorism, yes, but she knows nothing about the mask.

So after being kidnapped and going through God-knows-what in her absence, she’s got no fucking clue the 6’4 fucker with the skull mask gunning for her is her boyfriend.

The sharp, croaked “Stay the fuck away from me!” doesn’t cut but it does jog his memory enough to know she’s absolutely terrified.

Again there’s that part of him that is proud of her. After everything she’s been through even if she wouldn’t stand a chance in an actual altercation- She’s not huddled in the corner. She looks willing to fight him, until Simon rips the mask off his face. “It’s me, love! It’s me.”

“Simon? What the fuck is that?!”

Rather than scrambling to get away she turns to launch herself at him, a tangle of limbs as they cling to each other and reassure themselves that yes this is real and yes the other is there. That this fucking nightmare is over.

Simon buries his nose in her hair- was so certain he’d be bringing her home in a body bag he almost doesn’t know what to do with himself. She’s shaking in his grip, sobs ripping through her as he shushes her gently and murmurs “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you now.”

“As much as I love a good reunion- we need to get going, Ghost.” Price is ever the voice of reason, because Simon’s head is not in the game right now.

He wants to cling to her and never let her go- he needs to pull his head out of his ass.

Price isn’t wrong. As much as he has to fight off the impulse to tuck her against his side and keep her there, they have shit to do.

He won’t truly be able to relax until she’s safely stowed on the helo and they’re on their way back.

It’s a bit easier once he puts the mask on. His brain is trained to focus on work and not let his personal life muddy the waters. Where Simon can’t help but falter, Ghost is dauntless.

Simon can barely string a thought together now that he has her back in his arms. Simon still cannot believe she’s alive and breathing even after touching, smelling and hearing her.

But Ghost can focus on getting her to the helo.

Everything is a blur as Price and Gaz lead with Soap bringing up the rear.

Ghost can’t quite decide where he wants her- keeps alternating between keeping her behind him in the event they get blindsided, that he’ll take any hits that go past Price or Gaz, or getting her in front of him so he can keep an eye on her, and there’s two SAS soldiers in front of her and two behind.

The hostiles in the building wanted the 141’s attention. Mission fucking accomplished.

The ones they chance across are dropped with ease. Simon is no stranger to returning to a location and making his point. Right now he’s got bigger concerns to be worried about.

A knot of anxiety lodges itself on his ribcage as they move through the building that doesn’t unwind until he’s got her strapped to her seat in the helo.

For the first time in days he can breathe. The knot slowly untangles as they ascend.

It finally settles in for both of them that she is out and she is safe. She’s been quiet the whole trek to the helo but Price, Soap, and Gaz have been on enough hostage recovery missions to not be caught off guard as she bursts into tears and buries her face in Ghost’s vest.

It’s finally safe for her to do so, the adrenaline wearing off as she sobs.

For the most part the other three men try to avert their eyes and not intrude.

Simon’s always been reserved about his life off base and watching him soothe his partner is bordering too personal for the others to witness.

It comes and goes in waves; Simon will settle her down, crooning quietly in her ear too low for the others to hear. She’ll stifle her tears for a bit as he soothes her. They go straight to medical after landing to have her looked at. She starts up again while waiting for the nurse to come back, trying to apologize to Simon through choked sobs.

He won’t hear it, softly but firmly brushing her apologies to the side and assuring her everything’s fine now, love. No need to apologize.

He feels physically ill when the nurse delicately asks if she needs a rape kit or screenings done.

The rest of the 141 gives them a wide berth- which is a marked accomplishment because all too often Soap and Gaz are trailing behind him and finding some sort of shenanigans to get up to. Simon is perfectly content with the arrangement. He wants to focus his attention on her and that’s easier to do without the sergeants under foot.

His room on base is much like his entire apartment was before she moved in.

It’s 3am, Simon needs to take a piss and as he’s doing so, he’s not-quite eye level with a sign that says

“★★★★★ -

Would poop here again”

He’s got no idea when or where she found that, let alone put it up, but rolls his eyes good naturedly as he tucks himself away.

Normal people have bathroom decor.

Simon can appreciate a bit or a joke as much as the next person- but while this space is his it’s not something he’s ever felt the need to decorate. It’s a bed for him to crash on in between missions or if he’s too bloody exhausted to safely make the trek home.

There’s only one piece of any sort of personal touch to the room- a framed photo of her.

Simon intends to see her through the next few days- they’ll head home in the morning and realistically there’s only so long John can hold off on calling the boys in again. But the captain says he’ll do what he can to keep Simon home while they settle back in. He’s been due for some leave anyway.

He doesn’t sleep the first night. She swings drastically between being knocked out and jolting awake screaming and crying. Even once she’s gotten over the initial shock of her rescue it still takes time for her nervous system to calm down.

“I’ve got you, love- you’re safe here” he murmurs into her ear as she trembles like a leaf. “We’ll be home soon, yeah? You’ll feel better once you’re in our bed.”

The question is twofold- it is to soothe her, and also to gauge her reaction to the prospect of going home. Simon won’t hesitate to set the flat ablaze if it makes her feel better.

Start fresh.

For now she seems to sleep better if he’s got her pinned up against the wall- the bulk of him a physical barrier to anything that might enter the room.

He’s always slept between her and the door so that’s no hardship- it just takes time to realize she feels safer trapped between him and the wall.

They make it through the first night in one piece, although the next morning she will not stop chewing on her nails. With someone else, he wouldn’t necessarily be surprised- but she’s never been a nail biter.

It dawns on him, as she sits on the couch and bursts into tears, that she wants the nails (or at least the ones that survived the ordeal) off, and is winding herself up too much to take them off the way she knows she should.

Simon goes to her office; he’s watched her enough that he knows the steps and the materials she’ll need, gathering them up before coaxing her to the table.

There’s no interest in redoing them but Simon manages to get the current sets off of her so she doesn’t damage her nail beds- assuming she stops chewing on them (which she does).

Over the next few days he lets her set the pace. She’s jumpy at home and calmer when he takes her out to run errands or just to stretch their legs.

Maybe he will propose moving sooner rather than later. Their building is a shithole anyway.

He puts her in therapy after a week. It’s the only time he’s away from her. Realistically he knows it’s not good to have her so used to always being within arms length or eyesight of him- it’s not sustainable when eventually he will be called back in. But he has no qualms for the coddling he subjects her to while he’s able to. She’s quiet and comfortable with his hovering in a way she’d never tolerate before she was abducted- he figures he’ll know when she’s feeling a bit like herself again when she starts complaining about him not giving her any space.

Knowing she’s got the therapist gives him some security on how she’ll mentally cope when eventually he needs to leave again.

Her bursting into tears occurs less frequently. If Simon has to pry himself away from her to take a piss in the middle of the night she’s not up, back ramrod straight and waiting for him to come back with wet, teary eyes.

As the days tick on, bleeding into months later, Simon idly acknowledges that-short of when he’s on deployment- this is the longest they’ve gone without having sex. There’s nothing else that goes with that acknowledgement- he’s far more concerned with her well being than he is getting his kicks. He’s just taking stock of all their ‘normals’ and prior to her abduction they’d had quite the active sex life.

It’s one day as they’re watching a movie that it’s apparent Simon isn’t the only one aware of their dry spell.

They’re laying on the couch, her back pressed against his front with one of his heavy arms draped across her rib cage to keep her snuggled up against him as they watch the screen in front.

At first he thinks that she’s repositioning- thinks nothing of it and lifts his arm just enough to allow her the freedom to wiggle to a more comfortable spot. She keeps wiggling though and Simon is trying to keep his mind off the sensation of her arse grinding into his groin. Trying to ignore the way his dick twitches in interest, because- God help him- he's not dead and the love of his life is grinding her arse on him. Bodies are going to do what bodies do, and he can feel himself stiffening in response.

“Sweetheart, you need to sit still,” he whispers the plea into her ear.

Her head tilts back towards him and lust jolts through his body at the look in her eyes while she still continues to grind against him.

“I miss you, Simon,” and given how he is rarely further than grabbing distance from her, there’s very few other ways to interpret what exactly it is that she is missing.

He’s a goner when she gives him that wide, doe eyed expression paired with the prettiest “Please?” he’s ever heard in his life.

One moment they’re quiet and content laying on their sides on the couch- the next Simon’s gripping her arm and pulling her on top of him as he settles onto his back. She follows his lead and moves so her weight is settled on his hips as his hands grip hers.

It is no hardship on his end to wait for her- the patience never truly even registered in his brain. She can have as much time as she needs and Simon will give it to her gladly.

But his pretty girl batting her eyes at him and pleading softly for him? His patience isn’t the only thing he’s willing to give her.

“Are you sure?” He doesn’t mean to second guess her or make her question herself but he does want to make sure that she’s not acting on obligation.

“Yes, Simon- Please,” and who is he to deny her?

His hands are on her immediately- pulling her towards him and encouraging her to grind, knowing her sweet clit will light up at the friction of her soft panties dragging across the rough material of his jeans.

His lips find hers, separating only briefly as he hauls her dress up and over her head, happily discarding the material in a heap on the floor.

His hands grip her hips, Simon relaxing into the couch while his fingers dug into the pillow soft skin perching above him. He’s straining against the fabric of his jeans- knows the tip of his erection is leaking clear pre and it’s not just going to be her being the reason the fabric has a wet spot.

The couch is certainly not the worst place to be, his beautiful girlfriend’s tits in his face as she grinds down in his lap with little hitching breaths.

“Just like that, pretty,” he encourages, kissing down her jawbone, the length of her neck and across her collar bone before happily mouthing at her breasts which are blessedly right in his face.

Simon groans in pleasure as he teases one nipple, her sweet mewls and the grip on his hair only spurring him on.

Grabbing a handful of her plush arse, he groans in anticipation while switching from one breast to the other.

It’s been a fair while since his back has been shredded by her nails and he can’t wait to feel the bite of them dragging down the length of his spine.

“Lift up, sweetheart,” he instructs, somewhat loath to release her plump bottom but eager to get her dripping for him.

She pulls up enough for him to slip one hand between her legs. Exploring fingers are quick to spread her wetness, dipping between her folds and dragging back up to circle her clit softly.

“Fuck- Simon!” she whines in his ear.

He knows enough by now what makes her tick. Once she’s all warmed up and ready to roll, that sweet cunt of hers could take a thrashing. But warming up involves feather-light touches to get her squirming and squealing for him.

“Feels good, pretty?” he asks despite knowing the answer in the way her arms wrap around his neck and she sags against him, hips twitching as she lets him tease her.

“Ye-yeah,” she murmurs, and presses her lips against his neck as he takes another pass- finger pulling away from her clit just to draw shivers from her as he traces back down her folds and presses ever so lightly against the entrance on her- just to the first knuckle- and making his way back to tease her clit.

Each pass has her rocking her hips more as he slips more of his finger inside, eventually adding a second that has her mewling and squirming in his lap.

He’s going to have one hell of a hickey from how she’s sucking on his neck, but Simon can’t bring himself to care. Not when his ears are graced with the delightful little noises she makes- whimpers of protest as he pulls his fingers out of her, the shaky inhales as he circles her clit and the trembling moan when he once again slides his fingers inside of her to give a few pointed strokes to her g-spot just to get her shivering and blinking up at him with lust-blown eyes.

“Fuck you’re wet,” there’s absolutely zero resistance now, even when he slides a third finger inside her.

“Please,” she mewls into his skin, hips rocking in time with the thrust of his fingers into her.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.” He’s always found her an absolute delight to tease- she gets so flustered and stares at him with that doe eyed, betrayed look- how dare he make her ask for anything when it’s obvious what she wants.

“Please let me cum,” she pants as her eyes screw up in pleasure while his fingers trace and circle her clit for several passes.

“You wanna cum, love?” His tone is just a bit too soft to be a mocking tease despite the way she glares at him. Spoiled little thing so easily sliding back into her old habits.

“I’m going to bite you,” she grumbles in bemused annoyance, brows furrowing as she tries to follow his hand while teasing her.

He doesn’t doubt his little viper for a second, mollifying her displeasure with three fingers digging for that spot that makes her see stars.

“Oh~,” she mewls against him as he stokes the fires of her orgasm with a vengeance. He doesn’t stop, angling his hand so his thumb can stroke against her clit and enjoying the way she trembles against him like a leaf caught in a windstorm.

“That the spot, hm? Right there, innit?” He rumbles low in her ear, a satisfied smirk on his face as she nods in a big sweeping motion against his neck. “Come on, pretty. You wanna cum so badly? Do it.” he baits.

Mission accomplished.

Fuck he’ll remember the vision of her crying and cumming and trembling in his hold, soaking his forearm and abdomen as she squirts, for the rest of his days. His free hand runs soothingly down her back for a few passes before pulling both hands away from her.

She’s immediately whining against him, upset at having his touch taken away. “Simon, please-”

He shushes her with a kiss to her temple, “I know what you need, sweetheart,” he murmurs while deftly undoing his pants and freeing his cock.

It only takes a few strokes, already straining and ready to perform, before they’re shuffling as he pulls and maneuvers her so she’s hovering above him and Oh fuck has Simon missed this as she sinks down on him.

It always takes a couple attempts- he’s not a small man, and doesn’t want to risk injury. Not to mention there’s just something fucking delicious about only giving her a few inches, pulling back and feeding her just a few more. Slow, short, steady thrusts that get deeper bit by bit, having Simon ready to melt into the couch at the bliss of being buried in her by the time she sinks all of her weight onto him, her groin pressing against his.

She’s so fucking warm and wet, clinging to him as she shuffles to get good leverage on top of him to bounce.

Bloody fucking hell does she feel good. “That’s it, pretty. Take it all,” he encourages her while she whimpers above him- if he angles himself just right he can grind her clit against him in a way that has her sucking down air and shivering.

She’s so good for him but he knows there’s only so long she can bounce in his lap- even resting on one knee on the couch and her other foot on the floor so she can shift her weight and give leg a break every now and then, Simon throwing his head back and groaning loudly.

It’s one of the only times he’s particularly verbose- Usually content to be silent and broody unless he has a specific question in mind, the bedroom (or in this case the living room) is the one place where he is a chatterbox. The mouth on him is surreal at times, and while one would think his sweet girl would be use to the filth every now and then he’ll catch her off guard with some particularly out of pocket comment.

For now though, he’s a bit reserved- doesn’t want to go from zero to a hundred out of nowhere.

No, for now his attention is focused on the goddess bouncing on his cock, wondering if he can get her to squirt a second time if he just- he shifts underneath her, changing the angle and fucking hell does that seem to do the trick for her. Swiping one of his thumbs across his tongue before pressing it to her clit and circling again, Simon can’t help the smug look on his face when she squeals. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck,” he grunts as he thrusts up into her. From how those pretty thighs are trembling, her legs are about to give out as he fucks into her.

“Simon!” She’s yelping his name with glassy eyes and a clenching cunt “Fuck- Simon! Please-”

She doesn’t have the energy to get herself back up again- poor thing, her thighs must be burning, and he can’t help but be a cocky fuck about the fact that she loves riding his dick to the point that she physically can’t keep going.

“On your back, sweetheart,” he instructs with a light swat to her ass- appreciating the way her body jiggles at the impact.

His sweet girl has done so well and worked so hard, it’s only right that he rewards her. Once she’s on her back he grips her under her knees and folds her legs back- gives himself room between those gorgeous thighs.

“Fuck, baby- please don’t stop,” she pants underneath him, back arching in pleasure as his mouth drops to her breasts again. Her arms wrap loosely around his neck, and he twitches in anticipation at the feel of her nails tracing ever so lightly against his back.

“Not gonna stop, pretty girl.” he groans against her skin, alternating between which nipple he has between his teeth.

Fuck she’s clenching down on him like a vice. He knows she’s getting close; squirming in his grip, keeping her legs nice and spread for him. The feel of her nails reaching down his back and dragging up his spine pulls a groan that would be embarrassing if Simon could find it within himself to care in the slightest. The slight pain encourages him as he cants against her.

“Simon!” The sound of his hips knocking into the back of her thighs is loud and messy. Fuck he’s such a goner when she looks up at him with that sweet expression on her face- pure adoration and wonder in her eyes.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Fucking hell, love,” he grunts out, a second wind reinvigorating him when she starts shaking. Those plush thighs shaking in his hold as he knocks the sense out of her pretty head, he’s so fucking close he can taste it but is determined to get her across the finish line first.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he purrs in her ear, “You feel fucking perfect taking my cock. This wet cunt’s all mine, innit?”

All she can do is chant “Yes! Yes! Yes!” over and over again- Simon’s not sure if even she is certain if she’s repeating the word to answer him, or if she’s just babbling because he’s making her feel good and she’s getting close.

“You gonna cum again love? Gonna soak me, hm?” He’s just running his mouth now- knows the shit she likes to hear, reaffirmed by the way she’s shivering in his hold and crying for it with a glassy eyed gaze.

Whatever she is going to respond with is cut off with a squeal. Simon rears back, enjoying the show as she makes a mess all over his cock with her eyes rolled back. He lets go of one of her legs in favor of teasing her clit just shy of overstimulation to prolong her orgasm- she lets him for a time before her hands abandon shredding his back in favor of wrapping around his wrist in a plea for mercy.

“Simon it’s too much,” she laments with teary eyes as he pulls his hand away with a chuckle and a chaste kiss.

He stays curled over her, hips driving into hers. “Tell me where you want it,” he instructs.

“Inside! Please, I want it inside!” Her answer is sharp and immediate, the leg not pinned to her chest wrapping around his waist like she is daring him to even try to pull out.

And fuck there is something cathartic about his orgasm when it hits. Burying his face in her soft body while his hips snapped into hers a few times, Simon groans as his vision damn near whites out for a second.

Simon knows better than most that there’s good days and bad days- and a presumed good day can become a bad day quicker than one can blink. But overall he feels like consistently she’s doing better all around. They take their time calming down, Simon showering her in attention and getting a feel for where her head is at. Praising her for how well she did and making sure she feels stable.

He lets out a breath, feeling confident that she’s settled, having a good day, and everything is fine for now.

And it is. Until about two hours later.

One moment they’re finishing the movie they’d initially started before the impromptu romp on the couch, and then Simon has a 3 second warning of her sniffling as she obviously tries to fight back the tears and then she’s sobbing harder than she has in weeks.

Simon goes from content to concerned in a second, his blood turning to ice in his veins. His immediate assumption is that their prior activities finally caught up with her mentally and now that she’s had time to think it over it wasn’t good. It was too fucking soon to have sex. He should have told her no, should have been gentler, should have-

“Sweetheart? Talk to me,” his voice is tinged with a thinly controlled concern (not panic he convinces himself) and while he means to comfort her, she can hear his tone and that just sets her off anew.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she blubbers, turning to face him. “I don’t know why I’m crying!”

That settles Simon’s nerves somewhat, stroking her back and pulling her close to comfort her. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” he soothes her, listening to her sniffle against his shirt after shoving her into the crook of his neck.

“I just want to feel normal again,” she sobs into his collar.

“You will, love,” he assures her- never mind that ‘normal’ is something that even he struggles with on a near daily basis. “It’ll take time but you’ll get there. I promise.”

He’s a bastard for making a promise to her that he can’t guarantee to keep. There’s a part of him that knows that- hell, he’s been working on his shit for years and he still doesn’t feel normal most days.

But while he can’t promise that she’ll ever get back to feeling exactly the same as she did before all of this happened, he can promise that he’ll be by her side and ensure she’s adjusting. It will take time, and work, but Simon will make sure she gets there one step at a time.

#my writing #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #x chubby reader #cw sa implied

238 notes · View notes

mydear-corinthian · 1 day

Text

Dirty Diana || Thomas Shelby x reader

Synopsis: After the war, you and Tommy were separated leaving you in London alone with no money at all. Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader , Tommy Shelby x reader Warnings: SMUT +18, mentions of prostitution & misogynist, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk Notes: I saw this Dirty Diana edit of Tommy Shelby & Diana Mitford so why not do a fic about MJ's song?? I'm so happy that Dirty Diana is getting popular and getting the hype that it deserves !! This fic is terribly written and rushed :c Click here to see the MAIN MASTERLIST Click here to see the PEAKY BLINDERS MASTERLIST Click here to see the CILLIAN MURPHY MASTERLIST

Tommy and you were together before the war. His family happily accepted you and eventually treat you as one.

Unfortunately, you two parted ways following the battle. While you were stuck in London trying to become a banker, he was back in his hometown.

As a woman, landing a career like that hasn't been normalized yet. Often, men claim that it was a "man's job" exclusively. You met all the standards perfectly, but in the end, you were not hired. You were left with nothing as a result. No family, no home, and no money.

That's when you started working as a prostitute, something you never thought you would do. It was your last option since you could no longer survive without money. Given that you were making far more money at the job, you cannot complain about it. Constantly receiving enormous sums of shillings in a single night.

You decided to change your name, Diana.

Every night you wait on the busy streets of London for customers. Bending over their vehicle, seducing them.

It wasn't easy and it will never be easy to be working in this line of work. You've been sleeping with young, old, single, married, or even widowed men for money.

