SUMMARY. After a brutal breakup, you pack up your entire life into your Honda Civic and drive 24 hours to a new life, away from the liars and dirty cheaters of New York City. Fortunately for you, there’s a new man on the terrain, and he adores you from the bottom of his boots to the top of his hat.
word count. 13k
warnings/genre. cowboy!jungkook, corporate!reader, strangers to lovers??, this is based in texas, usa which earns its own warning, alcohol consumption, smut, fingering, car sex, you ride him while wearing his cowboy hat
note. howdy yall! yeehaw brethren! or whatever they say out there in bumblefuck texas 🙊 cowboy jungkook is near and dear to my heart after he put on a bandana and a cowboy hat … he’s literally just a walking wet dream. this is just the plot of a porno so enjoy sluts! (inspired by this tiktok so pls go watch)
ok final final thing: tysm for 9k i still cant believe it!!!!!!! i love all you horndogs sm here's to love here's to honor if you can't cum in her, cum on her
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| playlist
banner creds | masterlist
At some point in life, everyone must find themselves alone in a run-down bar in the middle of Texas, drinking whiskey and wearing a blazer.
Or, well... maybe that's just rock bottom for you specifically.
You don’t even fucking like whiskey. You’re not a masochist. But after the day you’ve had, self-inflicted suffering feels like the least you deserve.
You set the glass down and take a look around the bar.
The place is called Coyote’s—it’s the first place you stumbled upon on your drive home from work. There's a coyote skull mounted above the door, walls wood-paneled and covered in neon beer signs and old license plates. The floor is sticky with mysterious liquids, heels glued to them when you walked in. Somebody’s boots are keeping time to the Zac Brown Band song bleeding out of the speakers, and two men in actual, non-ironic Wranglers are playing pool in the back while eyeing the girls in skimpy outfits.
It’s a disorienting environment, especially when you’re still dressed in a blazer and slacks after your first day at your new job.
You had upped sticks in need of a change from New York City, without bothering to think much about the vast differences between Austin, Texas and New York City.
New York City bars had exposed brick and cocktail menus with names like “Forbidden Muse” and men who wore blazers for their fancy, high-paying finance jobs. Nobody dared to wear cowboy boots, definitely not when they were surrounded by their stuffy superiors.
New York City was crawling with men that were exactly like your conniving, narcissistic ex-boyfriend, Daniel.
Fucking Daniel.
You take another sip of the whiskey you don’t like.
You’d caught him on a Wednesday. Not even a Friday night—a Wednesday. He couldn’t even be bothered to cheat on you on a respectable day of the week. You had come home early from work, key in the door, bag on your shoulder, and there he was in your shared apartment. Balls deep in a girl who was, insultingly, very pretty.
Then, he had the nerve to act surprised to see you in the apartment you two shared.
Texas was never supposed to be in the cards. In fact, it wasn’t even a blip on your radar. It was a job offer that paid two times what you made in New York, but giving up your city lifestyle had sounded deranged. You only applied because a very eager recruiter reached out to you and begged you to.
But getting cheated on really put things into perspective for you, and before you knew it, being a marketing director at a regional firm in Austin that paid good money, offered a fresh start, far enough away that you wouldn’t have to see Daniel’s face sounded ideal. You’d accepted it at 11PM that same Wednesday, half a bottle of wine deep.
You look down at your outfit again. Silk blouse underneath your blazer, tailored slacks and pointed heels. Nothing like the girls line-dancing by the jukebox, batting their eyelashes flirtatiously at the men with cowboy hats on.
Honestly, you didn’t think cowboys were real up until you landed in Texas three days ago. Lo and behold, they’ve managed to outdo your wildest fantasies.
Clearly, you’ll need to redo your wardrobe if you plan on enjoying your new gig. Your boss wore a bandana around his neck in the office, and if that was the norm, you were either severely underdressed or accidentally cosplaying as someone’s accountant.
You take another slow scan around the room, mostly to give yourself something to do that isn’t drinking whiskey you hate and thinking about Daniel.
The women here seem to move differently. Easy and dallying, hips finding the beat of the music. A line of them near the dance floor step and turn in unison, boots striking the wood, and there’s something hypnotic about it—they laugh without covering their mouths, take up space without apologizing for it. Not for the first time tonight, you feel like you’re watching a nature documentary from behind glass. The men in Texas are far more shameless, with no pretense of disinterest. A guy in a tan Stetson tips his hat when a brunette catches him staring. She grins back, winking.
Your gaze drifts toward the back, toward the crack of pool balls and low laughter. Groups of men pile around the table, clearly big-dicking each other. They all look similar. Tall, muscular, chiseled, charismatic…
Your eyes land on the far right of the pool table, where one man in a black cowboy hat stands. His arm is covered in tattoos, hair poking out underneath the hat in what you assume is a mullet. His tongue pokes out, toying with the lip rings adorning his bottom lip.
And despite the commotion buzzing around the bar, or the game of pool that’s been ongoing for at least an hour, he’s not paying attention to any of it. He’s watching you.
Your neck snaps back toward the direction of the bar, struggling to focus as the bartender, Stacey, pours bourbon into a glass for a patron. You’d barely gotten a full look, but you’d caught enough, you think. Broad shoulders filling out a black button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black cowboy hat pulled low and a black bandana tied loose at his throat.
Fuck. You need another drink. Or about two shots of straight whiskey to handle the kind of eye contact that man is making with you.
“Uh, Stacey?” You’d only learned her name an hour ago, but now’s as good a time as any to use it. She whips to face you, blond hair tousled from the rush. “Am I able to get another glass of whiskey?”
“Sure thang, sweetheart.” She grins.
While she pours, your eyes make a point to not care about the man staring you down across the room. He can’t possibly be looking at you, what with your corporate outfit, heels, and resting bitch face. There are better options in this bar, ones who know how to two-step and ride a horse.
Stacey places the glass of whiskey in front of you. “This one’s on the house. Looked like you needed it.”
Before you can protest, she tosses you a wink and saunters off to serve two men. Clearly, you’re not as unreadable as you thought you were.
The brown liquid slithers down your throat, burning your lungs. The thing about drinking whiskey neat is that you’re not going to remain a respectful amount of tipsy for long. Instead, you’re going to teeter on the line of drunk, something you don’t normally allow yourself to get.
And transparently, drunk you wants another look at the dark-haired cowboy.
Maybe you should let her. Maybe you should stop being so weird about it. It’s not like you’re not going to marry the man. Maybe you just need to get fucked.
Your eyes scan the crowd, lingering on every man wearing the same black bandana, half-convinced one of them might transform into him. With each passing moment, your heart skips in your chest like a toddler playing hopscotch.
Maybe he went home. Probably realized the women here were duds and made his grand exit. Honestly for the best. You can’t even remember the last time you flirted with someone who wasn’t Daniel, and look how spectacularly that turned out.
You down the rest of your whiskey in one go. Stacey whistles playfully from the sidelines. All you can manage is a feeble smile in response. It feels as though the lights dim a little lower, the sound of boots hitting the hardwood floor echoing in your ear. Euphoria pumps through your bloodstream, and then Country Girl (Shake It For Me) starts blasting on the jukebox, and well—your brain just sort of short-circuits.
“Can’t possibly be comfortable in that outfit, sugar.”
Warm breath fans against your ear, woodsy cologne trailing close behind. Your heart thumps, almost as if the organ knows who it is before you do.
Slowly, you turn to face the owner of the voice.
The first thing you see is a black bandana. Your eyes travel further up, up, up, until they snag on the plumpest mouth you’ve ever seen on a man, two metal rings looped through the bottom lip. They continue their climb, landing on captivating eyes that sink their teeth into you. Dark brown tresses poke out from under the brim of his hat, but you can still make out every inch of his sharp features.
“Never seen you ‘round here before.” He raises an eyebrow. “Anyone with that outfit on gotta be from the East. Ain’t seen a girl in heels in this bar in my whole life.”
“Maybe I like standing out,” you say, tilting your chin up and puffing your chest out. The whiskey’s doing wonders for your nerve. “Someone’s got to remind you boys what real shoes look like.”
The edges of his mouth curve upwards, pondering if he’s impressed or amused by your bite. Secretly, you hope it’s both.
“Sugar, those things are a workplace hazard. You’re tellin’ me you can run in ‘em?” Under the dim lights, his eyes twinkle, setting your chest ablaze with something other than the burn of whiskey.
“I don’t need to run anywhere. I’m a New Yorker. We walk at a fast pace in 7-inch heels.” You’re not well-versed in the whole flirting thing, but this has to be what it’s like… right?
That gets a real laugh out of him, head tipping back, and you feel an absurd little spike of pride at having caused that sound.
“That so?” He moves from behind you, leans an elbow against the bar, angling his body toward you. He travels in languid movements, like he’s got nowhere else on earth to be. “And here I thought you Yankees just had bad manners and worse weather.”
“We’re not rude,” you scoff. “We’re blunt. Honest. There’s a difference.”
He takes a step closer, and the scent of him encroaches, your brain turning fuzzy. “Mm. Didn’t realize those were the same thing.”
“Cousins. Close enough.” You shouldn’t have downed that drink. Now you really need another, because you’re certain you won’t make it out of this conversation in one piece.
“Then let me ask you somethin’, since you’re so honest.” His eyes flicker to your parted lips before jumping back to your eyes.
“Go ahead.”
The music comes to a halt, and Carrie Underwood’s voice blasts through the speakers. You’ve never really liked her music all that much, but her misplaced pep talk might be exactly the kind of bad influence you need.
His head tilts in your direction. “You ever met a Southern boy before me?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“So you must not have heard ‘bout Southern charm, sugar. That’s supposed to be our whole thing down here.” His eyes dare you, jaw twitching with glee at the way you press your thighs together.
“I’ve heard that.” Carelessly, you shrug. “Haven’t seen much evidence of it yet.”
“Keep talkin’ like that and I might have to prove it to you,” he says, voice only a little mocking.
Your body can’t help but lean in his direction, like sunflowers facing the light on a warm summer’s day. “I’d like to see you try, cowboy.”
“Mm.” The man hums, studies you for another moment. Then, he straightens and reaches for the brim of his hat. “Well. Where are my manners?”
He pulls the hat off his head, revealing disheveled chestnut hair that’s longer than you anticipated. You want to run your hands through it, know what it feels like to tug on the locks. The gesture is almost comically formal against the backdrop of the bar, but on him, it doesn’t look like a joke at all. He reaches for your hand. His palm is warm, calloused, swallowing yours whole. “Jungkook.” His eyes don’t dare leave your face. “And who do I got the pleasure of speakin’ to?”
A shuddering breath escapes you, legs clenching.
“[Y/N],” you stumble over your words, trying to find your voice.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl. Must be my lucky night,” he grins, and you have to wonder if he says that to every girl who isn’t from here. You stick out like a sore thumb in this bar, but how his eyes track your every movement suggests he doesn’t mind one bit.
“What’re you drinkin’, sugar?” he asks, nodding toward your empty glass. Oh. That. You had almost forgotten it was there, lonely and sad.
“Whiskey.”
His eyebrows lift, mouth curving into disbelief. “You sure about that? You don’t seem like a whiskey girl to me.”
He’s right, which only makes it worse. Turning to the bar, he lifts two fingers. “Stace. You mind makin’ one of those strawberry margaritas for our city girl here?”
Stacey’s already grinning cheek-to-cheek before she even gets close, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Absolutely.”
While Stacey works, you take the opportunity to look at him properly without the panic of being caught. He’s tall, like most cowboys that are written in romance novels. His chest looks like it could double as a wall. A very nice wall you wouldn’t mind being pressed against.
Stacey slides the margarita across the bar, sugar-rimmed and flamingo pink. “Here you go, hon.”
“Add it to my tab,” Jungkook says, not bothering to glance over.
“Of course, Kook.” She tosses you another friendly wink, and the swell of confidence bubbles up inside you.
He nudges the glass another inch toward you with two fingers. It’s a little dominant, something you’re not normally used to. But you follow the order, taking a sip. It’s exactly what you wanted. Cold, candied, the tequila barely whispering under the sugar, and you have to stop yourself from outright moaning at the bar.
“So why you out here, sugar?” he asks, “Don’t seem like a bar for a girl like you.” Jungkook places his hat atop his head again, and you’re almost devastated to see his hair go.
You set the glass down, lick a stray grain of sugar off your bottom lip. His eyes stalk the movement. “I live here now. I work downtown.”
His gaze doesn’t move from your mouth fast enough. “Like a corporate job?”
“Indeed.” As you speak, you notice his pupils are blown so wide there’s hardly any brown left. He hasn’t moved his eyes from your lips. “And I’m assuming you ride horses?”
He barks out a laugh, loud enough that a couple heads turn near the pool table. “A little more than that.” His finger points off toward the back of the bar, toward a broad-shouldered man laughing with the group by the pool table. “That’s Namjoon. Owns a ranch a few miles out. I handle his shit. Y’know, paperwork, horses, bulls, all of it.”
“So you’re a rancher.” You toy with the straw in your glass, and you can’t miss the way he seems entranced by every move you make.
“I’m a lotta things.” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. “Rancher’s one of ‘em.”
“What are the others?”
There’s something lingering in the air. New city, new boy, new life. You’re back to square one, the bottom of the societal food chain. You get to forge your own path here in Austin. For one night—and maybe other nights—you get to be someone else.
“Depends who’s askin’.”
“I am,” you retort coolly.
“Then I guess you’ll find out,” he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear “Eventually.”
The bar noise fades around you, Carrie Underwood’s righteous fury bleeding into another tune, until it’s just the two of you and a few inches of space neither of you seem all that interested in closing yet. “Hmm,” you hum. “Horses and bulls sound dangerous.”
He chuckles. “Knowin’ how to handle somethin’ wild is mostly about knowin’ when to be gentle and when not to be.”
“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?”
“Could be." He shrugs. “But also, I just really like my job, sugar.”
“As do I,” You take another sip, making a point to pucker your lips around the straw.
Jungkook’s gaze is different, far more scandalous than any other man you’ve been with. It almost feels dirty when his eyes scan your face. “Figured someone like you’d be home by now. What is this, your first night out since you got here?”
It is, in fact, your first night out since you got here, and you’d rather die than confirm it.
“I wanted to immerse myself in the culture,” you say instead, lying through your teeth with admirable conviction. “It’s one of my greatest fantasies, actually. Cowgirls, horses, the whole lot of ’em.”
“Oh really?” he smirks. You’re distracted by the strand of hair flopping from beneath his hat, and you wonder if the curtain matches the drapes. “How ‘bout cowboys?”
“I’m still gathering data on them.” You tap the rim of your glass thoughtfully. “Field research, if you will.”
His knee brushes against yours as he leans in. The man has never heard of personal space. “I would love to hear your findings.”
“Well, actually, I think I need to run a few final experiments.”
“Like what?” He tuts, fingers migrating from the bartop to your pant-covered thigh. They linger, not pressing down harshly. “Humor me, sugar.”
A burst of confidence rushes through you. You get one chance, and you really, really, really don’t want to make the same mistakes again. Reaching up, you pluck the hat right off his head.
It’s heavier than you expect, but soft in your grasp. Warm, like it’s been sitting against him long enough to steal some of his body heat for itself. You settle it on your own head, tipping it back so it doesn’t slide down over your eyes. You must look ridiculous, blazer and silk blouse under a cowboy hat that’s seen ranch work.
But how he’s looking at you, you might as well be wearing nothing at all.
Jungkook’s jaw goes taut, gaze darkens, and the fingers placed on your thigh flex before relaxing.
“Well, sugar.” His voice drops several octaves, and the whole bar spins on its axis until you nearly topple over. “If you’re gonna wear my hat, you know what they say?”
Your response is no louder than a whisper. “What?”
Smirking, he leans in until his breath ghosts your ear.
“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”
Oh god.
Your eyes flicker down to his lips, then his captivating eyes, and he follows suit. If he really wanted to, he could probably kiss you right now, could take you right on the bartop and you’d let him. The sugar from the margarita and the whiskey swirls in your stomach, mixing with butterflies you haven’t felt in years. There are moles scattered across his face, a few near his lip and some under his cheek, and you think that you could connect them into a constellation if you had a pen and several more drinks.
But then he steps back, and tips two fingers toward the brim of the hat that’s no longer on his head.
“I’ll see you ‘round, sugar.”
He strolls off toward his friends, and you blink into the void, hat heftier on your head than when you first put it on.
God help you, you really want that ride.
Frankly, this is the most desperate thing you’ve ever done.
That’s really saying something, considering one time, you sprinted after a situationship four blocks down Fifth Avenue in four inch heels, caught your foot on a crack in the sidewalk, and introduced your face to the concrete in front of a hot dog stand. Or, there’s also the time you showed up to a first date a week early, realized halfway through appetizers that something felt off, checked your phone, and had to sit alone with a bread basket before leaving.
All of that pales in comparison when you realize you’re sitting at the same bar, in your corporate outfit, awaiting a man who you may never lay eyes on again.
You take a nervous sip of your strawberry margarita, the periphery of your eyes doing more work than usual. Coyote’s is quieter tonight, a few stragglers nursing drinks at tables, and playing something slow on the jukebox. No pool game in the back, no men in cowboy hats, no broad shoulders filling out a black button-down.
You’ve probably made a colossal mistake.
“Need a refill on the marg?” Stacey circles back after tending to some older men at the end of the bar, brows raised.
“Nah, I’m okay,” you sigh. “Thanks though.”
Slowly, Stacey looks around the bar, stares at the drunk men at the end of the bar, and decides you’re more worth her time. She places both elbows on the bartop and leans in. “You lookin’ for someone special, hon?”
“No!” you yelp, practically leaping out of your stool in dissent. “Absolutely not. I just—don’t even know anyone here. I just like the margaritas.”
“Uhu,” Stacey nods, something in her eyes twinkling.
“I really do. You make a mean marg.”
“Sure you do,” she toothily grins. Her eyes pan over your outfit, a similar vibe to the one you wore yesterday to work. Today, you’re wearing a silk blouse and a pencil skirt that jugs your curves. “You know, most people take their work clothes off before they come out for a drink.”
“Well, I came straight from the office.” You square your shoulders, puff out your chest as though you have something to prove.
“Two nights in a row?”
“I’m testing out the bars in the city,” you quip.
“Mhm.” She doesn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth, and she’s not even trying to hide it. “What is it you do, exactly?”
“Marketing director. I just started.” You take a sip of your cocktail to bide time as Stacey widens her eyes in shock.
“No kidding.” Her eyebrows lift. “What brought you all the way out to Austin? You don’t exactly scream Texas, no offense.”
“None taken,” you giggle. You’re not entirely sure how your silk blouse and skirt could come off as anything but condescending, uppity New Yorker. “Believe it or not, an ex-boyfriend who doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants.”
Stacey’s pupils blow up, and she throws her head back to cackle, loud enough that one of the older men down the bar glances over. “Oh, honey,” she says, reaching for the cocktail shaker without seeming to realize she’s doing it. “You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”
“Well,” you swallow, exhale a shaky breath. And then you say, keeping your eyes on nothing but your near-empty glass, “My boyfriend of three years was always upset I was busy at work. He said I cared too much about it, but not about him. I thought I was doing a good job at dividing my time equally… but I guess not. Found him in bed with a girl on a Wednesday night in our apartment we shared.”
Your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof. Retelling the story allows you to replay the night like a horror movie film outtake reel. And everytime, you ask yourself, how could you be so stupid? So naive? So nonchalant?
Stacey slides a fresh margarita across the bar. “Please tell me you at least threw something.”
“Nope. Just stood in the doorway, said his name, turned around and left.” Even now, it’s as clear as day; you marched out, heart drumming in your chest as you fled down the stairs of your building, not even bothering to listen if he even said your name or chased after you. It didn’t matter either way, because he never once tried to beg for you back.
He let you go.
“Men,” Stacey snorts, shaking her head. “Wouldn’t know a good thing if it slapped them ‘round the head.”
“Men,” you agree.
Sometimes, you can’t help but blame yourself, and wonder if it’s less about men, and more about your inability to care about anything but your career growth.
“You know what your problem is?” she says, pointing at you. "You’ve been datin' the wrong kind of man. All that New York finance guy, blazer-wearing, artisanal-coffee-drinking bullshit. What you need is a little Southern charm.”
“Oh really?” You have to hide the smile that threatens to bloom on your face.
“I’m just sayin’ what the people are thinkin’.”
“No one, especially me, is thinking that.” Except you are. More precisely, of one that loaned you his hat and never claimed it back.
“It’s what I’m thinking," she says, wiping down the bar. "You ever even dated someone who works with their hands? Outdoors?”
You open your mouth to argue and realize you don't have a rebuttal for that. Every man you’ve ever dated has had some stuffy job, like finance or law, which is somehow the most depressing thing that’s popped into your head all week.
“I just need to get back on my feet,” you say instead. “New city, new job, new start. I’m not looking for anything.”
“Sure, sure.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll pretend I believe ya.”
You slump forward on the bar. “I just need to focus on myself for a while. Get settled. Figure out what I actually want without someone else’s opinion clouding everything.”
“Healthy, but you’re no fun,” she pouts, flinging the rag over her shoulder. “Look hun, your ex sounds like a real piece of shit. But you deserve way better than that.”
“Yeah,” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “I’m starting to think so too.”
Stacey wipes her hands on the towel over her shoulder, turning back to you. “A fresh start in Austin, Texas. You picked a hell of a place for it.”
“Yeah…” Your eyes avert around the shoddy bar. You try not to make eye contact with the coyote head. “It’s a lot.”
“You’ll love it. Give it a month.”
“You think?”
“Ella Langley didn’t write Choosin’ Texas ‘bout us just for shits n giggles,” she chuckles. “People come here thinking it’s temporary and then they wake up one day and they’ve got boots and a favorite two-step song.”
A shiver runs down your spine. “Good god.”
“That’s just Texas, hon.”
You laugh, and she looks awfully pleased with herself. The two men down the bar gesture her over, and her eyes flick over your shoulder before a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
“Southern charm might be closer than you think,” she murmurs, and then saunters off to her customers.
Shaking your head, you take a sip of the margarita, and you swear it’s stronger than your last. Stacey clearly plans on fucking you over.
“Didn’t think lightning struck the same place twice. Guess I was wrong, sugar.”
The hair on the back of your neck stands tall. Anxiety and desire blend in your stomach until the two become indecipherable.
The sip of your margarita stalls its path down your throat, making a home, and an embarrassing croak exits your mouth. Your eyes water, one hand firmly placed on the bar, looking like one of those warning ads for choking customers.
A strong hand lands between your shoulder blades. Pats once, twice, with an ease that makes your heart rate kick up a notch.
“Easy there. Bar’s not the place to go out.” You can hear the sarcasm in his tone, the smirk that’s probably curled upon his pink lips.
“I’m fine,” you wheeze.
“Uhu.” He takes the stools beside you, coming into plain view. You;re not sure what you expected him to look like this evening, but somehow, he looks even more delectable than last time. He’s sporting a new cowboy hat, a black one with white detailing that matches his jeans and top. Once he settles, he signals to Stacey for a drink with two fingers. “Surprised this place didn’t scare ya away after the first time.”
You square your shoulders, wiping the final tears from your eyes. “New Yorkers are resilient.”
“Hmm,” he mindlessly hums, letting his eyes drag up and down your figure, a clear assessment that has your thighs clenching to hide the arousal pooling in your panties. “Nice to see you again, by the way.”
There’s a smudge of something on his forearm, below the edge of his tattoos. Dirt, maybe, or grease. You wonder if he came straight from work, or errands, or whatever it is Jungkook does with his day besides looking like a wet dream.
“Is corporate attire all you own, sugar?” He tosses bills on the table as Stacey slides a cold beer toward him. You do your best to ignore her pointed smirk.
“Are boots and hats all you wear?” you retort.
He laughs and leans an elbow on the bar, angling toward you the same way he had last time, almost as if his body naturally points in your direction. As you gaze into his brown irises, you can’t stop thinking, can’t slow the waterfall of thoughts gliding down your brain. You’re not from here, don’t dress like anyone in this bar, don’t know the words to a single song on that jukebox, and can’t two-step to save your life. There are women in this city right now who are objectively better suited for him. Your brain implodes trying to understand his interest in you.
“Can I ask you something?” you say.
“Go ‘head.” He takes a swig of his beer, lips shiny from the liquid.
“Why are you over here?”
He deadpans. “Come again?”
“I mean…” Vaguely, you gesture around the room, at the bar that’s filling up with women laughing near the jukebox. “You could be anywhere in this bar right now. Talking to anyone. So why are you sitting here talking to me?”
A flash of expressions shift across his face. “You think you’re not worth talking to?”
“Never said that.”
“Implied it,” he grins. He pauses, traces the condensation on his beer bottle. “Maybe I’m intrigued.”
A feeble laugh escapes you, but he doesn’t mirror the action. Oh. He’s not joking. “For the record, I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re real terrible. Don’t know why I bother.”
“I am serious. I have no plans on learning either.”
He holds your gaze for a moment. “Never asked you to get on one, sugar.” His eyes rake over your face as if he’s searching for more, and finally, he pushes on, voice steady. “I’m over here because I wanted to be. That a problem?”
It’s an offer as much as it is an out. If you told him it was a problem, you’re certain he’d leave you alone, never talk to you again. But you really, really don’t want that.
“Not at all.”
Jungkook nods in finality and takes a pull of his bar. Silence follows, but it’s not uncomfortable.
“Can I ask you something now?” he says.
“Fair’s fair.”
“You don’t got someone back in New York, right?”
“No,” you sigh. “Not anymore, at least.”
His eyebrows scrunch together. “He let you go?”
“Kind of.” You don’t really feel like elaborating, and he lets it go, but you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches, there and gone in a breath.
“His loss.”
“What about you?” you wonder. “You’ve got to have someone, or something.”
“Ain’t got a girl,” he shrugs. His body slants toward you so that your knees brush. Your cheeks warm at the contact, but he doesn’t move away.
“No?” Your margarita is watered down and vile now, but you take a sip anyway.
“Ranch takes up most of my time. Sun up to sundown, most days. Not a lot of room left over for much else.”
“Doesn’t that get lonely?” you ask.
He considers it, tilts the neck of his beer bottle between two fingers. “Sometimes… but it’s a good life. I don’t need a lot. Just the ranch and the right company, every now and then.”
His pupils are blown so wide you can’t spot any brown in them. He’s staring at your parted lips. “I could probably settle for the right girl. A good girl. Smart, funny, prettiest in the damn room.”
You think he’s talking about you. He must be. It might be wishful thinking, but just maybe, just this time…
“That’s a very specific type,” you retort.
“Gettin’ more specific by the minute.” With that, he takes a swig of his beer, eyes never leaving yours.
You pick up your own drink, taking a long sip that burns your esophagus. “Stacey made this too strong,” you awkwardly laugh. It feels like someone turned the temperature up on the thermostat by ten degrees, shut all the fans off.
“Stace always does,” Jungkook shrugs.
When he sets his beer down, you can calculate how little space exists between his stool and you. Mere centimeters divide the two of you, and you can soak up his scent, a woodsy musk. “If you’re up for it, I’d love to show you the ranch sometime. Horses get real excited around pretty girls. Scout’s honor.” He holds up two fingers.
“You were a boy scout?” you laugh.
“Three weeks in the 4th grade. Got kicked out for letting the ponies loose at the state fair though,” he shrugs. “In my defense, they looked very unhappy.”
He watches, mystified, as you laugh again. “I don’t know if the ranch is for me.”
“It’s just horse, open land, some fresh air. Nothing like what you’re used to, I’d imagine.”
“Exactly,” you knowingly smile. “All we have is smog, overpriced coffee, and tall buildings.”
“Can’t have that.” Disapprovingly, he shakes his head. “Come out to the ranch. I’ll make you coffee that costs nothing and tastes better than anything you’ve had in your life.”
“Bold claim, cowboy,” you tease.
“Think you can tell I always get what I want, sugar,” he retorts. You open your mouth to reply with something witty, but a tingle, pins and needles, lands on your thigh, and when you look down you see Jungkook’s veiny hand resting. Fingers splayed wide, palm radiating heat through the thin fabric of your slacks.
“How many horses do you have on the ranch?” Your voice has gone airy.
“Seven right about now. We lost one last spring, and Joon took it hard.” His hand doesn’t waver. Instead, his thumb moves, carelessly tracing patterns on your pants.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” you mumble, staring daggers into how large his hand is compared to the rest of you.
“It’s the nature of it. You get attached. Hard not to.”
“Do you…?” you pause, swallow thickly until your tone gets warbly. “Get attached?”
The double entendre isn’t lost on him. “I do.”
You are going to need Stacey to pour a glass of ice water directly over your head. His thumb traces another path up the inside of your thigh. Your mouth dries up like the Sahara desert in late August.
You want to be someone who leans into this. Want to be the girl from night one, the one with liquid courage and reckless new-city energy. You want to tilt toward him and let whatever this is become whatever it wants to be. But underneath it, a quieter voice resides within you.
The one that remembers thinking everything was fine right up until it wasn’t.
“I don’t know if I’m..” you start, then press your lips together. He taps your thigh twice, urging you on. “I’m not sure I’m ready to be attached yet.”
Automatically, your body is bracing for impact, like he’ll toss you on the side of the road for something shiner, something ready.
But Jungook’s expression does not falter. He finishes the last of his beer and sets the bottle down, rising from the stool to his full height. “When you’re ready, sugar,” he reaches out, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you know where to find me.”
For most, life isn’t sunshine and rainbows.
And it’s not like one wakes up and the color has drained from everything overnight. It’s small increments, tiny ones, that add up, and they’re unrecognizable until you can’t remember the last time you did something for yourself. You used to believe in love the way meteorologists believed in weather—inevitable acts of nature that happened to everyone sooner than later, in its own time, in its own particular way. You believed that people who found each other meant to find each other.
But just like weather, the clouds part and things unravel in messy ways. The couple in your freshman dorm who were so in love you deemed it aggressive, who broke up over Thanksgiving and couldn’t look at each other in the dining hall after. Your college roommate, whose boyfriend of four years sat her down on a Sunday morning and said I just don't think I’m in love with you anymore. She sat very still for a long time after she told you, and you thought I will never let that be me.
But then it was you, it was your own demented heart, it was your own boyfriend who cheated on you, and you suddenly didn’t know which ordinary Tuesday was the last good one.
You still don’t know if there was a last good one at all.
“You gonna liquidate my bar tonight, hon?”
Stacey’s shrill voice cuts through your train of thought, and you blink back into the bar. The neon sign flickers above the bar, and the usual horny men sitting down the bar tip their hats at you. A shudder of disgust travels through you. She’s leaning on the bar in front of you, brow arched, nodding at the margarita you’ve been nursing for the better part of an hour, contemplating the nuances of life.
“Perhaps.”
She refills your water glass without asking and props her chin in her hand. “You know damn well not to do all that thinkin’ round my bar. Tell me what’s wrong, I might be able to help.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” you sigh, playing with the straw wrapper. You slump against the bar, the fatigue of your mind raving catching up to you.
“I ain’t Sherlock but I can tell something’s up, sweetie.”
You could deny it one more time, but you think Stacey will dropkick you out of the bar and leave you without any more alcoholic beverages.
For a week, you’ve avoided this very bar. Thus, you haven’t run into Jungkook in a week. It was on purpose, simply because you couldn’t give him the hope that you were ready by running into him again. But bars that you felt comfortable being alone at were far and few between, and you knew Stacey would be waiting for you.
It’s been seven days of you daydreaming of walking into this bar and scanning the back corner by the pool table before you’ve even found a stool, of telling yourself you’re not looking while very obviously looking, and telling him you’re ready for whatever he wants to offer. And at the very least, give it a shot.
One week feels longer than it should for a man you’ve spoken to twice. You don’t know his middle name. You don't know his family lore or his favorite pair of boots or whether he’s ever read a book for pleasure or what he sounds like when he’s just had a bad day.
But you do know one thing: he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, like he was ready to lean over the bar and devour you whole.
No one’s looked at you like that in a long time.
“Fine,” Stacey squints her eyes into evil little slits. “If you won’t talk I will. You’ve looked at that door eleven times since you sat down, and I’ve got a fresh margarita with your name on it, and sometimes thinkin’ about nothing looks a whole lot like thinkin’ about something… or someone.”
A massive gulp of your margarita slithers down your throat. Then another, and another, until you set it down and peer at Stacey with drunk goggles. Her jaw is set in a no-nonsense way, and you recognize how she’s only ever seen you at your most pathetic across this bartop.
What’s one more time to add to the tally?
“Am I stupid for not hooking up with Jungkook?”
Stacey’s face remains stone cold. She reaches for the tequila. It’s not your usual brand, a more expensive one you haven’t touched since New York.
“The thing is, I wanted to.” Stacey should really file a restraining order against you for sharing your deepest, darkest thoughts with her under the influence of one very strong margarita. “I really wanted to. He’s very attractive. And he’s not how I expected him to be, like a bimbo cowboy.”
Stacey says nothing. Continues making the margarita, pouring strawberry puree into the shaker.
“And it’s not even, it’s not like I’m opposed to it. I am a grown woman. I know how sex works. I’ve had one night stands before, and they’ve generally been fine, sometimes better than fine, and Jungkook looks like he would be better than fine, which is part of the problem too.”
Her hair flips wildly as she mixes the shaker behind her shoulder. You barrel on, “I don't know if I’m actually not ready or if I’m just scared, and I don’t know how to tell the difference anymore between self-preservation and self-sabotage. Daniel made me feel like an idiot.”
You prop your chin in your palm. “Was it my body? My personality? Was it the way I talked too much at dinner parties or the fact that I can’t fall asleep without the TV on or just, like, was I boring? Was I just boring to him? Am I even hot?”
A glass filled with pink liquid slams in front of you, dropping with a decisive thunk, sugar on the rim.
“Drink.”
Your nose scrunches up in disgust as the smell of tequila wafts into your nostrils. Stacey rolls her eyes, smacking your arm playfully, and you fold under zero pressure.
“Sweetheart, even in that god-awful collared shirt, I can see you’ve got a hell of a body on you. I would throw you down on that pool table and find out for myself if I swung that way,” she nonchalantly shrugs, and it takes all your might not to spit out your drink.
“Stacey,” you scold.
“Nuh-uh,” she tuts, “You’re stunning, darlin’. You are not the problem. You were never the problem. The problem is a man who ain’t know what he had and traded it in for a girl who’s probably not even half of you. That’s his cross to bear, not yours.”
When you sip the margarita, the tart taste of strawberries floods your tastebuds. Stacey has ruined every margarita you will ever have anywhere else for the rest of your natural life.
She raises an eyebrow. “What are you scared of with Jungkook, specifically? Ol’ Kook has been around the block, but he ain’t dangerous.”
“Well… I’m more scared that it’ll be good.”
It even sounds ridiculous leaving your mouth. You know it’s idiotic to place all of your emotional baggage on a cowboy who wants to fuck you.
“I’m scared it’ll be good. That he’ll be… that it’ll be good, and I’ll want more of it, and wanting more of it means having something to lose again, and I just,” you stifle a humorless laugh. “I just got here. I just put my furniture in an apartment I’ve never lived in, in a city I don’t know yet, in a state I didn’t grow up in.”
Stacey purses her lips in the way your mom usually does when you know you’re being irrational. “I’ve worked at this bar for nine years. I’ve watched a lot of people sit on that stool and talk themselves out of things, and not one of them has ever come back and said I’m so glad I stayed scared.”
“Whatever.” You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “I don’t even know why I’m getting all worked up over this. He probably doesn’t even think about me. Probably just another girl on his list to bother when he’s drunk.”
Stacey deadpans, expression souring. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“Uh, I don’t think so.” Although, after two of her strong margaritas, you might be.
Her dish rag comes flying across the bartop, smacking you straight in the arm, leaving a vibrating pain in your arm. “Ouch!---”
She flings it again, leaving another welt on your skin. “Stacey, what the fuck—”
One more on the other arm to even the score out. “Alright, enough with the smacking, I’m a customer—”
“You’re my charity case and you’ll take what you can get.” She tucks the rag back into her apron. “That man has come into this bar every single night for the past week lookin’ for you, only to take one look around, find me instead, and leave lookin’ like somebody canceled Christmas. I’m insulted.”
Before you can even roll your eyes, the rag comes flying out of her pocket once more, aimed at your arm.
“I said enough—”
“Then don’t roll your eyes at me.”
“I didn’t even—”
“Kook doesn’t care about girls,” Stacey continues. “Never has. He’s got his ranch and his boys and that’s the full extent of his social calendar. He doesn’t go out of his way to chase people.”
Then, as almost an afterthought, she adds, “I ain’t never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you in those little work outfits.”
Under wishful thinking and margarita-induced delusion, you have been trying to ignore the truth of her words. Even as you think about that first night when you met him, you remember it as the most natural thing in the world. Neither of you seemed to be searching for anything other than a drink in the bar. But of all the connections people make in this world, you two stumbled upon each other.
Jungkook could’ve kissed you that night, you think. You probably would’ve let him. But then he let you have the out, left you sitting there with his hat on your head, the hat that sits on your windowsill now as a reminder of your almost.
Stacey’s expression resembles compassion, eyes softening as she watches the gears turn in your head. “Can I tell you something without you waving your hand at me again?”
“Probably not, but go ahead.”
“He did ask me about you the other day,” she says. “Asked if I’d seen you and if you were doing alright. Last night, you two just missed each other. He sat right where you’re sitting now for twenty minutes nursing one beer before he gave up and left. Kook nurses a beer for nobody.”
“He doesn’t even know me,” you snort, gathering the condensation of your watered-down drink.
“He knows what kind of drink you like. For some men, that’s further along than most.”
And that’s a lot more than you plan on giving to anyone else but him.
“Stacey, can I ask you something else?”
“‘Course, darlin’. Anything for you.”
You know what to do. It’s as clear as the sun after a summer storm.
“What do cowgirls wear?”
Oh god.
Oh god.
Who knew cowboy boots were this tight around the calves? The white fabric digs into your skin, leaving imprints you’re sure will never erase. The hem of your ridiculously short denim shorts rise up your ass, practically digging into your thong. Before you left your apartment, you made a promise to yourself—one you’re very close to breaking—that you won’t pull those shorts down.
This get-up can’t possibly be comfortable, but never mind what you think. It’s not about you or your outfit choices tonight.
This was not what you had in mind when you asked Stacey what cowgirls wear. What you had in mind was something tasteful. What Stacey had couriered to your apartment via her cousin Deanna, who runs a boutique off Fifth Street, was a white lace top cropped to somewhere just above your navel, distressed denim shorts, and boots the color of fresh cream that zip up the side and are currently engaged in warfare with your calves and ankles.
You felt like a prize cow up for auction. A very well-dressed prize cow, but one nonetheless.
You swing the door open to Coyote’s. It’s rowdier on a Friday night. The place is packed shoulder to shoulder, girls in outfits like yours and boys in their finest everything, hats and buckles and boots, the jukebox fighting to be heard over the noise of two dozen conversations happening at once. You push your way through the packed space, fighting your way to the bar where Stacey and her counterpart are furiously making drinks.
God, these shorts are really tight up your ass.
Her hair whips around as she tries to tend to five people at once. You don’t dare try to get her attention on a busy night like this. But as if she can sense your presence, she turns around, and the shaker nearly flies out of her hand. “Good god almighty.” Her eyes grow to the size of saucers, then lets out a whistle that anyone can hear above the music. “Atta girl!”
She slaps the counter with one palm, then grabs her colleague by the sleeve without looking at him. “Pete. Pete, turn ‘round.”
The aforementioned man turns around, mimicking Stacey’s expression. “Well. Welcome to Texas, ma’am.”
You smile politely. “Thank you, Pete.”
“Told ya,” Stacey squeals, reaching for the tequila, pointing at you like she’s won first place at an arcade. “Told you. Did I not tell you?”
“You told me.”
“What’d I tell ya?”
Your brows furrow, racking your brain as you try to remember words, which for your sake, were many. “That I had a hell of a body and you’d throw me down on the pool table—”
“No!” she rolls her eyes. “That you’d clean up nice,”
She shoots Pete a look that makes him stop ogling your tits and find the other end of the bar very interesting. She starts on your margarita, and you settle onto your stool and try not to let your eyes do the thing they want to do, which is scan the back corner by the pool table.
Three older men are nursing beers at the far end, next to a couple sharing a basket of fries. A row of women line the jukebox, scanning the room in hopes of finding their cowboy for the night. Somehow, you relate to them now more than ever.
“Ain’t no way a pretty girl like you is all alone tonight.”
A man’s voice appears behind your left shoulder… and it’s completely and utterly the wrong fucking voice. Not the right timbre, or warmth, or scent underneath it that makes you want to lean into it.
Said man sidles up beside you, and you peer up at him. All things considered, he’s not unattractive. Brown hair, good jaw, a Miller Lite in one hand and a handsome smile that’s probably worked on most people. He tips his hat and leans against the bar. “Colin,” he offers.
“Nice to meet you. [Y/N].” You give him your hand to shake, and he does so politely.
“You new ‘round here?” His flirting is more than apparent.
“That obvious?”
“Little bit.” He grins. In a life where you hadn’t spent the last two weeks being dismantled by a man with a lip ring and a ranch, you might have smiled back with intention. “Can I get you a drink?”
“She’s got one.”
Stacey slams the margarita down on the bartop with enough force to make the sugar on the rim jump, and looks at Colin with an implacable expression. “Move it Colin. This one’s Kook’s girl.”
Colin’s hands defensively come up, the universal gesture of a man who knows what hills are and are not worth dying on. “My bad. Have a good night, ma’am.”
“Sorry about her,” you call after his retreat. Colin was perfectly nice and none of this is his fault.
“Don’t you dare apologize to him,” Stacey scolds. “You’ll be fending ‘em off all night with that outfit. I hope you prepared.”
You gaze down at yourself, and a flicker of doubt moves through you. “I don’t look dumb, do I? Be honest. I can handle it.”
“Sweetheart, the only person in this bar who’s gonna think you look dumb is you.”
Of their own accord, your eyes drift around the bar again.
Stacey takes the time to add, “And Jungkook, is definitely not going to think you look dumb.”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes for the nth time since you’ve met her.
“Move along,” Stacey says, turning back to her next customer, waving you off with the dish rag, “Go on. I’ve got work to do.”
“I haven’t seen you care about a work since the day I met you—”
“Scram, kid.”
You peel your hand off the bar like a kid being dropped off on the first day of school, a pit of reluctance settling in your stomach.
Almost immediately, the attention begins. A few men tip their hats at you, while another does a double take while aggressively elbowing his friend in the ribs. Someone lets out a low whistle that you feel in your spine, and you nod politely, keep moving.
It’s profoundly strange. Sure, you can recognize you’re a pretty girl. But in New York, you were invisible, which is to say completely unless someone wanted something from you. Here, people look at you like you’re someone they want to be near, no matter what they can get from you. You just wish it was one specific person doing the looking.
Migrating towards the back, you push through clusters of people, squeezing through gaps in the crowd. The women are less forgiving than the men. Some eye your outfit, then look away in disgust.
Eventually, you find a sliver of wall near the back and stand near it, not on it, margarita held tight to your chest. From here, you can see the layout of the bar. The dance floor, the jukebox, bodies packed between you and the exit. Groups of men cluster together like men do at bars.
“Kook! Over here, man!”
Your eyes find the source before your brain catches up. A blonde, fit man weasels through the crowd, waving down the one person you’ve been hoping to see.
There’s no slow motion, no cinematic lighting change, no romantic song swelling up from the jukebox at the precise moment. People around him part without noticing they’re doing it, a gap opening up like the bar itself is making room for Jungkook’s grand entrance.
Your stomach drops through the floor. Butterflies that you want to convince yourself are just anxiety or tequila detonate all at once, wings beating against your ribs so feverishly you press your hand flat to your chest to hold it all in.
This is stupid, you think. This is so stupid. He’s just a man.
He reaches his friend, and you can see him under the dim lights. Jungkook’s in a black jean jacket, wife beater underneath, black hat adorned on top of his head. He’s smiling, saying something, unaware of you pressed against this wall.
Two women near the jukebox drop their voices, heads together as they giggle. A girl in red boots nudges her friend while eyeing him.
Fuck. You hadn’t once stopped to think about all the competition you might have.
You wonder how many girls he’s offered a ride, or to see his ranch.
His eyes move across the bar, and on instinct, your spine straightens. He seems to scan the bar, eyes moving through the crowd. Past the jukebox, the dance floor, past the bar.
And then, after what feels like eons, his eyes land on you.
The noise of the bar goes fuzzy around the edges, heart leaping into your throat as you hold his gaze. His eyes drag down the length of your body, pausing at the sliver of your waist. He continues on, past the shorts and down to the boots that hug your feet. From meters away, you watch his jaw set and gaze darken.
Jungkook tips his hat, and you raise your glass.
Turning to the friend beside him, he whispers something brief into his ear. The friend turns to look at you then swivels back to Jungkook to shove him in your direction.
Electricity lights behind your sternum and radiates outward, down your arms, into your fingertips where they’re wrapped around the cold glass, and you think Carrie Underwood was right. Those damn cowboy casanovas.
He moves through the crowd in your direction, eyes unwavering from yours. His musky, tree-like scent hits you first. Up close, the black jean jacket sits across his broad shoulders. His lips are curled into a sinister smirk that would scare you if you didn’t find him unbelievably attractive.
“Howdy, cowboy,” you grin up at him.
Jungkook cocks his head. His hand comes out, two nimble fingers catching the hem of your lace top. Your heart leaps clean out of your chest and goes somewhere it can’t be retrieved from. “This all for me, sugar?”
“Don’t get too cocky.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “I’ll try not to.” He doesn’t bother pretending he’s not ogling you.
“Trying to get in touch with my Texan roots, y’know?” you joke, playing with the straw in what you hope is flirtatiously.
“Yeah? C’mon then.” He holds his hand out, chin tilting up. “Give me a twirl, sugar.”
With a smile, you place your hand in his and turn, jutting your hip out. You rotate under the light and when you come back to face him, his eyes have darkened enough that you can hardly see the brown in them.
He politely whistles, still holding your hand but bringing it down. “Well. If I knew Texas was gonna do that to a city girl, I’d have started recruitin’ from New York a long time ago.”
“You scouting for others?”
“Never,” he chuckles. He braces one hand against the wall beside your head. “You know, I’ve had a cowgirl fantasy or two as well.”
“Have you?”
“Mhm. Used to think it was about the boots." His eyes drop to your shorts, the way your hips hug the fabric. “Think I might’ve been wrong about that.”
“What’s it about then?”
“The girl wearing ‘em.”
“Scout’s honor?” you tease, and the smile that curls upon his lips sets your insides on fire.
“Always,” he salutes. “I was getting worried I wouldn’t see you ‘round here no more.”
From here, you can really see the height difference between you two, the way he towers over you. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Is this a goodbye, sugar? Don’t break my heart,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest.
Involuntarily, you grin. “I wanted to make sure when I came back here, I knew what I wanted.”
For a moment, he’s quiet, expression shifting. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, and his thumb rubs circles on your knuckles. “And now what do you want?”
“Hi, Kook.”
It’s one of the girls you spotted earlier. She’s batting her eyes like she’s got a speck of dust in it, and is eyeing Jungkook in a way that makes her intention crystal clear.
“Hey.” Jungkook glances at her for a second, maybe two, before his gaze is back on you.
“I wanted to come over and say hi. Know it’s been a while since we last saw each other,” she purrs, ignoring your daggered eyes.
“I guess,” he shrugs, a protective finger looping through the belt holes in your shorts to pull you an inch further into him. Suddenly, you feel painfully inadequate. She’s actually trying to dissuade him to pick her instead of you.
“Remember when we spent that night under the stars last month? Just you, I, and a bottle of Jack—”
She shifts her weight onto her other foot, and she casts a furtive glance at you as if to question your presence. You’re questioning your existence right about now too.
“Hm.” He interrupts, tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Her lips twist as though she’s just bit into a lemon. Then she sends a harrowing look in your direction, and you’re reminded that you’re the reason he won’t give her the time of day. You don’t really give a shit, though.
“Oh. Alright, then. Have a good rest of your night.” Her tone is tinged with hurt as she turns on the heel of her boots and flocks back to her group of girls, all of whom are busy throwing dirty looks at you.
Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t pay much mind. His dark eyes are still fixed on your face, thumb still looped through the hole.
“That wasn’t very nice,” you say into your drink.
“You want me to be nice to her?” he coyly smiles.
You think you’d rather lose all your limbs in a fire.
You shrug in silence. Jungkook tilts your jaw up to meet his eyes. “You were about to say something before.”
“Was I?”
“Before we were interrupted,” he retorts, settling his hand in your jean pocket.
“Oh.” Finding the words doesn’t come easy, even if you know exactly what you want to say. Instead, you settle on, “Did you drive here?”
“‘Course, sugar.”
“Well… you wanna get out of here?”
Amusement crosses his face. “Damn right I do.”
He plants a warm hand at the small of your back, guiding you toward the door. You drop your half-drunken margarita on a nearby table. As you let yourself be steered by him, there’s a smug smile glued to your face, especially when you catch the eyes and whispers of girls. There’s something about this city, this man, that makes you confident in yourself.
Jungkook parked his car in the back of the filled lot. From there, the noise dissipates into nothingness, nothing but the sound of bugs chirping and cars in the distance on I-40. Out here, you can forget about your old life.