It was the usual night. Waiting for new customers as you stood on the busy streets outside of a hotel. Your black dress perfectly traced your curves, a white shoulder fur covered your elbows.

You finally saw a car stopping in front of you. A man wearing a neat navy suit, a newsboy hat decorated his hair, a cigarette burning between his lips.

Due to his hat, you cannot fully see who he was, only his mouth. You walked seductively towards the man's car, bending over the window. "Sir, I have to go home 'cause I'm so tired you see..?" you ask, pretending to be exhausted. "I hate sleeping alone, why don't you take me?" He took a bill out of his pockets and showed it to you. "My place. The hotel." he plainly said.

Seeing the large amount of bill made your eyes widened. Never in your job had you encountered a man giving you this big amount of money for one night.

"Well, I'll see what I can do with that, sir," he exited the vehicle, walking towards the hotel as you followed him. The anonymous man was walking in front of you so you cannot see his face.

You couldn't shake the thought of Tommy, no matter how many men you slept with. You still have feelings for him. You was hoping he could find you and look for you. Your first love was and is him. He was everything to you. It's not that you two split up; rather, it was more that you stopped seeing one another, no goodbye's or hello's after the war. You believed that his 'breakup' was final. that he had already had enough of your relationship. While a part of you believes he is better off without you, the other half of you longs to visit him in Birmingham. That he's already forgotten you.

The both of you were already inside his luxurious hotel room. It wasn't really that tidy but it was manageable.

The anonymous man finally removed his hat, showing his full face at you. As soon as you saw him, your eyes widened and your heart sank.

"Tommy?" you shockingly asked.

"(Y/n)." he greeted plainly.

"How did you- How did you found me?"

He actually haven't moved on from you too. Tommy tried to marry someone for you to leave his mind but that didn't worked for him as well. He just doesn't feel the same feeling that he was with his current wife than you. He wants to relive that feeling and he is hoping that he will be with you again.

"I searched for you. I searched every spot in Birmingham and you weren't there. And so I found you here. In London," he said. "And I know about your job, Diana."

His deep and sultry voice always gets you. Having the sudden desire to take him, make you his, and just be with him.

"How about you stay with me, tonight?" he asked.

"Oh Tommy, I'm all yours," you answered. Your lips meeting his, passionately tasting him. Tommy's hands roamed all around your small back, allowing the kiss to get deeper and deeper.

He suddenly stopped, pulling his face away. "My wife is at home tonight, she's probably worried tonight. I haven't told her I'm alright." he sighed, walking up to the telephone on the desk just beside the door. He rolled the numbers before speaking.

Before he said something again, you heard a woman's voice on the telephone, screaming at him. Tommy's wife was mad.

Suddenly, you grabbed the telephone, hearing the voice of his wife. The speaker was on your ear, "He's not coming back, he's sleeping with me,"

You dropped the telephone harshly, smiling at him. "Are you not worried she'll leave you?" you asked, your fingers tapping his chest seductively. Tommy's lips found yours again. The kiss is turning harshly and messier. "It's alright, she was using me for money anyways," he said in between kisses. "And Polly didn't approved my relationship with her but we got married anyway,"

"God, I've been waiting for you," your hands found its way to his hair, crumpling it as you felt his tongue explore your mouth. You moaned in between kisses, eager for more.

You pushed him into the king-sized bed's soft mattress. You unbutton your wrinkled shirt while leaving your bra on as you crawl from his legs to his hips. He showed how hard he was by the way his pants were rising. Tommy's breath hitched, his skin heats up.

"Where have you been, my darling?" he breathly asked, cupping your cheeks once again to examine your face, processing what is happening right now. You're back. You're here.

Slowly, your hips rocked on his boner, the friction making your eyes roll. Tommy swallowed hard, feeling the sensation that's happening. "I've missed you, Tom,"

You continued to stroke the hard swell beneath his pants with a look of enticing eagerness, every stroke a whispered promise of something more. You carefully and slowly removed his belt buckle, the metal clasp giving way to your touch with a gentle click. With careful care, your fingertips traced the fabric of his pants, revealing the shapes of his buried need as you undid each button. Gentle yet focused.

A rush of electricity shot through Tommy as her hands discovered his shaft, igniting every nerve ending with a burning passion. You moved his cock up and down with such delicate strokes; it was a rhythmic dance that left him panting, his chest rising and falling in time with your motions.

"Oh god, you're so good at this," he praised.

Your touch was like a kiss from heaven; it sent electric sparks of need shooting through him, burning an inferno of desire. His breath caught in his throat with every stroke, the melody of pleasure surrounding him so intensely that he was unable to resist, his moans echoing at the limits of his arousal.

He finally came, his white seed spurted all over the mattress and your hands, staining them You chuckled.

Suddenly, Tommy switched positions, he's now on top of you. "You think we're done?" he asked, his fingers touched your clit, sending shivers all around your body due to the sudden touch.

"Oh god!" you moaned.

His fingertips tracing passionate patterns over the fabric that covered your aching core, your back arched in ecstasy as he increased his speed driven by an early desire. Your body trembled with anticipation with every round move, a burning desire that cried out to be let out. Time appeared to stop still as his touch danced over you in the heat of passion, each movement an ode to the unbearable depths of his desire.

You moaned out loud, feeling your orgasm coming. "Tom - I'm gonna .. oh god!"

His movements stopped unexpectedly, leaving you on the verge of euphoria and desperate for release. A line appeared on your forehead as a wave of opposing emotions passed over you, your need pounding against the limits his seductive pause forced.

"Ah, not yet," his husky voiced rang to your ears.

Tommy removed your underwear, showing how wet you were from him fingering you. He aligned his shaft in front of your cunt before you fully took him, making you moan.

You felt full just from his cock. His warm cock filled you, making him push in even further. Your eyes closed, your head rolling back.

"So fucking tight," he exhaled deeply. His rough hands gripped your hips making him pound in to you harshly, hitting your sensitive spots all over and over.

"No one ever pleasured you this good huh?"

Sweat was streaming down his strained brow, reflecting the fever that was pumping through his body. The air in his hotel room pumped with the sound of your lewd moans and his sultry groans, echoes swirling passionately together and filling the room with a euphoric atmosphere.

His trusts became faster and harsher. His and your skin slapped together, earning a loud sound.

You felt your orgasm coming up again making you moan louder, seeing nothing but starts and feel like you've been drugged by the most pleasurable medicine there is out there. You clenched on his cock, indicating that you were close.

"Tommy, I'm gonna cum,"

"Yeah? Cum then, love," he demanded.

You both reached the your high of ecstasy with a few last, powerful thrusts, your bodies combining in a melody of pleasure. During that moment of explosive release, when your senses were overwhelmed by a rush of sensations, you felt him spill out his essence into you, filling you to the overflowing limit with his ecstatic warmth. Every muscle clenched with fine pleasure as your climax came over you in waves of joy, your combined passion setting off an inferno of desire that swallowed you both completely.

Tommy pulled out before dropping his body beside you, panting hard.

"Come back to me," he whispered.

"Oh Tommy. I never left you."

#peaky blinders #x reader #tommy shelby #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine

110 notes · View notes

vladajwrites · 1 year

Text

Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 5,043

Notes;

Part 3 should be available soon. Thank you for any and all support! It truly means the world to me. Check post comments after reading chapter for additional statements.

As you had anticipated, Irina was truly overjoyed to learn how your first day of school had gone. She asked so many questions; the conversation went well into the night after she had returned home from work.

“Could you see yourself becoming friends with any of the other students?” Irina asked from the kitchen table as you cleared remnants of dinner from the counter.

You set a plate down in the sink and contemplated her question. Thinking back on the people you met over the course of the day, a few names came to mind. Kirby seemed kind. You had exchanged numbers after film club had ended. Her other friend, Jill, seemed a fine enough person as well, though a bit more reserved.

You thought back to any of the other conversations you had throughout the day. Robbie’s awkward invitation played over, albeit a brave gesture, it didn’t seem like likely grounds for a friendship. Your thoughts then shifted to Robbie’s counterpart.

Charlie seemed to keep much more to himself. It felt special to have someone, practically a stranger, come to your defense in any sort of situation. Charlie could be a friend, possibly. A half smile slipped up your lips. What did you know, though? Maybe it wasn’t really a possibility at all.

“I don’t know, maybe. I think it’s too soon to tell.” You spoke over your shoulder, holding your hand under the kitchen faucet, waiting for the water to warm.

“Hmm,” Irina began, you peered over at her. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, concealing a knowing smile. “Well, I have hope for you. Don’t count anybody out just yet.”

You nodded, loading glasses and silverware into the dishwasher.

If it were meant to happen, you figured it would. The only real matter of importance to you at the moment was pushing through your classes, giving yourself an opportunity to move you forward in life. It wouldn’t be long until college applications and standardized testing would be consume most of your free time and thoughts.

The next few weeks passed by as most did when beginning a new school year. The teachers, thankfully, kept most assignments and quizzes simple to build back the tolerance towards regular class work that had been lost over the summer break.

As you had also expected, the introductions and sudden interest other students had towards you started to fizzle out as they fell back into their usual routines. Although Kirby had become a welcomed energy in your space. She went out of her way to speak to you in classes you shared. She had even recently began to invite you to join her and her small circle to leave campus during your lunch period. It felt nice to be included, even if you had yet to be around them outside of school hours.

Charlie had continued to walk with you to film club most days. The two of you shared very little actual conversations. Most moments were filled with a comfortable silence.

You really began to pick up on things in the club. You’d write yourself small lists of the movies mentioned during that hour and return home to watch as many as possible while you worked on your homework. It was nice to have things to fill your time, distractions to push any memories away from before your return to Woodsboro.

The air had started to chill and change as September crept its way to the present day. It was a cloudy Friday, nearly two full weeks had passed since that first day of school. You were walking your usual route towards room 120A, Charlie in step beside you. Just before you were able to make it through the classroom doors, you heard your name called from the opposite end of the hallway.

You looked up to find Scotty Anderson gawking his way towards you. ‘Shit,’ you rolled your eyes. You had done a pretty good job of avoiding him and his group since the sports equipment bag debacle. You glanced over at Charlie. His frame was unusually rigid, no discernable emotion in his expression.

You sucked in your cheeks, debating on just turning into the classroom. It was better to just get this over with than put it off; you decided.

You took a few steps forwards, meeting Scotty in the middle of the hallway. You held both hands in front of you, tapping your foot as you thought of what he could have to say to you.

“Hey, I know we haven’t had the opportunity to speak.” Scotty began, moving the same bag of equipment up onto his shoulder. “I just wanted to apologize for running into you the other day. Definitely not cool.” It was clear in his tone he didn’t actually mean a word of what he had just said.

You nodded, biting the tip of your tongue. You never expected an apology, and after as much time had passed, you really didn’t care to have one. You were more confused about why he had apologized now, after days had passed.

“It’s fine man, don’t worry about it.” You replied, turning on your heel to head back towards the classroom. Scotty’s hand gripped its way around your upper arm, spinning you back towards him. You were visibly taken aback by the sudden motion and intrusion into your personal space.

“Look, let me make it up to you. Give me your number, I’ll take you out sometime, show you around Woodsboro.” He practically demanded, a sly cocky grin plastered across his face. He was just plainly handsome, the athletic and popular type you imagined some girls would go for. You might’ve given him a chance too, if things hadn’t started out the way they had. He was still somehow able to make his chances even worse though as he continued to talk. You weren’t the least bit interested.

You glanced over your shoulder. Charlie was still standing in the doorway, his eyes flashed quickly between you and Scotty. A disgusted frown clung to his lips as he watched the situation unfolding before him.

You looked back up at Scotty, shaking your arm out of his grasp. “No thank you,” you replied, barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened in disbelief, as if he’d never heard those words before. “What?” His mouth hung agape.

“I said no. I’m just not interested.” You replied, this time more sternly.

Scotty scoffed, surely attempting to conceal his bruised ego. He stomped his way down the hallway like a toddler. “Ugly bitch.” You could hear him mutter as he grew further away.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to conceal your shocked laughter. You turned back around. Charlie was gone from his spot. A stupid smile plastered on your face as you entered film club. If Anderson truly felt that way, he would’ve never made an attempt to come onto you in the first place. You found your seat next to Kirby and looked up at Charlie, believing he’d be laughing with you too over the situation, only he didn’t seem amused at all. He wouldn’t even look up to meet your eyes.

His cold shouldered treatment continued into the next week as well. You figured things would just be as they were before as the last bell rang that following Monday. Before you had the chance to grab your things, Charlie had brushed past you, disappearing into the crowd of students in the hall.

You weren’t sure why it hurt your feelings so much. He didn’t owe you anything. You were perfectly capable of making it to the club without him. But still, you couldn’t help but feel anxious as the next few days unfolded in the same way. He’d barely look at you, let alone speak to you. You were trying to wrap your head around why he was acting this way. You had done anything wrong to your knowledge, but then again, maybe you had. You couldn’t bring yourself to push the matter, though. You had no idea what to say to him.

That following Friday, during your second to last period, your biology teacher announced the outline for the first heavily graded project of the semester. It was a group project. He’d assign the groups and specific topics each trio would be required to present. The classroom mumbled and huffed at the announcement.

You listened carefully as the teacher made his way down the list of students he held in his hands. You glanced around the room as the group of prospective partners grew smaller. You hoped you would be paired with people you at least vaguely knew.

The teacher then called your name. Your head snapped to meet his finger dragging across the list he held in his right hand. You waited intently for the next names to be called.

“You’ll be in a group with Mercer and Walker. Your topic is genetic pedigree.” You sunk down in your seat. Eyes flashing towards Robbie, who gave you a smile and thumbs up. You couldn’t bring yourself to look towards Charlie, who sat beside him.

You dropped your head into your hands, letting your hair cover your face. You knew you’d have to muster the courage to say something to Charlie. The project was important, and you didn’t want any made-up qualms to affect the way you all worked together.

As class concluded, Robbie stopped you in the Hallway. You watched Charlie walk past without looking behind him or waiting for his friend. You followed his frame carefully until losing him as he turned down the hall.

“Hey, if it’s alright, could I grab your number?” Robbie asked. You’d nearly forgotten he was standing there. “For the project, of course. We’ll have to work on it outside of school, and just if you- or I, have any questions..” You watched as his cheeks turned a soft shade of red.

You tried your best to give him a reassuring smile and nodded. “Of course Robbie, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Awesome!” He sighed in relief, handing you his cellphone to type in your contact information. “See you in film club?”

You nodded again, watching Robbie turn on his heels and vanish into the crowd of students headed towards their next class.

Your last class of the day felt like torment, the minutes passed by so incredibly slowly. It seemed as though the second hand on the clock was frozen in place as you waited and listened for each tick it made.

You could feel eyes stuck to you as you sat, unfurling the hem of your sweater. You glanced behind you. Charlie met your eyes, he was mimicking your own movements, heel tapping on the floor below him.

He looked absolutely miserable, pained even. He looked down at the ground as your eyes lingered for just a moment longer. You suddenly felt incredibly guilty. Maybe there was something going on with him completely outside of school, outside of you, and you had been so entirely selfish to believe his change in demeanor was a direct result of anything you had done.

You sat at your desk now braiding, unbraiding, and rebraiding the same three strands of hair near the front of your face. How could you have not attempted to reach out to him sooner? You felt like an absolutely sorry excuse for an acquaintance, let alone a friend.

You had your belongings packed and together before the final bell rang, you’d make sure to catch him this time. As soon as the clock rang to dismiss the class, you were up from your seat, headed to the doorway to catch him in the hall.

He was quick to step past you, head fixated on the crowd in front of him. You worked faster, grabbing the strap of his backpack and pulling him through the doorway of an empty adjoining classroom.

He looked shocked as he spun to face you, his mouth held agape, before snapping his lips into a tight line.

“What is wrong with you?” You asked, surprised even by your own hasty actions. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted them. What’s wrong with you? Really? There wasn’t a better way for you to ask what was going on? You silently scolded yourself.

“What?” He asked, taking an immediately defensive tone, understandably so.

“I mean, what is going on with you? Is everything okay? You’ve gone through quite the effort to act like I don’t exist this past week.” You replied, amending your original question.

He looked you over, scoffing. You brought your hands up over your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious.

“Look, if it’s attention you’re looking to get from somebody, don’t bother me about it.” He spoke just above a whisper, as if he could barely get his own words out.

His words made your eyes prick up. You felt your body heat flush as your jaw grew increasingly tense. What was wrong with him? His glare faltered for a moment, his hands dropping to his sides.

“I just mean…” He paused before continuing, “you’ve got Anderson. I don’t understand why you’d want me around.”

Your eyes widened in shock, realizing he hadn’t stuck around till the end of the conversation you had with Scotty the week prior. This was really the reason he had become so cold towards you? It was ridiculous. He was so-

You couldn’t hold back the astonished laughter, the absolute nerve. Charlie’s expression morphed into confusion. He seemed almost hurt to have you laughing in his face. Good.

“You really thought I wanted anything to do with that asshole? I didn’t even give him my number.” You exclaimed, throwing your hands back towards your thighs.

Charlie’s face bore the full front of sudden guilt. Your hurt turned to anger. He could’ve asked, but he just assumed. Even then, what issue could he possibly take with you speaking to or seeing another man?

You took a step forward, closing the distance between the two of you. Charlie took a deep breath, eyes glancing between you and the pointer finger you now dug into his chest.

“I thought you were a friend, you fucking prick.” You whispered just beside his ear. You could feel his heartbeat wildly pound against your finger, could nearly hear it from the proximity you shared. Or maybe that was your own heart you were hearing. You couldn’t have been sure.

Before giving him a chance to respond, you stormed your way out of the room. Making a beeline to your car.

Fuck. Fuck that stupid fucking film club. And fuck Charlie Walker.

You sped home, slamming the front door behind you. You rushed up the stairs, hearing your aunt call your name from the living room. You stopped in your tracks, shouting down to her, “I’m fine, I promise. Just need a moment alone.”

You waited for a second to hear her response. You were surprised she was home from work so early. After a few moments, Irina responded, “Okay.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced, but knew better than to pry.

You shut your bedroom door, falling flat onto your bed. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered. You didn’t need him around.

An hour passed by, and then another before you heard your phone ringer buzz twice.

You scrambled for your phone, which was still in your bag on the ground beside your bed where you had thrown it earlier.

Two text messages from an unknown number flashed on the screen.

“Hey, didn’t see you in film club. Everything good?” Your heart skipped in your chest. Could it be-? Your question was answered by the second message. “Robbie btw.”

You sighed, rolling onto your back, holding the phone above your face. You thought for a moment before responding. “Wasn’t feeling well, all good, though.” You added Robbie’s name to his contact info before setting the phone down beside you.

Another minute passed before your phone buzzed again. “Cool. Would you be down to meet up later to start on our project?” Robbie’s message read.

You thought about it for a moment. The idea didn’t seem particularly great, but it would be nice to just get it all over with. You responded with a simple, “Sure.”

Almost instantly, a new message was sent. You opened it to find another phone number beside Robbies. In a new group chat Robbie asked, “Where and what time do you guys wanna meet up?” The other number had to be Charlies. You rolled your eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Your fingers hovered above the keyboard as you thought up a response. You knew Irina would be more than happy to host, and it’d save you a trip from going elsewhere in town.

“My place, 7pm?” You replied.

“We’ll be there.” Robbie responded.

You sent your address to the pair and locked your phone, shoving it in your back pocket.

You figured it was time to face your aunt, let her know people would be coming by the house later. You called out to her, hearing her reply from her bedroom. You stopped in her doorway, watching her pack clothing into a small black suitcase.

“Where are you going?” You asked, walking up beside her.

She looked up from her work. “I have a few meetings in Sacramento this weekend. I fly out tomorrow morning. I should be back by Monday though.” You nodded your head in response. She was always so busy, always had places to be.

“I’m sorry for slamming the door earlier.” You said quietly, picking up a t-shirt on the bed and folding it over for her.

Your aunt looked over at you, waiting to see if you’d continue.

“I’m okay. I just-” You paused, trying to find the right words. The entire thing wasn’t really worth getting into or being upset about, as you thought about it.

Irina’s eyebrow raised. “Boy troubles?” She said half-jokingly.

You smiled then, handing her the folded shirt. Yes, to put it plainly, just boy troubles.

“You know what I think about men,” Irina began.

“Better off without them.” You answered in unison, laughing with one another.

You stopped in the doorway, hand wrapped around the frame as you left Irina’s bedroom. “Oh, by the way, I’m having a few people over in a couple of hours to work on a project for school. If that’s okay, of course.”

Irina peered over her shoulder, a wide grin on her face. “Of course. Let me know if you kids need anything.”

It was hard to keep your nerves in check as the next few hours passed by. It would be fine, you reminded yourself over and over again. It wasn’t going to just be you and Charlie. Robbie would serve as a much needed buffer.

You heard your phone buzz on your nightstand; you picked it up quickly, reading the message aloud. “Pulling up now.” You quickly made your way down the stairs, kicking a pair of your shoes further down the entryway.