“Earlier, you asked what I wanted.”
“I did, sugar.” He’s loitering with his keys in his pocket, a smirk evident on his lips as he leans against the driver’s door of his pickup truck.
You gnaw at your lower lip. “I think I want to repay my debts to you.”
“Really?” In the dark of the night, you can hardly make out his obsidian eyes, the shadows on his face settling. “How do ya plan on doing that?”
“Think I owe you that ride still.”
His lips come crashing down onto yours, large hands weaving into your hair, tugging on it. You unabashedly moan into his mouth as he tugs you further into him, like he wants you to live in his skin. Your hand lands on his chest, and you feel the broad muscle under his tank, the rapid flutter of his heart. His tongue licks into your mouth, sloppy and full of desire, and you don’t even care about how your whimpers sound against him. It’s all so sudden your body takes a moment to find its rhythm, but when you do, you realize how soft his lips are, how such a good fucking kisser he is. You probably shouldn’t have expected anything less from the Austin's communal mattress, but that’s neither here nor there.
The hand once pressed against your back wanders down, down until he’s cupping your ass firmly. He kneads the skin, and he groans into your mouth, lips hot and wet against your own. Austin, Texas is known for its sweltering heat, but with Jungkook’s body against yours, the brisk, night air can’t even cool you down.
His lips trail off your lips, pressing against your cheek, and you feel the cold metal of his piercing against your burning skin. “You look so pretty in this outfit, sugar.”
Your body combusts under his weight and words. His tongue slides back into your mouth, hand moving from your ass to your neck where he gently clutches around it. “Wore it for you,” you whisper between kisses.
“Hm.” he pecks your lips once more. “I was hoping so. Must be real lucky to be the first cowboy to have you.”
“And the last,” you say before leaning back in for another messy kiss, drunk off the way he tastes, more than any alcohol could ever give you.
His hands come down to cradle the back of your thighs, and before you can protest, he’s lifting you, pressing your back against the door of his truck. Gasping, your hands scramble for purchase around his neck, thighs snugly hugging his waist. Jungkook’s lips press against your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses wherever he can. You want all of him, more of him, by any means you can get it. Your fingers entangle in his dark locks, tugging at the nape. He groans, “F-fuck, we need to get in the car, sugar.”
“Mhm, take me there, then,” Your smile is dopey as he carries you around to the passenger side, opening the door and sitting down so he can plop you directly onto his lap. His thighs are firm muscle beneath you. He slams the door shut, lips finding yours once more. Your knees cage him in, and he digs his fingers into your flesh. You can hardly keep up with the movement of his tongue, can’t really do anything but open your mouth and take whatever he gives you.
For once, you don’t care about anyone seeing you, or what anyone might think. Luckily, the lot is empty, save for people who are far more worried about entering the bar than leaving, or whatever you’re doing in this vehicle.
“Lift your hips up for me, doll,” he mutters, lips hardly breaking from yours, fingers deftly unbuttoning your shorts. You do as he says, allowing him access. He slides your shorts down your legs, depositing them on the floor of his truck. Your knees feel like jelly, quivering with anticipation as he tugs your underwear off next. Desperately, you fall back into his lap, clit pressed against his jeans for as much friction as possible.
Beneath you, you can feel his hard length poking through his jeans, and your cheeks warm up at the thought of him getting hard from just some kissing. You gently test the waters, hips rolling into his crotch. He grunts, hands steadying your movements. “Fuck, sugar, I won’t last long if you plan on doing that.”
“Who says I want you to last long?” you whisper, lips tracing the shell of his ear. And then he’s grabbing you by your jaw and pulling you in, in, in, kissing you like he wants to swallow your essence entirely. He pulls the straps of your top down until your tits pop out. You gasp at the sudden exposure, cold air causing your nipples to perk up. His fingers come to play with the pert bud, and you whimper atop him.
“Most perfect tits I’ve ever seen, sugar.” He trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your collarbone, tongue licking a path down to your breasts. His lips wrap around your perked nipple, and a choked moan escapes you.
Your fingers intertwine in his hair, tugging, and that elicits a groan from him. His tongue flicks the nipple up, down, and your back arches against the dashboard. You tug at his hair as he messily sucks your tits, leaving bruises you’re sure will last weeks. Jungkook’s hips rut into your sopping entrance hopelessly, and his length pokes into your inner thigh. You’re pretty sure you’re creaming all over his pants, not that he even minds. On every hitch of his hips forward, his teeth grazes your nipple, undoing you.
Truth be told, you’ve been soaked since the moment you laid eyes on him. Since the moment you saw the hat upon his head, muscles bulging out of everything he owns. You push his jean jacket off his shoulders, seeing the tattoo that extends across his biceps and collarbone, a myriad of color.
Finally, he peers up at you, swollen lips and blown pupils. You waste no time in pressing your lips to his again. He can probably taste the remaining sugar from your margarita on your tongue, and if anything, the thought seems to excite him, the thought that other parts of you may be sweet as well. Gripping onto his biceps, you can feel the veins that trace up his arms. A whine exits from the back of your throat. “Jungkook, touch me.”
“Hm, where, sugar? Use your words.” He presses a chaste kiss to the edge of your lips.
Words aren’t something you can muster, so you take his hand and place it against your clit, right where he can feel how fucking soaked you are, dripping onto his jeans. “Shit,” he curses, swallowing thickly. “You’re dripping. You been like this the whole time?”
Eagerly, you nod like a broken bobblehead.
One finger dips between your folds, gathering your essence before taking it back to his mouth and licking it clean off. “Just as sweet as I imagined.”
There’s no air left in your lungs to form words with, no brainpower beyond the feeling of wanting more, more, more. His finger finds your clit, and you throw your head back, moaning loudly that you’re damn near certain the entirety of Texas heard you. Toothily, Jungkook grins, pointer and middle finger rubbing circles against your clit. His tongue comes to lick a trail up your neck, sucking the sweet spot behind your ear. It’s like he has a map to you, knows exactly where to touch you to have you writhing.
A finger slides through your wetness before finally pushing into your entrance, down to his knuckle. Your fingernails rake down his biceps, leaving red marks in its place. He fucks the finger steadily in and out, thumbing at your clit simultaneously. “Ngh—fuck, don’t stop,” you moan, grinding into his finger. Just one isn’t enough, you know it won’t be, need to feel him fill you up.
“P-please,” you beg, although you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. But he seems to understand, pushing a second finger inside you, curling upwards to your sweet spot. Your body jolts forward, nails now digging crescent moons into his skin. “Oh fuck, feels so good.”
“Can’t wait to be inside you,” he groans. “Your pussy’s so tight and warm. Gonna be a dream to fuck you, sugar.”
“M-me either.” You shiver, and on autopilot, your shaky fingers come to undo his belt buckle, unzipping his jeans. “Please fuck me, Kook. I want it. Want to feel you inside me.”
“Yeah?” He presses open-mouthed kisses against your cheek and nose, “Want me to fuck you the way you deserve?”
A long, languid moan escapes you, anticipation leaping into your throat. “Please. Please l-let me give you that ride.”
“If you insist,” he devilishly smiles, pulling his fingers out of you, licking them clean once more. He pulls down his boxers as much as he can with you on top, gets out his cock, and hisses as he strokes himself a few times.
Shit. You should’ve known he would be big, but he’s at least twice the size of your ex. Saliva pools in your mouth at how veiny and red his cock is. His hat hangs over his eyes as he looks down at his cock, chest heaving and bottom lip tucked underneath his teeth.
It’s like a lightbulb flashes over your head, with an idea so sinister you almost can’t believe you came up with it yourself.
You get your hands on the soft fabric of his hat, nudging it off his head and placing it on yours. It’s a little too big, hangs over your eyes, but Jungkook’s jaw goes slack nonetheless. “You gonna give me that ride while you wear my hat?” His cock twitches in his palm as he lazily strokes it, eyes never leaving yours.
“Uhu,” you agree, replacing his hand with yours on his cock. He’s girthier than you imagined, can hardly fit the whole of him in your palm. He quickly moves to kiss you again, and you take the opportunity to glide the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering the arousal that’s pooled. You both moan in unison.
“Fuck, don’t tease me, sugar,” he grunts, eyes glazed over with lust.
Whimpering, you obey him, and his cock enters you in one go. Your walls stretch to accommodate him, and it’s a slow, torturous slide down, until your folds hit his pelvic bone. He sharply inhales, cursing as his head hits the headrest. Your legs tremble with how full of him you feel, how much of him bulges in your stomach when you look down. “Fuck, Kook. Y’you’re so big.”
Jungkook’s calloused hands run up and down your sides. His face is mostly hidden behind the shadows in his car, but you can make out his rosy lips and cheeks. “I know, baby, but you can take it. Go ‘head and give me that ride you owe me.”
Slowly, you move up and down, only a mere inch at a time. Just enough to see the bulge inside your stomach move a tad. The hat slides further over your eyes as you gently move. He tips it back, cupping your cheek so he can see how fucked out you look already. “C’mon, use me, sugar. Show me how you ride dick.”
You nod in response, your cunt clenching around his length. Arousal drips down his cock onto his abdomen, and your head hits the ceiling as you use all your strength to bounce on his cock. Loud whines and curses fill the space, Jungkook’s mouth buried into your neck, hands coming to spread your ass cheeks so you can take him deeper. “Yeah, that’s it. Ride my fucking cock, sugar.”
The sounds fog up the window—your pussy squelching with each thrust, the slap of his balls against your ass, his throaty groans.
“These fucking tits. Wanna see them bounce in my face all the time,” he says, a hand coming up to slap your hardened nipples, and you moan. A trickle of sweat falls down your back, falling into the fabric that has now pooled around your waist. “You doing good, sugar?” His voice is sinful, and your cunt clenches around him again.
“Mhm. Your cock is so deep inside me.” Bouncing becomes more tiresome, thighs trembling with pent-up desire. Unfortunately, it’s not as easy to ride cock as one had hoped, but you’re determined to get you and him over the edge.
His hair is ruffled by your fingers as he trails a path of sloppy, wet kisses to the valley of your breasts. “You look so fucking good with my hat on.” Even though the edge is tipping over your eyes again, he fondly peers at you, how utterly blissed out your expression looks, cheeks ruddy.
Somehow, he must feel the exhaustion creeping upon you, because he plants his boots onto the floor and bucks up into you, causing moans to elicit from you. “Fuck, your pussy’s so tight n’ wet. It’s like a fucking drug, sugar,” he croons into your neck.
His cock plunges in and out of you with more force. Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you tight, tight, tight to his chest, tits bouncing against him. You hold onto the hat, leaning against the dashboard so he can hit your sweet spot, just where you want him. “Oh—fuck, right there, Kook!”
His teeth drag against your skin, hips pistoning in and out. Puffs of breath escape his mouth and hit your skin. “If you were mine, would never let ya go,” he babbles, clearly pussy drunk. “Ain’t never letting you get near another cowboy. You’re all mine now, sugar.”
Clearly, your body takes a liking to the buckets of filth he’s pouring in your ear, and your walls clench around his length, your imminent orgasm creeping up on you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, and the pit in your stomach grows and grows, the knot almost coming undone as he continues hitting what you think might be your cervix.
You swear you feel him in your stomach as he says. “You gonna cum? Gonna cum all over my cock? Make a mess of my truck?”
“Gonna cum, Kook. Please make me cum,” you chant, and then it’s a gush of wetness escaping you, back arching far enough that the hat falls onto the console, thighs trembling and jaw slack. Normally, you’d be embarrassed, but all you can think about is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, walls frantically clamping down on him as you ride out your orgasm.
“Are you gonna cum inside me?” You’re sure you sound desperate when you ask, but he peers up at you with hooded eyes and responds, “If that’s what you want, sugar.”
It only takes a few more pumps of his hips to send him over the edge as well, hips stuttering, before groaning and emptying himself inside you. Slumping against his chest, his cock twitches, then softens inside you, and all that can be heard in the truck is the sound of you two struggling to catch your breath.
“Holy shit,” is all you can say.
His nails gently run down your spine, sending goosebumps blossoming across your skin. “Good ride?” he jokes, pressing kisses down the slope of your shoulder.
“Totally worth it.”
And you mean it, every ounce of it. Can see the sunshine and rainbows, the things you thought were once hidden behind dark clouds.
Just like you thought it would, it was good. Probably even better than that, probably impossible to find a word in the English dictionary to describe it. Enough so that maybe, you’ll extend your year-long lease in Texas. Make it two, perhaps.
“Jungkook?”
“Hm, sugar?”
“Can you take me to the ranch?”
A chuckle reverberates through his chest, and you feel it everywhere his skin touches yours. “Yeah, darlin’. How ‘bout tomorrow?”
summary: Thunderstorms always make Steve's old wounds ache. And there's only one thing that helps.
tags: MDNI [smut] [established relationship] [handjob] [language] [coach!Steve] [caring] ['let me help'] [rainy day]
1.6k words
The moment Steve steps through the door, you know something’s wrong.
You watch him from your place on the couch, a sweet 'welcome home' dying on your lips. He toes off his shoes one by one, hands braced on the wall for support, and winces as he shrugs off his coach’s jacket and hangs it on the hook.
His movements are slow, spinning inky shadows in the lamplight. It’s not quite night yet, but the sky is dark with black clouds, the summer air thick and humid.
The baseball cap comes off next, and when his eyes raise to yours, he grimaces and rakes a hand through his hair. Like it’s just occurred to him that other people exist in the world. That they can see him.
Your brows furrow in concern. "How was practice?"
“It got rained out,” he says, voice tight.
Ah. The storm. Yeah, everything makes sense now.
You nod once in understanding and pat the couch. "C'mere.”
Steve moves towards you, messing with his hair on the way, but when he starts to sit beside you, you stop him with a hand on his arm.
Scooting backwards, you press yourself into the cushions and spread your legs to give him space to sit in front of you.
“Wha—right there?” he asks, blinking down at you, mussed hair haloed by the light of the TV.
"Yes, right here.”
He chuckles softly, shaking his head before turning around and collapsing into the makeshift seat you've provided.
"This what you wanted?" he grunts, letting all his weight fall back onto you and press you into the couch. “You sure?”
“Mmhhm,” you breathe, wrapping your legs around his hips, and your arms around his broad shoulders. He's so warm. You bury your face into his shoulder, inhaling the scents of fresh grass and humid summer air. “Where does it hurt today?”
He sighs, absently watching the sitcom on the TV from under heavy lashes. “Everywhere.”
You rest your chin on his shoulder. The laugh track plays quietly through your house just as the first raindrop hits your window pane.
Every time a storm rolls in, Steve gets this way.
His old wounds have long since healed by now, but under intense shifts of barometric pressure, they come back to haunt him, driving a gnawing, clamping ache into his body that whisks away his concentration and make it hard for him to breathe.
When the weather changes, he’ll say that bone in his nose aches, or that joint in his shoulder is killing him. But his side hurts the most. Those frayed nerve endings and hairline fractures in his ribs never got proper care thanks to his neglectful parents who never noticed their son was in pain.
Through the years, you’ve found a way to help him. Fill his mind with pleasure instead, and make him forget—even just for a minute.
So, your hands start to roam. Traversing him in that way only lovers do—those who know someone else’s body better than their own. Curling over his forearm, brushing the hair there with your thumb. Caressing the rough knuckles on his hands. Trailing the bulge of his bicep, his capped shoulder, until finally skimming up the side of his head to plunge your fingers into this hair.
Steve sinks further into you with a groan, but his shoulders tense when he hears you take a stuttering breath.
His hands fly to hold yours still on his body. “Shit, ‘m not crushing you, am I?"
You shake your head, lips trailing the vein in his neck. “Relax, Steve. Let me make you feel good.”
You hear him swallow hard, hesitating. Then, finally, his hands fall away from yours, giving them permission to drift down to his waistband. He helps you out, undoing the button on his khakis for you. You shift behind him and reach down further until your fingers brush his cock, already straining against his boxers.
Steve sighs, hips shifting as he chases your touch. “Baby, you know you don’t have to if you don’t wan—”
“I want to,” you say. “Let me fix it.”
His heavy palm comes down on your shin in his lap, warmth bleeding from his fingers. It’s a grounding, touch, not meant to stop you. Something to keep him centered while pleasure and pain war inside, threatening to pull him apart.
You brush your fingers across his hard length, earning a soft groan of approval. Weighing the velvet steel in your hand, you wrap your fingers around him and squeeze at the base, just how he likes it.
He curses, his head falling back against your shoulder just as thunder rolls in the distance. His lashes flutter shut, throat bared in the TV light, and you swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
You stroke him slowly. Languidly. The pleasure glides through his veins like silk, stealing the bite from his wounds, relieving the teeth digging into his ribs, before pooling into a different kind of pressure low in his abdomen. One that’s dull, and drugging, and promises relief.
“Relax,” you whisper again against his ear.
Steve obeys, his body going a little more pliant. His thighs fall further apart, pinning you into the soft cushion. But his weight on you isn’t the only thing that steals the breath from your lungs. It’s the way he finds sanctuary in you. You love him like this. Open, and trusting, and wanting. Needing you, even when he’s in pain. Especially when he’s in pain.
Your hand falls into the tempo he needs without him having to ask. It’s still slow, but steadily grows harder, grabbing that thread of need from inside his hips and pulling it tight.
His back rises and falls with uneven breathes against your chest, but he stays still. He knows better than to buck up into your touch. If his hips lock up, your hand disappears. His shoulders tense, and your kisses stop.
He has to be relaxed, pliant, and totally at your mercy for this pain relief to work.
Outside, the sky darkens further, turning that mottly shade of blue. The one you’ve seen bloom on his body time and time again over the years. The rain starts to fall steadily, tinking and plunking onto the glass pane.
Your knuckles rasp against his pants as you touch him, your forearm catching on his shirt with every stroke, and when your tongue darts out for a taste of his salty skin, and you’re rewarded with a moan that sends heat licking up your spine.
He must really be hurting today. By this point, he’s usually trying to catch you by the ankle and pull you underneath him, pushing your legs apart and dragging his tongue through your pussy before you're done with him.
You shift underneath him, the heavy, slick weight of your arousal pooling in your panties, but you’ll deal with that later. Right now, you just want him pain free.
His cock jerks in your hand, precum smearing across your fingers as his hand squeezes your shin, the other grasping uselessly at the couch cushion beside him.
From this position—his head resting on your shoulder—you can only see the slope of his nose against the storm clouds, but his eyes are screwed shut, his brows furrowed even as little huffs leave his parted lips.
You drop a sweet, reassuring kiss to one of the moles on his face.
Steve’s always struggled with accepting care. It’s taken a long time to get him here.
Hooking your ankle around his knee, you pull your leg towards you and spread his thighs even wider so your other hand can crawl underneath his arm and disappear into his shirt.
He turns his head and trails his lips across your cheek, your jaw, until finally you turn and capture his mouth with yours. His tongue dips into your mouth as your hand travels over his ribs, his scars, with soothing, sure touches that have him groaning into the kiss.
But when his socks start to whisper against the carpeted floor as he tries to get leverage to shove his hips up into your touch, you break apart and pull your hand from his dick.
You’ve practiced edging Steve many times, so you don’t even have to say anything for him to get the picture.
“Just feels so good,” Steve groans. “Sorry, I—yeah.”
Rain pelts the window now, drowning out the distant laugh track on the TV, and Steve's heartbeat kicks up against your palm.
A hiss of pleasure escapes him when your touch resumes, but you tighten your grip, jerking him steadily until he swallows hard and relaxes again.
You press gentle, openmouthed kisses along the column of his neck, his curls brushing your ear as his sounds grow breathier and louder. And when his cock thickens in your hand, you know he’s close.
You bite your lip as his hips go stiff. Listening to him pant like this is really working you up. Finally, he groans, and jolts in your hold as hot ropes of come paint your knuckles.
You slow to a stop, still kissing his neck to bring him down, making sure he's utterly relaxed before slipping your hand free.
Steve tips his head back onto the couch and looks over at you, his eyes shining with love, but they darken swiftly as he watches your fingers disappear into your mouth, your pink tongue swirling around to catch every salty drop of him.
“You gonna let me take care of you, now?” he rasps, eyes on your mouth.
You smile softly. “Steve, you’re hurting—”
“Not anymore.”
His arm wraps around your waist, and then he shifts you lengthwise across the couch, his body following you down.
“You gave me my fix," he says, trailing a hand between your bodies, and your breath hitches as his long fingers disappear into your panties. “Now, let me give you yours.”
a/n: Woke up this morning to a thunderstorm and plans to write something completely different. But, when I put pen to paper, this is what happened instead. It's been a minute since I've written something completely new and not from my drafts, so I'm not complaining. (It’s probably also due to the fact that I'm still thinking about Steve and reader from Truce)
steve masterlist | banner from @cursed-carmine
steve taglist: @s3xytosomeone , @xoxocelestial , @another-widow , @calelundaa , @unabashedlyinlovewithyou, if you'd like to be added, comment here.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ cw — mdni, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, rough sex, spanking, degradation, dumbification, pet names, praise kink, steve’s verrrryyy cocky, belly bulge, big dick steve obviously
⋆.𐙚 ̊ summary — after a very terrible 48 hours and some mean comments, steve decides he needs to put you in your place.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ authors note — hi guys! this is kinda like head-cannon style but i literally wrote this in 30 minutes so it def kinda sucks but i lowk kinda like it??? anyways, working on the sex chocolates smut and sparks still!!! please send in any smutty or fluffy requests you have :p
⋆.𐙚 ̊ wc — 1.95k
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ please do not copy, rewrite, or repost my works on any other platforms or pages.
season 5 steve would definitely be such a brat tamer. he’s always slightly annoyed, ready to snap at the smallest of inconveniences because of the never ending crawls and his ongoing feud with dustin.
and he loves you soo much. you’ve never had to doubt that for the entirety of your long relationship. he treats you better than you could’ve ever imagined. he loves you loudly and unapologetically. he’s the literal epitome of your very own prince charming from those cheesy movies he used to always take you to see.
but with everything happening lately, he’s just always so on edge and so pent up. and you’d caught him on a particularly bad day.
the night before was an absolutely terrible crawl. dustin had been running late, steve had been forced into the van with jonathan, they’d gotten lost, then caught shit about it from dustin and hopper for hours after.
it was safe to say his fuse was extremely short the next morning at the station.
and so was yours.
robin had been on one all morning, clearly not having a great day either. she’d been hurling insults practically every five seconds out of pure frustration. usually a shift like this would be filled with lighthearted banter and giggles, not sideways glances and snappy comments.
and sitting in the muggy sound booth was like literal hell. the atmosphere was akin to a live wire waiting to be set off any seconds.
and robin had really pissed you off now. and unfortunately for steve, he was catching the brunt of it.
“steve, wrong button!”
“dude, you missed your cue!”
“can you stop chewing so loud?!”
“are you even listening to her at all?!”
“god, do i have to do everything myself?!”
you should’ve known to just shut up when he’d gone eerily quiet. he didn’t snap back with some crude insult— he never did— but he usually had some sort of comment. whether it be a quick “sorry,” or “my bad.” he always had something to say nowadays.
he just leaned back in his chair, deathly silent and cold.
and the moment you got into your shared apartment and into your bedroom, he was sitting down and bending you over his lap. your soft, flowy skirt was bunched up around your hips and your bare skin was on perfect display for him.
“you think you can just yell at me like that? because what? you’ve had a bad day?” and his heavy, big hand would come down onto the supple skin with a loud smack, making you jerk against his thighs. “hm? think you can get all mean and expect things to go back to normal?”
there’d be zero sympathy in his voice because everyone has truly been pushing his buttons for the last 48 hours.
his calloused palm was sooth over the reddening skin slowly, giving you that false sense of relief that made you think it was over.
smack.
you’d cry out brokenly, your legs kicking up at the sharp sting. “stevie—“
he’d cut you off immediately because he knows where you’re going with this. he always knows. “not today, baby. can’t sweet talk your way out of this one.”
smack.
the tears prickling in your waterline would begin to finally trickle down your cheeks, leaving trails of dark mascara to smudge. your bottom is starting to burn now but you know it’s far from over.
“you done bein’ a little brat to me? or should i keep going?” he asked mockingly, squeezing at the fat of your ass. you couldn’t help but whine in pain. “you gonna apologize to me? tell me how sorry you are? how this won’t happen again?”
and when you try to start pleading your case and beg for it to be over, promising it won’t happen ever again and you’ll be so nice, he’d kinda chuckle to himself and be like, “hmm, it’s funny ‘cause i think that’s exactly what you promised me last time.”
and his heavy hand would come down on the untouched side of your ass with another loud smack, making you choke out a sob. he’d stop if he truly thought he was hurting you, but he knows you better than anyone. and he knows how much you fucking love it.