You swung the front door open without recalling whether you had heard a knock yet. You were met by Robbie and Charlie on the front porch. Charlie’s head was towards the ground, his hands in his pocket. Robbie looked around himself, mouth agape.

“You were totally right dude,” Robbie said, elbowing his friend in the side. “This was her house.”

“What?” You asked from the doorway, not sure you had heard him right. Robbie looked flustered, as if he were surprised to see you standing there.

“Oh. I meant Charlie recognized you on the first day.” Robbie tried to clear the confusion by simply adding to it. You looked between the pair. Robbie immediately cowered in response to Charlie’s shocked glare.

You waited for Robbie to continue. You couldn’t possibly understand what he meant by that. To your knowledge, you had never met either of them before that first day of school.

“Charlie’d make me ride circles down your street for hours. He said you had to be the same girl we saw when we were kids. We totally thought you just died one day after you stopped appearing in the window every summer.” Robbie said laughing, pointing at the sun bay window.

You were frozen in place; the air seemed to be sucked out around you as you thought hard back on those memories. Certain things suddenly started to click and piece themselves together in your mind. You glanced over at Charlie. He was looking at you almost pathetically, knowing there was nothing he could have done to stop Robbie from spilling any of that information.

Robbie began a string of ‘I’s and Um’s’ as he noticed your expression. You willed yourself to pull it together for a moment; lesson the deafening, horrible ringing in your ears.

“Oh, I think I remember you two, actually.” You stated. You had always had a distinct memory that fell in line with Robbie’s sentiment. You weren’t sure you’d have ever been able to place them both in that memory without Robbie’s over-share. You’d let yourself process this information at a later time. You watched as both boys relaxed a bit more into themselves, awkward glances still passed between the three of you.

“Would you guys like to come in?” You stepped aside, motioning towards the entryway.

“Please.” Robbie replied and stepped past you.

Charlie nodded, following behind him. You caught and held his gaze for a moment as he slipped in so close beside you.

“We can just hang out in the living room, if that’s cool.” You said, motioning towards the living room couch. The two men followed suit. You took a seat on the sofa, Robbie sat on the opposite end, while Charlie took a seat on the floor by the coffee table in front of you.

It was quiet for a moment as everyone pulled out their laptops, notebooks, and pens. You weren’t sure who would be the first one to break the silence. To be completely honest, you didn’t mind it. You were terrified that Robbie would somehow dig himself another hole, and you had absolutely nothing to say to Charlie. You hoped you’d be able to just get the majority of the project finished tonight so that the remaining meetings would be minimal.

Just then, you heard your aunt’s light footsteps coming from down the stairs. You sighed a heavy sigh of relief as she entered the living room. She wore a bright smile on her face as the boys rose to their feet to greet her.

“Robbie Mercer.” He held out a hand to her. “Good to meet you, Robbie.” She replied in her usual sing-song voice.

Her smile faltered for a moment as she turned to shake Charlie’s hand as well. “Charlie Walker, thanks for allowing us over.” Charlie said, giving her a courteous smile.

You looked between your aunt and Charlie, watching the corner of her lips twitch into a small frown before she replied. She looked almost off kilter. You took careful notice of your aunt’s unusual etiquette. “Anytime, Charlie.” She replied, placing her left hand over their conjoined right hands.

The gesture didn’t seem to phase Charlie much.

“If there’s anything I can get for you all, please don’t be afraid to ask.” Irina spoke before heading back up the stairs. The three of you responded in a short chorus of ‘thank you’s.’

The next few hours went by as well as you could have hoped for them to go. Once you were all busy at work, the awkwardness slowly dispelled itself. It was nearly midnight, and you were all beginning to experience the early stages of screen fatigue from your work. You all mutually decided to try to wrap everything up tomorrow.

As you led the two out, Robbie spoke over his shoulder. “I honestly think it’ll only take another day to finish this. Maybe one more after that for revision.” You and Charlie both nodded. “But, honestly, if I have looked at another fucking punnet square after this project, I think I’ll kill myself.”

You laughed as you turned the door handle.

The boys filed onto the porch. Robbie was quick to make his way towards his car that was parked halfway in the driveway and halfway onto the street. He stopped after realizing Charlie was still standing on the porch. You glanced between the pair.

“You coming man?” Robbie asked, fishing for his keys in his back pocket.

You watched Charlie, waiting for his response.

“Nah, I feel like walking.” He responded.

Robbie cocked an eyebrow, looking at his friend. He seemed slightly surprised, but didn’t bother trying to convince him to come along.

“Alright, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Robbie said, as he opened his driver’s side door. You watched him pull all the way down the street before turning around to face the closed front door. Your hand had just started turning the handle when you heard Charlie speak up.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” You turned your face, dropping the handle.

You really had almost no interest in anything he had to say at all, at this point.

“Make it quick.” You replied, stepping in front of him. Your words clearly hurt him, and he did little to hide his grimace.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He started softly, eyes flickering between your own. You sucked in your bottom lip, leaning on your hip as you crossed your arms in front of you. You scanned his face in search of sincerity.

“It’s fine, Charlie. It’s done with.” You replied.

He took a step closer to you. You fought the urge to take another back, to keep just a bit more distance from him. You held your ground.

“No, I’m being serious. It was horrible for me to just assume…” his voice trailed off for a moment. He glanced behind you at the window bay to your left. He met your eyes again. “And the whole attention thing. I never really felt that way. Regretted it as soon as I said it.” His hand flexed at his side as he shook his head.

“Okay.” You replied breathlessly. It was all you wanted him to say. You both stood there for a moment. The sound of crickets filled the air. There always seemed to be something filling in the lapse of conversation you had with Charlie, in a way you had never noticed with anyone else before.

You were the one to speak up. “I can give you a ride home if you’d like.”

A small smile crept up his lips as he followed your gesture towards your car parked in the driveway.

“It’s alright. Thank you for the offer. I just live on the next street over.” He motioned towards the road.

“It’s really not any trouble…” you began. You weren’t sure why you felt such a need to insist.

He reached up then. His thumb ran across the small braid in your hair that had been forgotten about and left to slowly unravel since last period. You left out a breath of surprise at the sudden contact. He was so incredibly close. That pounding in your heart returned rapidly as your hands dropped to your side.

Your eyes darted wildly across the features of his face. His eyes were stuck on those strands of hair between his fingers.

There were no more crickets, no rushing blood, just silence.

He had pulled away before you could process the proximity. He was headed down the front porch steps in a matter of seconds. “Goodnight, I’ll see you here tomorrow.” He called, turning over his shoulder to say goodbye.

You refused to let yourself watch him make his way down the street. Your feet carried you mindlessly up the stairs until collapsing you onto your bed. You stared up at the ceiling, reaching for the disheveled braid. Your fingers traced themselves along the same spot he had. You had just about pulled the braid apart when your aunt called your name from the doorway.

You shot up in bed to face her, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Didn’t mean to surprise you,” Irina began. Her face was splotchy and red in ways that it never was. “I just wanted to tell you goodbye, in case I didn’t get the chance to before I left in the morning.”

You nodded in response. You rose onto your feet, walking over to give her a hug. You pulled away as she began to speak up again. “He looks so much like him.” Irina seemed to say more to herself than you.

“Hmm?” You urged her to explain what she meant.

“The Walker boy. He looks so much like his father had at that age.” She began trailing off, looking at the wall behind you before meeting your eyes again.

“You knew his father?” You asked. This shouldn’t have been surprising information to you, Irina seemed to know everybody who had spent any amount of considerable time in Woodsboro.

Irina nodded.

“Just be kind to him, if you can be.” She said so softly, you barely caught her last words. This took you aback. You were sure your confusion was apparent on your face. “It’s only been a few years since he passed. I’m sure it’s been difficult for Charlie.”

Her amending statement made your heart sink low into your chest. A resounding buzz quickly filled the space between your ears.

“I am.” You replied. You thought you were, at least.

Irina nodded, seemingly satisfied with your response. She turned to make her way to her own bedroom at the end of the hall. Just before she disappeared through the door, you called out to her.

“How? How did he die?” You asked. You immediately felt bad for even asking. It wasn’t necessarily anything you needed to know.

You could tell, even from where you stood, that your aunt’s eyes began to well with tears. “Suicide,” she whispered without looking back at you. It only took a single moment before Irina stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

You weren’t sure how long you stood stuck in the hallway. It was a horribly long night.

#fanfiction #fanfic #charlie walker #charlie walker fanfic #charlie walker fanfiction #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker x y/n #scream 4 fanfic #charlie walker smut #rory culkin fanfic #rory culkin fanfiction

534 notes · View notes

ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Friendly Sex - Chapter 1 - The Party

Eddie Munson X AFAB!Reader

Your 6 year long unrequited crush on Steve Harrington is starting to wear thin, and after discovering Eddie Munson feels the same way about Chrissy Cunningham you decide to make a pact. After all, what's the harm in a little casual sex between friends?

A/N: Story opens April 1986. Slight AU, all the events of seasons 1, 2 and 3 happened, except Hopper didn't get transported to Russia, the gate was closed and Joyce, Hopper, Jonathan, Will and Jane all move to California as one big happy family. Jonathan and Nancy break up (necessary for plot, apologies to any shippers). Nancy and Steve are together. Reader is 18 and in final year at Hawkin's High School, alongside Robin and Eddie etc. Reader works at Family Video with Robin & Steve. Vecna storyline is not a thing, strange things will not be happening. This has been festering in my brain and I don't know what to do with it, so, tada!

Warnings: NSFW. SMUT, (MDI) 18+ only, drugs, sex, alcohol, underage drinking, public sex, dirty talk, name calling in sex (consensual), explicit language, adult themes, there will be angst, it will get messy.

More warnings to be added.

Revised edition.

************************************************************************

It was Robin’s idea to go to the party, one of those let’s have a party for the sake of having a party, parties, the all American standard, under-age keg fest.

It was an unwelcome change from your regularly scheduled Saturday night plans of doing nothing.

But argue as you might, Robin had made it clear you were going, even if she had to drag you.

"I'm tired of watching your ass wallow in self-pity." She said in true blunt Robin fashion, pulling outfit after outfit out of your closet, throwing them haphazardly in your general direction.

"I thought you loved watching my ass." You bite back, holding up a rust-coloured corduroy mini skirt to your hips.

"Ha, ha. I'm serious though dude, this whole moping Minnie routine is getting old, you just need to get out there and get yourself laid." She groans, pushing past you, flopping face first onto your bed in frustration.

"The skirt looks good, you should wear it with your tan knee highs." She adds, laying on her front to look at you.

"I'm working on it Rob." You grumble, fishing your boots out from under a pile of clothes. "It's not easy to let go of a 6 year crush you know."

"Well maybe if you had made a move 6 years ago, we wouldn't be in this mess." She huffs in exaggeration.

"Gee, you're right, let me just hop in my time machine, go back and tell my 12-year-old self to man up and ask out Steve Harrington. Huzzah!" You quip dryly, yanking the zipper of your boots up none too gently.

"Honestly Harrington has a lot to answer for, it's like the women of Hawkin's see him and suddenly all rational thought disappears." Robin laughs.

"It's the hair." You agree, fluffing up your own in the mirror. "And only the great Robin Buckley, lesbian superheroine, is immune to its hypnotic powers."

"Then I must use my powers for good!" She declares in a manly tone, hauling herself off the bed to wrap her arms around your shoulders. "My mission, gentle citizen, is to break the spell cast over you." She places a wet kiss on your cheek casting an appraising eye over your finished ensemble. "Very hot."

***

It's not that you disliked parties, after all it was a time honoured tradition to go to some random person's house whilst their parents where out of town and get absolutely wasted, chintzy picture perfect living rooms suddenly overrun with overactive hormones, sweaty bodies and dubious punch bowls, however after the initial buzz wore off you usually found yourself longing for the quiet solitude of your bedroom. Of course, when you express this to Robin, after half an hour of being there, she merely rolls her eyes in disgust, thrusting another cup of mystery alcohol in your hand, ushering you back into the throng of young adults.

"Would you stop?" She implores, holding your left shoulder with her free hand. "Your problem is you think too much. So, give those little grey cells a break by killing some of them off." She lifts her own drink in a mock toast, nodding at you to do the same.

"You are a terrible friend." You relent with a laugh, toasting quickly and taking a gulp, face scrunched up in distaste as the alcohol burns your throat.

"The very worst." She says with an evil grin, which fades somewhat as she focuses on something behind you. You turn towards the source, and despite knowing what you would see, your stomach still swoops uncomfortably at the sight of Steve or more precisely Steve with his arm wrapped around Nancy Wheeler looking incredibly loved up. "Shit." Robin declares.

"Shit." You agree flatly.

You move to go back towards the kitchen, but Robin takes your hand, holding you in place, Steve having already spotted you both, his own hand thrown up in greeting, weaving through the crowd with Nancy in tow.

"Fancy seeing you fine ladies here." Steve grins broadly, leaning in to give each of you a one-armed hug, your skin burning from his touch.

"Fancy that." Robin agrees sheepishly, you get a grim sense of satisfaction at the uncomfortable look on her face.

Nancy, who had been hanging off of Steve's free arm for the majority, leans forward to speak to you over the pounding music. "I love your skirt Y/n." She smiles sweetly; and you feel the rather irrational urge to stick pins in her bright blue eyes.

"Thanks Nancy." You call back, trying to return her smile. "I- uh -I like your bracelet." You say, noticing a golden glimmer on her wrist, plastering on the enthusiasm.

Nancy, being an actual angel, flushes with pleasure at your compliment. "Steve bought it for me." She sighs, toying with the gold bangle,

and you try not to urge as they share a sickening saccharine look.

"Of course he did." You mutter grudgingly to yourself, desperately wanting to escape.

"What did you say Y/n?" Steve asks absent-mindedly, still gazing at Nancy.

"I'm gonna grab another drink." You say in a clearer voice, not that it mattered, because at that moment Steve seemed to find a very interesting spot on Nancy's neck that required the immediate attention of his mouth. Grimacing you slip past them, purposely ignoring Robin's pleading calls for a top up and/or a sick bucket.

Reaching the kitchen, you chug a cup of punch straight off, before refilling it to the brim, whilst you knew alcohol wouldn't solve your problems it could certainly try and soothe the jealous beast currently roaring in your head at the human octopus that was Stancy.

Deciding the garden was the best place to avoid a front row seat to the lovefest, you steer your body around bumping and grinding couples, careful not to spill a drop of your precious emotional medicine. The backyard to your pleasant surprise is empty, the party having not yet spilled out, and the chilly night air was a welcome contrast to the stale humidity inside. You wander out onto the pristine lawn, and find yourself releasing a breath you didn't realize you had been holding, ears ringing slightly as they adjusted to the now muffled thumping bass.

"Well, well, well what brings you out here Sweetheart?"

You groan heavily at the teasing drawl behind you.

"I was trying to get some peace and quiet, but that's not likely to happen with you around, is it Munson?" You sigh, turning to face Eddie Munson who was perched on a swing set to the far right, slightly obscured in semi-darkness, but a Cheshire cat grin clearly plastered on his face.

"Ouch, you wound me." He says, placing a dramatic hand over his heart, still grinning away like an idiot. "Seriously though, I wouldn't have pegged you for this kinda gig." He gestures with his head back towards the party.

"It was Robin's idea." You mutter darkly, glaring towards the shut French doors.

"Well, if looks could kill, I'm guessing you'll have a best friend vacancy by this time tomorrow." He laughs again, which irritates you further.

"What are you doing here?" You deflect back, hiccupping slightly as you drink some more punch. "Place is like jock city in there, hardly your regular stomping ground either."

He nudges a battered black tin lunch-box with his foot, slightly tucked under the swing. "You know me sweetheart, got a business to run, empires to build, horizons to expand." He says with the usual Eddie flair.

"Dealing drugs to inebriated teens, I should've guessed." You say wryly, rolling your eyes.

"You make it sound so dirty." He mocks you, irritating smirk still fixed. "And you've never complained before." He reminds you pointedly.

Whilst far from being a hardcore user, you were a semi- frequent customer of Eddie's when it came to weed, finding him to be discreet, reliable and most importantly for your minimum wage ass, cheap.

"Well maybe I'm in the mood to complain tonight," You mutter suddenly feeling bitter about the way the night had gone downhill so quickly, scuffing your boot into the neatly trimmed grass.

Eddie leans down to extract something from his tin.

"Joint for your thoughts?" He offers, holding out a perfectly rolled spliff, quickly adding. "No charge." You mull it over for all of 2 seconds, concluding your jealous inner demon will not be calmed by alcohol alone.

"'Atta girl!" He calls happily as you stomp over to squeeze beside him, he pats your knee in encouragement, then lights up, graciously passing you the joint for the first drag which you take gratefully.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, offering the smoke back and forth. You could tell straight away that the weed was a much higher quality than you could ever normally afford and therefore hoped its soothing effects would kick in a lot quicker.

"Soooo," Eddie gently ventures after a few more minutes, "you wanna walk about it?"

"What's there to talk about, I'm in love with a guy who is in love with someone else." You shrug on a heavy exhale.

Eddie whistles between his teeth, regarding you carefully as you take another hit.

"Ah, that old cliche huh?" He nudges you lightly, taking the joint back for his turn.

Now Eddie had said it, you couldn't help but laugh in agreement.

"I guess it is pretty clichéd."

"Yup no points for originality this time princess. So, who's Captain Oblivious?" He asks, offering you another hit, shaking your head you opt to take a swig of alcohol, mentally bracing yourself for Eddie's inevitable teasing.

"Steve Harrington." You sigh glumly into your cup.

Eddie let out a muttered "Damn."

"The former King of Hawkin's High himself. I don't envy you there babe."

You snatch the joint back from his ringed fingertips, fed up with his teasing. "Don't take the piss Eddie, I'm not in the mood." You mumble defensively, leaning forward so as not to see the smirk on his face.

"Hey." He says in a surprisingly genuine tone, his hand rubbing your back, making you turn to look at him. "I'm not ragging on you sweetheart. Harrington is a nice enough guy now he's not hanging out with the douchebag brigade. I can see why you'd like him."

You lean back and Eddie slips his arm around your shoulders.

"Well, I'm glad you can see it, he doesn't even know I exist, at least not in the way I want him to." You sigh, resting your head on his arm, seeing off the last of your drink and feeling distinctly sorry for yourself.

You both lapse into silence again, the swing swaying gently beneath you as you burn through more of the joint , somewhere inside the house voices were shouting "Keg! Keg! Keg!"

After a few moments, Eddie shifts slightly, arm wrapping more securely around you.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, sounding nervous.

"I mean I just bared my soul to you, so I guess it's only fair." You murmur, glancing up at him.

He breathes a heavy sigh, right leg jiggling.

"I have been head over heels in love with Chrissy Cunningham since middle school." He confesses with a wince.

You wanted to say something encouraging, maybe even profound, or at the very least offer some words of comfort, so you felt a little guilty when you couldn't suppress the giggle that passed your lips.

"Chrissy Cunningham?!" You exclaim, staring at him wide-eyed "Cheerleader extraordinaire, Chrissy Cunningham?"

He looks at you, lips pressed tight as though he was trying to hold back his own laughter.

"Yep." Letting the 'p' pop. "Ever since she shook her pom-poms in the talent show."

You were barely holding it together, attempting to keep your voice level as you spoke.

"Wait, wait. So not only are we both in love with two very attractive people who are waaaay out of our league, these people are also in long term committed relationships with two other very attractive people."

Your statement hung in the air for a second, both of you then erupting into fits of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Eddie chuckled throatily around the stub of the joint, almost burnt out. "Oh man, we are pathetic." Shaking his head.

You jam your elbow lightly into his ribs. "Hey, speak for yourself!" You jokingly admonish.

"What, you think you have a chance?" He snorts incredulously.

You pretend to weigh up your options.

"If Nancy Wheeler gets hit by a bus, sure I'll shoot my shot… after an extended mourning period of course." You say.

"Of course." Eddie agrees, both of you collapsing into fits of uncontrollable giggles once more, fuelled on by excessive alcohol and weed.

"So, what do you think you need to do to get over little old Stevie?" Eddie asks you somewhat more seriously, stamping the remainder of the joint out under his sneakers, leaning back against the swing, taking you under his arm again.

You shrug, settling comfortably against him, staring up at the night sky, your own arm wrapping lightly about his waist. "Robin says I just need to get laid." You sigh flatly.

"I mean it's not the worst suggestion in the world." He says reasonably.

"Yeah, but c'mon Munson, guys aren't exactly queued around the block waiting to give me a service." You say, gesturing to the empty garden, Eddie pulling a face at your phrasing.

"Maybe that's because you've spent the past however many years with your Harrington blinkers on." He suggests, and it hits a nerve within you, quite often you wondered if you had missed opportunities with other guys because of your Harrington fixation. Your first and thus far only proper relationship, at 16 ,was doomed to fail from the start as Bobby Cooper just couldn't live up to the standards you had set in your daydreams of Steve.

"Well, what about you and your Chrissy conundrum? Your on-tap supply of groupies not helping to ease the pain?" You bite back, on the defensive.