“count ‘em up, honey,” he’d command, his hands kneading the flesh as he geared up for another spanking. “you know the rules. miss one and i start over.”
and he’d make you count all the way to 14 including the previous 3, an even number on each cheek. by the time he was done, your skin would be red, irritated, and literally on fire so when you went in the station tomorrow and had to sit for the long hours, you’d be uncomfortable and restless. it’d be a long reminder of your behavior and it’s consequences.
you’d be all teary and blabbering out apologies, begging stevie to forgive you. you swear it’ll never happen again and you’ll make it up to him.
after smoothing over your burning skin, he’d have you face down on the bed with your ass perched up into the air, drilling all the of attitude out of you. he’d be sooo transfixed on your creamy little cunt just fucking sucking him right back in and leaving a milt ring around the base of him.
“this what you wanted, baby? just wanted to be punished like a little slut?” he’d coo, his hands holding your waist in a bruising grip, pulling you back to meet each thrust. “fuck. pretty pussy’s just fuckin’ cryin’ for it, huh?”
he’d be so mean and teasing, leaning over you so he was buried impossibly deep. his hand would be pressing the side of face down into the sheets as you cried, fingers bunching at the blankets uselessly to try and ground you.
his hips would be moving so much slower, rolling against yours and making a new home in your guts. you could practically feel him in your throat. and you’d be mumbling out absolute nonsense. begging for more? maybe begging for mercy? he could never decipher it.
“the fuck are you even saying right now?” it came out as a breathy laugh, that lazy, confident smile splaying across his face. the hand on the side of your face moves to your hair, tugging the the roots gently before sliding around to hold your neck. he’d pull you upright so your head was back against his shoulder and his arm was looping around to splay a big hand over your stomach, feeling the head of him bulging against your tummy. one particularly hard thrust would have you screaming and arching away from him. “c’mon. be a good girl and use your words. tell me what you want.”
a choked scream spilled past your swollen lips, biting down hard to stop yourself frim letting out another when you felt a deep punch of his fat tip against your cervix. “wanna cum! hmph! please, stevie. right— right there! yes, yes, yes!”
he’d reach around to rub at your puffy, neglected clit until your jerking against him and crying out in pleasure. even when he was pissed off at you, he’d always ensure that you came first.
“that’s it, pretty baby,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, repeatedly abusing that sweet spot inside of your gummy walls. “taking my fat cock like a fuckin’ champ. you were made for this, weren’t you?”
your nails would be digging so brutally into the forearm around your throat that was almost keeping you in a headlock, but he’d be so lost in the tight warmth of your cunt that he wouldn’t even care. he’d fucking eat it up every time. in the same way that you loooved his firm bicep pressing against your neck. if you were a little more conscious, you’d surely be taking a big bite of them.
with your shaking, spent body, he’d finally lay you back down and slide a pillow under your hips before pressing his full weight on top of you from behind. he’d push himself so far up your guts that you’d be genuinely seeing stars. and his arm would be locking around your neck again, his lips neck to your ear as he moaned lewdly.
“shit. i fuckin’ love when you get all bratty with me,” he’d admit in a low purr. “love getting to have you all dumb and pretty on my cock. hearing you beg me to let you come— oh, fuck. and deep down, i know how much you love getting this little pussy punished. can feel how tight she squeezes me, how fuckin’ wet she gets the minute i get inside you.”
“oh— oh, stevie! please, feels so good,” you cried, jolting forward with the force each hard thrust. “i love it! mmph! love when you punish me!”
and he’d be sooo fucking cocky about it, biting and nipping at your ear as he chuckled. “yeah? tell me how much you love it, baby. tell me how good i make you feel.”
you’d be crying, shaking beneath him, barely able to form another comprehendable sentence when he begins rolling his hips into you, so deep and slow that you feel like you’re suffocating. and steve’s scent, the expensive cologne and his natural musk, is all around you. it’s so entirely him that you’re literally drunk off of it.
when he knows you’re close again, mostly because you can’t say a single intelligible word, he’s rubbing at your clit with his free hand and snapping his hips into yours a little quicker. you can’t even scream when the coil in your stomach snaps, you just have to lay there and take the immense pleasure running through your blood.
and he’d finally start to get all soft on you when he thrusts a few more times slowly before feeling his balls draw up, fully emptying himself inside your dripping cunt. “there you go, honey. yeahhh, just fucking’ take it,” he moaned sweetly into your ear, peppering the side of your sweaty face in loving kisses. “such a good girl for me. fuck, i love you. love you so much, pretty.”
and steve would certainly keep you stuffed full for a few minutes while you caught your breath, kissing all over every inch of your skin. he’d sit up and away from you just to gently paw at your ass, placing the most tender kisses along the bruised skin all while muttering about how much he loves you and how good you were for him.
he’d gently spread the skin apart so he could watch his fat cock pull out from your messy pussy, loving the way his thick cum slowly gushed out of your hole. just to tease you a little, he’d sometimes run the tip of him down your slit to collect his seed and shove it back inside of you, making you let out a choked gasp and grip the sheets beneath you.
his lips would find the space between your shoulder blades, kissing all over you and then pulling out for good.
and steve looooooves aftercare. so of course he’d be rolling you over, pecking your pretty lips and running a soft, warm towel along the stickiness between your legs. he’d be kissing all over you the entire time, praising you, mumbling “i love you, honey,” over and over and over.
and then when you’re all spent and docile, he’d hold you in his big strong arms, smoothing the hair from your face and smiling at you all lovesick and sweet, resulting in the both of you apologizing for being so grumpy all day and cuddling even closer in the comfort of your warm bed.
Hey I love ur fics! Would you be able to do one where Steve and reader broke up a little while ago and they end up at a party together and he sees her talking to a guy and he gets super jealous and over protective and she finds him hot when he made his way over and like started talking to her as if they guy talking to her doesn’t even exist but she acts mad and they go into the bathroom together and he isn’t over her at all and starts almost begging for her and calling her baby and then turns into a makeout and smut if that makes sense lol 💞
Still Yours
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader
W/C: 3.7k
Summary: You and Steve can’t seem to get over each other even after breaking up over three months ago, but jealousy reignites feelings.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, p in v, protected sex, kissing
The bass thumped through your chest as you leaned against the kitchen counter, red cup in hand, laughing at something the guy in front of you said. What was his name again? Tyler? Trevor? It didn't really matter. He was cute enough with sandy blonde hair, an easy smile, the kind of guy who probably played lacrosse or something equally preppy. I don't know, not like I'm interested anyway.
"So yeah, that's how I ended up with a scar on my ass from a shopping cart" he finished, grinning like he'd just told the funniest story in the world.
You laughed probably the fakest laugh you've ever done, taking a sip of whatever terrible punch someone had mixed in the giant bowl with suspicious looking fruit pieces?. The party was in full swing around you with bodies pressed together in the living room, music so loud you could barely hear yourself think, the air thick with sweat, cheap beer and too much cologne. Just another shitty high school party.
But this was good. This was moving on. This was exactly what you needed after him.
"You have a great laugh " Trevor, Tyler, whoever it was said, stepping a little closer to you. His hand found your arm, fingers trailing down to your wrist, "I'd love to hear more of it. Maybe somewhere quieter?".
You opened your mouth to respond, but something made you glance toward the doorway of the yard as a loud bang sounded through the house. Your heart stopped. Steve was stood in the entrance, frozen mid step watching you. His hair was perfectly styled as always, effortless in the way you used to run your fingers through and it would still loook just as good. He wore that burgundy sweater that you'd always loved on him, the one that made his eyes look even warmer than they were but those eyes weren't warm now. They were locked on you, or more specifically, on the hand touching your arm.
His jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle jump even from across the room. Shit.
You'd known he might be here. It was Hawkins, everyone ended up at the same parties eventually. But you'd hoped... what? That you wouldn't run into him? That seeing him wouldn't make your stomach flip and your pulse race? That three months would be enough time to get over Steve fucking Harrington?
Apparently not.
"Hey, you okay?" We're going with Tyler asked, following your gaze.
You tore your eyes away from Steve, forcing a bright smile. "Yeah, totally fine. You were saying?".
But you could feel Steve's stare burning into you. Could sense him moving through the kitchen, weaving between people, getting closer by the second. Every nerve ending in your body suddenly on high alert.
Whoever the hell this guy is launched into another story, something about his childhood friend or brother or just some guy, but you couldn't focus. You were too busy tracking Steve's approach in your peripheral vision, too busy trying to calm your heart and pretending you didn't notice the way he was looking at you like he wanted to throw this guy through a wall.
And god help you, you found it hot. Extremely hot.
You shouldn't. You should be over him. You'd broken up for good reasons like his recklessness, your need for stability, the constant arguments about his tendency to throw himself into danger. But watching him walk towards you with whatever the hell that possessive fire in his eyes is, jaw tight and shoulders tense, made heat pool low in your belly.
"-and that's when the cops showed up" Tyler finished with a laugh.
"Hilarious" you managed, taking another sip of your drink.
Then Steve was here. He appeared at your side like he'd been summoned, close enough that you could smell his cologne. That woody, warm scent that used to cling to your clothes after you spent the night at his place. He didn't even glance at him, his eyes were fixed entirely on you. It was almost like he didn't even notice him even though he definitely did.
"Hey" Steve said, his voice low and rough, "Didn't know you'd be here".
Liar. Hawkins had like three parties a month. He absolutely knew you might be here.
"Steve" you said flat, even as your heart hammered against your ribs. "I'm kind of in the middle of a conversation"
"Are you?" He still hadn't acknowledged Tyler's existence. "Looked more like you were trying to escape".
"Excuse me?" You stated angrily, even as a thrill ran through you. "I was having a perfectly nice time before you-"
"Uh, hey man" Tyler interjected, finally finding his voice. "We were actually talking, so if you could-"
Steve's eyes flicked to him for half a second, dismissive and cold before returning to you. "You look good" he said, completely ignoring the other guy, "New dress? Not seen it before".
It wasn't new and he had seen it before. But the way his gaze dragged down your body, lingering on the way the fabric hugged your curves made you feel like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.
"Steve" you warned, but your voice came out breathier than intended.
"I like your hair like that too" he continued, as if Tyler had simply ceased to exist, "You always looked so pretty with it down".
Pretty. God, that word in his voice still did things to you.
"Remember that party at Tina's?" Steve asked you, leaning against the counter so he was angled toward you, effectively blocking Tyler out. "We left early because I couldn't keep my hands off you when you wore something similar".
Heat flooded your cheeks, "You're being rude".
"Am I?" His eyes were intense. "I'm just talking to you. That's not rude, is it, baby?"
Baby. He knew exactly what that word did to you too. It was your weakness, the nickname that made you melt every single time. You should be furious. He was being possessive, jealous and completely inappropriate. He was interrupting your conversation, ignoring the guy you'd been flirting with, acting like he had any right to stake a claim on you when you'd been broken up for three months. You didn't want anything from this guy other than sex but that didn't matter but god, you were so turned on you could barely think straight.
"Okay, you know what?" Tyler said, backing away. "I'm gonna... yeah. Nice talking to you, see you around" and he disappeared into the crowd before you could stop him. Not that you tried very hard anyway.
The moment he was gone, you spun around on Steve, "What the hell was that Steve?".
"What?" And he had the audacity to look innocent.
"You just, you completely-" You sputtered, anger and arousal swirling inside you. "You can't just do that, Steve!".
"Do what? Talk to you?"
"You know exactly what you did" You jabbed a finger into his chest. "You were jealous and you chased him off like some kind of-".
"I know you are" You could see it everywhere on his body, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands were clenched at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from touching you.
"Maybe I am" He stepped closer, crowding into your space. "Maybe I don't like watching some random guy put his hands on you. Maybe I don't like seeing you laugh at his stupid jokes when you should be-"
"Should be what?" You challenged, tilting your chin up, "We're not together anymore, Steve. I can talk to whoever I want".
Something flashed in his eyes, "Yeah I know. Don't remind me".
You couldn't do this here. Not in the middle of the kitchen with people starting to stare, not with the music pounding and the alcohol making everything feel too intense.
"Come with me" you said abruptly, grabbing his wrist.
"What-"
You didn't give him time to finish. You dragged him through the crowd, ignoring the curious looks, heading for the nearest bathroom. Someone was coming out as you approached, and you pulled Steve inside before anyone else could claim it, slamming the door and flicking the lock.
The bathroom was small, just a toilet, sink, and shower crammed into a space barely big enough for two people. The music was muffled here, reduced to a dull thump that you could feel more than hear. Steve stared at you, his chest heaving, hair slightly tangled from the journey through the crowd.
"You can't do that anymore" you said, trying to hold onto your anger even as your body betrayed you, hyperaware of how close he was. "You can't just... just swoop in and act like you have some claim on me. We broke up, Steve. You don't get to-"
"I know we broke up" he interrupted, voice rough, "Trust me, I know. I've spent every single day for the past three months knowing it".
"Then what was that out there?"
"That was me losing my mind watching another guy touch you!" He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every movement. "That was me seeing you smile at him the way you used to smile at me and wanting to punch something. That was me being a jealous asshole because I can't-" He broke off, jaw working.
"Can't what?"
"Can't get over you" The words came out raw, almost angry. "I've tried, okay? I've really fucking tried but I can't do it. I can't stop thinking about you, can't stop missing you, can't stop wanting you so badly it hurts".
Your breath caught, "Steve".
"I know I fucked up" he continued, the words spilling out now like he couldn't hold them back. "I know I was reckless and stupid and I scared you but I'm trying to be better. I've been trying so hard to be the guy you need me to be, but none of it matters because you're not there. You're not with me, and I-" His voice cracked. "I don't know how to do this without you, baby".
There it was again. Baby.
"You can't just call me that" you whispered, but you were already swaying toward him.
"Why not?" He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, "It's what you are. What you've always been and breaking up doesn't change that".
"It has to change that. We can't".
"Can't what? Can't still want each other? Because I'm pretty sure that's bullshit" His eyes dropped to your lips, "I'm pretty sure you want me just as much as I want you right now".
"You're so arrogant" you breathed, but you didn't step back.
"Am I wrong?"
No. No he wasn't wrong. You wanted him so badly you were shaking with it, wanting to close the distance between you and kiss him until neither of you could breathe, wanting to feel his hands on your body and hear him call you baby in that voice that made your toes curl.
But you were supposed to be moving on.
"Tell me you don't want me" Steve said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Tell me you don't think about me, that you don't miss me, that you don't lie awake at night wishing I was there. Tell me, and I'll walk away right now. I'll leave you alone. I'll let you go".
You opened your mouth, but the words wouldn't come because you couldn't tell him that. Couldn't lie when he was looking at you like that, when your body was screaming for his touch.
"I can't..." you admitted, the words barely audible.
"Can't what baby?"
"Can't tell you that. Can't... can't pretend I don't still-" You broke off, frustrated. "God, I hate you for this".
"No you don't" He reached up slowly, giving you time to pull away, and cupped your face in his hand. His thumb brushing over your bottom lip, "You hate that you still want me. That's different".
"Same result" you managed, but you were already leaning into his touch.
"Is it?" His other hand found your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress, "Because from where I'm standing, there's a pretty simple solution here".
"Steve-"
"I'm not over you" he said, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "I'm not even close to over you. I don't think I'll ever be over you. So please, baby, please. Give me another chance. Let me prove I can be better. Let me-"
You kissed him.
You couldn't help it. Couldn't stand another second of the space between you and couldn't bear the desperate plea in his voice.
For a heartbeat Steve froze, like he couldn't believe this was happening before he groaned and kissed you back. His hands were everywhere at once. One tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could kiss you deeper. The other gripped your hip hard enough to mark, pulling you against him. You could feel every inch of him pressed against you, and you could feel how much he wanted this, wanted you.
You'd forgotten how good he was at this. How he knew exactly when to bite your bottom lip, when to soothe it with his tongue and when to pull back just enough to make you chase him.
"Fuck I missed this" he breathed against your mouth. "Missed you. Missed the way you taste, the way you feel".
You cut him off with another kiss, harder this time, teeth clashing as three months of pent up longing exploded between the two of you. Your hands found his hair, tugging the way you knew he liked, and he made a sound that went straight to your core.
"Baby" he groaned, walking you backward until your back hit the wall. "Baby, tell me this is real. Tell me I'm not dreaming".
"It's real" you gasped as his lips found your neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive spot below your ear, "Steve, it's, oh god-“
His hands slid down to your thighs, and then he was lifting you, pinning you against the wall with his hips. You wrapped your legs around his waist, gasping at the friction and the feeling of him hard between your thighs.
"Is this okay?" he asked, pulling back just enough to look at you. "Tell me if this is too much. Tell me to stop and I will".
"Don't you dare stop" you said, pulling him back in for another kiss.
That was all the permission he needed. His hands slid under your dress, pushing the fabric up around your hips, fingers digging into your thighs. You could feel how much he wanted you, grinding against you through the layers of clothing still between you, and it wasn't enough. You needed more, you needed everything, needed him.
"Please" you whimpered against his mouth.
"I've got you baby" he murmured, one hand leaving your thigh to work at his belt. "I've got you. Gonna make you feel so good, gonna show you how much I missed you".
The sound of his belt buckle was obscenely loud in the small bathroom. You helped him with shaking hands, just desperate to feel him and erase the three months of emptiness with the feeling of being full of him again.
"Condom" you managed to gasp out, some small part of your brain still functioning.
"Wallet" he said, already reaching for it. "Always, fuck, always kept one just in case. Just hoping".
He didn't finish the sentence, too busy tearing open the packet with his teeth. You watched him roll it on, transfixed by the sight of his hands on himself, remembering all the times you'd done that for him, all the times you'd touched him and tasted him and driven him crazy. Then his fingers were hooking into your underwear, pulling it aside, and you were both gasping as he lined himself up.
"Look at me" he said, his voice rough. "Want to see your face when I do this". He pushed inside in one smooth thrust, and you both moaned at the sensation. God, you'd forgotten how perfectly he filled you, how right it felt to have him inside you.
"Fuck" Steve groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. "Fuck baby, you feel so good. So perfect. Missed you so much".
"Move" you demanded, rolling your hips. "Steve, please move-"
"Give me a moment baby otherwise it's over too soon" he let out a long breath after a small pause before moving again. Pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, and you couldn't hold back the cry that came from your throat. He set a pace, fucking you against the wall with intensity, like he was trying to make up for three months of not having you in a single encounter.
"That's it" he groaned, one hand braced against the wall beside your head, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. "Let me hear you baby. Let everyone at this fucking party know who makes you feel this good"
You should care that people might hear. Should care that you were fucking your ex boyfriend in a bathroom at a party with dozens of people just outside but you couldn't bring yourself to give a damn, not when he was hitting that spot inside you that made you clench your eyes shut, not when every thrust was sending pleasure through your entire body.
"Steve" you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders through his sweater, "Oh god, Steve...”
"You're so beautiful like this" he murmured, kissing along your jaw. "So fucking beautiful. Been dreaming about this, about having you again, about making you clench around my cock. Tell me you dreamed about it too".
"Yes" you admitted, too far gone to lie. "Yes, I missed it. Missed you. Missed this, oh fuck-"
He changed the angle slightly, and suddenly every thrust was dragging against that perfect spot inside you. Your head fell back against the wall, mouth open in a silent scream as pleasure built and built and built.
"That's my girl" Steve groaned, his pace becoming erratic. "Come on baby. Want to feel you. Give it to me".
His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and circling with just the right pressure and that was all it took. You shattered, crying out his name as your orgasm crashed over you. Your whole body tensed, clenching around him, and you heard him curse as he followed you over the edge
"Fuck baby, I love you" he groaned as he came, the words spilling out unbidden. "Love you so much. Never stopped loving you. Never-"
He buried his face in your neck, hips still moving in shallow thrusts as you both rode it out. You held him close, fingers threading through his hair, heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst out of your chest.
Slowly, reality started to seep back in. The music from the party. The uncomfortable position. The fact that you'd just had sex with your ex boyfriend in a bathroom. The fact that he'd just said he loved you and Steve seemed to realise it at the same time. He pulled back slightly, "I meant it" he said quietly. "I know I probably shouldn't have said it like that, but I meant it. I love you. I never stopped".
You should probably think about this, probably take time to process, to figure out if this was just the heat of the moment or something real.
"I love you too" you heard yourself say. "I tried not to and tried to move on but I can't. I don't want to".
The smile that broke across Steve's face was like the sun coming out, "Yeah?".
"Yeah" You couldn't help but smile back. "But if you ever pull that jealous caveman routine again".
"You'll drag me into a bathroom and have your way with me?" he suggested, grinning.
"I was going to say I'd kill you, but..." You laughed, and it felt good. Felt right. "Maybe both".
"I can live with that" He kissed you again, softer this time. "So... are we doing this? Are we really doing this?".
"I guess we are" You cupped his face in your hands. "But things have to be different this time Steve. We have to actually talk about stuff instead of just fighting and you have to promise me you'll be more careful. I can't, I can't watch you throw yourself into danger anymore".
"I promise" he said seriously. "I'll be better. I'll be whatever you need me to be. Just... don't leave again".
"I won't" You kissed him once more, "But we should probably get out of this bathroom before someone breaks down the door".
"Probably" he agreed, but he didn't move. Just held you close, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.
Eventually, you did manage to make yourselves presentable and unlock the door. There were definitely some knowing looks as you emerged, and you were pretty sure everyone at the party had heard at least some of what had happened in there. But as Steve laced his fingers through yours and pulled you toward the exit, you found you didn't care. You had him back and that was all that mattered.
"So" Steve said as you stepped out into the cool night air. "Want to get out of here? Maybe go back to my place and... talk?"
You laughed at the suggestive tone, "Talk, huh?"
"Well, we have three months to catch up on" He pulled you close, kissing your temple. "Might take all night".
"Might take longer than that" you agreed, leaning into him.
"Good thing we have time then" He opened the passenger door of his BMW for you, "Because I'm not letting you go again baby. Not ever".
And as you slid into the familiar seat, breathing in the scent of his car and watching him jog around to the driver's side with that goofy smile on his face, you knew you didn't want him to. You were his. You'd always been his.
Dry humping Steve BUT YOU SHOUODNT BE DOING IT CUS ITS YOUR BEST FTJENDS BOYRIEND AGHHHHHHHHHHH
My bby Steve doesn't cheat 😤
"This is a mistake" You moaned into Steves mouth softly, His hands holding onto the fabric of your shorts against your hips. Lips messily crashing into yours as his hands guided your movements against his lap, The outline of his cock perfectly hitting against you as you ground down on him.
"Mmm" Steve groaned into your mouth just to give you an answer, Mind anywhere but the fact he had a girlfriend right now. Let alone the fact that his girlfriend was your best friend of over ten years, You dont know how you managed to fall into this situation with him but you couldn't stop even if you wanted to.
The cotton of your shorts dragging against the rough denim of his jeans felt amazing against you, Back arching as Steves tongue explored the inside of your mouth.
"Off" He groaned into your mouth as his fingers moved to the waist band of your shorts, Fumbling messily to pull them down. Lifting yourself up slightly off his lap allowing him access to pull them off.
You dragged yourself against him once again, Crying out at how much better it feels with one less barrier between you both.
"You like that?" Steve asked as his mouth fell to your neck, Pressing hot open mouth kisses against the skin as you continue to rock against him. Coil in your stomach threatening to break at any moment.
"God, Yes" You moan softly and Steves pulling away from your neck to look at you, Hand at the back of your head pulling you back towards him into a kiss. The slight salty taste on his lips from the sweat that had built up on your neck from being stuck in the dingy basement of family video with him for the last thirty minutes, Getting closer and closer to break time being over and this fantasy ending.
"Want more?" Steve asked as he rolled his hips up into you, The pressure of his rock hard cock against you made you feel dizzy. You nod frantically, All thoughts of how wrong this was leaving your mind as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth making you whimper.
Steve pushed on your hips signalling to you to lift up, Quickly undoing the button of his jeans as his chest heaved. Eyes flicking to yours every so often as he pulled them down slightly.
You looked down at him, you could see the outline of his cock through the tight fitting briefs, Small wet patch that matched your own.
"Cmere baby" Steve all but moaned as he held onto your wrist pulling you back onto his lap, Hissing at the feeling of the warmth from you as you pressed down against him. Hips rolling perfectly letting you feel every ridge of him, Steves head fell back against the sofa, eyes closed, mouth hanging slightly open as his tongue brushed against his lower lip.
"Fuck, Steve" You cried out as his hips start matching the same rhythm as yours, Letting your head fall to rest against his chest as you press kisses sloppily onto his skin.