Rather than get shitty with you, Eddie just gives you the classic Munson smirk.

"You think I’m good enough to have groupies?" He teases, squeezing your side, with a saucy eyebrow raise.

You pinch him back playfully. "I've seen you play Eddie; you know you're good." You admit with a smile.

He heaves a dramatic sigh, hand to his brow like some wretchedly poor southern belle.

"And yet, the tour bus-"

"Your van?" You chip in snidely.

"-my van" He ruefully concedes "is decidedly empty, even with the new air freshener."

"It's a crying shame, Eds." You laugh, patting his cheek.

He places an affectionate kiss on your head, cuddling you closer against the chilly breeze, it feels nice to be held, and even nicer to talk to someone so openly, other than Robin of course.

You lapse into comfortable silence once more, the strains of some Blondie song thumping from inside, the party was kicking up a gear but you found yourself lost in thought.

You had always had a soft spot for Eddie, conversation flowed easily enough, and you appreciated his dry sense of humour, both of you were regular outcasts in comparison to rest of the high school cliques, and you had found yourselves in detention together more times than you cared to count; you had a bad habit of disagreeing with your English teacher. And if you were being honest, he was actually really kind of pretty when you took the time to really look at him, chocolate brown eyes, full lips, awesome hair.

You hadn't realised you had been staring at him until he cleared his throat, you pulled away from his arms sheepishly, cheeks aflame from the embarrassment of being caught out, but feeling sure Eddie had been staring at you for the same amount of time.

"Uh- sweetheart, and by all means please let me know if I have completely misread some signals here, but I think I may have found the solution to both our problems." It surprised you to hear a note of uncertainty in his voice, particularly as Eddie was normally shockingly cavalier to a fault, it made you turn back to face him.

"Go on…" You encouraged him, finding your mouth oddly dry.

He took a deep breath, leaning closer, his arm snaking about your waist, warm fingertips tracing absentmindedly across the inch of exposed skin between your skirt and top, goose pimples erupting that made a shiver run up your spine.

"You need to get laid." He stated. "I need to get laid. We both have stuff we need to get out of our systems. You're a stand-up girl," he gave you a courteous nod. "...and I think I'm correct in saying you find me tolerable at the very least." The uncertainty was back, steeling yourself you placed a hand on his denim clad knee giving him a squeeze.

"More than tolerable Eds." You offer a smile.

"Thanks sweetheart." He mutters blushing. "So, uh anyway, what I'm trying to say here is… in a pretty roundabout way and you can of course say no-"

"Eddie"

"Sorry, rambling, what I'm trying to say is we could… help each other out?" He was staring at you, pleading with you to chime in.

"You mean sex?" You ask slowly, noticing his blush creep up to his ears.

"Uh, y-yeah that thing." He stammers. "If you wanted to, with me, we could have sex as friends every now and then, friendly sex."

You glanced at your wristwatch, 26 minutes ago you came out into the garden of some unknown person seeking a quiet place to drown your Steve induced sorrows, and now you were sitting next to Eddie Munson, seriously considering his offer of 'friendly sex'. Maybe Robin's kiss from earlier really had broken a spell, you laughed aloud at the thought, mirth quickly turning to frantic apologies at the look of horror on Eddie's face, forgetting that he was not privy to your inner monologue.

"Oh my god Eddie, no I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you!' You cried, cringing at your own social ineptitude.

"Hey, it's ok honey, I told you, it's cool if you don't want to-" His tone was calm, patting your side, making to stand and walk away with what little dignity he had left.

"NO! Don't go, I do want to!" You let out a shout, grasping his arm to pull him back down, your face burning in mortification that you essentially just begged Eddie to fuck you.

"Alright sweetheart, calm down I'm not going anywhere, no need to shout." He soothed; devil- may-care smirk back in place, holding you firmly about the waist again. You tried to turn away at his teasing, but Eddie cupped your cheek, the numerous rings on his fingers cool against your prickling skin.

"I'm going to kiss you now." His voice low and surprisingly authoritative. "Ok?" He asks, inching closer to your lips. Unsure if you had the nerve to speak, you merely nod. "Use your words princess, I need you to tell me that it's ok for me to kiss you." He teased; lips just shy of brushing against yours.

"I-it's ok, kiss me, please." You whisper, hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him in to close the final gap.

Eddie surged forward with an urgency that made you gasp, kissing you hard, your teeth clacking together painfully but you didn't care, adrenaline coursing through your veins like rocket fuel. You quickly found the right rhythm for each other kissing back with equal enthusiasm, his grip tightened moving you to straddle his lap, with you kneeling. He kneaded your ass, grinding you down, you gasped feeling the hard outline of his dick, taking full advantage of your open mouth, his tongue slipping in to meet with yours. Releasing his jacket, you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging harder than intended as Eddie nipped at your bottom lip, but he hardly seemed to care judging by the groan that escaped his throat. You smirked, tucking the knowledge away for later use, Eddie also appeared to be mentally cataloguing your reactions, like the way your hips rocked involuntarily as he sucked your neck just below your right ear, and how your breath hitched whilst he felt you up under your shirt, brushing the underside of your breast.

So lost in each other you didn't notice the sudden increase in noise coming from the party, signalling that someone had opened the screen door, it was the violent retching sound of vomiting that had you jumping apart as though you had been electrocuted, scrambling off Eddie's lap. You grimaced in disgust, Chance from the High School basketball team spewing chunks over the once pristine lawn, to the jeers of others inside.

"Hey…" Eddie spoke breathlessly, pulling your attention back to him, his lips kiss bitten, pupils blown wide. "You uh, want to get out of here?"

Grinning you snatched up his hand pulling him none too gently in the direction of the back gate, the sound of Chance's digestive pyrotechnics mercifully fading away, Eddie now pulling you along in the opposite direction to the house.

My van is this way."

Your heels clacked against the concrete, the pair of you moving at a light jog, keen to pick where you left off, both breathless as you came up on Eddie's van.

"Your chariot milady." He gestured proudly to the beat up vehicle like it was Cinderella's magical pumpkin carriage.

"Eddie, calling me milady is a total turn off." You teased, nose wrinkling.

He pulled you to him, spinning you so your back was pressed against the passenger side door,

"Oh well in that case, I best stick to sweetheart, huh sweetheart?" Caging you, his smile almost predatory as he set to work sucking what would no doubt be a prize-winning hickey just above your throat.

You grabbed the scruff of his neck when the skin got too sensitive, pulling his lips back to yours, both of you fighting for dominance in the kiss, thoroughly making out. Eddie palmed your tits, as you reached down trailing a teasing hand along the bulge in his jeans, he broke the kiss huffing out a low "Shit…."

Feeling bold, you flashed him a mischievous grin, unbuckling his belt, your hand slipping inside the tight denim stroking his cock properly, he was fully hard, your thumb swiping a thick bead of pre-cum around the mushroomy head.

"You keep doing that sweetheart and I’ll have no choice but to fuck you right here in the street." Eddie panted against your neck, his words going straight to your cunt.

"Promises, promises." You said with a purr, jerking him slowly.

He laughed breathlessly. "Fucking tease." His hands quickly hitching up your skirt, hips pressing you closer to the van, slipping your panties to the side, you gasped as he trailed a finger through your wetness up to your clit and back down again.

"Jesus baby, you're soaked. All this for me?" He asks incredulously, kissing you deeply again, two fingers moving slowly pumping in and out of your cunt as his thumb plays with your clit. The pair of you working each other, quiet moans slipping past swollen lips

"Eddie." You whined softly, there was a tiny voice in the back of your mind which was terrified about getting caught in such a compromising position, but a much louder voice was screaming, begging to let Eddie have his way with you in the street where anyone could see.

"What is it princess?" He murmured, biting at your lower lip.

"I want -" You hiccupped on a moan, all four of his fingers now working over your swollen clit, spreading the slick from your cunt, you could only hold his cock, brain not functioning enough under his ministrations.

Grinning, taunting you openly he nipped at the sweet spot under your ear, whispering "Use your words baby."

"Oh my god." You whimpered. The screaming in your brain reaching a fever pitch; you wanted him to fuck you, right now, you didn't care if you got caught. "Eddie, do it, fuck me, fuck me right here." You say frantically, his movements stilling in shock.

"You sure sweetheart? I-I can wait, we don't have to do anything you don't wanna-" He cut off, watching as though in a trance, you turned yourself around, pushing your ass out toward him, in the dim streetlight your pussy glistened with wetness all swollen and pretty.

"Ho-ly fuck." He breathed out in awe, fishing hurriedly for a condom in his jacket pocket. You were breathing hard against the passenger window, watching Eddie's reflection, staring, cheeks flushed with excitement and lust as he yanked his jeans and boxers down enough to free his length, panting as he rolled the condom on. Coming up behind you, he crowded you against the van once again, his body covering your back, feeling his cock line up with your entrance; shivering at the slow press and delicious stinging sensation as he worked his way in.

"Christ you're so fucking tight baby." He hissed, balls flush to your ass as he bottomed out, one hand coming up to play with your tits, the other bracing against the van as he started to thrust.

"Eddie…fuck." You choked out, rubbing at your sopping clit, you were already so close, bouncing your hips back against him as he thrust harder.

"Oh my fucking god, you're perfect, so fucking tight and perfect. I can feel you dripping on my balls." He groaned, grabbing your hair, turning your head to capture your lips in a frantic kiss, you keened into his mouth. He was pulling your top up, freeing your breasts, pinching at your puckered nipples, his other arm wrapping tight around your middle, holding you steady, pounding deeper.

It was lewd, it was indecent, it was sinful and you had never felt so alive.

"Eds, Eddie, I'm - fuck I'm fucking close, please." You begged, pleading, hovering over the edge, heat swimming deep in your belly.

"Oh shit, yes, such a good girl." You could hear he was close, the words passing through gritted teeth. "Taking this cock so well. You wanna cum baby?"

"Yes." You whined desperately, the coil within you tightening. "Please, I wanna cum so bad, fuck me harder."

You didn't know where the words were coming from, had never felt this pent up, never craved sex this way before.

Eddie's balls were slapping against you in a faster rhythm, the sound penetrating the otherwise still night air.

"Fucking hell baby, yes take it, so fucking good - shit - that's it fucking cum for me sweetheart. Cum-on-my-cock-you-little-fucking-slut." He punctuated each word with brutal thrusts and at the word slut you felt the dam break, wave after wave of throbbing pleasure seized your body, head thrown back in a wordless cry, spasming around his dick.

"Shit,shit,shit,fuck,fuck." Eddie was chanting in a low whine, hips stilling against you, even with the condom on you could feel the pulse of him cumming.

You both stayed perfectly still for a moment, your shared heavy breathing the only sound now.

"That was… holy fuck that was…" Eddie muttered leaning heavily against your shoulder, you clung onto the side mirror for support, legs feeling like jelly.

"Uh huh." You agreed breathlessly, you felt his hand on your back rubbing soothingly, unable to stop yourself from hissing as he pulled out, gently righting your panties for you and pressing a fleeting kiss to the back of your neck.

It was a remarkably sweet gesture, particularly in stark contrast to your position moments before, you tugged your top down, and skirt back up leaning against the van with a heavy exhale. Eddie had tucked himself away, and was now busy tying the condom off, stepping into the road to drop it unceremoniously down a gap in a drain cover, your face scrunched in distaste at the action.

"Giving the swimmers a new lease of life." He said winking impishly.

"I'm sure the sewer rats will be ever so pleased." You deadpanned.

You were unsure what the plan was now, should you go your separate ways, you back to the party, him to - well wherever Eddie spent Saturday nights?

Returning to the party felt like a hellish idea, not just because you probably looked like you had just had sex, which you had, but you'd also have to face Steve and Nancy and whilst you now seemingly had the option of sex on tap, emotionally your heart still very much belonged to Harrington. Also you had the beginnings of a headache no doubt from the toxic punch.

"Uh- sweetheart you in there?" Eddie asked you, waving his hand in front of you, evidently you had zoned out.

"Huh?"

"I was talking about milkshakes."

'Milkshakes?" You repeatedly blankly.

"Yeah, ya know, you take the milk, you take the shake you take them both and then you have the facts of life." He said moving past you, opening the passenger door.

You just stared vacantly.

"Oh my god I fucked the intelligence out of you." He giggled, ducking to one side as you tried to punch him in the arm, catching your hand he pulled you to him.

"Sweetheart I would very much like it if you would accompany me to a diner where we can have milkshakes and discuss the intimate details of our little arrangement." He clarified, gesturing for you to get into the van.

"Details?" You ask cluelessly, clambering into the seat, maybe he had fucked you dumb.

"Details." Eddie cooed, tapping you on the nose and strapping you in like a child, before handing you his drug box and slamming the door.

You were unsure whether to be amused or concerned at how he skipped to his own driver's side, lighting a cigarette.

"Eddie, what exactly are we doing?" You ask, completely exasperated. He revved the engine, jamming the play button on the car radio, head banging along to Ace of Spades - Motorhead for a few moments.

"EDDIE!" You yell over the music impatiently.

"You and I are making a pact princess" Flashing you a huge grin before peeling down the street.

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

397 notes · View notes

misc-obeyme · 1 year

Note

Mc shows the brothers

Human world style and (what the media gives to woman) body standards ,How would they react?

((I am a firm believer that you can be whoever you want and your body is beautiful))

Hey there, anon!

Okay, this here is a sensitive topic, but I think I did all right with it.

I think how the brothers would react depends on what the beauty standards are like in the Devildom. So for this, I went with the idea that while the Devildom has similar beauty standards to the human world, they're less important. I would think that demons would care more about power than appearance, especially since it's likely that at least some of them use magic to alter how they look. So the brothers probably don't know what an issue it is in the human world.

Also tried to keep it mostly gender neutral, hopefully that's okay.

Thank you for the request!

The brothers react to GN!MC telling them about human world body standards.

Warnings: A lot of discussion of body image issues, talking about diets and food in Beel's part.

Lucifer

Does not understand. Why do humans place such importance on looking perfect? He certainly sees the value in looking put together, especially when it comes to things like clothes and hygiene. Beyond that, though, he doesn't see the point in obsessing over trying to fix perceived flaws.

Does not care about your body type at all. Short? Tall? Fat? Thin? It's irrelevant to him. What matters is who you are. If he wasn't a beautiful man, it wouldn't matter because everyone would still fear him. It isn't about what you look like, it's how you carry yourself.

If you struggle, though, he's going to be sensitive about it. Will not talk about it with others around, but will casually compliment you on how nice you look. Especially if he knows you're lacking confidence for some reason. Then he'll make a point of telling you that you look good.

When you're alone, though, he showers you in compliments. Lucifer is not usually soft, so it's reserved for when you're alone with him. And that's when he takes your feelings into consideration. Don't you know that you are stunning, MC? In fact, he would say that your body is perfect simply because it is yours.

Mammon

Hang on. Human world models aren't naturally like that? Sure, he works out a little more than he might normally just because he works as a model, but it's not like he goes around doing anything drastic. Do you think he's contributing to unrealistic beauty standards in the Devildom?!

Um… well… it's hard to say? You'll probably need to reassure him that it really doesn't matter either way. The problem is not individual models, but the industry as a whole. And there are people who are working to make things better. It's just that in the human world, you have to be aware that what you see in magazines is usually heavily edited. He's gonna think that's crazy. The Great Mammon's photos are never photoshopped!

Once he gets over this little crisis, though, he's going to tell you that all of that sounds really stupid. The whole point of fashion is that it makes you feel good! It's supposed to be fun! Who cares what type of body you have? You should be able to enjoy it no matter what.

Mammon is gonna get really cute about your specific insecurities, though. If you tell him you don't like something about yourself, he's going to go out of his way to let you know that he loves it. Feeling unhappy about your stomach not being flat enough, for instance? Hey, MC! Ya don't mind if he gives ya hug, do ya? Doesn't wait for a response, just wraps his arms around you from behind so he can settle his hands directly on your stomach. Presses his face into your neck to mumble about how perfect you are because he won't say it straight to your face.

Leviathan

Baffled. More confused than Lucifer. Are you seriously trying to tell him that people in the human world care about this kind of thing? Uh oh. Now he's thinking about his body image. Does it fit with human world standards?! Do you think he's hideous, MC!?

You've got another crisis. Quick, reassure him that he has nothing to worry about! The point you're trying to make here is that human world standards are crazy and harmful. He's perfect to you and that's all that matters.

O-oh. Right. Now he's a little bashful about his reaction. Makes it clear that you're perfect to him, too. Watch as he gains more confidence in his compliments. He starts telling you about how he loves every part of you. Lists physical attributes at first, but starts getting into who you are to him. Not just your best qualities, but special moments he's had with you. How important you are to him, specifically.

If you tell him about things that you struggle with, he's going to reassure you in the moment. And then you notice that when you consume some form of media together, a lot of times there's a character that has one of those specific things that you also have. He thinks he's subtle, but you see right through him. If he finds a story line where the character learns to love themselves or something, he's definitely going to make you watch it with him. Acts like he's completely innocent, it's just a good story, you know!

Satan

Confused at first. As with Lucifer, finds such things to be completely irrelevant. Obviously, what matters is who you are inside. When someone has a heart and soul as beautiful as yours, their body simply becomes beautiful by association. Also don't you know it's about practicality? Your body exists to move you through the world, not to be pretty for other people.

Uh oh. Now he's getting angry. Why would other humans feel that you have to look a certain way for them? How could they make you feel like you aren't perfect exactly as you are? How dare they subject you to their own ideals of beauty? It's upsetting, MC!

Okay, okay, you're probably going to have to talk him down. He's livid on your behalf, but tell him how much it means to you to hear him say these things and he'll start to calm down. Realizes that getting angry about it doesn't help you in any way. Reassures you that such human world ideas are nonsense.

Starts complimenting you all the time, especially on the things he knows you're insecure about. Maybe you don't like the shape of your nose. He will say, completely straight faced, that your nose is looking really cute today. Although this sounds ridiculous, it does make you smile, so that feels like a win.

Asmodeus

Oh, MC. Don't you think he knows all about this already? Of course he does. Asmodeus is perfectly aware of how things are in the human world when it comes to beauty standards. He knows how hard it can be for some humans.

You might think he couldn't possibly understand because he's so perfect. He's always beautiful. The reality is that he believes his beauty is all he has. If he's not beautiful, who even is he? Take the moment to tell him that he's so much more than his looks. That you love him for who he is, his kindness, his bubbly personality, his creativity, etc.

He's going to tell you that all the things you do to make yourself look good should be things you're doing for yourself. Do them because they make you feel good. Do them because they give you confidence. Do them because you deserve to pamper yourself sometimes. Do them because you need to take care of yourself just as much as you take care of everybody else.

Another one who gets cute about your insecurities. What's that? Did you say you don't like your stretch marks? Well now you're laughing as he kisses every last stretch mark he can find. You learn not to say negative things about yourself around him unless you're prepared to get covered in kisses.

Beelzebub

Misunderstands. Thinks you're asking him for workout advice. You want your body to look a certain way? He knows what to do for that. Do you want him to come up with an exercise schedule for you, MC? Its up to you whether or not you decide to workout with him, but either way you'll have to tell him that's not exactly what you meant. Tell him about diets and watch the confusion get worse.

Wait, wait, wait. Humans restrict their food in an attempt to get their bodies to look a certain way? He's dumbfounded. Just thinking about it upsets him. Why in the world would you want to deprive yourself of any kind of food? You decide not to tell him just how bad this can get for people. He's having a hard enough time as it is.

Don't you dare try to do it around him, though. If you say anything about not wanting to eat something because you're worried it'll make you fat or you're watching your figure or anything else along those lines, he will frown at you. He's going to tell you that you should eat whatever you want.

Beel thinks chubby humans are really cute. They look well fed and that makes him happy. If you're already on the chubby side, he'll tell you how much he likes it. If you're not, he'll tell you how much he likes you the way you are, but if you were to change he would like you just the same.

Belphegor

Huh. Humans care about some weird stuff, don't they? It's not that Belphie is unaware of human world beauty standards, it's more like he thinks it's really dumb so he doesn't think about it most of the time. However, he does recognize what an issue it can be for a lot of people. The fact that you're bringing it up to him indicates that you struggle with it, too. And he's not okay with that.

Won't lose his shit or anything, this guy is too lazy for that. But he is annoyed on your behalf. He's annoyed that you feel insecure about any part of you because the human world had the audacity to pressure you into thinking you weren't good enough just the way you are. You don't have to change anything about yourself, MC. You're perfect.

He's actually really good at listening to you talk about your body image issues. He knows he doesn't necessarily have to participate a lot, he just needs to listen. You'll feel better once you've told him all about your struggles. Tell him everything. He's only going to speak up to tell you that he understands, but that in his eyes, those flaws you think you have don't exist.