"I know" Steve groaned as his fingers dug into the skin of your hips, Slipping under the cotton of your underwear like he was fighting with himself not to pull them down, Give in and let you have exactly what you wanted. What you both wanted, But he wouldn't. Because that would be cheating and Steve doesn't cheat.
summary: When your ex-friends-with-benefits proves he's incapable of keeping his mouth shut even while jerking off alone in his tent, you're forced to intervene. God, do you have to do everything yourself?
tags: MDNI, [SMUT] [ex-friends-with-benefits to lovers] [camp counselors][summer rivalry] [heavy mutual pining] [angst] [steve & reader are both college age] [fourth of july] [semi-public sex] [handjob] [tent sex] [trying to be quiet and failing miserably] [discussions of canon stranger things events] [oral sex f receiving] [talking about trauma/therapy] [fingering] [steve calls reader sweetheart, brat, bitch (once) and baby] [one thigh spank] [unprotected creampie] 5k words
a/n: saw this post from @s3xytosomeone and got inspired. let’s all just pretend i actually posted this on the 4th, okay? okay thanks!!!!
There are noises coming from Steve’s tent.
You lie completely still under your own tent’s ceiling, breath caught in your chest.
There it is again. Another soft grunt, but this one is deeper, almost desperate.
You’ve heard these sounds before. Your mouth goes dry as the reality of what he’s doing settles in your gut, a sharp ache building low between your hips.
Thank God you’re all the way out instead of back at camp where your middle school-age campers are tucked away, sleeping in their cabins on the hill.
At Camp Woodwick, the last night of their month-long summer session always ends on the Fourth of July. Which is tonight. And on the last night, the counselors don’t have a curfew, so the whole lot of you can pitch tents down by the lake and watch the fireworks show.
It was fun for awhile, but after a handful of lackluster campfire stories and couple burnt marshmallows, Steve announced he was going to bed. The guys complained, begging him to light some fireworks with them, but he said he was going to turn in anyway.
Right after his eyes caught yours.
You excused yourself shortly after him, not even really sure why. And as you changed into your sleep shorts and a t-shirt, and settled into your sleeping bag, you blamed your sour mood on the heat and the bugs.
Assuring yourself that it had nothing to do with the fact that you and Steve Harrington have been at each other’s throats for weeks.
Tonight is is counselor’s night out! It’s supposed to be a fun end-of-the-summer bash for all the adults who were paid a few grand to babysit. It’s the night everyone looks forward to the most.
You should be having fun—being young. Whatever that means.
At some point between the whole saving-the-world-and-barely-escaping-with-your-life-thing, you became somewhat of a stranger to that idea. Your life had been, for lack of a better term, flipped upside down.
Steve groans again. Hot embers flare to life in your core, stirred up by the sound of his thready voice. So low and breathless.
He has to shut up. What is he thinking, jerking off like this with people nearby?
Granted, your tents are the furthest away from everyone else’s, and no one has really gone to bed yet. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. But between the sticky humid air clinging to your skin, and the sharp whistles from exploding fireworks, when Steve moans softly again you finally just…snap.
Ripping the blankets off yourself, you rustle around your tent for your flashlight, grumbling and muttering in the dark.
God, you have to do everything yourself, don’t you?
You wince as your tent opens with a loud zip that punctuates the darkness surrounding you. Peeking over your shoulder, you can see the smoke from the campfire in the distance, curling up towards the stars. A few of your fellow counselors are still lounging around the fire, but most of them are small shadows dotting the lake’s edge.
Steve pitched his orange tent under a tree.
Stupid.
Doesn’t he know that the roots will mess the tent stakes up? You’re surprised he could even get them in the ground. Honestly, it will probably fall down on him tonight.
You hope it does.
His tent is dark and quiet, but you march over anyway, flashlight raised so the beam falls straight on him when you turn it on.
You yank on his tent’s zipper. It gives easily. A muffled curse comes from inside, and you click on the flashlight to reveal Steve lying on his side, bare chest rising and falling as he squints into the bright beam.
“God, you never could stay quiet, could you?” You say, bullying your way through the tent flap and zipping it back up behind you.
Steve scrambles to throw his sleeping bag over himself, but it does practically nothing to hide his raging boner underneath.
“What the fuck do you want?” He snaps, glaring up at you.
Despite yourself, your eyes catch on a delicious bicep, and his muscled shoulder in the shine of your flashlight. That chest hair has taunted you all summer long. It’s been torturous pretending you didn’t know what it felt like against your bare breasts, against your back...
You clear your throat. “I just thought I’d let you know the whole camp can hear you jerking off.”
“What? I’m not—Jesus.” His big hand drags down his face, even as he pulls the sleeping bag up higher. “Get out.”
Whoops, there you go again, getting distracted by his hands.
Maybe you should close your eyes, or turn around—something—because looking at him stretched out in the dark like this is making you think wicked things.
Your lips twist in a mocking smirk, and you gesture down to the sleeping bag. “Oh, c’mon, Steve. Why are you so embarrassed? It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”
Lots of times, actually.
Through the years, you’d been there for everything—watched him get captured, tortured, and sacrificed for others. But after it was all over, and the dust settled, you fell into each other a different way.
Because it wasn’t the days plagued with Demogorgons, evil Russians, or even Vecna that were the worst.
It was the days that followed.
The hollow darkness you experienced as the world kept moving on, oblivious to the memories that plagued you both. You had to learn how to live normally again, and something about that was both relieving and excruciatingly lonely at the same time.
The nightmares had a way of sticking to you like blood you couldn’t get off no matter how many times you scrubbed yourself raw in the shower.
It was in those shaky, sweaty, middle-of-the-night fever dreams that you and Steve found solace in each other. Because when it all became a bit too much, you could dig your nails into someone else’s skin, feel a slick, hot mouth against yours—ground yourself in something intrinsically human just to prove that after everything, you still are.
But all that came to a screeching halt last summer.
“Okay,” Steve sighs, shifting a little and squinting up at you. “Let’s say that I was. You wanted to come over and…cockblock me? From myself? And turn that thing off unless you want everyone to see two silhouettes in here.”
You click the flashlight off immediately, plunging you both into darkness.
Maybe you should rescind your previous statement. Because now, without being able to see him, his proximity is somehow affecting you even more.
You can hear his soft breaths, smell the lake water on his skin. And underneath it all, the familiar sounds and scents of him that opens a gaping hole of nostalgia in the pit of your stomach.
You try to laugh, but it comes out cold. “You think I give a fuck if you’re rubbing one out, Harrington? No. I came over here because you’re fucking whimpering and moaning—”
“—I was not whimpering.”
“—and you’re incapable of keeping quiet—yes, you were, and I was getting sick of hearing it. So, either do it quieter, or find someone to cover your fucking mouth.”
As you were talking, your vision adjusted to the darkness. Which is a very bad thing, because now you can see him again. Specifically the outline of his mussed hair as he lifts his chin to meet your gaze.
“You offering?”
Your breath catches.
You should say no. You should tell him to go fuck himself—literally— and leave right now. He can let the whole camp hear him for all you care.
But instead, you hesitate.
Now, Steve is smart. Smarter than he gives himself credit for, that’s for sure. And there are certain patterns he’s picked up on with you over the years. Like, when you pause like that, the answer is almost always a yes.
Which is why the second you go quiet, and the distant laughter of the other counselors fills the space between you, he’s already batting the sleeping bag off his lap.
“I knew it,” he says. The fabric slips off him just as a firework bursts overhead, and your eyes drag over his body. The lean, tan muscle from all his time outside this summer, down to his long, hard cock jerking against his happy trail. “You’re so busy acting like you hate me, wanting to play this game where we bitch at each other all summer, and now you’re making up excuses to come into my tent—”
“Oh, trust me,” you scoff, tearing your eyes away to meet his again. “It’s not an excuse.”
“No?” he says softly, leaning back on one arm and gesturing at his body with the other. “Then, prove it.”
“Fine, but I’m only staying to keep you quiet,” you warn him, pinning him with a harsh look.
“Sure. Whatever,” Steve rasps, watching as you drop to your knees beside him.
Your fingers curl into his sleeping bag beside his shoulder, but you’re careful not to touch him.
He wishes you would.
You gesture impatiently at him, your hand a shadowy blur in the dark. “Go ahead and get it over with. I’m not sitting here all night. God.”
Steve rushes to obey, and when wraps his hand around his cock again, the rush is so intense it’s almost painful. The way you’re sitting there just watching him is making his head feel fuzzy, and his dick swell.
And look at you—pretending to not be affected in the slightest watching the flushed head poke out of his fist over and over as he jerks off in front of you. God, you turn him on so fucking much.
Steve heaves a stuttering breath, and his head drops back onto the ground as the pleasure pools in his gut. He thinks he’s doing a good job being quiet. But he can’t smother the moan that escapes him the second your warm hand brushes his shoulder.
“Steve,” you hiss, warning lacing your voice.
“Shut me up, then. Goddamn.” He groans, his cock twitching in his palm. “What are you even here for? I could do this myself—” At that moment, your hand finds his chest and, well, your fingers might as well be a defibrillator. His hips jerk, mouth dropping open in pleasure. “—oh, fuck yeah.”
Your touch is heaven. His eyelids threaten to shut as your fingers brush through his chest hair, over his ribs— so sure, and steady, soothing and warm. Like his flesh and bone is a map you know by heart.
He’s panting, desperate not to make a sound and give you a reason to take your hand away while your palm trails lower.
He raises his chin to catch a glimpse of your profile as the fireworks crack in the sky, raining down in bright fizzling pops that he feels in his chest.
Honestly, he should’ve known this is how the summer would end with you.
He’s known it, and yet, he’s run from it.
Because the last time he had you…God, he’s been such an idiot.
Last summer, when you came home from college for break, he’d been sitting on your doorstep. A silent understanding passed between you two, and then you’d grabbed his hand and taken him up to your room.
Afterwards, you were laying under him, sweaty and warm, eyes glowing with…with something that made his heart tug painfully. And suddenly, it all got to be too much.
He’d been craving you all semester. As if you were a long drag from a cigarette. And that gnawing ache didn’t surface with anyone else. Only you.
His chest swelled up tight, and the bridge of his nose started to burn, and he realized… he was scared.
Terrified, actually.
Because what if the both of you reaching out for each other was nothing but a trained response, like Pavlov’s dogs or some shit? What if you had built this trauma bond…thing? He wasn’t entirely sure what that even meant, but he knew that no one could know him so intrinsically, so deeply, so invasively and still want him anyway.
So, Steve proceeded to do the stupidest thing possible by dropping a kiss to your forehead, pulling his clothes back on, and walking out the door.
He told himself it was for the best. Months after, even though he thought of you constantly, and still woke up slicked in sweat, hands flying to his wounds in the dark, he never called you.
But when you showed up at Camp Woodwick, looking to earn some cash over the summer, same as him, all the walls he’d built up between him and his past came crashing down.
So, he pushed you away. For weeks. It was worse than he thought it would be, though. Because when he pushed, you pushed back harder.
His head swims with the knowledge that after a whole year without you, you’re here. You’re the same. Familiar. The smell of your hair, down to the soft breaths escaping to ur lips.
He’s still hard as a rock, but his hand isn’t cutting it. Not when what he really wants is right here in front of him.
Steve curses under his breath. “You wanna help me out, sweetheart? Give me that mouth?”
“W-what?” You snort. “You can hardly be quiet with your own hand, Harrington. You think you’re going to survive that?”
“Please? Just lick it. Just the tip.”
“Stop begging. Also, be qu—“
“Right. Right, I’ll be quiet,” Steve grumbles. “Just—if you’re gonna fucking march in here and tell me to do it faster, then the least you could do is help me out.” Another firework squeals, then pops, showering you in gold as you blink down at him.
Boisterous laughs drift over the water, and your eyes flick up instinctively to meet the tent wall before your bottom lip disappears between your teeth. His stomach flips in anticipation. He knows that look.
“C’mon,” he urges, fighting back a smirk. “You know how I like it, baby.”
Shit.
Steve knows that pet name has always been your weakness. You’re not sure exactly why. Maybe it’s because it reminded you that on the outside, you were just friends. But in bed…you were his.
You shouldn’t fall for a cheap trick like that. Look at him, biting the corner of his mouth like he’s trying not to smirk. Cocky bastard.
But, even so, you make the mistake of glancing down his body.
His hand slips away in a silent invitation, revealing his heavy cock jutting out from his soft tummy and you lose the war.
Rocks dig into your knees under the tent floor but you hardly pay them any mind, your clit already throbbing in anticipation of touching him.
“Fine. But only because it’s faster.” You say.
Your hand curls around him, reveling in the hot, velvety feel of him in your palm. A sound slips from his throat, sudden and unbidden.
You jerk your head up, and he can’t see your face clearly in the dark, but he knows your body language. The message is solidified when you bring your other hand up to rake through the hair on his chest, digging into his pec in warning.
Steve’s hand lands on yours, and the warmth seeping through his fingers doesn’t just make your pussy clench, it also makes your nose burn.
You turn your attention back to stroking him, ignoring the tightness in your lungs. Ignoring the way you’re practically holding hands across his chest.
“God, you’ve been kind of a bitch to me all summer,” Steve grunts, thrusting up into your touch. “You know that?”
You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see you. “Steve, you can’t call me a bitch at the same time you’re fucking my hand. Either we’re fighting or we’re fucking. Pick one. Jesus.”
“I don’t know.” His head falls back against the ground with a heavy thud. “We’re pretty good at both, apparently. God, your hand feel so g—”
“Shut the fuck up,” you hiss.
“Sorry! Sorry.”
Another firework shrieks into the sky, exploding in a loud pop, and showering you both in a flash of red. It lights up Steve’s body, illuminating the scars along his side. Long jagged things, carved deep under his ribs.
You can’t help but remember the panic that seized you when the Demobats descended on him. You’ll never forget the sickening horror that coursed through your body when you looked over to see him pale and shaking, dripping in blood.
You swallow hard. Then, as if pulled by some invisible string, you lower your head and brush your mouth against his skin. His core muscles flex at the soft glide of your tongue on his belly, but he tenses as your lips trace his scar line.
“Don’t—” he rasps. Suddenly, his hand flies down and tugs your chin away.
“What?” You whisper against his skin, a little teasing. But when you flick your eyes up to his, he looks away, raking a hand through his hair. Your hand slows around his cock and you frown. A thread of anxiety coils in your gut.
“What?” you repeat. “I was there, too, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.” He lets out a short laugh, but the warmth is gone from his voice. “I just—really don’t want to be reminded of that right now.”
You pull back, hands falling away from him instantly.
Another bottle rocket screams, punctuating the heavy beat of silence that follows. Steve notices the shift in you, the way your body locks up in hesitation.
Sighing heavily, he raises his palms to his face and digs them into his eyes.
“Sorry, I’m—that was fucked up. I’m sorry.”
You sit back on your heels, suddenly unsure, and your eyes drop to the ground.
He combs through his hair again roughly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I was just…there’s a kid here that reminds me of a little Eddie, and the scars—”
You smile softly. “Reed, right? I’ve been thinking the same thing all summer.”
“Every time I see those scars, I think about the bats, and then I think about losing Eddie, and then with you here—” He gestures towards you and he trails off.
You don’t need him to finish the thought, though. You can see it in the way his chest heaves, and the slight crack in his voice.
With a sigh, you settle down onto the ground beside him. He shuffles wordlessly, giving you room to lay on the other half of his sleeping bag.
“It’s okay, Steve. This is how it always was for us. Just—two people trying to get through it, you know? To feel something again.”
“Oh yeah? Is that all were?” His voice is deeper now. Huskier. It makes a lump build in your throat. “Was that all it was for you?”
You watch the light show fall across the tent ceiling together, muted little orbs glowing through the fabric.
“No,” you say softly. “But everything hits me at once sometimes, too, you know. And when that happens...fuck, I just need you. And that feeling…” The words fizzle out and fall like the embers in the sky, and your hand reaches up to clutch at your chest—like it would be easier just to rip out your heart and show him.
Steve hesitates, swallowing hard. “It’s not…bad, right? That feeling?”
“No, Steve. It’s not bad.”
A quiet moment passes, then he blows out a breath. “At college, they have these therapists. Robin dragged me to a session once, so I went.” You turn your head to look at him, but he keeps his eyes above. “I was scared, like, what if they didn’t believe me, you know? And, well, I’m not sure if Dr. Treya really believes me, but that doesn’t seem to matter much. She treats it all like it’s true, anyway.”
There’s a loud squeal of a bottle rocket, then laughter somewhere in the distance.
“I’m sorry we fought the last few weeks,” you whisper. “I was angry. But mostly just hurt. By last summer.”
Steve sits up a little at that, his strong arm bracing his torso as he looks down at you. “And you had every right to be,” he says. “I was a coward for leaving like I did. I got scared, I think. But, I’m getting better. At least, Robin says I am.”
You chuckle. “I’m sure she’s right.”
“But I am sorry, too. For that, and for…just for everything.”
You gaze up at him, and the urge to cup his face and bring his lips down to yours grips you by the spine. But Steve lays back down next to you before you can say anything.
“I’m proud of you for going to see a counselor,” you say into the dark after a long moment. “Does it help?”
“Yeah.” He swallows. “But I wish there was something I could do, too, you know? Other than just talk about it.”
He takes the world upon his shoulders, this boy.
He deserves to know that, at the end of the day, someone has him. Someone wants him. Not just for what he can give, but for who he is. He’s been pushing you away because you had that for him, and he didn’t know how to accept it. Until recently.
You see that now.
His bare arm is so warm against yours. You follow it down with your fingers until you find his hand, threading your fingers through his.
“Steve, you’ve already done so much. For everyone.”
His hand practically swallows yours. Long fingers, with blunt tips. They just remind you of all the ways he’s used them to pull orgasms from your body, one after the other.
All he does is give, give, give. Even when you give him hell all summer, fuck, he gives that right back.
Your hair whispers against the sleeping bag as you turn to look at him. His brown eyes meet yours, and his soft exhale ghosts across your cheek.
You search his face for permission, because he already knows what you’re asking. When his expression softens, just enough, you don’t hesitate. Hooking your leg around his waist, you roll on top of him and sit up.
“Let me take care of you,” you say.
He sucks in a breath at the sight of you rising above him, his hand coming to land hot and heavy on your thigh.
Scooting backwards, you lower your mouth to his torso. He hisses, his other hand flying to tangle in your hair. His cock has softened slightly against his hip, but you can fix that with your mouth in no time.
His chest heaves with a shaky breath. “Wait, no. No, baby.”
You suck a soft love bite on his hip before raising your eyes to his. “You don’t want it anymore?”
“No—shit, of course I want it, but—” He snorts, but his hand finds yours and he tries to pull you up. “If we’re going to do this, I want to do it for real. Not to distract each other. Not like we used to. Can…can you do that?”
You nod once. Then again. “Yes. Yes, of course, Steve. I wasn’t—I was just—” your heart slams into your throat. “I still love you.”
A slow, sweet smile spreads across Steve’s face. Your cheeks flush, and you try to squirm away, but Steve squeezes your thigh, urging you to find his eyes again. And when you do, you see that familiar heat is back.
“Good,” he says. “Now we can get down to the real question of what the fuck do you think you’re doing barging into my tent when I’m masturbating, you little brat?”
Heat licks up your spine, and you bite back a grin. “I told you! You were being loud.”
“Yeah, sure, now tell me the real reason.”
“That is the real reason!”
“Don’t lie to me.”
You open your mouth to argue, but his hands clamp down on your hips before you can, and in one smooth motion, he flips you so you’re on your back. Your heart slams against your ribs as he pulls you down under him, his chest rising and falling against yours.
“Just admit it,” he says, a cocky grin twisting his lips right over yours. “You wanted me to lick that pretty pussy for you, didn’t you?”
Your panties dampen instantly, pulsing in anticipation of feeling his mouth on you after so long.
You might have been at each other’s throats for weeks, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t like it. You saw it in his eyes by the campfire and by every rough two-hand touch football game. Every time your face went red and you mouthed off at him he’d just smile and lift his eyebrows as if to say, ‘is that all you got?’ Maybe crook two fingers at you with a cocky tilt of his head, urging you to ‘give me more.’
Well, you could definitely give him more.
“I don’t know, Harrington,” you sigh, tilt your head against the tent floor in mock confusion. “I hardly remember what getting head from you is like.”
His grin turns wicked. Then suddenly, he’s moving—greedy hands tugging at your shorts.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, voice dripping in that mocking tone that always makes you wet. “I thought maybe you’d want me to do that thing my tongue that always—” A whimper escapes your throat and he breaks off mid-sentence with an openmouthed laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
He crawls down your body, taking your shorts and underwear with him, and you gasp when something hard and hot brushes your thigh. Glad to see he’s sporting that erection again. You feel a fleeting disappointment at the fact you haven’t gotten to suck him off yet, but it’s probably better this way, to be honest.
It’s literally impossible to make Steve Harrington be quiet while getting a blowjob—
Without warning, he plunges two fingers deep into your slick channel. Your breath stutters, hips bucking into his palm on instinct. He groans out loud, but you’re too blissed out by the stretch that you can’t even get onto him for it.
Lungs seizing, heart pounding, you squirm on the slippery fabric of his sleeping bag, trying to get even closer. Your nipples harden against your T-shirt, begging for his touch. For more of him.
You peek down your body just in time to see his head disappear between your thighs, and then his mouth is on you. God, his tongue is so warm and wet against your clit, and his skillful fingers stroke you just right. In and out, then curling into the spongey spot inside that has your mouth dropping open.
“Missed those sounds you make,” he says, voice muffled against your pussy.
Shit.
You hadn’t even realized you were making noise. You dig your knee into his side in retaliation and he chuckles, squirming away before diving in again.
He licks messy, broad strokes, tasting you on purpose, getting you all over his tongue. When you grind up into his face he grabs you by the hips and moves with you, following your every wriggle and writhe.
Yep, his mouth still makes the world feel dull, reducing your hearing to the whoosh of your heartbeat in your ears as everything else just fades away into mind numbing bliss—
“Shut up,” Steve says, pulls back from you with a wicked grin. His face is covered in your arousal, glinting in the firework light, and the sight makes you clench around his fingers. “Seriously, shut up if you don’t want them to hear you.”
“Wha—Steve!” You whine, canting your hips up into his mouth again as he lowers himself back down to you. “H-help.”
He shrugs. “I’m not the one who gives a shit if they hear.”
The vibrations of his voice against your clit rips a moan from your throat, unbidden, and your lips cinch together. Your hand flies to your hip, finding his fingers there. You try to pull his hand up but he shakes off your touch, holding onto your waist and puling you roughly against his tongue.
You whine in protest, and go to pull on his hand again, but that’s a mistake.
He brings his palm down to your inner thigh with a sharp smack that has your back arching off the ground, your eyes narrowing in warning.
“Cover your own mouth, sweetheart, fuck,” he chuckles, giving your clit a soothing series of licks. “I’m busy.”
“Fuck you,” you whisper, but it quickly turns into a needy whine when he sucks the swollen nub into his mouth.
Steve continues to stretch you out on his fingers, murmuring dirty things into your pussy as he does. How sweet you taste. How tightly you’re squeezing his fingers. But you barely hear any of it.
You’re so wet—both from his mouth and your arousal—that your inner thighs slick together when you try to squeeze them. He yanks your legs apart again, and you’re powerless to stop him because the pads of his fingers are dragging out tendrils of pleasure from your spine you haven’t felt in a year.
Thankfully, the fireworks seem to be reaching a peak outside— loud bangs and pops going off every few seconds help drown out the sounds of your needy pussy and blissed-out sighs. Because frankly, you don’t have the brain power to think about anything except how desperately you need him inside you.
You whimper again accidentally. “Steve—”
“Okay, baby,” he replies instantly, knowing what you need by the tone in your voice alone. His fingers slip out and he rises up over you, your knees falling open eagerly as he lines himself up.
When he notches the tip of his cock at your entrance, your cunt greedily sucks him in. He gasps, hips bucking forward instinctively, and neither one of you are able to stop the mixed groans that ensue from finally, finally being connected like this again after so long.
Big hands scramble for a hold on your waist, blunt nails pinching your skin as he drags himself back, then forth, slamming up into you with a depth that makes you sob.
“Still fuckin’ made for me,” he groans. “Goddamnit.”
You’re panting, arms wrapped around his shoulders, biting the skin of your forearm to keep from moaning as his hips roll slow and deliberate.
“Good girl,” he praises, and you shudder, feeling the ache grow sharper. “Staying so quiet, look at you. You can’t ask me to be silent when you come around me, okay? Fuck—that’s like being tortured all over again.”
You shoot him a withering look even as you writhe underneath him. “That’s not funny.”
He laughs, and his silhouette shifts over you, his cock driving deeper and hitting that spot inside you that makes you see sparks that aren’t there. “Sorry, sweetheart. I just—oh yeah, grind that clit into me. That’s it.”
Your hands rake through his hair, desperately trying to hold onto something. But the force behind his thrusts causes you to pull on the strands, and, well, that was a mistake.
His teeth sink into the skin of your shoulder in order to stay somewhat quiet, and oh—fuck. How could you have forgotten what pulling his hair does to him? Stars burst behind your eyes as the fireworks crackle overhead, and the tension between your hips coils tighter.