As with a couple of his older brothers, he's going to deliberately love on the things that you mention being insecure about. Definitely more bratty about it, though. The more you protest, the more he persists. Did you just complain about how thick your thighs are? He's going to nuzzle into them like they're the softest pillow he's ever had. Loudly says he's going to take his afternoon nap right there. Try to dislodge him and you'll only make it worse.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me brothers #request #misc writes

347 notes · View notes

sugar-petals · 1 year

Text

sub!𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷 💙𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚊𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝 (18+)

⇢ gentle femdom (n.) :: a variant of bdsm emphasizing affectionate play with a pliant sub rather than hard kinks, brat taming, sadism, or hierarchy.

pairing. pleaser!bangchan x femdom!reader

WARNINGS. ⚠️ rated m, soft sub chris, light restraints, studio and car sex, mommy kink, pegging, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, frottage, shy chan, vanilla positions, lack of aftercare bc chan sleeps fast 😅, self-esteem issues, food play mention, established relationship

★ wc. 3k

↳ [ // 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. ] a soft hc for for valentine’s 💌 following lee know’s version, more sub!skz worldbuilding! good boy chan agenda going strong here... truth be told, it’s always interesting to write leaders showing their true face. not sure if i’ll make this a complete series due to my standard high word counts; if there’s a member u absolutely want to read about take to the replies/asks, if multiple people chime in for someone i see what i can do! as for now, sub chan enthusiasts enjoy! 💛

read it on ao3 | 💋 masterlist 💋

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Fast asleep within a mere five minutes. Like an ice statue frozen for a thousand years. If this guy puts the strain of having sex on top of his already endless to-do list, he’s gonna doze off in Guinness World record time some day. In his vocabulary, what even is aftercare? He’s like don’t worry mate, I’m fine, maybe a warm glass of water, now good nig—zzZ.

When you didn’t know each other so well yet, you planned to run him a nice bath and all, but reality hit with Chan entering the dream land after getting a spanking. So, in the end, aftercare is just handing him a pillow and toweling him down while he’s already in the twilight zone. See you tomorrow! Reducing the craziness of sex doesn’t really make him stay awake, nor do you want him to — any sleep is good sleep for Chan, anyway. If sex exhaustion is his justification for sleep rather than editing another whole damn album, why not. Play with you is his best excuse to nap.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Chan likes his arms and wow-factor shoulders generally, but it’s not limited to them. Some days, he’s way happier with something else (proud of leg day, let’s go). On other days, he doesn’t like anything and tries to ignore that. Every mirror an enemy. The next day, he feels better about something else entirely. Stray Kids going through so many bold outfits and intricate stylings has sort of confused him about how he naturally looks sometimes. Chan is not content with his bare face, but feels better after you pepper it with kisses.

When it comes to you, he’d never say a thing about a preference. You won't be able to tell where Chan’s mind goes the most, and it generally doesn’t hyperfocus on one body part anyway. Does he like legs best, hips, hands, back, your chest? No one knows. All he says is, „I really like your figure“ — and that’s all. Of course he thinks his domme is hot as fuck, in fact, he thinks she fucking slays. He’s just a gentleman about it.

You like his eyebrows and curly bangs a lot. In your eyes, he has a really handsome and memorable face to begin with (that eyeshadow game makes it even better, holy cow). Even classically handsome, even if he doesn’t really believe it. You saying „Damn you look good!“ when he puts on a tight outfit that accentuates his body shape, it really flatters him to the core. You like his sexy face chains and accessories, chokers galore, and virtually any type of harness fitted all across his torso or legs. Chan is a wet BDSM dream come true and he doesn’t even realize it, does he.

c= cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Actually not that into it. His own cum, I mean. Chan usually forgets to rub one out even when he feels a little twitch while working. Too focused. He ignores his libido often. Same idea extends to cumming inside you as far as vanilla is concerned. Chan knows it’s awkward to clean it all out. He’d rather wear protection and release on his own stomach, then quickly get rid of it if he’s not dozing already.

He blushes hearing you talk dirty about semen, but the real thing? Chris isn’t obsessed like some other people would be. It’s a necessary evil to him, and just another thing bodies do. His orgasms tend to underwhelm him or disappoint no matter what he does, he’s not as confident pushing himself to a maximum of pleasure by himself. He depends a lot on you to chase a high sometimes, which makes him feel deficient. You notice that he beats himself up and suggest some more gentle femdom forms of sex that focus more on sensuality and less adrenaline. Works way better for him. Besides modeling harnesses like a pro, Chan is actually a die-hard soft sub.

On the other hand… Duality. Selfless Chan is totally focused on having you completely soaked at his very creative fingertips. Cum play 5000. He’s a musician. And producer. And dancer. And singer. And rapper. Safe to say that fella has rhythm.

And: Don’t worry. He’s not the type to edge and finger you recklessly. Chan isn’t brutal, nor is he punishing. Always the exact opposite. Pleasing, pleasing, pleasing. His submissive tendencies show almost everywhere. The most daring thing he’d do is tease you with a bright smile, which probably makes you wanna bust a nut on the same spot, ain’t it so. You Chan hard stan, you. He constantly asks for feedback and wants your own hands to do it with him so he can learn: That good boy. How that tiny spot of yours can make your whole body feel so electric is quite astounding to him. Getting you off and making you laugh? His favorite downtime.

d = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Other people probably assume his ultimate kink and darkest fantasy would be something like `Chan being selfish and cruel for once´. Just doing something because he craves it. Or something like topping you for fun, large and in charge, leader mode. Little did they know that Chan’s most secret wish is you finally meeting his parents for an evening of barbecue. Ain’t he typical.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

More than you think, less than you assume. He’s a lovely Libra. The golden middle of everything is true for him. He’s not dared to directly approach any crush he had, but yes, always prompting a shy and nervous response, he’s the one who’s been approached quite a couple times. By a handful of dominants who saw right through him, too, yes. A bit of flirting over some dinner did went down, but only a dozen dates turned into some tentative, makeshift sexual activity at their place. Obviously not the dorm, he’d never do that. He’s not Hwang Hyunjin getting pegged — next to Lee Know, gaming — by every girl in a ten-mile radius.

Chan also received an Inkigayo sandwich and had a genuinely lovely time. It went on for two months until it got a bit awkward. All in good spirits, though. Because seriously. Caring as he is, and always with the other person’s well-being in mind, how could Chan ruin a breakup. If there is a split, the transition period to a new chapter will be seamless, not heartbreaking. A few tears will fall, the chest is heavy, but he’s not gonna engage in a war of roses and lose face. He does have complaints, but he’s no mean guy. Even when he has a reason to accuse an ex, he will swallow it. The shit he’s bottled up. Chan will feel burdened, down for quite some days, but focus on moving on properly when it’s possible.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

Undecided. Doesn’t want your head too far away nor too close. He’s afraid of accidents, hurting your face somehow, he’s a little paranoid. A bit of movement distance is good for soft missionary, it can be bridged by kissing. Chan uses his arms to prop himself up, gyrating so fucking heavenly, and you can grab his ass. All the praise you’ll shower him with. You’ll often be having sex in a back hug, that’s a good one, too. Especially seated, with Chan leaning forward a little to meet your spine with his chest. All you see is legs legs legs twitching under you, damn good view.

Girl on top, however, occupies both of your minds all the time. That’s where you feel at home. Comfortable for both of you, Chan can be more passive, you active. Your bed or couch needs lots of pillows, though, it’s too empty and scary for him otherwise. The floor is off limits, not cozy enough, you agree. You’re a cozy couple. Chan draped over a hard surface on his back, naked, is a sexy as fuck image in your head, but the reality is not snuggly and warm enough.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Total goofball, you love the guy’s sexy time humor. His crinkly eyes ad triangle-shaped dimples (yes they’re literally like that) always alleviate the moment and bridge an awkward silence or pause. Chan has a soft spot for your outrageous jokes, too. Your every word has him almost hanging by a thread so to speak, he’s a very active listener. Dirty talk and conversation absolutely dominate your sex life, silent sexy time is a natural, mutually agreed upon no-go.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Clean pits, clean everything. He’s pretty economical with it. Adapts to your wishes, puts lots of effort in. If it’s gotta be a hairy situation, the rules are even stricter, even if he sometimes forgets to maintain it, which makes Chan feel terribly sorry. „Won’t happen again! Oh geez.“ Uneven hairs piss him off, he’s the legend of trimming everything in place.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Can’t stay serious and focused for two seconds. Says a cheesy thing as soon as you even blink.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Too busy with his beautiful fingers between your labia to think about himself. As always: Chan gives and gives and gives without ever taking. When you’re driving to the gym and he takes the passenger seat, prepare for masturbation galore — all while he doesn’t touch himself one bit. You reward him with a little improvised frottage with his upright dick crushed against your ass later on the backseat. Both of you in your underwear: Because it’s hotter. Chan comes pretty fast, his cock is so sensitive to being squeezed by you. Turn around while you grind on him because his surprised facial expressions are just glorious. His tight body in his sports clothing feels so damn good, you can do this all day long.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

Feeding each other delicious sweets and random food bits. He’s totally enamored with this. You can be silly together, carefree, he can be your cutest little one. Not entirely in an age play sense, more as a casual endearment.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

So, besides the car and bed. His production studio chair is surprisingly not the way to go. Too narrow, moves around too much, spins at every damn movement. Studio couch is more like it. The amount of times you’ve made out on there, the members would so judge him for being thirsty. But you see the practical aspect. Increased support, decently elastic if not a little bouncy, and a comfortable surface that’s easy to clean for him. It’s not like Chan keeps typing and producing with you on his lap at the table. Come on, he focuses on you. When you sit next to him or on him casually to see what he’s working on, sure, he will go on as usual though. But it’s often him who wants to sit on your lap to get pampered, or between your legs non-sexually if he’s too heavy for you. At home, any spot will do, long as it has a pillow fort.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Affection and courtesy. Compared to some other members, say Felix, Chan doesn’t submit to try stuff out and to chase a kinky curiosity. The principle and chivalry counts for him instead. Being a domme pleaser and body worship advocate 5000 is what keeps Chan coming back for more. Stress relief is a side effect, pun intended.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Hard domming you. He has leader energy on stage, but privately, mercurial goofball he is, it just doesn’t suit him. Chan would never make you scream or sob, and he can’t use a whip on your ass either. That image is so strange to both of you. Although he matches the aesthetic of a hard dom when he’s dressed up like one, face chain wolf gang and all, actually doing all this stuff creeps him out. He recoils at the thought of smacking you roughly or doling out a harsh anal punishment. Raw and hateful sex is simply not his schtick. Again, he’s Hyunjin’s opposite on the submission scale: Mister Hwang is very open to being demolished in a crazy hate fuck by any dominant daring enough. That’s where smacking and violently punishing is very welcome. Chan, he prefers a forehead kiss to make him squeal.

Chan would be all shifty on his feed and be confused constantly if he had to dominate in a cold and relentless way. Being a soft dom is all he could muster, which would simply wind up him service subbing in a covert way — no one’s surprised. And the major obstacle is, Chan simply cannot switch off his charm. He just can’t. It’s in his tone of voice all the time. The only exception happens when he reprimands the members for not taking something seriously enough, but well — he doesn’t have to pull that voice on you. You know the stakes of this relationship and meet him with a logical mindset. You take topping him very seriously like a fucking pro, in fact. Chan got nothing on you, he thinks he’d look like an amateur.

If we’re going there at all: Chan can’t stand the whole kink of say, his girl age regressing to her toddler days, diapers and everything. He’d be like what… It’s too much for him, and his whole Stray Kids’ father role doesn’t have to be his entire identity. Chan appreciates a sexual slash romantic partner who is level-headed and talks to him on equal grounds. He doesn’t want someone tugging at his sleeve all the time talking in a baby voice, he prefers more mature flirting and interactions. He’s the one getting shy, his domme is the wise one. So: No infantilizing his girlfriend. They’re called Stray Kids and not Stray Adults, so he already fosters the whole group as a full-time job — back at home, he’s looking for an authority instead.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh shit, here they come. Those beautiful, pinkish, big and juicy lips. They’re wonderful and shapely, just right, so puckered. It’s the ace up his sleeve! You’ll grind the chapstick off of `em at every opportunity. He’ll quickly get fantastic at giving head, the eye contact is always a stunner. The lips are usually outclassing his tongue, though you should never underestimate someone who works a mic for a living.

His consistency… I swear. Completely deprioritizes receiving. He’s clumsy with eating you out in the first month of dating, hence why he wants to improve. Although it irks him that he’s not a natural talent, your comforting words will help him. „Not everyone can be born as Hwang Hyunjin.“ — „So true, bestie. Or Felix, too.“ He embraces his beginner mindset and hey, come on: That he tries so hard is worth ten sex toys, the effort and dedication counts. Like he can suck on a dildo in no time. Not ready for the strap yet, but that’s ok. His progress tends to be astounding, he remembers his mishaps and strengths very well. Nerdy Chan writes down what he should keep in mind, that’s a hell of a man right here.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Nothing subspace-inducing, we’re keeping it midrange speed here. Though, remember this guy is a literal sports student, athlete, multi talent. He can pull off anything you wish for, you just gotta ask. Nevertheless, he’s too sweet to go and say „let’s just fuck like rabbits, 3, 2, 1, go!“ — some other certain members are more fond of that. Lee Know, Hyunjin, Han, to name the holy trinity of dick destruction. They just wanna get wrecked. CBT and everything. Chan loves pleasure and passion more than ending up ruined, his workload does that for him.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yep. Pretty boy likes those. Big fan. Any day. Treats the two of you with cooking afterwards.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Sexually? Not at all. Besides a little fun and games (read: flirting and pillow fights), he’s beyond mellow. Bangchan is the last person on earth to demand that you amp up your dominatrix game to do something questionable. As in, to experiment with even more extreme practices, electro play, knife play, sounding, that stuff. Or to put on specific, highly sexualized outfits. Again, that would contradict your coziness at home.

He’s not a fan of pushing his dominant to their limit, or having a stake in their appearance whatsoever. You’re not there for his appetite, because he’s the snack. As is good practice, he coordinates a sexual scene together with you, and can make cute wink-wink suggestions: But they’re literally harmless. Such as, „maybe… tie my hands with a ribbon or something?“, and it’s all in an open-ended question format just like that. It’s up to you to allow it or not.

In other words: Bangchan’s inner power bottom is what? Non-existent. Which differs wildly from some other members. Han would totally beg you to slap the shit out of him just so he can experience a shock of adrenaline. Bratty Felix would tease his domme with his ass until she tames him with pinches, clamps, and squeezing. Chan would never even consider asking to be fucking wrestled. It’s 100% you who suggests kinks that carry more danger, like heavy chains with collars, or using a Sybian on him, although that’s not risky from a pro’s perspective. He takes the backseat and will most definitely not provoke any trouble or unsafe etiquette willingly.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He took ballet classes. All you need to know. Strength and tension and discipline are words not unfamiliar to him. His dick won’t last long, but the rest of his body will: Unless he danced like crazy that day. Which means time for spoiling and caressing him, talking him through, tucking him into bed. No hard domination please.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Bondage rope, yes. Red lights was right, he’s a rope bunny. Other particular toys no… with some room for experimenting sometimes. But he’s not a crazy toy collector, one quality vibrating aid to get you off is worth a 100 random items that he’d buys just to buy them. So, no to that. He’s particular and looks for what really fits the two of you. Strap-on experiments are fine, he quite likes to take it on all fours until one of you cramps. You’re not powering through, but that one’s a long and prep-heavy session. Blowing his back out is probably a bad idea, going slow and steady with lots of reassurance works way better.

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

Chan’s ‚explanation voice‘ and constant questions can drag out foreplay for half an hour. By any means: The Chansplaining needs to find it’s due end. You get down to business by just unzipping his damn pants. A call to inspect your sexy sub is the perfect shortcut, admittedly just to see his thick package. „Take your cock out, honey. Let me take a good look at it.“ — instantly flustered Chan is putty in your hands.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

„Yes, mommy!“ — that’s medium loud. Can be more silent, too, but never not super breathy. Drastic spikes in volume, not so much. It’s a constant moaning. Though, I might be understating this, the whole group has a very high benchmark for volume. 80% of Stray Kids are fucking screamers.

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Chan talks about how much he loves having sex with you all while he’s fast sleep constantly. Babbling in his dreams is not uncommon, the members seem to be on his mind a lot unsurprisingly, but this one stands out to you.

x = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

What he’s got in his sweatpants is like a Monsta X song. I don’t know what else to liken it to. Thing is, he’s not working with a whopping 10 inches. Who the hell carries that. He’s in a comfortable but aesthetically pleasing upper midrange, and really not too awkwardly long at all. It absolutely wouldn’t suit him. Girth and full balls is where it’s at. Also: Big ass alert. Your designated smack target and stress ball. You’re not surprised that Lino acts the way he does given how um cheeky the members are. Chan’s has such a nice curve, fuck.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s not Felix going „Lemme suck your tiddies real quick“ at every opportunity. Chan is more like „Okay, can I…?“ And he always ends up surprised how easily he gets going. It’s nothing when compared to his awkward jack-off sessions at work. You know what he’s capable of with one glance. Chan is a sensualist. Someone so sporty knows how to get their blood pumping. And: He’s channeled a fuck ton of his sexual energy into dance and his ten thousand other physical talents. You know precisely how to train him to get the desired results.

z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

You can use a damn stopwatch. He’s gone, ciao, bye, hasta luego, see you soon. In your arms, looking as angelic as ever. At the end of the day, Chan’s rapid deep sleep is pretty cute. This sub is a little innocent cherub. He’s in good hands with you.

read it on ao3

sub!idols m.list ♡

lee know alphabet version

sub!skz orgasm faces/bondage scenario

sub!hyunjin oneshot | sub!felix oneshot

💕 likes, rbs, comments v much appreciated, let’s talk 💕

#sub!skz #stray kids smut #sub!stray kids #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #dom!reader #stray kids #skz imagines #skz headcanons #sub!skz x dom!reader #bang chan smut #sub!bang chan #bang chan #skz chan #smut alphabet #smut a-z #long post

461 notes · View notes

jensettermandu · 3 months

Text

-𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙨 𝙜𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣, 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙨 𝙜𝙤 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚-

-𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧-

1.6

previous - m.list - next

𝘨!𝘱 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

content warning; MDNI, morally grey characters, toxic relation/situationships, domestic abuse, violence, substance use/abuse, mentions of weight/toxic beauty standards, dubcon, a lot of smut (spitting, spanking, bondage, choking, rough sex, etc. appears), age gap (legal), mentions of sensitive topics, not made for glorification of toxic relationships.

chapter wc; 15.6k+

a/n; sorry for the long wait, i got busy and this chapter needed some extra work while proofreading and editing. fyi, the smut is a bit different in this chapter for the plot.

[One week ago]

There was one person Y/n called when her life was falling apart when it was crumbling and it felt like she had nothing left to live for. One person helped with that as Y/n couldn't grasp at what was happening. What her life had become and how each day it only fell apart more when she thought there was nothing more to crumble.

It was eating at her, the lump was present in her throat and her eyes kept getting warm every time she thought back to what had happened just a few minutes ago. The vixen stood leaning back against the brick wall while picking at her nails. It got hard to breathe, her skin felt itchy, and each breath felt like it was only stealing oxygen and not giving her any.

If the past wasn't important she was supposed to think about the future, but if the future was too much to think about, she was supposed to focus on the present. What was she supposed to do if all three made her want to punch at the grave concrete under her if she wanted to get cut open and bleed until there was no more pain left to bleed?

Y/n's fingers were shaky, her nose prickled with each thought, chest only heating up and clenching while she bit on her nails. It was one step closer to the edge, but it could have been a step off the edge and she knew that. Y/n knew that she had been lucky.

All she wanted was to go home, but she knew that she couldn't, Y/n couldn't seek comfort in her home. Not without being judged. She felt too ashamed, disappointed, and embarrassed with herself to seek comfort in people she usually found it in. Now she could only find it in Jennie because she knew that the woman wouldn't judge her when she told her the reason why. She wouldn't suggest rational solutions, but solutions that worked even if they were irrational.

Jennie had never been someone who would prioritise anyone else over herself or her business unless it would benefit her so even then she did it for herself. That was what was on her mind as she had been driving to pick up Y/n. This was for a benefit, seeing Y/n benefitted her.

How? That was something she couldn't answer, at least she couldn't give a specific answer.

Her elbow rested by the window, her cheek propped against her knuckles as she drove the car through L.A. The shades on her nose were protecting her sore and sensitive eyes, each blink only gave her a bigger headache and they felt dry. At times she felt like her body was crumbling, as if she was made of sand, grains falling with each step that she took until one day there would be nothing left. There wouldn't even be anything to remember her by.

Maybe she saw Y/n so someone would remember her once that day would come. It could be because she wanted to make sure that when she did overdose she wasn't going to be alone. Would it make any difference if she overdosed alone or not? She had no idea because the rot in her heart was slowly spreading, decomposing from the inside and falling apart more and more each day.

It was good, it made her numb. It would make her care less about dying alone.

Or maybe that was why she was driving to pick up Y/n. Because the girl made her feel. She wanted to lie and deny it, say that she didn't feel anything, but she did. It didn't matter what it was, what mattered was that it was for her benefit and not for Y/n's sake.

She wouldn't and didn't care about her otherwise.

She tried to tell herself.

Jennie had no clue why Y/n called her, she didn't even text this time but called and asked if she could pick her up. On the other end, she sounded vulnerable, there was that faint quiver in her voice that Jennie had heard a few times before–the times when Y/n had gotten scared of her. It was docile, she needed her, she truly did. Jennie would always take the opportunity to scoop up someone vulnerable, especially Y/n, it made everything so much easier.

She could take care of her and show her that only she could do it. Why else would Y/n call her if it wasn't because she knew that Jennie could fix all her problems?

Jennie stopped the car and looked out her window. There was the minx, dressed like a doll in a black pleated jeans skirt, patterned sheer tights, black leg warmers, black dollete shoes, and a tight-knit shirt that was stopping right above her belly button with small white ribbons on the sleeves. She bit her lower lip, watching the girl who was mindlessly twisting the little purse she had while biting on the nails of her free hand, her gaze stuck on the concrete beneath her feet.

The woman was about to honk so the girl would wake up and spot her to get into the car, but she stopped. Something made her feel bad for wanting to honk at the girl, it felt degrading in the wrong kind of way, especially when Y/n had been so fragile over the phone. It worried Jennie that she would collapse and break like a porcelain doll—It could be that she didn't want to treat Y/n the way she did with any other girl, she already treated her differently when it came to so many things. Never had Jennie driven across town for someone.

Y/n wasn't a whore she would honk at and wait for her to get into her car.

With a heaving sigh, she put her car in park and opened her door, getting out of the Maybach where the air was cooler and into the air that was warmer against her skin. She couldn't tell where Y/n was mentally because the girl wasn't even reacting to her door getting closed. Jennie shoved her hands inside the pockets of her jeans, dressed simply in a pair of light loose jeans, a white tee, and sneakers.

Maybe she didn't know what she was doing.

Maybe somewhere at the back she was scared but wanted to try, however, why she was trying would be something she wouldn't want to answer.

"Are you alright?" Y/n, at last, looked up, her glimmering eyes quickly blinked to try and get rid of the hot sheet of tears covering them. There was no stopping them though as she inhaled deeply and continued to try, but it only helped them to fall. She could feel herself falling with them as she snivelled. Was this the face that finally made Y/n give in and break down after holding it in to not look weak in front of anyone else? Why was it that Jennie destroyed the barriers around her heart and so easily got inside?

She couldn't even open up to her boyfriend this way, she couldn't break down this way in front of her friends most of the time. Even her best friend was difficult to open up now. It used to be different, but things had changed in her life. There was a godforsaken security in Jennie's disrupted peace and danger. She had willingly become prey to the gentle predator, but there was nothing gentle about Jennie until Y/n found herself being used to the bruises that felt like kisses now.

"No..." Her voice withered like red roses that hadn't been put in water and were left to rot on the counter. There was a rumbling in her chest, a rainstorm that waited to be let out, the thunder made her tremble with each strike. For a second her body wanted to disappear into the wall behind her when Jennie reached up to her face, her eyes hidden behind the sunglasses and her fingers always somewhat trembling yet she caught those diamond tears falling from the eyes that were like diamonds.

Jennie didn't know what to do, but she did what she could as she gently touched Y/n's skin which was like a thousand needles that intoxicated her and reminded her of why she kept chasing the high. These were the moments where she felt like she was guilty as if she had committed a crime and corrupted someone who never deserved it. She hated that Y/n could feel, that she still felt and hadn't gone numb from all the drugs and that she worked like an antidote and made Jennie feel.

Seeing that only wiping her tears wouldn't work Jennie did the next best thing she could as she removed her other hand from her pocket. She gently pulled onto Y/n who gave in without a single tweak of hesitance, no bone in her body resisting Jennie who pulled her into a gentle embrace, taking her without knowing what had happened. Somehow the woman always took her in no matter why Y/n was knocking on the door, she let her in before asking for explanations.

"It's okay." She tried to reassure her despite not knowing if it was okay or not, but empty promises always worked the best.

"It's not." This empty promise wouldn't work though and she could feel Y/n's breath that was hot with tears brushing against her neck. Her arms wrapped tighter around the girl's waist, her cold hands brushed over the exposed skin as she caressed it.

Y/n knew how bad it was. Jennie was like an allergy, she wasn't good for her and she knew it, but at the same time, she wasn't the lethal type so it never killed her to take more even if it made her feel terrible after.

There was something comforting about Jennie's soft scent of citrus and musk, it was alluring and it made it feel more like a home than Asher was and it made Y/n feel even worse on top of it all.

"What happened?" She questioned, showing genuine care because she wouldn't bother asking otherwise, not even to be nice.

Y/n took a shuddering breath and pulled away, Jennie's hands were still on her waist and Y/n held onto the woman's shoulders. Her one hand let go and she used her sleeve to gently wipe at the tears, the tip of her nose red, the tears stinging her eyes, leaving the colour of her eyes more prominent and filled with red.

Seeing that Y/n was still falling apart Jennie decided to start guiding her towards the car while thinking about what she was supposed to do next. It made a slight panic shoot through her because she didn't want to make it worse, but at the same time, she knew that she would possibly make it all worse. She had already ruined most of Y/n's life, hadn't she?

The easiest thing to do was to stop dwelling on things she wasn't able to change and just leave everything to burn once it caught a fire no matter how small it was and how easy it would be to put out and save from disaster. Instead, she let disaster unfold.

She opened the door for the younger girl, letting her get inside before gently closing the door. There was nothing casual about this anymore, but that had been the point all along. To have Y/n depend on her, but it was never a plan to feel any responsibility for it. It wasn't planned to be there once she did start depending on her.

There was a brief silence when Jennie got into her seat, watching how Y/n was picking with her fingers. Jennie tried to figure out what it could be, but she couldn't know so she waited. Her patience wasn't running thin with the girl this time and she at last pushed up the shades to the top of her head. The more she thought about it the more she realised how Y/n had faded into her, she had watched the entire time the way Y/n changed, how her wings got cut off and how she was becoming a version of Jennie.

It was the ugly truth and Jennie didn't like the mirror.

That could be the reason why she tried so hard to shatter the mirror.

"I got fired," Y/n mumbled, taking in a deep breath right after she let those words out. It crashed right on top of her at full speed, it destroyed everything, but it could have destroyed it and turned the ruins into ashes. She bit her lower lip, trying to tell herself that it could have been worse because it could couldn't it?

Jennie glanced over at the art gallery where she now got to learn Y/n worked at; used to work.

"Isn't that their loss though? I know it sucks, but you will be able to find something new."

Y/n let out a breathless chuckle and leaned her head back against the seat, her eyes staring at the roof of the car. The tears didn't want to well up anymore because there was nothing to cry about when it was all her fault in the end. Being fired wasn't the biggest problem, Jennie was right, although, there was a bigger problem to it all. The biggest problem was why she got fired as it made her realise at what type of bottom she truly was.

"You know–" Y/n started as she gently patted away the wetness from her eyes and pushed herself up to look at Jennie. It felt like she was looking into a mirror that showed her just how truly pathetic she was, but also showed her that she would suffer different consequences compared to someone as superior as Jennie. Y/n should have known her place. "They found a bag of coke in the staff room, on the floor so someone must've dropped it while walking in and out." The girl started, each word only making her realise how pathetic she was. Each word made her want to take the leap and jump off the edge to fall to an even more pathetic death.

"They drug tested everyone, and I mean every single person that works there to find out who brought drugs to work–" Y/n scoffed, her lips parted as she poked at the corner of her lips with her tongue. Jennie frowned and watched the way life drained from Y/n's eyes and maybe the girl was as partially numb as she was in the end. It was different to watch someone die first-hand and not do anything to stop it but only speed up the process.

"Out of everyone only I tested positive and got fired because it was my bag that I had been looking for the entire day yesterday, I was fucking shaking while looking for it." Her eyes left Jennie, there was no solace in the eyes that ruined her. The older one tried to reach for Y/n's hand to offer her comfort, to ease it and make her realise that she could make it better, but Y/n didn't let her.

"The worst part is that I wasn't shaking because I was nervous about testing positive, I was shaking because I didn't have coke." The vixen couldn't believe her own words, they made her want to sob as she each day realised how lost she was in this life that she entered with Jennie's help. Somehow she still refused to do anything about it because it felt hopeless and the only thing that helped with hopelessness were drugs and she ended up being in this violent loop that consisted of drugs, parties, alcohol, and of course, Jennie.

"Y/n–" Jennie tried, she wanted to stop Y/n before she realised how ugly it truly was getting. That was how she went through it, she avoided these mirrors of confrontation and loss, it worked, it truly did, but Y/n hadn't faded into her completely. In a sense, Y/n was much stronger than Jennie and didn't succumb to these desires. She tried to put up a fight even if she lost them every time, it didn't stop her from trying and that was how she and Jennie were different.

"Do you see how fucking pathetic that is? To be more worried about not being able to re-dose than losing your job and possibly getting into legal trouble."

"Did you get into legal trouble?"

"No, I got pitied, I got recommended to go to rehab, and I got fired with a promise of not mentioning it if anyone called for a recommendation because of how good of a worker I used to be..." Y/n trailed off, a bitter taste in her mouth, but one that wasn't the coke she had sniffed right before the meeting with her boss. Different chemicals were swirling in her, not just the coke, ones that were produced by herself and she wanted to stop the flow of her blood so she wouldn't have to go through it.

"It's humiliating, to get pitied and judged for your own choices." It wasn't as if she didn't know what she was doing. Y/n just didn't know how to stop it.

These were things she couldn't go and cry to Asher about, he would never look at her the same, he would judge or try to give rational solutions to her irrational problems. Jennie was different, Jennie gave solutions that caused more problems, but she also got rid of other problems without letting them bother Y/n in the meantime.

Although, somewhere deep within her, she knew that she had had enough, but didn't know how to draw the line and run back to where it started to start all over again and avoid the same mistakes.

"I know, I do–they don't know your reasons," Jennie understood Y/n, she knew where she was coming from. She reached over to Y/n this time, her hand finding its way behind the girl's neck who was biting on her lower lip as the tears were right back and weren't giving her a break. "They don't know you as I do, you can trust me Y/n, you can trust me to never judge you." Those addictive words spilled from between her lips, those words that were as alluring as diamonds and pearls, words that were worth more. Nothing was worth as much as knowing that she wouldn't be judged no matter how terrible it was.

She guided Y/n back into her arms, letting the girl cry on her shoulder, knowing that the tears she cried weren't just about this. Jennie could feel that Y/n was crying about everything in her life that had changed and acceptance of change had always been important. There was just a certain change that wasn't supposed to be accepted. The change was worse than better, but Jennie could make the bad look good.

Her fingers ran to the back of Y/n's head, giving her the comfort she allowed her to give and the girl hadn't openly broken down this way in front of her unless it was because Jennie had made her break down. She always did, she always built her up only to shatter the pieces and glue them back together.

For how long was kintsugi possible?

This time Y/n broke down willingly and without Jennie's force.

Her cheek rested against the side of Y/n's head as she stared off into the distance, drowning out the small cries to not feel more than she had. She could still only love Y/n for the night and that was it, this wasn't more than roleplay, that was what it was supposed to be. Yet Jennie's words left her genuinely and she hated it, but she was sure that Y/n was aware that no one like Jennie would ever show up for her.

There was only one of her.

No one else would ever be able to replace her.

It was another reminder for Y/n that there would never be another Jennie, that she would be the only one to not judge her and at the same time love her for the night.

She licked her lips and cupped Y/n's cheek, her palm gently stroking along the side of Y/n's neck as she pulled her away.

The younger one felt weak, it was draining and the tears didn't make her feel lighter. The burden was too heavy and she knew that the second Jennie left she would be back to carrying it all alone again and that was yet another burden she carried. It left her dependent on Jennie, it made her not want to leave the older's side and just thinking about it made her heavy.

They locked eyes and Jennie tilted her head. She tried her best to think what would work for the girl. She had never cared enough to do these things for someone because other people were never her problem. Y/n wasn't either, but she was someone she wanted to help out. At first, she leaned in but stopped halfway, her lips tingled to kiss the girl, but her brain was in too much turmoil.

Those lips that were swollen from crying, her teary and red eyes, Y/n looked once again as appealing as she always did, but she looked too pretty for her good when crying. The resemblance of a broken doll made Jennie yearn as she loved putting together the broken, to give it hope, only to destroy it after and then put it back together and create a dependence. An addiction that destroyed one of them.

It gave her a sense of power and control she knew deep down she no longer had over her own life, at least she could have it over someone else's.

"Do you want to do something to take your mind off of it?" Jennie offered in the end, holding back from kissing the sweet misery off of Y/n's lips.

Y/n knew what that meant, but she had none of the energy left in her because her body had been robbed of its soul and she felt like a walking corpse.

"Jennie, I just want to go home, but can't–"

Jennie wasn't going to let her leave either way.

"How about—I have an apartment like ten minutes away, do you want to spend the night?"

The ride was silent, Y/n tried to comprehend anything that was going on in her life, but chaos was too hard to understand, let alone control. Jennie's hand rested on her inner thigh, fingers tapped against her skin and she'd give small squeezes as she drove. The two ignored how they were both growing mould and were toxic to each other, but kept breathing it right in without stopping.

It was a different routine this time, Y/n had never been to any of Jennie's places, but she knew she had a few apartments, mansions, and whatnot. She had no clue which one was home. This one was on the top floor of the complex as they took the elevator up. The vixen had pretended that she didn't see Jennie sniffing coke on their way up, it always made her stomach flip nervously because the woman's every excuse was the fact that she was under the influence. She was more scared of the fact that she believed it.

Y/n didn't have the energy to flinch at these blind punches that would be mere inches away from her. She didn't have the energy to dissociate because Jennie's voice got too loud and the words too harsh. All she wanted was the other Jennie, the one she stayed for. It made her refrain from taking anything herself because it stirred things further. The girl embraced the trembling of her fingers and the itch that came with the need for drugs.

"Do you want to change?" Jennie questioned as they stepped into the apartment. The exterior was light, the floors polished, shining under the strong light that spread through the downstairs area that consisted of an open living room and kitchen, stairs that led upstairs, high ceiling windows stretched along the walls. It was relatively big, but not too big, and modern.

The woman removed her sneakers and turned to Y/n who was holding onto the wall with one hand while undoing her shoes. "Here..." Jennie trailed off and Y/n raised an eyebrow when the woman kneeled, grabbing her shin and placing her foot on her thigh.

"What's with the treatment, I'm not in the mood for exchanges." Y/n's fragile voice mumbled, a faint rasp behind it from the tears and the lump that was still somewhat present.

Jennie looked up at her as she removed the first one and put the other on her thigh. "Do you only see me as a horrible person?" She genuinely questioned, poking at her inner cheek while undoing the dollete shoe. The woman was aware of what she was, but she knew that she had been more when it came to Y/n. Yes, most of the time she only held Y/n close and took care of the girl when she herself was under the influence of Ecstacy because it let those forbidden walls down. However, there were times when she wanted to try and did, but in her way.

She wished she knew how to express herself in another way that wasn't the usual harsh way or the occasional soft way, but she had no clue how. It did work with Y/n at times to let it open because the vixen cared so little about status and power that it made it easier to let certain doors go.

"I'm quite sure I'm one of the few who sees you for more than that."

Jennie nodded at the foreign words, knowing that she was at some point going to throw all of it away and it wasn't her home to begin with. She slid the shoe off, her palm soothing over Y/n's ankle before she let the girl remove her foot.

"The bedroom's upstairs." She breathed out as she stood up and stepped aside, gesturing for Y/n to walk ahead.

"What's this place for?" Y/n questioned, being able to feel the emptiness of the place as a coldness lingered in the air with a scent that lingered with a lack of presence. She could tell that Jennie never spent her time here, she was quite sure that Jennie didn't spend too much time at home in general since she travelled a lot. At the back of her head, she had a clue what the place was used for, especially since it was conveniently close to Hollywood with some of Jennie's favourite clubs.

"For convenience...I let–close people stay here when they fly in and at times I sleep here to not drive from the hills."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the words that sounded unsure for a split second as Jennie trailed off. It had become easier to figure out when Jennie was lying, she had made it such a habit that it was seethrough–most of the time. Certain lies Y/n chose to believe because she wanted them to be true. If she believed that they were true it meant that she could stay even if they never were true.

Jennie promised she would never hurt and she kept it even if she scared her whenever she raised her hand. She had promised not to lay a finger on her, and she had kept that because she could hit her, she could beat her to a pulp, but she didn't.

She had learnt that Jennie's promises were always somewhat broken, but she kept parts of them and it worked.

"Do they usually leave in the morning?"

Jennie scoffed almost soundlessly at Y/n's words and their implication.

"Don't start things that make you cry."

"I'm not," Y/n quipped as she walked along the polished white wooden floors and made it to the stairs. "Why would I cry if I have someone waiting for me at home?" There was only one reason why Y/n said the words she did to Jennie. The reason was; to make it sting because Jennie made it sting by not having one girl, but multiple girls' waiting for her. Y/n was just another one who came over and somewhere outside her heart, Asher was still present, reminding her that she shouldn't care, that she shouldn't be here, to begin with.

That she shouldn't be another girl for someone at all, that she was someone's only girl–which wasn't true.

Or maybe that was the point; she was at least one of her girls when she could've been none.

Y/n winced, hissing at the pain of Jennie's palm landing against her ass. "Stop, asshole." She exclaimed, taking two quick steps to get away from Jennie.

"Make me." Jennie challenged, coming up right behind Y/n again as her palm landed against the other cheek. It was enough to make Y/n whine at the pain with a few more quick steps before she turned around to stop the woman from doing more.

"I will shove you down the stairs." She stopped Jennie, her sheer-covered foot gently planted itself against Jennie's chest to hold her back. The woman gripped onto Y/n's calve, hands wrapping around her slim leg as she looked up at the girl with a small smile.

"You will come down right with me." There was no need for Jennie to get pissed, not this time, not when she knew that she could make Y/n forget about the person waiting for her at home. She could instead become what Y/n yearned for when she was at home. Jennie knew that she occupied Y/n's mind whether or not the younger girl realised it. All the little things she looked at made her think of Jennie in one way or another, the woman was sure of it, or else Y/n wouldn't have called.

"Does death make you all smiley?" Y/n questioned and tried to remove her foot only for Jennie's grip to not loosen, making the woman give the vixen a haughty smile.

"Yeah, scary to think that it does and now I can just drag you down with me." Jennie teased, giving Y/n a gentle tug and the girl gripped the railing with both hands.

"I will punch you, Jennie, let go." She seriously said, but that serious facade was breaking down because Jennie's annoying demeanour was enough to make Y/n let out a whiny giggle. It was what ecstasy felt like, it was so close to the feeling of the drug that she had taken so many times now. Too many times; it was hard to feel any serotonin course through her at all. Although a lightness washed over her.

"You barely know how to punch, go ahead." Jennie let go with one hand, making Y/n try to remove her leg again to no avail. The woman reached her hand out, holding her palm open for Y/n to punch. The vixen's siren-like eyes landed on Jennie who gave her a nod of affirmation.

Jennie snorted at the fist that landed against her palm and Y/n frowned at how little it did when she punched. She removed Y/n's foot from her chest, hand running up and along the girl's thigh as she stepped up until she was on the same step as Y/n. "You're too cute," she mumbled with a breathless chuckle as she made Y/n wrap her leg around her waist. Jennie trapped her against the railing, holding onto Y/n's thigh and the railing behind her.

"It's cute now?" Y/n asked, her fingers tangled in Jennie's tee, the woman taking a step closer and pressing their bodies into the puddle of waste that they were. It stung, it mixed, it created one whole, one that worked out for just the two of them and no one else. It was a toxic waste, it wasn't breathable for anyone except them because their skin had built resistance after being destroyed throughout these months.

They had become ghouls of their love.

"Today." She concluded and tilted her head to the side before leaning in and at last, pressing her lips against Y/n's. It started slow before their lips parted to meet with their tongues and get tangled up together. However, that choking, overflowing feeling in Y/n's chest of overwhelming emotions couldn't be distracted for too long. Her job, the drugs, her health, her life, Jennie, Asher, this apartment.

It was all bothering her.

"Jen..." Y/n trailed off, pulling away and making Jennie take a small step back. The woman hummed, letting Y/n go who pushed herself up from the railing with a heaving breath. "I'm not in the mood." It was so much, the depressed state she had been in for so long made it hard to enjoy anything. Jennie's presence made it easier, the drugs too, but her wish for today seemed to be death and not even drugs could help with that unless it was to overdose and make the wish come true.

Y/n wanted comfort, but she was afraid that Jennie was the wrong person to come to and look for comfort. Asher would give it to her, but she hadn't been able to accept his embrace the way she used to. She felt too guilty accepting love from someone she didn't deserve, to take the care he gave her for granted, knowing that he didn't know that she found so much more in someone else even if it was bad for her and he wasn't.