“Fuck—Steve,” you gush. “Please.”
“What do you need?” He rasps against your throat, sucking and biting. “I’m all yours.”
Little tremors course though your legs as your orgasm builds, the swollen head of his cock nudging those spots deep inside that ache for him.
Only him.
“You need me to kiss you?” he says, breath hot in your ear. “Need me to shut you up?”
You nod frantically.
“Go on, ask me for it.”
You whimper, too far gone to play the game anymore. “Kiss me, Stevie. Please, please—”
“Fuck,” Steve groans at the nickname he hasn’t heard in so long, and instantly lowers his mouth to yours.
The first brush of his lips against yours makes you want to cry.
“Missed you, baby,” he says, then kisses you deeper, his tongue dipping into your mouth and swirling with yours. “So much. Missed kissing you. Missed talking with you.” He hesitates, pulling back slightly before planting one soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Missed loving you. But I guess I never really stopped, did I?”
Your eyes connect for one heartbreaking, devestatingly sweet second before you pull him back down, pouring your love for him into the gentle, yet desperate stroke of your tongue against his.
Feeling you kiss him like that snaps something deep inside him.
Your inner muscles clamps down around him as his thrusts turn messy and hard, and his hands run over your shoulders, your breasts, your hips, pulling your body back down to meet his every thrust.
The pleasure builds to an insurmountable level as he rips your shirt up to capture your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and making you want to scream.
You flatten your palm over your lips, whimpering through the gaps in your fingers over and over, squeezing your eyes shut as Steve pushes you higher and higher until finally—you’re falling.
Your teeth bite into your fingers hard to muffle your moans as your pussy clenches down like a vice on Steve’s cock rhythmically, your orgasm rushing through you.
He lets out a choked sound above you, and with the way his chest falls in a sequence of familiar pants, you know he’s close. Through the pleasured haze, your other hand flies to cover his mouth just in time for his orgasm to hit.
“Mmhmm, mhhhmm.” Steve whines loudly, as his body tenses, and his cock twitches inside you. And you have no choice but to shove your fingers inside his lips, forcing him to suck on them as he reaches his peak. His eyes roll back as he bullies his cock against your cervix, painting your walls with his come, even as his tongue strokes your knuckles tenderly and reverently.
It takes awhile for the both of you to come back down to earth, but eventually, you let your fingers fall from his mouth and he laughs breathlessly, dipping to give you one last slow kiss before slipping out of you.
He fumbles around for his T-shirt in the darkness and then cleans you up with care, which makes your heart twist. Once he’s done, he settles on his side, and pulls you into him, your back pressed to his chest. You burrow into him, his arm settling around you, and it’s amazing how quickly your lashes start to fall, wrapped up in this familiar comfort.
“So…truce?” Steve whispers into the crook of your shoulder. You laugh softly.
Even under a hazardously leaning tent, and a sky littered with mini explosions, the world seems a little less dark right now. The past, a little less heavy.
Maybe it’s because neither of you are running away from it, anymore. But rather, facing it. Together.
And because you know, without a shadow of a doubt, Steve Harrington’s heartbeat will always be in your future.
“Truce.”
a/n: the tent definitely collapses on top of them five minutes later, by the way. also, my idea originally was not nearly as angsty, but don’t you just love it when characters highjack your story? god, the fics always turn out so much better that way.
steve masterlist | cutie banner by @cursed-carmine
SO. LET'S DEEPDIVE INTO THIS ONE. @graywrenhart your writing feels like a shock to the brain i swear to god. i actually need to make a list of all the things i loved about this.
bear with me.
the sarcasm. the tension. THE COLORS. OF. THE FIREWORKS. the hands. the MOCKING ???? MAKING HIM SHUT UP ???? and he goes to therapy. oh my heart.
Every time your face went red and you mouthed off at him he’d just smile and lift his eyebrows as if to say, ‘is that all you got?’ Maybe crook two fingers at you with a cocky tilt of his head, urging you to ‘give me more.’
THIS. RIGHT HERE. I GASPED. THE SMUGNESS. STEVEN HARRINGTON.
⋆˚꩜｡SUMMARY: you walk in on steve pleasuring himself in the bathroom
⋆˚꩜｡TAGS: no y/n, steve x reader, reader insert, college setting, desperate!steve, nervous!reader
⋆˚꩜｡TW: NSFW 18+ content, minors do not interact!! | male masterbation, voyeurism, hand job, praise, multiple orgasms, a tiny bit of overstim
⋆˚꩜｡WC: 1.8k
⋆˚꩜｡A/N: for my djoups<3 this is based on a dream i had in 2023:) enjoy!!
It was a typical Tuesday night. Nearing around 11pm. You sighed, treading down the hall, back towards where your dorm is. Your slippers lazily scraped across the floor, not being bothered enough to fully pick up your feet with each step. You held your towel in one hand, drying your hair as you walked, humming a quiet tune to yourself. The other hand held your overflowing shower caddy.
You preferred showering late at night. The bathrooms were quiet. You were able to actually take your time, not having to rush through your routine.
As you turned the corner you noticed the door to the men’s bathroom was cracked, a soft warm light shining through. You didn’t think anything of it. As you got closer you could hear faint noises coming from inside. You ignored it, too tired to care. Just as you were about to pass it, the sound of muffled moans stopped you in your tracks.
Keep walking. Keep walking.
Your feet betrayed you and began stepping towards the door before you could stop yourself. Your heart began pounding as the noises grew louder the closer you got. You peeked through and what you saw was enough to make your stomach drop.
There stood your best friend, Steve, planted in front of the bathroom mirror. The room was foggy. The air thick and filled with steam from a hot shower. His hair was dripping wet, causing beads of water to fall down to his bare skin and onto the floor.
Your eyes raked down his body. He has one hand on the counter in front of him keeping his balance. His basketball shorts were pulled down in the front just enough so that his other hand could pull and jerk at his aching, leaking cock.
You watch as his head falls back with a quiet moan as he strokes for his own pleasure. The sight has your jaw slacked. Weak. You feel weak. You know this is wrong. You shouldn’t be standing here watching him. Watching your best friend in such a vulnerable state.
And yet, your feet don’t move. They don’t even try. Your stomach tightens. You feel yourself squeezing your legs together to try and subside that stupid annoying feeling that’s happening inside you.
You always knew Steve was good looking. You’re not blind. But you never actually thought about him like this.
You don’t actually know how you never looked at him like this before. I mean…jesus. It was like you were in a trance. His wet hair, the way his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes shut tight. The way his stomach was twitching from the sensations he was causing himself. The occasional flex of his bicep while he jerked himself off.
His hand moved at a steady pace. You almost fell to your knees when he let out a quiet soft whimper of a moan as he worked higher towards his tip.
Oh my god.
Then of course. The universe decided to play its own version of a sick joke on you. Before you could react or even register what was happening, your shower caddy decided right now was the perfect time to finally give out. All of your shower products flew out of the basket and onto the floor with a loud bang.
Steve’s head whipped towards the sudden noise, his eyes immediately finding you. You froze. You looked at all the bottles on the floor and then back at him. Then back at the bottles….then back at him again. What exactly are you supposed to do in this situation?
“I—um—I—sorry I was just—“ you stumble over your words, unable to find anything to say that could possibly make this situation better. You look anywhere but at him, too humiliated to even glance in his direction. “I um…I’m sorry. I didn’t see—“
“Shh, hey it’s okay.” he finally spoke. You were terrified. What he said next was the opposite of what you expected. “Can you help me?” he asked.
Your breathing hitched. You almost choked on your own spit, your body tensing immediately. It’s almost like the world was put on mute. All you can hear is the deep drum of your heart beat. A shiver runs down your spine and you can literally feel your throat close up, struggling to get any words out.
What the fuck? What the actual fuck is going on?
You should leave. You should grab your things off the floor and lock yourself in your room and never come out again. Maybe even transfer schools and forget this ever happened.
That’s not what you do though. Instead, without even realizing it, you find yourself nodding your head to his question.
He speaks again, “C’mere.” His voice was quiet and soft. It was laced with traces of need and want. Maybe even some desperation.
You exhale shakily, setting down the rest of your things. You slowly step into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. He watches you carefully, as you start to inch towards him nervously.
“I—How do you want—?”
“Get behind me. Can you do that for me? Please?”
Normally you’d be embarrassed by how fast you complied. But right now you couldn’t care less. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire and that’s all you can focus on. Along with the ache between your thighs.
You swallowed hard, your throat feeling dry and heavy. He could see the nerves in your body language. Feeling it radiating off of you.
“Hey, s’okay. I got you.” he looked at you through the fogged mirror, unable to make out any features. “S’just me, mkay? Your best friend. Your Steve.” He reached behind himself, grabbing your hand and rubbing it gently. An attempt to calm your nerves. “Need your help so bad. Would you be a good friend and help me?”
You nod, nervously. You lift your hands to his shoulders, letting them trace gently down his arms all the way to his wrists. Your movements are slow and unsure. You feel him shiver underneath your touch, only to melt into it once your hands find their way to his bare chest. Your fingers gliding over top of his chest hair.
The second he melted into your touch it was like all nervousness left your body. Without a second thought you leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder. He exhaled in pleasure, biting his lip to stifle a moan when your hands rubbed up and down his body.
“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for so long. ‘Bout you.” he spoke through deep breaths.
The heat in your stomach only grew at his words. The fresh panties you were wearing were certainly growing wetter by the second.
You pulled your arms back, causing him to frown. The sound of you spitting in your hand quickly replaced that frown with a lazy smile. Your left hand wrapped around his torso, running up and down his chest while your other hand found its way to his aching cock.
He hissed the second you grabbed onto him, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. Your hand finally began to move up and down his length. You started off slow, teasing, pulling a quiet “fuck” from his lips.
Your free hand roamed all over his chest and stomach, wanting to feel every inch you could reach. Keeping your movements slow, you placed a trail of kisses all over his upper back, causing a deep exhale to escape his lips. You squeezed slightly tighter, a real moan finally coming out.
Music to your ears.
It was right then that you stopped holding back. All you wanted was to hear that sound over and over again. The sound of your best friend completely at your mercy. Weak over your touch.
You picked up your pace, your hand moving up and down in a corkscrew motion. His head fell backwards, landing on your shoulder. The bathroom was quickly filled with sounds of his erratic moans and the sound of you jerking him off.
“Doin’ so good—fuck—makin’ me feel so good.” he spoke in between moans.
“Yeah?” you smiled, watching his face scrunch tight through the mirror in front of you two.
You kept a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. His noises and little twitches encouraging you to finally ask what’s been on your mind since he said it. “You said you’ve been thinking about this? You and me?”
“Mhm, ahh fuck.” he leaned into your touch, trying to steady himself. “You came over one day—shit go faster. Please, please go faster.” a loud moan rippled through the bathroom. “You were wearing that one skirt—“
Before he could finish his sentence, your hand reached the top of his shaft, right underneath his tip. He jolted in your hands, a literal whimper escaping from his mouth.
Your lips immediately quirked up into a wide smile, knowing you’d just found his spot. “That feel good?” you ask, keeping your movements focused on that one spot.
“Ahh—fffuck yes.”
“The skirt. Tell me about the skirt.”
“The short black one—“ he struggled to talk coherently, his breathing growing heavier as he reached his climax. “—you came over wearing it. Dropped your keys—m’so close.”
“I know, I know. Deep breaths, you can do it. Keep tellin’ me.”
“Y-you bent over to pick em up. Your little pink panties on complete display f’me.”
Your face reddened. You don’t even remember that.
“Ever since then, been wanting to get my hands on you.”
His words made your knees weak. Like actually weak. You suddenly felt like jelly. Your core clenching around nothing, begging for some kind of relief.
Your arm was burning but that didn’t stop you from going faster, determined to get him to his release.
After a few more moans and curses, Steve threw his head back once again, landing on your shoulder. A loud, breathless moan ripped through him as his come shot all over your hand and his stomach. But you didn’t stop there. You kept your movements going up to his tip, wanting to hear those whimpers from earlier.
He cried out, knees buckling. You stepped back, his sudden body weight almost knocking the both of you over. You didn’t dare stop.
“Ahh fuck I can’t—“ he whined loudly.
You paid extra close attention to where his shaft and tip met, rubbing up and down in tiny movements. He was putty in your hands. He tried to talk but nothing coherent could come out. The overstimulation too much.
Only when a second orgasm ripped through him did you finally stop. He was completely and utterly spent. His chest heaved, struggling to catch his breath.
You released him from your grasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth. He turned around and watched with awe as you licked his come off each of your fingers until your hand was clean.
With wide eyes and dilated pupils he finally spoke, “Jesus fucking christ.”
You smiled. Before you could say anything he grabbed you by your waist, pulling you close. “C’mere, it’s your turn.”
pairing: steve harrington x reader (w.c. 6.3k)
summary: after months of chemistry with steve, the whole group suspects there's more between you two. specially nancy, who keeps pushing the truth. you deny it, claming you're just close. until she walks in and catches you together doing more than ''just friends'' things.
warnings: porn with plot, +18 (minors do not interact), explicit nsfw, big dick steve, praise kink, fingering, unprotected sex, almost creampie, dirty talk, getting caught, secret situationship, mutual masturbation, p in v, oral sex (f & m receiving), dryhumping, jealousy behavior.
author's note: hii petition requested here :3 hope u like it n please be patient about the others one pls! love yall
you knew steve harrington for what felt like forever now.
it all started back when dustin first dragged him into your orbit after the chaotic demodog incident.
at first, steve was just your annoyingly popular friend; the former king of hawkins high who somehow ended up babysitting a bunch of kids and fighting monsters alongside them.
but over time, that reluctant acquaintance changed into something much deeper.
steve became one of the most important people in your life.
he was the person you called when you couldn’t sleep.
the one who remembered your favorite snacks after a rough day.
the only one who could make you laugh even when the weight of the upside down felt crushing.
the two of you shared an effortless closeness that went far beyond normal friendship.
you spent countless nights talking in his car, shoulders brushing, exchanging quiet confessions under dim streetlights.
he knew your fears, your dreams, and the way you liked your drinks.
you knew his insecurities, his regrets, and the parts of him he hid from the rest of the world.
and yet… you weren’t together.
not officially.
there were no labels, no dates and no promises.
just a deep, tender bond that everyone around you seemed to notice except the two of you.
or at least, that’s what you told yourselves.
steve had been completely honest with you about nancy.
one quiet evening, months after their breakup, he told you everything; the good moments. the painful fights, the way he had failed her, and how much it hurt when things ended.
he spoke openly about his guilt and the lingering sadness, but he also made it clear that he had moved on.
the feelings were no longer romantic; they were just memories now.
still, he trusted you enough to lay it all bare, something he rarely did with anyone else.
you listened without judgment, and that night only pulled you two closer.
robin, of course, found the whole thing endlessly entertaining.
she never missed a chance to tease you both.
whenever she caught steve staring at you a little too long or noticed how his hand instinctively rested on your lower back when you walked together.
“you two are so gone for each other it’s actually painful to watch.” she’d smirk and say.
she loved poking at steve specifically, grinning.
“just admit you like her. the way you look at her is embarrassing. even the kids have noticed.”
steve would roll his eyes, cheeks slightly pink.
“shut up,” but he never actually denied it.
after that, you became close friends with nancy and Robin.
or that’s what you thought.
one crisp afternoon, the three of you –you, nancy, and robin– were walking through the woods. you were supposed to be gathering information about some gates, but the conversation drifted into more personal territory.
steve was a little further ahead, scouting with eddie, but every so often he would glance back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you almost instinctively.
he’d give you that soft familiar half-smile before turning his attention back to the trail.
and nancy noticed it immediately. she let out a small bitter-sounding laugh as she pushed a branch out of her way.
‘’god, look at him. he can’t even go five minutes without checking on you.’’
you looked at her, thinking the words to talk.
‘’it’s actually kind of impressive how attentive he is… when he wants to be.’’ nancy continued.
robin raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, sensing the shit in tone. nancy continued again, her voice was sweet but laced with something sharper.
‘’must be nice having someone glued to you at these days.’’
you felt heat rise your cheeks. laughing nervously, you shook your head and tried to brush it off.
‘’oh, come on, nancy. it’s not like that,’’ you said quickly, forcing a smile. ‘’steve’s just… protective of everyone. he’s not that attentive with me specially. we’re just close friends, that’s all.’’
nancy turned her head to look at you, her expression unreadable but her smile thin.
‘’right,’’ she replied, the word dripping with disbelief. ‘’just friends. of course.’’
she looked forward again, eyes landing on steve’s distant figure as he once more glanced back toward your group.
towards you.
robin cleared her throat, trying to cut through the tension, but the damage was already done.
you swallowed hard, heart racing, and kept walking in silence, painfully aware of steve’s eyes still lingering on you from afar.
that same evening at the wheeler house, the group was crowded around the large dining table covered in maps, newspapers clipping, and half-empty mugs of coffee.
steve stood directly behind you, his tall frame leaning over your shoulder as he pointed at a particular route on the map.
his chest pressed warmly against your back, and one of his hands settled naturally on your waist, his fingers splaying possessively over the fabric oof your shirt.
the touch was innocent enough to anyone glancing over. but the way his thumb began to move –slow, deliberate circles against your side– was anything but.
you felt his breath ghost over the side of your neck when he spoke.
a low and intimate voice.
‘’right here,’’ he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. ‘’this is where we need to be careful.’’
your breath hitched. without meaning to, you leaned back into him, your hips pressing subtly against his front.
steve’s grip tightened instantly, pulling you closer for just a second.
the heat between your bodies was undeniable.
his fingers flexed against your waist, and you could feel the tension in his arm, like he was fighting the urge to do more.
the air around you felt thick, charged with something heavy and unspoken.
steve’s other hand brushed against yours on the table, lingering far longer than necessary, his pinky slowly tracing the side of your hand.
you bit your lip, trying to focus on the map while your heart hammered in your chest.
from across the table, robin smirked but stayed quiet.
nancy, however, watched the entire interaction with narrowed eyes, her pen frozen in her hand.
eddie, never one to hold back, groaned loudly and threw his head back in exaggerated disgust.
‘’oh my god, seriously? can you two stop eye-fucking each other for five minutes? we’re trying to plan how not to die and you’re over here practically dry-humping each other in front of everyone!’’
he waved his hands dramatically.
steve didn’t move away immediately.
instead, he let out a low chuckle. his hand gave your waist one last possessive squeeze before he finally straightened up.
but the heated look he gave you over your shoulder made it very clever this moment was far from over.
you felt your cheeks burning as you avoided nancy’s sharp gaze.
but she said nothing.
after the group finally finished planning their strategy to confront vecna, everyone slowly dispersed.
leaving you and steve completely alone in the dining room.
the tension in the air was immediate and thick.
steve leaned back against the table, his arms crossed over his chest while he watched you with that cocky little smirk.
‘’so…’’ he started, giving you a low voice full of sarcasm. ‘’you gonna keep pretending in front of nancy that you aren’t completely obsessed with me? or are we still playing the game?’’
you turned to face him, trying to keep your expression neutral even though your heart was racing.
‘’you’re the one who can’t keep his hands off me in front of everyone,’’ you shot back, raising an eyebrown. ‘’real subtle, harrington.’’
steve let a low chuckle and pushed off the table, slowly stalking toward you.
‘’oh, i’m sorry. was i being too obvious when you were practically pushing your ass back against me earlier?’’ he stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell his cologne. “don’t act like you didn’t love it.”
you rolled your eyes, even as heat crawled up your neck.
“you’re so full of yourself.”
“and you,” he said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingering on your jaw, “are a terrible liar.”
his thumb brushed slowly over your cheek.
‘’you’ve been looking at me the same way i’ve been looking at you all day. don’t think i didn’t notice.”
the tension between you was electric.
steve’s eyes dropped to your lips.
then back up to your eyes.
he looked at you hungry.
‘’you drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured. “acting all innocent in front of the others while you know exactly what you do to me.”
your breath hitched.
“maybe you just need better self-control.”
steve smirked, stepping even closer until your bodies were nearly touching.
“or maybe you should stop pretending you don’t want me to lose it.”
for a second, you both just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken desire.
then steve cupped your face with both hands and kissed you.
it was deep and urgent from the start.
you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers sliding into his hair and tugging.
steve groaned softly against your mouth, one hand dropping to your waist to pull you flush against him.
the kiss grew hotter, tongues meeting, bodies pressed together against the table as weeks of hidden tension finally spilled over.
‘’fuck… i hate hiding this,” steve whispered with husky voice.
before you could respond, the door swung open.
“oh, for the love of god—” robin stood there, holding two mugs of coffee, eyes wide. “again?! i can’t leave you two alone for five minutes without you attacking each other!”
the next day, you, robin, and nancy spent the afternoon at the hawkins public library.
you three were tucked away in a quiet corner surrounded by stacks of old newspapers, town history books, and anything that might give you new information about vecna.
for a while, the conversation stayed focused on research.
but eventually, nancy closed the book in front of her with a soft thud and looked directly at you.
“so… are you and steve actually together?” she asked, her voice calm but pointed.
you felt your stomach drop.
robin glanced up from her notes but said nothing, choosing to stay silent for now.
nancy leaned forward slightly, continuing before you could answer.
“because the tension between you two is impossible to ignore. it doesn’t look like friendship. it looks like something more.”
you shook your head quickly, forcing a nervous smile.
“no, nancy. we’re not together. i promise. steve and i are just really close friends. that’s all.”
nancy let out a small sigh, tilting her head as she studied you.
“look, i know steve. i dated him for a long time, remember? i know exactly how he acts when he’s into someone. it’s kind of his thing when he’s flirting.” she paused for a moment, then added, “and honestly? it’s fine. it doesn’t bother me. steve and i are friends now. i’ve moved on.”
you felt your cheeks heat up. you shook your head again, more firmly this time.
“no, really. we’re not like that. we trust each other. there’s nothing romantic going on.”
nancy gave you a small, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“of course,” she said softly, her voice sweet but edged with something sharper. “you two are just… very close. i understand. it’s sweet, really.”
the comment hung in the air, light enough to seem innocent, but pointed enough to sting.
you couldn’t hold back anymore.
“nancy… are you jealous?”
the question slipped out before you could stop it. robin’s head snapped up from her notes, eyes widening slightly.
nancy blinked, clearly caught off guard, but she recovered quickly with a soft laugh.
“jealous? no, i’m not—”
before she could finish, robin cleared her throat loudly and interrupted.
“okay, ladies, as fun as this is, we should probably get back to investigating,” she said, tapping the newspaper in front of her. “vecna isn’t going to defeat himself, and we’re running out of daylight.”
nancy pressed her lips together for a second, then nodded.
“you’re right,” she said, standing up and smoothing her sweater. “i’ll go check the history section on the second floor. maybe there’s something useful there.”
she gave you one last lingering look before walking away toward the stairs.
the moment nancy disappeared between the shelves, robin turned to you with a knowing smirk.
“alright. she’s gone,” robin said, leaning closer. “i know there’s something going on between you and steve. and before you try to deny it again — i’ve literally walked in on you two making out. twice.”
she raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“so… how long has this been going on?”
you let out a long sigh, glancing around to make sure nancy was still out of earshot.
“a few weeks,” you admitted quietly. “it just… happened. we’re not officially together or anything. it’s kind of a mess, honestly.”
robin nodded slowly, a small smirk on her face.
“i figured. you two have been acting weird for a while. it was only a matter of time. just be careful, okay?”
you smiled weakly.
“yeah… i know.”
the rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of research.
when you finally got home that night, you were exhausted. you had just changed into your pajamas when the phone rang.
without thinking, you picked it up.
“hello?” a familiar low chuckle came through the line.
“hey, baby… it’s me.” you smiled, lying back on your bed.
“steve. i didn’t know it was you.”
“yeah, i figured,” he said, voice warm. “how was the library? did you find anything useful, or was nancy giving you a hard time?”
you let out a soft laugh.
“a bit of both. we found some old records that might help with vecna, but nancy kept pushing about us again. she’s convinced we’re together.”
steve hummed.
“let her think what she wants.” hs tone shifted, becoming slower and deeper. then the quiet was made, until he talked again. “i miss you. been thinking about you nonstop since yesterday.”
“i miss you too,” you whispered.
steve’s voice dropped even lower.
“yeah? i keep thinking about that kiss… how you pulled me closer. fuck, i wanted to lift you onto that table and take my time with you right there.”
your breath caught. heat spread through your body as you squeezed your thighs together instinctively.
your free hand rested on your stomach, fingers twitching as you fought the urge to slide them lower.
“steve…” you breathed, voice shaky.
“i’ve been all day remembering how you sound when you’re turned on,” he continued, husky and teasing. “i want you so bad, baby. i want to kiss down your neck, push your legs apart and—”
your fingers hovered just at the waistband of your pajama shorts, heart racing, breath coming faster.
you were so close to giving in—
“honey!” your big sister’s voice suddenly echoed from downstairs. “dinner’s ready! come down before it gets cold!”
you froze, letting out a frustrated sigh as you pulled your hand away.
“shit… i have to go,” you whispered, cheeks burning. “my sister’s calling me for dinner.”
steve groaned deeply on the other end.
“worst timing ever. alright… go eat.” he paused, then added with a smirk in his voice, “but tomorrow i’m coming over early.”
the next afternoon, you had just stepped out of the shower, steam still filling your bathroom.
you wrapped a towel tightly around your body and walked into your bedroom, hair damp and skin still warm.
you were supposed to meet up with nancy, robin, eddie, and the rest of the group in less than an hour to go over the final details of the plan against vecna.
you were reaching for your clothes when you heard the familiar sound of your window sliding open.
you jumped, letting out a startled gasp as steve climbed through the window like he used to do back in the day.
he landed quietly on your floor, brushing off his jeans with a smug little smirk.
“jesus christ, steve!” you whisper-yelled, one hand clutching the towel tightly against your chest. “you scared the hell out of me!”
he straightened up, eyes slowly dragging down your body, taking in the sight of you in nothing but a towel.
his smirk deepened.
“sorry, baby,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “couldn’t wait until later.” he took a slow step closer, his eyes dark with heat. “and damn… this is a much better view than i imagined.”
you felt your face heat up as you took a small step back, still gripping the towel.
“steve. i have to get ready. we’re meeting everyone soon and i’m not even dressed.”
he ignored your protest, closing the distance between you until he was right in front of you.
his fingers lightly traced the edge of the towel near your collarbone, not pulling it, just teasing.
“you sure you don’t have five minutes?” he murmured, voice low and flirty. “because you look way too good in just this towel.’’
before you could answer, steve’s hands slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you flush against him.
you didn’t resist.
the second his lips met yours, you melted into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck.
the kiss was hungry from the start.
steve kissed you like he’d been waiting all day, tongue sliding against yours as one of his hands stayed firmly on your waist and the other cupped the back of your neck.
you kissed him back just as eagerly, fingers threading into his hair and tugging lightly, exactly how he liked it.
“fuck, i missed this,” steve breathed against your lips between kisses. “missed tasting you… missed the way you sound when i kiss you like this.”
you let out a soft moan into his mouth as he deepened the kiss again, his tongue exploring yours with slow, heated strokes.
your body pressed tighter against his, the thin towel the only thing between you.
steve walked backwards until he reached your bed and sat down on the edge, never breaking the kiss.
with a gentle but firm tug, he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him.
the towel rode up your thighs as you settled over him, and his hands immediately gripped your hips, holding you in place.
“steve…” you whispered breathlessly, forehead resting against his as you both tried to catch your breath.
he smirked, eyes dark with want, and gave your hips a light squeeze.“What?” he teased, voice rough.
“you said you had to get ready… but you’re not exactly pushing me away, baby.”
you laughed softly, still a little dizzy from the kiss, and leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time.
steve groaned quietly into your mouth, one hand sliding up your back under the edge of the towel while the other stayed firmly on your thigh.
“we really don’t have time,” you murmured against his lips, even as you kissed him once more.
“i know,” he replied, nipping at your bottom lip. “but fuck… you make it really hard to care.”
you kept kissing him deeply, straddling his lap as the kiss grew hotter and messier.
your hips rocked slowly against him without thinking, and steve’s grip on your thigh tightened, pulling you closer.
his tongue moved against yours hungrily, one hand now fully under the towel, caressing the bare skin of your back and waist.
soon you felt him getting hard beneath you.
his cock pressed against your core through his jeans. you smiled against his lips and rolled your hips deliberately, grinding down on the growing bulge.
“mmm… already?” you teased, voice breathy and playful. “i thought you were supposed to behave.”
steve let out a low, strained groan, his hips buckling up slightly to meet your movement.
“you’re the one sitting on my lap in nothing but a towel,” he muttered with a rough arousal voice. “what did you expect?”
you smirked and leaned in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck.
you sucked lightly on the sensitive spot just below his ear, then gently bit down, earning another deep groan from him.
“fuck, baby…” steve hissed, tilting his head to give you better access.
his hands gripped your ass under the towel, squeezing as you continued grinding against his now fully hard cock.
“you’re gonna kill me.”
you kissed and licked along his neck, enjoying the way his breathing got heavier every time you rolled your hips.
“maybe i should stop then…” you whispered teasingly against his skin, even as you pressed down harder against his erection.
“don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, one hand sliding higher up your thigh, dangerously close to where you were both aching for contact.
steve pulled you even tighter against him and captured your mouth in a deep intense kiss.
his hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers threaded into your damp hair as he held you in place, kissing you harder.
his tongue slid against yours with hunger, dominating the kiss completely.
you moaned softly into his mouth and started rocking your hips, grinding slowly but firmly against the hard bulge in his jeans. the friction made you both breathless.
steve groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pushed his hips up to meet every roll of yours.
he kissed you like he was starving, focusing especially on your upper lip — sucking it into his mouth, licking it, biting it gently before soothing it with his tongue.
he kept returning to it over and over, obsessed.
he was pressed so close his nose kept brushing against your cheek and almost poking the corner of your eye with every tilt of his head, but neither of you cared enough to pull away.
“fuck, baby…” he panted between kisses with a rough voice. “you feel so good grinding on me like that.”
you answered by rolling your hips harder, dragging your covered pussy along his clothed cock in slow deliberate movements.
steve’s grip on your neck tightened as he kissed you even deeper, sucking on your upper lip again while his other hand squeezed your ass under the towel, guiding your movements.
the dry humping became more urgent.
the towel had ridden up completely around your waist, and only his jeans separated you now.
every time you rocked forward, his hard length rubbed perfectly against your clit, making you whimper into his mouth.
steve’s nose pressed against the side of your eye again as he angled his head to kiss you even more desperately.
tongue sliding deep.
lips locked on your upper lip like he couldn’t get enough of it.
without warning, steve gripped your hips and flipped you onto your back on the bed.
you gasped as he moved over you, settling his body between your spread legs. the towel had completely fallen open, barely covering anything anymore.
steve leaned down and kissed you hard again, then moved to your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin as he pressed his hard cock against your bare pussy through his jeans.
“fuck, you smell so good,” he groaned against your neck, inhaling deeply. “fresh out of the shower… all warm and soft. i could eat you up right now.”
you whimpered, arching your back and rolling your hips up against him.
“steve… please…”
he lifted his head, eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you.
“please what, baby? use your words. tell me what you want.”
“touch me… please. i need you or your fingers.” your cheeks burned, but the ache between your legs won.
steve smirked, clearly pleased.
“that’s my good girl.” he brought two fingers to your lips. “first, suck.”
you obediently opened your mouth and took his fingers in, sucking them slowly while looking up at him. you swirled your tongue around them, getting them nice and wet.
steve groaned at the sight, his cock twitching against you.
“fuck, look at you…” he muttered, voice thick. “sucking my fingers like you would my cock. so fucking pretty.”
after a few seconds he pulled them out with a wet pop and immediately slid them down between your legs.
he rubbed your soaked pussy slowly, teasing your clit before pushing two thick fingers inside you.
you moaned loudly, back arching off the bed.
“shit, you’re so wet already,” steve breathed, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace. “this pussy is dripping for me. you’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”
“yes…” you gasped, hips moving to meet his fingers. “steve… faster, please.”
he leaned down to kiss you again, sucking on your upper lip while his fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust.
“greedy girl,” he whispered hotly against your mouth. “you want more? want me to make you cum before i fuck you?”
you could only moan in response, nodding desperately as his fingers pumped faster, curling and rubbing against that sensitive spot inside you.
steve kept kissing you deeply, occasionally breaking away to suck and bite your upper lip while his thumb circled your swollen clit.
“that’s it, baby,” he growled against your lips. “fuck my fingers like a good little slut. you’re so fucking wet… i can hear how much this pussy needs me.”
your hips bucked wildly against his hand.
the pleasure built fast and intense until it finally crashed over you.
you came hard around his fingers, back arching off the bed as you cried out his name.
steve didn’t stop, working you through your orgasm with slow, deep strokes until you were trembling and breathless.
he finally pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean while staring down at you with dark eyes.
“delicious,” he murmured.
steve then tugged the towel completely off your body, tossing it aside.
he started kissing down your neck, your collarbones, sucking on your tits and swirling his tongue around your nipples before continuing lower.
he kissed and licked down your stomach, taking his time, until he settled between your legs. he looked up at you, eyes locked with yours as he spread your thighs wider.
without warning, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your soaked pussy.
you arched sharply, a loud moan escaping your lips. steve groaned against you.
“fuck, you taste even better than i remembered.” he buried his face deeper, nose pressing against your clit as he licked and sucked eagerly.
his nose kept brushing and nudging against your sensitive bundle of nerves every time he moved, adding to the overwhelming sensation.
“look at me,” he demanded, glancing up at you while his tongue flicked rapidly over your clit. “i want to see your face while i eat this pretty pussy.”
you could barely keep your eyes open, but you tried, one hand gripping his hair tightly as he devoured you.
steve sucked your clit into his mouth, humming in satisfaction, then pushed his tongue inside you, fucking you with it while his nose continued rubbing against your clit.
“you’re so fucking wet for me,” he groaned between licks. “such a needy little thing… cum on my tongue, baby. i want to feel you falling apart again.”
the combination of his tongue inside you and his nose pressing rhythmically against your swollen clit quickly pushed you over the edge. your legs shook violently around his head as you came with a loud, broken moan, thighs clamping around him.
steve kept licking you through it, savoring every drop until you were a trembling, oversensitive mess.
when he finally pulled back, his lips and chin were shiny..
you were still catching your breath when you pushed yourself up, moving onto your knees in front of him on the bed.
your hands reached eagerly for his belt, fingers working quickly to undo it.
steve watched you with dark, hungry eyes, but just as you started to pull the belt open, he grabbed your wrists gently but firmly, stopping you.
“not yet,” he murmured.
he cupped your face with both hands, tilting your head up.
then he leaned down and kissed you deeply, making sure you could taste yourself on his tongue. the kiss was slow, filthy, and possessive.
you moaned into his mouth as you tasted your own wetness on his lips and tongue.
when he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.
“go ahead, baby,” he whispered, voice rough. “now you can take it out.” he released your wrists, letting you continue.
your hands immediately returned to his belt, unbuckling it with shaky fingers before working on the button and zipper of his jeans.
steve groaned deeply, hips twitching forward into your touch.
“fuck… baby, please,” he rasped. “don’t tease me. i’ve been hard for you since i climbed through that window.”
you smiled up at him, continuing to stroke him slowly over the fabric, feeling him throb under your hand.
steve let out a low desperate sound, his head falling back slightly.
“shit… your hand feels so good. please, just touch it already.”
encouraged by his begging, you finally slipped your hand inside his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his hard cock.
he was hot, heavy, and hard.
you stroked him a few times, your thumb brushing over the leaking tip.
steve moaned, louder this time.
“that’s it… just like that. fuck, your hand—”
you didn’t wait any longer.
you pulled his boxers down, freeing his cock. without hesitation, you leaned forward and took him into your mouth, sucking on the head before sliding down as far as you could.
“fuuuck—” steve groaned, his hand immediately going to the back of your head. “just like that, baby. good girl… sucking my cock so well.”
he gathered your damp hair into a makeshift ponytail, wrapping it around his fist.
you bobbed your head, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling around him as you sucked.
steve’s grip on your hair tightened, guiding your movements as he gently fucked your mouth.
“look at me,” he breathed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “i love watching you with my dick in your mouth.”
his other hand caressed your cheek as you worked him, occasionally pushing a little deeper, making you gag softly around him.
steve’s groans grew louder, his hips moving in shallow thrusts as he held your hair firmly in his fist.
you took him deeper, sucking harder, your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock while your hand stroked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.
steve’s breathing became ragged, his grip on your hair tightening.
“fuck— baby, i’m close,” he warned, voice strained. “gonna cum in that pretty mouth if you keep going like that…” you didn’t pull away.
instead, you moaned around him and sucked harder, looking up at him with watery eyes.
that was all it took. steve let out a deep, guttural groan as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling into your mouth.
“swallow it,” he growled, still holding your hair. “all of it, baby. good girl…”
you swallowed every drop, looking up at him as you did.
steve watched you with pure lust in his eyes, breathing heavily. he pulled you up and kissed you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue, before gently pushing you onto your back.
he settled between your spread legs, his still-hard cock resting heavy against your soaked pussy.
he was very big —thick and long— and he knew it.
steve looked down at you, his eyes dark.
“gonna go slow, okay baby? i don’t want to hurt you.”
he laced his fingers with yours, pinning your hand beside your head, and squeezed gently. then he slowly started pushing inside you.
you gasped as the thick head stretched you open. steve groaned deeply, forehead pressed against yours.
“fuck… so tight,” he breathed, his rough with pleasure voice. “look at you taking my cock so well. such a good girl for me.”
he pushed in another inch, slow and careful, watching your face the entire time.
“that’s it… breathe for me, baby. you’re doing so fucking good. taking every inch like you were made for it.”
you whimpered as he kept sinking deeper, stretching you wide. steve kept whispering praises.
“so fucking pretty when you’re full of me… you feel that? feel how deep i am?” when he finally bottomed out, buried to the hilt inside you, he stayed still, letting you adjust.
he squeezed your hand tighter, fingers still perfectly interlaced with yours.
“you okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, kissing your lips. “you’re so tight around me… gripping my cock so perfectly. i could stay like this forever.”
he started moving then — slow, deep thrusts, rolling his hips carefully as he kissed you again.
“such a good fucking girl,” he praised between thrusts. “taking all of me so well… i’m so proud of you, baby.”
steve kept your fingers tightly interlaced, squeezing your hand as he fucked you.
at first his thrusts were slow and deep, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open. the wet sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked pussy filled the room.
“fuck, Steve…” you moaned, squeezing his hand back. “it feels so big… right there…”
“that’s it, baby,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “right there? you like it when i fuck you deep like this?”
he gradually picked up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. the bed started creaking beneath you.
steve’s grip on your hand tightened as he drove into you with more intensity.
“fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, voice rough. “this pussy was made for my cock. look at you taking every inch like a good little slut.”
without warning, steve pulled out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness.
he grabbed your thighs and easily lifted you up. you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you across the room and pressed you against the desk.
the wood creaked under the impact as he pinned you there. steve lined himself up and pushed back inside you in one slow, deep thrust, groaning loudly at how tight you felt.
“fuck… yes,” he growled against your neck.
he started fucking you against the dresser with slow, intense strokes.
every thrust was powerful and deliberate, his hips rolling deeply into you. the dresser shook with each thrust, the mirror rattling softly behind you.
he started fucking you against the dresser with slow, intense strokes.
every thrust was powerful and deliberate, his hips rolling deeply into you. the table shook with each thrust.
steve kept one hand under your thigh for support while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave marks.
he buried his face in your neck, sucking and biting as he fucked you passionately.
“you feel so fucking good like this,” he groaned, voice low and rough. “pressed against the desk… taking my cock so deep. such a perfect little fucktoy for me.”
you moaned loudly, nails digging into his shoulders.
“steve… oh god, it’s so deep—”
he growled in response and picked up the rhythm slightly, still keeping each thrust slow and intense, making sure you felt every single inch.
the angle was perfect, his cock hitting that sensitive spot inside you with every roll of his hips.
“look at me, baby,” he demanded, forehead pressed against yours. “i want to see your face while i fuck you like this.”
you kept your eyes on his, moaning with every deep, powerful thrust.
steve fucked you harder against the dresser, his hips snapping forward as he chased his pleasure.
his grip on your thigh was almost bruising, the other hand still holding yours tightly.
“fuck, i’m so close,” he groaned, voice strained. “you’re gonna make me cum so hard, baby…”
you were both right on the edge when the bedroom door suddenly swung open.
nancy stood there, eyes wide with shock.
for a second, everything froze.
steve was buried deep inside you, your legs wrapped around his waist, both of you completely naked and sweaty.
nancy’s mouth fell open.
“what the—?!” she gasped, her face turning bright red. “oh my god!” she immediately turned around and slammed the door shut behind her, but not before muttering a stunned “what the fuck…”
steve groaned in frustration, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
“shit…”
you were both breathing hard, hearts racing.
he slowly pulled out of you, setting you down on shaky legs.
your knees nearly gave out, but he caught you, holding you against his chest for a moment.
“we have to get dressed,” you whispered urgently, still flushed and trembling. “they’re probably all waiting for us.”
steve nodded, kissing you quickly on the forehead. “yeah… fuck. bad timing.’’
you both rushed to get dressed — you throwing on whatever clothes you could find, steve pulling up his jeans and fixing his shirt.
the air was thick with frustration and leftover arousal.
once you were both decent, you took a deep breath and opened the door.
steve followed right behind you.
the moment you stepped into the hallway, the atmosphere shifted.
nancy was standing a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
her face was still flushed with embarrassment, but now it was mixed with clear annoyance and discomfort.
she looked at both of you, her jaw tight.
“everyone’s waiting in the living room,” she said, her voice colder than usual. “we’ve been ready for twenty minutes.”
her eyes flicked between you and steve, lingering a second longer on him.
steve cleared his throat, trying to sound casual.
“yeah, sorry about that. we… got distracted.”
nancy let out a sharp humorless laugh.
“distracted. right.” she looked at you again, her expression unreadable. “you might want to fix your hair before we go. it’s a mess.”
How do you feel about maybe free use with high!steve….🤤🤤🤤
contents: high!steve, sober!reader; free use; SEX :0; hung!steve; breast play; mention of oral (steve receiving); mention of cockwarming; steve catches feelings bc ofc; a little bit of angst but it’s ok i prommy…
oh BABY.
steve calls you sometimes at odd hours of the day. the conversation starts out innocently enough, if not a little awkward, until he finally ends up segueing.
“i, uh, was going to smoke a little. if you want to come over.”
which isn’t an invitation to share a joint.
steve’s a good guy, and when you offered to help him relieve his stress even further by letting him use you however he wants, you really did mean it. the only stipulation he asked for was that it only happened if he was stoned, because that somehow made it less weird.
this time, steve’s had a bad week. which seems to be a little bit more like a bad month. keith has him working ridiculous hours, and robin keeps bailing on her shifts to hang out with vicky. his car battery won’t keep a charge despite it being changed three times, and he needs new tires.
and he’s lonely. very terribly lonely.
you hear it in his voice when he calls you a little bit past 8, beating around the bush for a minute before telling you that he’s planning on smoking and would you pretty please come over. and maybe wear something that provides easy access.
you wouldn’t dream of denying yourself — or him — of that.
and use you, he does. all of you.
kisses you until you’re gasping for air, biting at your lips and licking into your mouth like it’s made of candy.
grabs your hips and hauls you onto his lap, hardly getting you stretched open enough before bullying his way inside of you. he knows you love the burn, the way he keeps you steady and helps you take it. he fucks you on his cock like you’re a toy, something for him to play with. something truly his.
steve loves it when you ride him, though he’s typically the one making you bounce. his teeth latch onto his bottom lip while he moves you, up and down at a dizzying pace. when the taste of copper hits his tongue, he leans forward to suck and kiss your nipples. he’s prone to leaving a hickey or two or five on your breasts, just because he can. likes knowing you’re marked up by him and no one else.
and when your legs get too tired, he flips you onto your back, hooking your knees over his shoulders. he’s slow now, grinding in deep, holding your hands to his mattress while he coos down at you.
“you’re real good to me, yeah? lettin’ me use this pretty pussy?”
you leave with shaking legs after, your stomach in knots for the rest of the evening thinking about him and thinking about how he may like to use you again in the future. maybe you could cockwarm him — or perhaps a blowjob, guiding the tip past your gag reflex just to feel your throat tighten around him —
his next call comes not even twelve hours later, just as the sun is starting to rise.
“i’m sober. but i can’t stop thinking about you.”
you sigh happily, sleepily, victoriously. “then get over here.”
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: When your lover's spat with Steve leads to a cold war in the WSQK booth, Robin decides she's had enough and leaves you two alone to work it out. You refuse to say a word to him even when she's gone, but Steve has his ways of getting you to talk.
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒/𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, smut (mdni), porn no plot, no use of y/n, established relationship, make-up sex, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected piv, cre*mpie, praise, soft dom!steve, semi-public sex, accidental exhibitionism (?)
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k
𝐀/𝐍: hello! i have two other wips i should be working on but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. hope u like it xoxo
It started with something stupid. An empty Coke can left on the counter that spiraled into an argument way bigger than it should've been. Names were called. Doors were slammed. It didn't help that your AC unit crapped out right in the middle of a heatwave either, leaving you both sweltering before you'd even stepped out of your shared apartment.
By the time you two make it to the station, you're already giving each other the silent treatment.
You storm inside first, leaving him in the dust as you bolt for the coffeemaker. He lumbers in after, scowl on his face, hair wrecked by the humidity.
It's easy enough to avoid each other before the broadcast, but once you're forced into the booth together, you drop into the swivel chair without a word. Your body angled away from him toward the console.
Robin lasts until lunch before she finally says something.
"Okay! So I'm gonna go." She stands, shooting a look between the two of you. "Whatever this is, please fix it. Or at least… try not to stare each other to death while I'm gone."
When neither of you respond, she just backs out slowly, nearly tripping over her own feet before the door creaks shut behind her.
The booth is deathly quiet when she leaves. Which is ironic, because you're pretty sure you've been in actual morgues with more noise than this vacuum that's formed between the two of you. But you don't look up. Not when you hear him let out a dramatic sigh, or when he snaps a cassette case louder than necessary.
No. You let him pout, giving him nothing while keeping your eyes glued to the playlist sheet on the desk. Crossing your legs and bobbing your ankle up and down. Letting your pleated skirt hike just a little bit higher up your thigh.
You aren't the least bit surprised when you hear the tapes stop clattering.
There's another beat of quiet before his foot nudges the leg of your chair. You don't move. So he does it again.
Finally, you turn—slow—and give him a look.
His mouth quirks. "You gonna ignore me all day?"
You frown, ignoring him while you flip a page.
"Wow," he scoffs. "You know, I was gonna apologize, but with this attitude—"
"Apologize, then," you interrupt. Calling his bluff.
He sits back and crosses his arms. "Well, look at that. She speaks."
"Look at that," you echo, turning back to the console. "He listens. For once."
You hear movement, then his hand is on the back of your chair before you even realize he's gotten up. The room blurs as he spins you back, planting both hands on the armrests once you're facing him again.
You stare stubbornly at the wall over his shoulder. Arms folded over your chest. Steve sighs and takes a seat in front of you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
"I was saving it for the recycling, okay?"
You huff. "Then why was it in the middle of the counter?"
"I told you, I didn't want to forget!"
You shake your head, still refusing to meet his gaze.
"…Fine," he mumbles. "I'm sorry… alright?"
You arch a brow. "For?"
"For being a dick," he mutters, sliding a hand over his neck. "And…"
He leaves the sentence hanging half-finished. You tilt your head, waiting, but Steve doesn't look up. His gaze is stuck below your waist, where the hem of your skirt has ridden up even higher, fanning in a pretty arc across your legs. He swallows audibly and leans in closer.
It happens slow, his hand wedging between your thighs to grip the base of your seat. Your breath stutters as he tugs you forward, the stool skidding across the floor.
You finally look at him. No other choice really, with your faces inches apart like this. But where you expect to find him smiling or smug at having flustered you, instead his gaze is just… dark. His eyes heavy and locked with yours. Beneath the light, you catch the faintest sheen of sweat across his cheeks, fresh and dewy on his skin.
Warmth pulses between your legs in a way that's practically Pavlovian at this point. Because you know what it means when he gets this look. Where it always leads. You swallow a little as the woodsy scent of his aftershave reaches your nose, your fury fading fast into a different kind of heat that sits warm and low in your stomach.
Steve shifts then, your knees bumping together. He slides one of his forward between your thighs, slotting you two together and pulling you close.
"You wore this on purpose," he breathes low into your ear. You shiver as he brushes your hair back over your shoulder, his knuckles grazing the soft skin just beneath the hem of your skirt.
You exhale slowly. You did wear it on purpose. Something takes over him every time you wear this fucking thing, which is why you'd put it on in the first place this morning, a flirty little tilt to your hips. Five hours ago, you figured you two could sneak into the closet, or out to his car on your lunch break, maybe tease him with it until you had a chance to be properly alone.
But then you'd gotten into that fight, and you kept it on out of spite. You knew it would drive him crazy, having to see you in it and be forced to keep his hands to himself.
Only his hands were already disappearing beneath it.
"Steve," you breathe against his neck, barely pretending. "We're at work."