Jennie licked her lips, thinking about what Y/n said. They had never met before while not being in the mood. It always came with sex. It was a break in the routine. It made Jennie nervous. Although, today maybe was the day where she didn't need to be a reminder to Y/n, where she didn't need to remind her of who she was because Y/n knew. The vixen knew what place Jennie held in her life because she called for her.

"Let's change, I will order food, and I have weed to last for weeks." Y/n let out a breathless chuckle of some sort of relief, contentment, and disbelief at the foreigner who grabbed hold of her hand. She hated it as Jennie intertwined their fingers, it made her nose prickle and she knew how close she was to the fall that would make her fly through the core of the earth. The one that would break her completely.

There would be nothing to pick up, to fix, and then destroy because it would all be dust and there would be nothing left of Y/n.

She wasn't supposed to see these sides of someone who wasn't good, but she always tried to see the good in the bad. To see potential for improvement was harder than letting go, and Y/n was stubborn. There were so many sides to Jennie, Y/n thought she had seen them all, but this was yet another one and it made her feel more bitter than sweet, it made her insides twist at how sour it was. It was worse than the bad.

Jennie was the poison, but Jennie was also the cure, and Jennie killed her, and Jennie brought her right back to life.

"I rather you change here," Jennie called out as she sat leaning against the headboard of the bed. Her fingers were busy rolling this time a blunt instead of a joint, the thick brown leaf getting filled by the potent flower that she had grinded.

She snivelled, her nose runny, permanently from injuries caused by herself. The itch on her skin burned, knowing that soon enough she would find herself in the bathroom, in too much shame to take a line in front of Y/n who wasn't snorting the powder that was Jennie's lifeline.

Each of these things she tried to ignore because she would dwell in regret and shame.

Y/n walked out of the walk-in closet while sighing, leg warmers already off and the patterned sheer tights too. It made Jennie hum, fixing the tray on her lap as she gathered the rest of the ground bud from it and packed it into the leaf, her eyes on Y/n who threw the shirt and sweat shorts onto the bed.

"Don't you have rolling paper?" She asked, pulling the knitted tight sweater over her head that had two small white ribbons on the sleeves.

"What's wrong with blunt wraps?"

"You have to slobber over them like a rabid dog for them to stick." Jennie chuckled, eyes trained on Y/n's chest who undid the black push-up bra. It fell off her shoulders, revealing those perky small breasts that Jennie loved so much. She shifted in her place, hand momentarily coming down to adjust herself because Y/n made it hard to resist and now it felt even weirder knowing that she would have to hold back on getting her dick wet.

The dynamic no longer made sense, it was corrupted, it was peaceful and that created chaos on the inside of both of them.

"I will dry it with the lighter, star," Jennie reassured the girl, eyes falling on the ribs that had gotten more prominent than when she first met Y/n when the vixen pulled the shirt over her head. Stretching her lithe body. It made her release a breath and look down at the blunt she was rolling to ignore the slight and tiny pull on her crumbling cold. She looked back up at Y/n who slid out of the skirt, a matching pair of black underwear and she pulled on the black material shorts along her slim and long legs that were glowing.

"You look good in my clothes."

"I look good in everything." Y/n corrected and climbed onto the bed, crawling over to Jennie who finished wrapping up the blunt. The vixen put the tray aside on the bedside table, throwing her phone to the side as it bounced on the bed.

"The best in your birthday suit." Y/n scoffed at the words and laid down between Jennie's legs, leaning against the woman's chest, her head resting by her shoulder.

Time ran, but it felt slow in a good way, Y/n didn't want it to speed up as they smoked, not wanting it to near tomorrow and the worries she would have to face. The vixen wanted to continue running from her problems for as long as possible while dragging the source of her problems along with her, hoping she would outrun them. With Jennie there with her, they would only continue coming in, piling up, until a tsunami of problems would drown her once she got tired of running.

The food tasted like food for the first time in ages in her mouth, but maybe that was the weed all while Jennie insisted on feeding her. It was a feeling of paying back, it felt like Jennie was running these miles so Y/n could rest for a while, carrying her on her back as she ran for the girl from those problems even if she was the reason behind most of them.

It only mended a part of the cold in Jennie, but it kept melting.

Y/n fell asleep right in her arms without a warning and at times she wondered what it would be like if she decided to die in her arms. She already had died in Jennie's arms, in front of her eyes, the woman had watched a soul crumble and be left torn and patched up with tar that only made it ugly.

She half sat, half laid, Y/n's head on her stomach as the younger lay curled up next to her. There was only so much she knew how to do right and soon it would all fall apart again. It wasn't a dread, it wasn't a guess, it was something she knew. Her fingers threaded through the girl's hair, brushing it away from her face that was too pretty not to admire before running it under Y/n's shirt. Her fingers gently traced patterns along the waist and back as the girl slowly and deeply inhaled and exhaled.

The billionaire couldn't sleep, the coke was keeping her awake as she had inhaled more the second Y/n fell asleep. It was hard to tell what brought her comfort if it was Y/n or the drugs. It mixed up in her mind, it left her confused, so she did both to not have to risk losing a high in case it wasn't Y/n. Y/n was as much of a drug as any other substance.

The room was still dim with smoke as Jennie continued to smoke alone, wanting to smoke until her brain was dissociating, but that was impossible because of her high tolerance. It felt good when it felt like her brain was melting because it let her sleep through the night.

The buzzing disrupted her, Jennie's eyes quickly darted away from Y/n and to the vixen's phone which had an incoming call. It made her pull her hand from under the shirt and reach over to take it, that green branch smacked right against her chest at the caller. She stared until he stopped calling, glancing down at Y/n who was asleep. The smoke thickly trailed into the air and hugged the ceiling when she exhaled the cloud.

There was no need for him to call when she was there for Y/n when Y/n was sleeping and not thinking about him. The second it started to buzz again, Jennie completely powered the phone off before tossing it onto the floor as it landed on one of the pillows discarded there.

"Where's my phone?" Y/n asked when she woke up, still rubbing at her eyes as she wanted to check the time. The natural light of the daylight had turned into the light of the moon, but somewhere along the lines, it was still the sun shining because without the sun the moon wouldn't shine. Jennie shrugged, knowing that the phone was on the floor under a pile of her clothes and pillows after she had gotten up to change into boxer shorts and a new tee.

"What do you need?" She asked, leaning back against the headboard. Her eyes watched Y/n's every movement and the girl looked over her shoulder to meet Jennie's gaze. It made her blink her eyes to clear her vision that was a blur, still high despite sleeping.

"Time–" Y/n started and moved around until she faced Jennie, sitting back on her heels.

Jennie took her phone that was on the nightstand and turned it on, showing the screen to Y/n. 10:16 P.M.

"I need my phone to text Asher." She mumbled, knowing that he would be worried. Y/n knew that he already was since she should be back home by now. She ended work at 7 P.M. and had yet to show up or even text. It was enough that she was breaking all promises she had ever made to him–it made her realise that Jennie was exactly what she deserved. Someone who would break each promise the way Y/n did.

The minx moved, her movement languid, somewhere between conscious and unconscious just like she always ended up when she was with Jennie. Whether it was substance or her brain dissociating because of how Jennie could get.

"You don't need it," Jennie stated and grabbed hold of Y/n's forearm when the girl was about to climb over her to look for her phone.

"I do though." Y/n dragged out her words, tired and whiny, trying to go against Jennie and still climb over her.

That was enough for Jennie to force her back, shoving Y/n down onto the mattress. Despite its softness, it was harsh enough to make a squeak fly from between Y/n's lips. She bunched up Y/n's shirt, staring down at the girl with her head tilted to look at her better as she was still sitting by the headboard.

"I feel like you intentionally keep forgetting what I told you, Y/n–you're with me and do not need your phone. You listen to me or I won't show up for you next time and then you can go and cry to your boyfriend about being fired for being an addict."

Somehow Jennie knew exactly what to say and Y/n tried to trail back to where she took the wrong turn. She never did take it, Jennie forced her to take it, and the woman forced her walls down. Where the older's fist was pressing down against her chest, Y/n held onto Jennie's forearm, the woman was ready for Y/n to try and fight back like she always did. The pressure grew on her chest, not because of Jennie, but because of the words that started to fall against her body like heavy bricks. They were crushing each bone in her, tearing her skin apart, leaving her to die under a pile of bricks.

It somehow wasn't as satisfying as Y/n fighting back when the girl just let go of her arm. She had taken notice of how much easier Y/n started to give up at times, how she succumbed and didn't put up a fight. The girl was like a marionette who didn't try to come to life anymore but stayed under the control of the puppet master.

She was too tired for it today, her life was already torn and the last thing she wanted was for the only bridge left to burn. Y/n couldn't afford to make Jennie angry today even if it meant lowering her pride for the woman.

Her docile eyes which were starry and glistening like spotless windows looked up at Jennie. "Please? I will just send a quick text saying I'm at a friend's." These were things Y/n would never ask for permission for, but here she was, too scared not to ask for Jennie's permission. There was that faint rumbling fear, it was like an incoming storm. It wasn't there yet, but she could feel it approaching. The clouds turned darker, the wind got colder and harsher, the leaves rustled louder, the air turned heavy, and everyone was seeking shelter, but the storm wasn't there yet.

Jennie's eyes moved along Y/n's face and eyes, reading her and looking for solutions in the eyes that were filled with problems. She had no real solutions for Y/n, not ones that went by the book. "You have two minutes once you pick up your phone–" Jennie let go of the girl who sat up. "It's on the floor." She huffed and leaned back against the headboard, watching Y/n's frail-looking body get off the bed and push the clothes aside until there was a small clatter and she picked up her phone.

The woman reached over to Y/n and grabbed the girl's tee who was focused on the phone that was turning on. The time was ticking as Jennie had checked before pulling Y/n who blindly followed until she was in Jennie's lap, straddling the woman while quickly trying to navigate through her phone and send the texts which was difficult with Jennie's hands groping at her body and lips finding its way to her neck.

Just as she sent the lie to her boyfriend her phone got yanked out of her hold and it landed back on the floor. The woman made Y/n feel disrespected, but she had grown used to it, knowing that there was a disregard for her feelings as long as she didn't listen to Jennie.

"Jen–" She tried to push her away, still sleepy and all she wanted was to go back to sleep to forget everything. The woman grabbed hold of Y/n's hands, stopping her from pushing away and she continued to kiss along her neck.

"Just a quick one, baby, you don't have to do much." She mumbled against Y/n's neck before pulling away and guiding Y/n's hands to hold her shoulders. "I will make you feel better." The woman reassured her and ignored those tired eyes as she kissed Y/n who kissed her back. Their tongues met, Jennie, swallowing the vixen's mouth as her hands gripped onto the girl's ass, helping her move against her growing erection.

And there it was, that feeling; she felt like she was paying with her body once again for all the things that Jennie did for her today.

Jennie liked the normal routine and sex was all that it was, wasn't it?

That should be reassurance for Y/n yet it wasn't.

The sea swallowed Y/n who always gave in by the end of the day, letting the high tide drag her with it. Her hand ran between them as Jennie continued to move her tongue against Y/n's, their bodies moulding and building a house that would never be a home. She snaked her hand under the waistband of the silk boxers, her own body reacting to Jennie's touch, it wasn't electrifying, that wouldn't be good enough and they deserved better than that. It burned, it melted, and it left an ugly mess.

Her hand wrapped around the cock that was growing harder, warm in her hand as she slowly started to stroke it. Jennie groaned into the kiss, pulling her mouth away from Y/n with her hands running under the shirt and up her waist. Her lips; were cyanide, scarring the tissue of Y/n's flawless skin; turning its flawless beauty into flaws that she loved so much more.

The heat in their bodies grew, Y/n's hand worked on Jennie's cock while the woman found the supple pair of breasts. The grip was somewhere between harsh and tender as the vixen had learned to find tenderness in Jennie's callous behaviour. Those warm and familiar hands groped at her chest, feeling each inch, fingers tugging at her nipples while lips continued to paint her neck in desperate kisses and fanning breaths.

"Remove your bottoms, Y/n." Jennie rasped, her voice dropping to the lust-filled desire to devour Y/n's body whether with grace or sin, there would always be a middle for her. In the end, she found herself in a home she did not belong in and she would always find a way to break right into Y/n.

The girl listened, getting off of Jennie who pulled the boxers down, taking out her leaking cock as she worked her hand along it while watching the girl slip out of the black shorts and underwear.

Was there an ounce of passion? Jennie surely had a passion for destroying the perfect. There was something more beautiful about things that were ruined after they had once been beautiful. The story was deeper, it left people more curious, everyone wanted to know the reason behind it and only Jennie would know it.

The vixen discarded the bottoms to the side and crawled back into Jennie's lap who pushed up the shirt to have a clear look of the girl's heat that made her dick throb. "So pretty' can't get enough of any part of you." She mumbled, her hand coming down to run through Y/n's fold while burying her face back into the girl's neck. The touch and kisses that she spiked through her skin across her neck were like needles, but they released all the pressure in Y/n instead of hurting her.

Jennie was the predator, she was the bear, and Y/n was the deer, Jennie ripped the flesh off Y/n's neck, devoured it, and licked with utter passion to soothe it and her hunger.

It made the girl hum at the fingers that ran through her slit, spreading her folds and gathering the slick. Each stroke and touch brushed away the worries of tomorrow, and the sorrows of today, and painted a temporary paradise where sin was forgiven until the paint washed away and they would have to face the consequences of their actions.

"Condom." Y/n pulled away when Jennie's fingers disappeared from her heat that made sounds elicit from her lips. She had pulled her in only to get stopped, not being able to paint all those worries and sorrows away because Y/n would always stay at least with one foot in reality.

Jennie heaved a sigh, poking at the inside of her cheek as she pulled away and pulled open the bedside drawer. Y/n's lips gently traced along her ear, kissing down her cheek and jaw while the woman finally stumbled upon the wrapper. With the vixen in the way she used her teeth to rip it open, her cock resting heavily against her abdomen while drowning in the much more serene kisses that Y/n left on her sinfully flawed skin. It was burning Jennie, it was solace somewhere along the way up from hell and it felt so wrongfully right that it made her see how unfair it was even if it shouldn't be. Those kisses made her skin flawless while hers left flaws.

Her hand gripped the back of Y/n's head, fingers tangled in the silky waves whose scent was as sentimental as the sky at dawn. Nothing felt right and Jennie continued as she pushed Y/n closer to drown in more denial, knowing that she would be the eclipse of Y/n's sun.

The vixen's hand ran up to Jennie's grabbing the condom from her all while her lips continued to shower the depraved of care skin. It was crackling, that little warmth in Jennie who wrapped her arms around the girl's waist after she slid the condom on. It was so blinding that Jennie didn't grasp the fact that she had no control at the moment and that there were certain things she would never be able to have control over. Those things ruined lives and also built them with meaning which Jennie knew she had none.

Y/n's arms circled Jennie's shoulders after guiding the tip to her entrance and slowly sinking. It came with moans, whimpers, Jennie burying her teeth into the girls shoulder to try and save her own dignity as she hadn't needed to do it before. The picture of her felt like it would be ruined, but there was nothing she could do about the way Y/n slowly moved and slowly scraped away the tar that was blocking anything from coming inside.

Jennie wished that she was less sober at the moment.

The girl on top of her moved her hips, up and down, gyrating, the heat built up quickly despite the languid movements. Y/n pulled back, her hands cupping under Jennie's jaw, making her look up and let go of that dignity before their lips met. It stung, the stretch always did, but she made space for Jennie despite the pain it caused. The sounds were lewd, their moans breathy, muffled, swallowed by each other and spat back out.

The woman bunched the shirt that belonged to her in her fists, Y/n wearing it and infecting it with her scent just like she had done with her sheets. That brush moved and painted, but maybe this time it did more so for Jennie than Y/n, but the woman couldn't know because she was too far in the deep sea of the suppressed things even drugs hadn't been able to bring out.

There it was; Y/n was the thing that brought her to a high and not the substances that she took.

The vixen picked up her speed, their parted lips only brushing as their eyes closed, reeling each other in at the bottom of the ocean, not bringing each other up to the surface but finding the peace in drowning. They found pleasure in the burning that their lungs did each time they inhaled the cold and salty water, welcoming it inside to kill them. Jennie felt it build up, the pressure of being so deep; deep within Y/n and it was enough for Y/n to snap from the reel.

Y/n moaned, her nails digging into Jennie's flesh that felt less tainted for a moment as her body trembled in the woman's hold. For a moment Y/n felt good, she felt like there was a way to get to heaven, but she knew that once she would float back up all her bad would be present again. The girl could barely catch the sounds, but they pushed through as Jennie let out a guttural moan, releasing her to float back up to the surface.

They both panted for air as Jennie helped Y/n off of her. She removed the condom, discarding it to the floor for the time being. The vixen exhaled through her nose, running her fingers through her hair as she bit her lower lip and stared at the flat screen that was black, merely reflecting them as it hung on the wall across from the bed.

The woman felt like she was in a daze as she slumped down in the momentary silence that left her thoughts too loud. All she did was wait for Y/n to drown out those thoughts with her voice while she buried herself in the sheets with the minx beside her.

"When was the last time you were sober?" The question left her lips before she processed it and she barely had the guts to look over at Jennie at the moment. Her body still felt warm in the cold presence. She couldn't help but wonder when the last time the woman was sober was. This was one of the few times where Jennie wasn't fucked over by drugs. It let Y/n think of the possibility that there was potential for improvement in Jennie since the illicit substances were what controlled the woman's life and not the other way around.

"I don't know."

It was as if she threw the words at her and then left with how indifferent they were. Y/n at last looked at Jennie who lay on the bed on her stomach, hugging the pillow while resting her head on it. The older one looked up through her lashes, meeting Y/n's eyes that were faintly bloodshot from the flower.

"Even for a day." Y/n prompted, wanting to know the last time she was without anything at all even if it wasn't for a longer period. She moved down, making Jennie shift to let the girl come closer who laid down with her cheek resting against the latters back. Y/n's fingers gently traced along Jennie's shoulders who hummed as she closed her eyes.

"Like—" She started, thinking hard, thinking back to what it used to be, but she couldn't remember what her life used to be. Perhaps she didn't want to remember what it was like because it felt like it was worse before Y/n appeared. She had a feeling that Y/n would be her verdict, her death sentence. Along the way she helped Y/n climb the ladder of problems, addictions, and despair while slowly climbing down hers to catch the time she had wasted and make up for it with Y/n. "2 years ago." Was the last time she could remember that it wasn't as bad as it was now.

"Don't you want to quit?" The girl mumbled, her cheek pressed against Jennie's upper back, her fingers still running over the skin that radiated its warmth through the tee she had on. Her hand got grabbed by Jennie's, still playing that dangerous game of hating what felt good when their fingers tangled and Jennie soothed her thumb over Y/n's slender fingers.

"Why would I? There's no good reason for me to quit."

Y/n could hear the forced indifference in those words. Perhaps Jennie was trying to convince herself that she did have control over her life and that it wasn't the drugs that had it.

"Your life?"

The woman opened her eyes and looked at the hand she was holding near her face. An invincible string pulled them closer and it would always be prone to snapping out of unfortunate timing for both of them.

"You only live once."

Y/n was genuinely curious, lost in a burning forest and she couldn't figure out if she wanted to lose someone to drugs or lose herself even more to drugs. "You only love once too. Do you want to lose someone you love by choosing drugs over them?" Her voice fell lighter, close to a whisper as she could drown once again and fall asleep right where she was. Her skin caressed, their legs tangled, and the mistakes buried in a temporary grave because they would come back to life to shine their misery on them.

"That's why I don't stop. A person I love can leave, drugs won't. Drugs will be there even when I'm dying because of them, even when I did wrong, they won't leave and will stay."

"At least you got to say that you truly loved even if they leave."

Was it their age? Was that the problem? Was Y/n trying to live in a dream even if it had turned into a nightmare? She was shooting at stars in the daylight with these words that would be ridiculous to Jennie.

"I don't care about love or anyone. Drugs and money are good enough." Jennie's voice turned into a slight rasp, weaker by the second as she wanted to end this night with Y/n even if they would wake up and part ways in the morning and not see each other again for a few days or a week.

"That's not how it works." Y/n was able to read through these lies, they made no sense.

"What do you know?" She briefly tilted her head and Y/n lifted hers, meeting Jennie's glossed-over eyes. It was from the weed. Y/n used her free hand and brushed away the stray strands of hair that fell over Jennie's eyes and cheek before she leaned down. Her lips ghosted over the warm skin and she pecked by the woman's ear before she spoke.

"A truly selfish person wouldn't admit to being selfish because it would destroy the purpose and they wouldn't be able to be selfish if people around them knew. You're not selfish, but scared of whatever that it is."

"Don't tell me what I am, Y/n. You don't know me."

"That means that you don't know me either." Jennie scoffed and laid her head back down, closing her eyes to brace herself for sleep and forget this conversation by tomorrow if she could.

"I don't care, I don't want to know you for more than I do." She couldn't help but to think about it because she wanted to know Y/n better than anyone else and was sure that she did. The doubt grew though with Y/n's words because maybe Jennie had deluded herself into thinking that she did when she in fact never had known her better than the rest. It irked her to think that someone like Asher knew the girl better. She knew Y/n for the real person that she was. There was no way that anyone else did.

At least she got to sleep with the girl right there beside her.

[Present]

"I need you four to step aside now."

"Great," Y/n groaned as she and the three other girls were told to get out of the line they had been standing in for a good 20 minutes now.

"Listen, it's not mine or Leilani's fault that the edibles kicked in now and they think it's something else," Lisa whined through her giggles to the two other girls who looked frustrated over the time they had wasted.

"As if there aren't people doing lines in their bathroom right now," Alexis complained and threw useless glares towards the bouncer who was letting other people in.

Y/n stepped aside from the three girls and reached for her phone from the small purse she had. The wind was warm against her skin, dressed in a cropped halter top that was black, a leather jacket, and a leather mini skirt with leather heeled boots that hugged her legs and stopped under her knees, making her a good four inches taller.

"What're you doing?" Lisa asked, Y/n flinched when the girl came up from behind her and she clutched her phone to her chest to hide the chat she had just opened. The girl hugged her from behind and rested her chin on her shoulder as she was in a similar pair of boots.

"Nothing."

"Let's try another club."

"Wait, I just have to check something first." Y/n simply replied and her friend shrugged as she pulled away and turned to the other two who were bickering.

10:45 P.M. hey, it's me <33

Y/n never let up on the offers as long as Jennie was offering and Y/n wasn't the one asking, but just accepting. She would never ask herself if she could get her into clubs, Jennie was the one who had brought it up and did so soon after they started to see each other. It wasn't hard to notice that Jennie gave into every little thing too. She looked back at the club that was always piling with people.

10:47 P.M. I feel like there are two reasons for you greeting me nicely

10:47 P.M. ok fine me and my friends aren't being let inside the usual club they took edibles that kicked in right before the entry, now they won't let us in they don't want any drugs on the property despite it being legal edibles they think it might be something else :/

10:48 P.M. Are you outside right now

10:48 P.M. yes babe

10:48 P.M. Ok, just give it a minute

10:48 P.M. thank you

10:51 P.M. I will find you later

10:51 P.M. you're here?

10:52 P.M. Usually am on the weekends if am not busy

10:52 P.M. ok

Y/n turned off her phone and looked at her friends before walking over to them. "I fixed an entry." She informed them which made all three heads turn to her, inspecting the smile that had appeared on her lips after she had walked around the whole day without an inviting expression. The resting bitch face of the girl was gone, smiling through the melting feeling of her brain and how out of touch she felt with reality. Y/n was doing her best to push aside the anxiety gnawing at her flesh, ripping it to shreds.

Taking the ecstasy with Jennie had been a terrible idea.

Keeping so many secrets was even worse; her job, Jennie, her life, and her health.

There was nothing left to live for.

"How?" Lani questioned and before Y/n could answer their attention was caught.

"You're Y/n, right?" She looked past her two friends who stood in front of her and at the blonde who she had seen once before. It was the same blonde who had handed her the water with ecstasy and she had a hard time pinpointing who she was to Jennie. It was somewhere between a manager, maybe a friend or some kind of employee. She wasn't sure if she knew about her and Jennie.

"Yeah."

"Come on." They followed right after her, Lisa clung onto Y/n as the two walked after the two shorter girls in front of them. The woman stopped by the bouncer who was wrapping paper bands on people's wrists for entry.

"You four will get these entry passes. They are standard entry like all but with entry to the lounge area with booths plus the private bathrooms there and the bar in the lounge." She explained while showing the red wristbands where it said V.V.I.P with the club's name. The two at the front were already getting theirs put on while Y/n and Lisa waited for them to enter.

"Who the fuck did you text?" Lisa asked right by Y/n's ear.

"No one."

"Someone," Alexis commented over her shoulder and Y/n felt like punching Jennie for doing this to her.

"Who are you sucking off for the princess treatment?" The vixen rolled her eyes at the question from Lisa. It wasn't the first time and Jennie wasn't the only person. Y/n was well aware of her pretty privilege and hadn't bought a drink for herself ever since she turned 21 because everyone always paid for her and some granted her entries.

This was quite the entry though.

"Literally no one, you know how guys just give me whatever I ask for." Lisa hummed and let go of her before stepping up to the woman who skilfully put the paper wristband on her before letting her step inside.

She sighed and walked over, holding her hand out, her wrists being covered by concealer and foundation to hide the bruises. It took a lot longer to get out on a Saturday night because of Jennie and even longer considering she had to avoid her friends seeing them. Y/n glanced up at the stare she felt to see the blonde looking over her as she placed the band around her wrist.

"Have fun." Was all she said and Y/n didn't say anything or smile as she stepped inside before getting grabbed by her friends who dragged her while asking questions she couldn't answer.

11:08 P.M. are you serious?

Jennie looked at the message she got from the girl. The electronic pop music wasn't as loud at the lounge where she sat like they usually did. It was still loud enough for it to travel through the hallway and stairs that led to the area and make the beat pound through her body and feel it in the floors. Friends and people she was acquainted with sat at the open booth with bottle girls tending to them. Many of them just wanted an entry and free drinks. She didn't care much anymore as she had her circle, but let people leech off of her to not feel too alone.

11:09 P.M. What?

11:11 P.M. i asked for an entry not reasons for my friends to ask who i am sucking off for this treatment

11:12 P.M. Should've just told them the truth since you like to take my cock so much

11:12 P.M. go kill yourself

11:12 P.M. You sure?

11:15 P.M. yes.

She put her phone down and looked past the bottle girls who weren't entertaining her at all. The table was placed for her to be able to see the whole lounge which was half-filled with different high-end guests. Celebrities to socialites. Jennie owned half of the club. She liked to feel involved, but they only ate at her like parasites.

The drink in her hold was getting warm from how she had been only holding onto it and barely drinking. It got removed from her hold and she only glanced at her manager and manager before looking back just in time to see four girls make it up the stairs while laughing.

With her eyes on the vixen, she turned oblivious to everyone else to notice what her friend was noticing.

"She isn't someone for you, Jennie." Chaeyoung, Jennie's manager who became a friend over time interrupted the eyes that were lacing with hunger over the girl. She took the new cold drink that was handed to her, but she wasn't planning on getting drunk tonight. Three or four drinks would suffice because she wanted to drive home herself.

"Why not?" Jennie questioned as someone like Y/n was perfect for her. The girl was someone worth showing off proudly which was why she didn't understand the girl's boyfriend or how she could settle for him. Not only was she able to get Jennie hard from just being there, but she was so much more. She was smart, funny, and sharp-witted, and she knew how to put up a fight without succumbing to every little word most of the time. She wasn't tameable but had a sharp tongue and a stubborn mind. Everything Jennie hated, but found riveting about no one else but the black cat that the girl was.

Then there were those moments where Y/n gave up and they were just as satisfying to watch.

"She's the centre of attention, she's a supermodel. You're so busy staring like everyone else that you don't even look around to notice that everyone else wants her too." Chaeyoung said the obvious because when Jennie was busy staring and thinking she was the only one heads turned to the girl who walked alone to a booth with her friends heading over to the private bar that was in the lounge. They turned towards all the girls, but Y/n's looks and aura seemed to be the light everyone was drawn to.

They were all moths to her flame, but Jennie knew that Y/n was a moth to her flame.

"Why would I want something else?" Jennie ridiculed Chaeyoung as she never settled for less, this was way more than what she usually settled for though. Models came in almost all shapes and sizes, but none came the way Y/n did. Not in Jennie's eyes at least. "Imagine the looks when you enter the room with someone like her," she wanted for people to talk about more than just her money.

People already envied her, she couldn't even imagine how envied she would be because of someone like Y/n by her side. Especially if she made her into a star first even if she wanted to keep her to herself. It would make her an even more worthy possession.

Chaeyoung scoffed and took a sip from the small plastic straw as she looked where Jennie was looking to see the girl's head over to the lonely star. Not far after a bartender with a tray filled with what looked like white tequila shots.

"You don't handle jealousy well at all. She doesn't look or seem like the type to be your bitch."

"That's not—"

"Would you let her leave the house alone if you were together?"

"I– I mean, I would, but–" Jennie loved the way the girl dressed, it was a turn-on, and she loved that people looked her way too. It was all part of it. Y/n knew she was hot, Jennie knew that people looked, and it let her know how much Y/n was worth. What she didn't like was the way people looked like she was for the taking, how they tried to touch, what their bodies felt, what they would say to each other if not cat call or walk up, the sneaky pictures and touches that would be by "accident".

Jennie knew because Jennie did some of these things herself. She used to have a semi everywhere she went and had one right now after she spotted Y/n among all the other women at the club. She had already thought of ways to fuck her. She had already drooled over the long legs, the tiny waist, and the revealing clothes.

"You said 'but' so that means no."

"That's not true. I do get jealous but it's also about caring and safety."

She did get jealous easily, she knew that but she couldn't do anything about it. What would it matter if it was for the better? Her jealousy made sure that Y/n was safe and fine, that she didn't find anyone else, and that she didn't get hurt.

"You can care about someone's safety in better ways."

"You won't understand unless–"

"I have a dick?"

"Quite frankly, yes," Jennie concluded as she knew how her body reacted to a woman like Y/n walking inside a room. What her mind went through and what she wanted to do. There was a reason as to why none of her relationships had ever worked out. It was hard to keep it in the pants or maybe because all her love had always been faux.

Lisa swerved her head and finally found where the lingering eyes were coming from as she sat beside Y/n. She nudged the girl with her elbow who grumbled in return. "Isn't that Jennie Kim?" She questioned while subtly pointing with her head as Y/n looked away from the other two friends with them. Her eyes landed on the woman who wasn't being subtle at all, no one had been and none of them were oblivious to it. She lived through the fear and anxiety of people touching her using their eyes.

"Who?" Alexis questioned from across them, sitting on the white couch, looking behind her together with Lani to see four filled couches of people surrounded by bottle girls, guards and whatnot.

Y/n rolled her eyes at that before speaking. "I forgot art majors don't know anything outside of their subject." It wasn't as if Jennie was like a celebrity everyone knew of, more people knew of her company than of who owned it unless it was someone who had an interest in the world of stocks. She still caught people's attention when walking around with guards or having paparazzi follow her at times.

"Name one romantic painter." Leilani challenged and Lisa looked at Y/n because she had no clue what to say.

"Francisco Goya–" Y/n replied and Lisa hummed as she looked back at the two. "Anyway, she's an asshole who owns a multi-billion stockbroker company and is constantly expanding."

"You know her?" Alexis curiously asked and Y/n looked past the two girl's this time Jennie caught her eyes, but the siren eyes looked away and at the two friends as she shrugged.

"Yeah she held a lecture while staring at Y/n the whole time and this idiot always speaks her mind so she said how she thought that having Jennie there was terrible only to later get asked to stay to talk after and be asked out to a party by her." Lisa's short version of the story gained Y/n even more curious looks, somewhat even lacing with envy because not everyone got asked to a party by someone of Jennie's status.

"And you went?" Lani asked.

"I went then blocked her because she's not the nice person the world sees her as." Y/n gave half of the truth because she blocked the woman who wasn't nearly as nice as the world saw her. There was no need to say that she unblocked her later and was still seeing her.

"She so wanted to fuck you," Alexis commented and looked back once again to still have the woman looking between their table and the people at her table.

"She's not even subtle about looking at us or you I guess despite having bottle girls all around her."

Y/n licked her glossy lips at the comment, she hadn't failed to notice the women surrounding Jennie. She was well aware that there were always women surrounding her and that she was fucking them at every corner, but she hated how that started a little buzzing in her. It was as if something buzzed in her chest and Y/n wanted to provoke the woman for being the person that she was. Jennie was like a stray in heat and it had started to bother Y/n the longer she looked at her and the way she looked at women who weren't her or touched them.

"Ladies!" Her eyes snapped away from Jennie's table and up at the group of men who approached them. She heard Lisa muffle a squeal beside her before she giggled and moved closer to the vixen to make space for the men as one of them was an up-and-coming R&B singer.

Jennie found herself counting Y/n's tequila shots while trying to ignore how she and her friend were sandwiched between three men– one beside Lisa and two on Y/n's side. There were two other men on the other couch. Jennie knew who they were as they had become regulars after having the money to sit in the lounge. The guy who was humouring the vixen was a growing celebrity, she wondered if that was all that was needed to get the girl's attention. To just have a status and she would let anyone inside.

Maybe Y/n wasn't as different as Jennie thought, not as different as she had claimed to be when she said that she didn't care about Jennie's money or status. The possibility of Y/n only caring about those things was strong in Jennie's head.

"You're wasting hennessy tonight." One of the girls humoured and Jennie looked at the woman who slipped the glass out of her hold, leaving Jennie empty-handed. "We could head to the bathroom instead, help me powder my nose." She knew that it meant to truly powder as people were coming in and out of the lounge bathrooms to do coke. Jennie didn't feel in the mood even if she would be, she would have to be wasted out of her mind to get her dick to work on other women who weren't Y/n.

It made no sense that Jennie was thinking about a specific girl on a weekend. It never happened, but she was drowning in thoughts of Y/n.

"Ask a friend." She declined and looked away, ignoring the look she got from the woman. The laughter from the white couches grew louder as it echoed through the loud music now and reached Jennie better. Her eyes followed the vixen and one of the girls from the other couch got up together with three guys. Jennie knew how to read Y/n's body language, it wasn't hard to tell that the four tequila shots had started to do their magic and left her drunk.

It made no sense to her that the girl was leaving to go downstairs and dance with men when she had a boyfriend, not to mention she had done it before too. Jennie continued to read into it, wondering if she was seeing more people than just her behind the guy's back which she had already warned Y/n about. Although, quite sure the vixen didn't remember a single thing from that night. The only reason was that she was trying to get on Jennie's nerves, being affected by the same reason why Jennie was affected; women surrounded her so she surrounded herself with men.

Or maybe Jennie had deluded herself again. She couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't anymore. She decided that looking over the balcony would make her feel even worse about all of this and so she got up. The party wasn't enjoyable anymore when her mind was occupied with thoughts of Y/n, it would be less occupied if she was watching the girl.

Y/n had no clue what was real or fake anymore. The crash from the ecstasy had thrown her off completely and her mind was dissociated from her body. The tequila seemed to make it worse, but also made her feel better, although it was starting to feel like an out-of-body experience. The drugs were getting the best of her as her world was spinning in the best and worst ways possible.

Nothing mattered and she felt like she could die on the spot with no reason to fight for anything anymore. She could dance until her body would give out. After having almost everything she wanted, she no longer had anything aside from despair that was impossible to drown in alcohol and drugs. The way was to bleed it out of her body and be left limp and rot away.

"How about we take you two to the bathroom–" The man's voice sounded over the music his hands grabbing hold of the slim waist and making the drunk girl turn around. She gripped at his shirt for balance, it was damp in her hands and his body was radiating with heat. The bass was pounding through her body as she looked up at the taller singer. "It's snow." He prompted the idea, enlightening the girl about what they had in the bathrooms. The longer Y/n looked at him while trying to find words the closer he came and she finally found them.

"I have a boyfriend back home." She dodged his lips and placed hers by his ear. She could feel the guy heaving by her ear as the hands were still gripping her waist. "I could be him for tonight." She giggled at the words and felt the kisses over her cheek before he reached her lips. The kiss seemed to last a good five seconds before she pulled away and held him at a distance.

"I will take the snow offer with my friend instead." It finally registered in her mind, but she couldn't find the will to care. It felt like the last night and she was doomed either way. Y/n wanted to live for the drugs and parties as her life had lost a sense of direction. All she wanted was to walk inside that bathroom, inhale and not come out breathing again. Her heart was beating with hope for death as she walked, accepting the fate she tried to choose for herself without anyone there to stop her.

She wanted to forget everything and everyone, Jennie and Asher included, she wanted to forget herself.

"What time is it?" Y/n asked Lisa once they made it up the stairs. Lisa looked at the giggly girl who had the singer right behind her. The girl reached up for her friend and pulled her down which was easy as she stumbled right to Lisa.

"You have a boyfriend."

"I know, but–" Y/n looked away from Lisa and the guy who was talking to another one from the group. "I'm not going to have a threesome."

"It would be a fivesome, baby." Lisa corrected the drunk girl as three guys and Alexis were the ones who were about to leave for the bathroom.

"Come on, let Y/n go now. She's all good with us." The singer ushered and grabbed hold of the girl's hand while helping her up on her feet. It was like watching a doll get pulled back and forth, one without any will of its own that had given into whatever came its way, one that had given up.

"Just a line and I will be back without a foursome." She managed to say before getting dragged up from the couch and away. Lisa didn't try to do more to stop her as she did her best and there was only so much she could do as Y/n was grown.

"Fivesome..." Lisa mumbled and looked at Leilani who had been chatting with the two other guys. Lisa was too busy drowning in guilt over just letting her best friend get lost in the dark. She could see that there was no control left in Y/n, but she couldn't find it in her to pull her away from the track and have her change wheels. Instead, she reached for a drink and decided to ignore her best friend's problems. In the end, Y/n was having fun and Lisa wasn't going to ruin it for her.

Alexis didn't care, Leilani didn't, and Lisa wouldn't do it either as long as the girl was breathing and having fun. Asher only had himself to blame in her opinion. Lisa wasn't going to be different even if it ate at her, the dread with this one was strong.

What caught Lisa's attention was the lounge spot where the multi-billionaire and other social figures were sitting. Her eyes subtly followed Jennie who walked over to the couches with her hands in pockets. Instead of sitting down the woman walked over to one of the guards who leaned down as she spoke into his ear.

As much as Lisa didn't care, she was starting to see a pattern and dots were coming together. The only person she could see Y/n already knowing here at the club was the woman whom she said she had blocked. The same woman who had been watching her like a hawk. Who else could Y/n have texted to get entries?

She watched the guard leave and walk towards the hallway that led to the bathrooms as Jennie stood with her hands still in her pockets as she waited. Lisa continued to sip on her drink while curiously watching because everyone was busy with something else at the moment. From the looks of it, Jennie didn't seem pleased and Lisa barely knew the woman aside from what Y/n had told her about her from the night. Yet it wasn't hard to tell that the billionaire was beyond furious.

Jennie looked away from the hallway and looked at the eyes that were drilling into her side, her fingers angrily fiddling with the pockets material of her jeans. Her eyes landed on the girl she knew was the vixen's best friend. She had no clue how much the girl knew or if she was aware of anything at all.

One thing she knew was that the best friend only cared so much if she let the black cat walk off with three other guys and a tiny friend. There was no way that they cared if she was cheating if they didn't even care about her safety.

There was more that Jennie cared about at the moment.

What the woman cared about was reminding Y/n of who exactly Jennie was and who the girl was pissing off. The sight just did something. To see her dance with someone else, to see her kiss him, to think of what could happen in that bathroom any second now. It made her fists clench, the longer and deeper in more detail she thought about everything. The lost girl getting her back blown by someone who wasn't her.

Has Y/n been seeing other people?

Whatever control Jennie had felt like it was gone now.

It was all turning red.

"Are you fucking kidding me," Alexis complained and Y/n groaned as she quickly reached for paper. The knocking on the door disrupted the different kind of peace that they had–banging, not knocking.

Y/n held the paper against her nostril which finally gave up and started to bleed, the guy who was behind her moved and she stumbled back and into the wall. Her world was flashing all types of lights that were blinding her. The door opened and she squinted her eyes as her heart started to beat without a rhythm while heating her. It all went numb and she waited for the guard to throw them out, but it didn't seem to be the case while she tried her best to stay conscious.

"I need you three guys to leave the premises for bringing in illicit substances. If you cooperate you can leave through the back without further complications."

A slight commotion and fingers were pointing at the two girls before the three men left with the guard.

"I think we missed out on good sex." Alexis laughed, making Y/n sigh while holding herself up with her back pressing into the cold marble tiles in the golden-lit bathroom although it was flashing like lightning in the sky in front of her eyes.

"I'm gonna head back."

"I will be out soon." She mumbled.

Lisa averted her gaze when Jennie caught her, although she looked towards the hallway when the same guard was walking out–not alone, but with the three guys in front of him. They headed towards them and her eyes landed on Alexis who was right behind them.

"Time to pack it up you two and follow me out."

The girl looked at Alexis confused who slumped down beside her. The two guys, albeit confused, started to gather themselves and get up to leave the lounge.

"Where's Y/n? What happened?"

"She's in the bathroom, nosebleed...They are getting thrown out for bringing in illicit substances." She shrugged, confused about the whole thing as they weren't getting thrown out despite being in the same bathroom as the guys. She assumed it had something to do with how they got entry, whoever gave them the entry.

Lisa looked over and only managed to catch a glimpse of Jennie who left for the bathrooms.

TAGSLIST! @yxlis @jisooftme @geeminz @lisas-earlobe @badaspookie @xszn @badasgff @hwm1hyun @herwhcre @lilacura @naycore @dreamingst99 / taglist is open

masterlist

117 notes · View notes