He noses the soft spot beneath your ear. "No one's here."
"The walls are glass."
"We'll be quick," he promises.
You're about to argue, but the gentle, warm press of his tongue over your pulse rips the protest from your lips. You melt, your eyes closing with a quiet sigh of surrender, and he groans into your skin at the salty taste of you, one hand snaking up into your hair to hold you in place while the other coaxes your knees apart.
"What if Rob comes back?" you whisper, already short of breath.
"She won't. She literally just left." His lips graze your forehead. "Now c'mere… let me apologize."
He curls a hand under your knee, tugging you toward him those last few inches. You let him guide you to the edge of the seat, until your chin's hooked over his shoulder and you lose sight of what his other hand's doing. You sigh into his hair when you feel his palm finally disappear between your legs.
He gives a testing little press against you, smiling to himself at the quiet noise you make for him.
"Yeah, baby. That's it," he whispers, his breath hot against your temple while he cups you more firmly. You gasp and clutch onto his sleeve, the contact making the damp spot on your panties bloom out even further at the edges.
"Oh, honey," he soothes, his free hand still cupping the back of your head. "Look at you. All worked up already."
You huff over his shoulder, even as your hips curl forward on their own, seeking the heel of his palm.
"I'm still mad at you," you mumble into his neck.
He hums, thumbing your panties to the side in a slow arc. "Yeah? You gonna let me fix it?"
Without waiting for your answer, he parts you gently down the middle. Your gasp is sharp against his shoulder, and he hushes you softly, groaning at the way you're already coating his fingers as he traces your slit.
"Fuck, baby," he breathes, his voice rough now.
He slides right through you, nice and easy. His thumb brushes through your curls before dipping down to circle you where you're softest. You muffle a whimper into his shirt and feel his grip tighten on the back of your neck.
"There?" he whispers, mouth pressed to your hair.
You nod breathlessly, panting now and barely able to hear him. He sucks softly beneath your ear and starts working that sweet spot, pulling more broken sounds out of you as you spiral quickly toward the edge.
Your hips shift forward again, thighs weak and shaking. You're nearly there, whining and clenching around nothing, when you thrust too far and start to slip off the edge of the seat.
"Shit—" you gasp.
Steve catches you before you can fall. His arm hooks around your waist, lifting you up like it's nothing. Your hands automatically find his shoulders as he hikes you up onto his thigh, your skirt settling even higher around your hips while you straddle him. He wets his lips when your bare skin presses against his jeans, the heat between your legs making his pants go tight around his hardening cock.
"Easy," he murmurs, sliding a hand up your back to steady you. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you breathe out, a little embarrassed. A pretty flush warms your cheeks as he brushes back a curtain of hair that's fallen in your face. He gives you a big, breathy smile that makes your heart burst wide open.
"Okay," he pants, glancing around to check that the station's still empty. With no sign of Robin, he plants a soft peck on your cheek and lets his hand drop to your hip. "Ready?"
You nod, your thighs squeezing around him as he rocks you forward, guiding you to grind against his leg. Your head tips back with a moan just from the friction of it.
"Steve—"
"I know," he mumbles, dipping down to suck at your collarbone as you writhe on him. "Use me, baby. It's okay."
You bite your lip, rolling your hips shamelessly now as you chase the pressure. The orgasm you lost starts building again. You feel it coiling deep in your belly, but it's not nearly enough to get you off just riding him like this.
He tries to help, tugging one of the buttons free on your shirt and mouthing gently at the swell of your breast. You moan, fingers sinking into his hair and keeping him there while your knee lifts high enough to brush at the bulge between his legs. Steve buries a groan between your tits, his hips bucking up before he can stop himself.
"Fuck," he grits out, forehead dropping to your chest. "That's not fair."
You smile into his hair and do it again, dragging your thigh slow and careful just beneath the heft of his balls. His head snaps back, tendons straining in his neck as a strangled moan rips from his throat.
"Babe, fuck—" he chokes out. "I'm serious. I'm gonna come in my fucking pants if you keep doing that."
Your hand drops between your bodies, finding his belt buckle by feel as you hold his gaze.
"Need you," you pant against his cheek, unlatching him. His head falls back against the chair as you work the button open next, then the zipper. He's rock hard by the time you're peeling the denim apart, a damp patch already darkening the fabric of his boxers.
Steve watches you with glazed eyes.
"Here?" he rasps, like he wasn't the one that started this.
Your answer is a hard kiss while your hand slips inside his boxers. He shudders out a moan into your mouth the second your fingers wrap around him. He's hot and thick in your palm, the head slick where he's already leaking. You hum softly against his lips while you give him a slow, gentle stroke.
"Jesus," he breathes, hips jerking up into your fist. You swallow the next filthy sound he makes, licking into his mouth while you twist your wrist on the upstroke.
"Wait, baby, wait—" He catches your hand. "Wanna be inside you."
You heave out a sigh of relief. Finally.
You release him and shift forward on his lap, lifting your hips while he shoves your panties to the side blind, your skirt covering both of you from the waist down. He grips himself at the base, dragging his tip through the dripping seam of you a few times to get himself nice and slick. Then your foreheads are pressing together, both panting as he eases toward your opening.
"Look at me," he whispers, his free hand reaching up to hold your face.
You look. His brown eyes are blown almost black, lashes dark and damp. Your hands find his face—a face you're wondering how you could've ever been mad at over a Coke can—and sweep your thumbs gently across his cheeks.
He pushes into you soft and slow.
Your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Only a thin, shaking breath that he swallows with a kiss as he fills you. His hand drops down to cradle the curve of your ass, guiding you as you sink down onto him.
The stretch pulls a broken sound from somewhere low in your chest. Steve catches that against his lips too, kissing you deep and filthy while your bodies slowly connect, the front of your skirt bunching up between you.
"There you go," he groans when you finally take all of him. He wraps his arms around your waist and sighs into your neck, low and rough. "Fuck, you feel good."
You whine into his hair, unable to speak as you adjust to him. No matter how many times you've done this, he always splits you open at first, as careful as he is. His hands rub over your back in wide soothing circles as he presses kisses to your shoulder, your jaw, your neck. All the little spots he knows makes you soft.
You sigh appreciatively, braving a slow, tentative roll of your hips when you're relaxed enough. The sensation drags a low groan out of you both. His fingers dig into the soft dough at your waist, guiding your rhythm until you find it on your own.
Your pace doesn't stay slow for long. The chair creaks beneath you as you ride him harder, his breath puffing soft and fast against your throat.
"Fuck, that's it," he growls. "Don't stop."
You don't stop. Not when you already feel the tension starting in your abs again. Your weight shifts as you try to deepen the angle to take more of him, and you gasp when you lean too far back.
His arm locks around you in an instant, hauling you flush against his chest without breaking the rhythm you've set.
"Here, baby," he pants, nose brushing yours. "Hold onto me. I got you."
Your arm loops around his shoulders and stays there, fingers twisting in his hair while he fucks up into you. Wet, slapping sounds fill the booth, but you can barely hear them while you're gasping his name. Your walls start to tighten around him, squeezing and clenching with each pump of his hips.
"Steve," you beg.
"I know, I know," he grits through his teeth. His hand snakes between you again. "Come on, honey. Give it to me."
He circles twice, and that's all it takes. Your spine locks, the orgasm tearing through you silently at first, mouth open with no sound, before you choke out a broken cry against his throat.
"Oh fuck—" His voice cracks as you clamp around his cock in helpless pulses. Steve locks his arms around you and pulls you down, burying himself deep before you feel the first hot spill of him inside you.
You gasp, still coming by the time he starts. Your chest heaves against his while he fills you up, stars swirling in your eyes with every twitch of his cock inside you. Steve crushes his face into your neck, muffling a low groan as he rides out the last waves, hips circling lazily while he empties himself into your soft, pretty pussy.
He holds you there as you both come down, your body limp and sated in his grasp. Slowly, your breathing evens out against his neck, his hand combing gently through the hair spilling down your back while he softens inside you.
You lift your head finally, just enough to look at him. His hair is even more of a wreck than it was before, half of it sticking out in every direction and the other half plastered to his forehead. You brush it back with a fond little laugh at how ruined he looks.
"You okay?" you murmur with a tilt of your head.
Steve blinks up at you, dazed. His lashes flutter like he's forgotten where he is for a second, and then a dopey grin spreads across his face.
"Mhm," he hums. "You?"
You nod, tucking a damp strand behind his ear. His eyes close at the touch, and you let your smile stretch a little wider.
"So," you say. "Are we done fighting?"
He cracks an eye open. "We were fighting?"
You flick his shoulder. He yelps and grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before you can do it again.
"Yes. Done fighting. I'll clean the whole apartment. Scrub the floors. Bleach the—"
"Just throw away your cans, Steve."
"I will throw away every can. Every single can. I'll throw away cans that aren't even mine."
Your eyes roll. "Steve."
"Neighbors' cans, too."
You snort, dropping your forehead against his. He catches your chin between his fingers and pulls you in for a lazy, salty kiss that sends a fresh lick of heat down your neck.
"Careful," you warn against his lips. "Or I might just—"
Down the hall, you both hear a door open.
"Is that—" he starts, eyes wide.
"Shit," you hiss, shifting in his lap and stopping when you feel the mess between your thighs. "How is she back already? We need… napkins. Or something."
Steve glances around the booth. His eyes land on Robin's stack of handwritten song request cards. He lifts one eyebrow.
You poke his chest. "No."
"She'd never know."
"Steve."
The doorknob rattles. You both freeze and look over slowly.
"Uh… guys?" Robin's looking at the floor, hand over her eyes as her voice carries through the glass. "The uh… the mic's been live this whole time."
your legs were moving at a pace your body could hardly keep up with, as your boots kicked up dust, debris and other things you couldn’t quite see so dead in the night. regardless, you ran. you ran, and ran and ran and ran until you thought you were going to collapse because it was the only way to ensure freedom.
the sounds of a wailing car behind you were only getting louder as you ran through the desert like town, not knowing where you were going, only knowing that at this time of night, you were incredibly unsafe from the evil behind you. you couldn’t believe this was happening to you, your dress bunched up at your knees as you ran, tears streaming down your face whilst you heaved through sobs, desperately trying to swallow down your emotions if it meant you’d preserve your energy.
you had been framed.
your father, and your horrible step mother - oh how you hated them with every fibre of your being. you had never known your birth mother, after she had passed away when you were so young, leaving you with an abusive father who married an equally horrible woman who saw you as a stain in her relationship. thus came years upon years of torture, being forced to hide away in your own home, to be as invisible as possible in hopes they’d simply forget you existed.
it had worked for as long as you could remember whilst you lived only in the corners of your room, looking out of the window as other girls your age walked through your town in extravagant gowns, donned from head to toe whilst men bowed, flirting, all while pretending they were above it. your chest tightened at the interaction with a frown, knowing that you would never get to experience such a thing. your home was located in the centre of town, with your window high enough where you could watch uninterrupted, but close enough where you could feel like you were secretly immersed.
your eyes would trail over the men half in curiosity and half utter shyness, nibbling away at your lip. their studded belts, heavy denim and notorious cowboy hats - you were in awe at the confidence they oozed whilst they conducted their business around the small town.
only one had ever truly caught your eye.
jeon jungkook.
the only way you knew how to describe him was manly. big chest, bigger than any of the other men, with arms and biceps that had your fingers shaking on the windowsill. his shoulders broad, all whilst his thicker legs strained against his denim, boots heavy on the ground, hat nestled onto his head like home.
his eyes were darker than the others, like he had seen too much in his lifetime, much more than a 30 year old man of his calibre needed but it also solidified him as one of the most respected people in town. hell, even the sheriff was inclined to bend the law when it came to him, knowing that it was the worst kind of mistake you could make to have a guy like jungkook on your bad side.
and so, you’d stare from your window, your sweet, white, cotton dresses always slipping from your shoulders absentmindedly, swallowing down inappropriate thoughts about the man you had never met.
it was when he turned, his back to the shopkeeper as though he could feel eyes on him, and met your gaze that you found yourself gasping loudly.
immediately, you flushed pink, looking away, pretending to be interested in something else whilst he continued to stare openly at you. pretty eyes, even prettier lips - you were the mere definition of dainty, all perched up on your window sill, your arms resting on it and your head as a result, resting on your arms. he had never felt want this deep in his stomach, and sure, his cock hardened up at the sight of a pretty woman like any other man - this felt different.
he didn’t greet you like a good gentleman would. no, instead, he simply stared.
you could feel your stomach dropping as heat prickled down your spine, enough for you to retreat back into your bedroom, all whilst he continued to watch you. he watched the way your dress, too big, one you would wear at home only, slipped from your shoulders further, revealing the slight corner of your breast, only to be hidden away by your hair.
the window was shut. you went with it.
he gritted his teeth.
that had become a distant memory now, somewhere lodged in the back of your head as your weakened legs continued to take you across the outskirts of town, running as far as you could possibly go. your sobs were only growing louder as the adrenaline pumped and pumped and pumped, your chest heaving.
your mind was a flood of horrible thoughts, playing back the scene that had caused this entire situation.
your step mother had branded you a thief. her pearls had gone missing, no doubt taken by your no good father to be pawned for gambling money, but you were an easy target, fingers pointing at you, pulling at your hair, promising a threat of utter violence. you had never felt fear like it. all pleads for reason had fallen on deaf ears, causing you to practically flee once you heard the boots of the sheriff come towards your home.
you knew what happened to thieves in this town.
they were punished, beaten down until death was a welcome finality, regardless of whether they were male or not. the thought terrified you. to die at the hands of such cruelty when you were entirely innocent felt unjust in the highest of powers and yet you had no one to help you, to support your claim, with your father naturally adding further fuel to the fire by agreeing with his wife.
despite having been in this town your entire life, never had you ran outside of the town borders.
wildlife and scary people typically roamed the earth here, what in deserted land, sand, dust and grime in every corner whilst cars often sped up, trying to get to the town quicker in hopes of getting out of such eerie lands. it only worsened at night.
your exhaled hard at the sight of a house, small. it sat in the middle of nowhere, just in reach, causing you to run further and further just to reach it once you saw there were lights on too. you heaved, your legs beginning to fail you.
it wasn’t until you were a few metres away that you could feel the headlights behind you, causing you to sob loudly, your eyes shutting as you practically accepted the fate that was about to befall you.
that was, until a pair of large arms grabbed you from up front.
your brain stopped working in that moment, your mind completely shutting down as you all but collapsed into the chest of a much, much, larger man. you could practically feel yourself falling in and out of consciousness as he clung to you just as tightly as you clung to him, picking you up with a sort of ease that could have only been assigned to one person.
you shut down entirely.
the lights only grew closer until the sound of a car had finally stopped, the heavy boots of the sherif that had originally made you run stopping right behind you, your body cowering even deeper into the arms of the stranger desperately.
“step aside, jeon. girl’s wanted for theft.” you whimpered at the authoritative voice directed at the person you were crying against.
“you see it?”
the drawl of the man holding you echoed into your head, your face hidden in the crook of his neck as he began to cradle you. your sobs only soaked the cotton of his shirt, all whilst a large hand pushed on the back of your head to keep you down, almost as a protective measure.
the sheriff frowned. “what?”
“you see her steal?”
“sir.” the sheriff sighed, uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot. “i’m simply carrying out-“
you could feel the body against you tense all whilst you sobbed quietly, hands shaking violently against him, only causing his grip to hold you much firmer. you were being grounded, unable to hear the conversation as words didn’t register in your mind from the sheer feeling of overwhelming fear.
“you’re on my land calling my girl a thief, sheriff?”
he took a few steps closer only causing you to whine against him, as though he was stepping in to the line of danger, and therefore taking you with him. your brain still hadn’t caught up that you yourself were in the arms of danger itself.
“jeon. her father…” he began, with a sigh again. “she’s been accused.”
“folks accuse each other every damn day.” he gruffed back, fingers intertwining into your hair.
“i still have to take her in.”
jungkook looked at him then, darkened eyes that appeared harsher in the dead of night. he lived alone out here, only man brave enough to do it and yet he had never imagined you would ever be here in these circumstances. he could feel your shaking body against his in a way that had his cock stirring, something even better knew was inappropriate given the situation and yet he couldn’t help himself. his girl. his sweet girl. you had no idea.
had no idea how long he had kept his eyes on you. always looking up at your window at different times of the day, mastering the art of sitting inside the saloon with open doors, positioned just right so he could drink and watch you.
had no idea that it was you he pictured as he stroked his cock, hissing out at the thought of the beautiful girl his eyes couldn’t stop catching whenever he was out in the town. always ignoring the advances of other women - their batted eyelashes and dropped handkerchiefs had no hold over him.
certainly had no idea about the fat diamond ring sat in his home right that very second. he had plans to come to your family home tomorrow and do it the right way, ask for your hand in marriage with your father’s blessing and whisk you away as soon as he got the chance. get you in a nice white dress, with a lavish wedding just like the girls in your town dreamt of.
you were a lady. he wanted to do right by you.
having you in his arms like this, the almost see through cotton of your dress, all loose and bunched up, dirtied by the desert ground as it slipped from your shoulders; it was fucking sinful. bodies pressed together, your arms wrapped tightly around him as your face nuzzled into his neck, the musky scent of his aftershave enough to soothe you just slightly. in the arms of a stranger, you felt a taste of safety.
it was improper, the way your breasts were practically spilling against him, knowing that if anyone saw you, it would ruin your reputation in this town for life, what being unmarried and all. but in the game of life and death, you couldn’t think of anything other than the broad man protecting you.
he didn’t give a fuck. you were his girl, his wife to be. you didn’t know it yet, but he’d put that rock on your finger, and he’d make everyone stare as he walked arm in arm with you, announcing you as his. you were protected now, and he felt a prickle of genuine anger in his spine at the sheer idiocy of himself for not realising you needed that protection seemingly sooner.
“you gonna take her out of my arms?”
the question hung there as the sheriff continued to shift uncomfortably.
“she’ll be treated fairly.” he weakly rebutted.
“that right?”
“it’s procedure.”
“procedure.” jungkook laughed humourlessly. “procedure got her running in her fucking dress away from you, sheriff?”
he took another step closer, and at this point, the other man stepped back, inching closer to his car at the sight of the heavy gun sat at jungkook’s hip. he wasn’t an idiot. he had killed for less.
“her father’ll come looking for her if we don’t bring her in. i can’t promise..he’ll be more lenient.” he nervously admitted.
“let him.” he scoffed.
“he’ll want the girl back.”
“he ain’t getting her.” jungkook clung to you almost animalistically.
the tone jungkook used had officially made the other man too uncomfortable and despite him being the one with authoritative power, everyone in town knew you’d be a dead man to try your luck with jeon jungkook. he had no idea that you were his girl, and with the way he was clinging to you just as hard as you were to him, he gathered that this wasn’t something he wanted to get involved in.
with a tip of his hat, and a shaky apology, he retreated back to his car, almost hurried, and drove off.
the sound of a screeching car had you whimpering in his arms, body still shaking, clinging to his shoulders in hopes he wouldn’t let you go.
he didn’t. not once.
he stood, holding you fiercely as he watched the car retreat, headlights disappearing over yards of land that belonged to jungkook - that no one else dared to enter.
his arms remained locked securely beneath your knees whilst his other hand held you flush to his chest, your heartbeat slowly beginning to slow at the sound of his own. every so often, another broken sob would escape you as the reality of your situation cascaded down onto you, clinging to the man you had yet to identify as though your body recognised he was the definition of safety.
his hand slid through your hair, just slightly, positioning you properly before turning around and walking towards the house.
“easy.” you heard his voice command, and you nodded, ever obedient, through your sniffles.
he climbed the wooden porch without another glance towards the road, no fearful regard of his secluded surroundings despite it being an area so many people feared. his heavy boots groaned against the old timber before shouldering the door open.
warmth met you immediately.
the scent of pine, wood and musk - all heavy in the air, no doubt settling into the older, wooden furniture as though it had been here longer than anything else. the smoke from the fire burning immediately soothed your skin, a comfort that knowing despite the heat riddled middays, it took a mere log filled fireplace to calm the freezing cool of night.
the home wasn’t lavish by any means, but it felt safe, lived in even. the furniture looked as though it had been built by hand, a home created by the person living in it.
a worn, leather saddle sat against the far wall alongside a lengthy, coiled rope, a rifle mounted in easy perimeters on the wall whilst a large armchair sat just opposite.
the door slammed shut, a heavy click ringing through the air.
you flinched.
silence filled the air. the first thing he tried to do was place you down on the arm chair, no doubt to get a few words out of you, to understand the situation better but it didn’t seem feasible when all he could hear was you whine and whimper the second you felt him trying to remove himself from you. as a result, you clung to him harder, causing him to clench his jaw at the feel of you, positioning you properly.
stubborn girl. fuck, he liked that.
your face was still hidden in the bridge between his shoulder and neck, refusing to move, even making a show of whimpering extra loud anytime he moved. he couldn’t believe how sweet the sound tasted up close, what with your body against him like this, his frame engulfing yours so deliciously.
and so, instead, he took a seat on his chair himself, bringing you down with him. he positioned your legs on one side of him comfortably, whilst you nuzzled into the corner of his neck again, tears staining his skin as your shaky hands clung to the large arms that were caging you in.
you weren’t aware of yourself - not aware of the way your dress had slid up so high, and how you had been positioned so perfectly against his bulge that the growing pressure against your cunt was all purposeful. you felt dizzy.
for a long while, neither of you spoke.
the fire cracked, whilst the wind rattled harshly outside, kicking up dust and sand all over the outdoor porch. inside, it was only your mix of breathing that really soothed you, as you felt his pulse against your skin, your sobs having quietened down to little hiccups that jungkook selfishly wanted to hear for the rest of his life. how was it that you, quiet little thing, were so sweet even in your despair?
once your breathing no longer released in desperate gasps, you finally lifted your head.
your lashes fluttered open, sniffling away, as your eyes met his for the first time that entire evening. the familiar line of his jaw, the heavy darkness that swirled in his face alongside the hardness imprinted on every crevice of his features - oh, you knew him. you knew him better than you wanted to admit out loud for the man in front of you was the same man you had been dreaming about for months now.
his cowboy hat cast a heavy shadow on his face just as the realisation hit in real time.
“mr..jeon?”
your voice barely existed, scratched from the sobs and cries for help earlier, more breath than actual sound.
he gave a small grunt. “jungkook.”
your lips parted as you stared, and stared, and stared. it didn’t help that he was doing the same, large hands moving to cup your waist and thigh openly, as though it was completely appropriate between two unmarried parties in your community. it certainly was not.
the same man you had watched from your window, the one who never greeted nor smiled. the one you caught staring on countless occasions, even catching his gaze through your curtains whilst you were dressing.
once, you had opened your blinds mere minutes after a morning of secretly touching yourself, hand over mouth to stop the moans of his name as you imagined him being the one to do this to you, only to have caught his heavy gaze almost immediately. simply stood outside, cowboy hat low on his head, covering half of his face.
you had frozen still, thinking he might have seen you, or worse; watched you.
he had watched your cheeks flush a bright shade of red, eyes widening before trailing down to see the large bulge in his denim trousers, straining painfully. a confirmation. the two of you were well acquainted indeed through stolen glances and heavy need, but never with words.
your gaze dropped, shock lining your features as you realised the very situation you were in. perched on his lap, dress to your thighs due to the way it had been bunched earlier, bare skin against his all whilst you were practically smothering him with your own body - oh, this was the very definition of indecent.
the colour in your face deepened immediately.
“i-i..”
you hurried to move, practically jumping to get out of his arms but he moved faster. his arms around you tightened quickly, reflexes sharp as he dragged you right back until you were in the same position once more.
“down, girl.”
“this..” hiccup. “this isn’t proper.”
his expression didn’t change, merely looking over your face with both a hunger and determination that had your stomach swirling. you couldn’t help but wonder whether you had fallen prey to the big, bad wolf in real time.
“no. it ain’t.” he gruffed out at you, though he made no effort to move, only making a show of pulling you close.
“a lady shouldn’t…” you swallowed down the heavy lump in your throat, tears still lining your waterline. “i’m not supposed to be alone with you.”
“yeah?”
“in your house.”
“mm.”
“not..” you hiccuped again as you broke the eye contact, glistening orbs looking over his home and towards the door where you subconsciously began pulling at his shoulders to cling to him further as though the threat of outside was still near. “not..sitting like t-this.”
“you done?” he narrowed his eyes at you.
you returned his gaze in confusion. hiccup. “..done?”
“worrying?”
“w-what if the sheriff tells everyone i-im here.”
“folks talk. he will.” he shrugged as though it was nothing.
you anxiously screwed your face at him, making another attempt to get up but his grip was merely too strong.
he could read you like an open book. here you sat, denying the very comfort you so desperately needed because you were scared of the outcome - terrified of being caught in a position that had been so severely ingrained in your mind as bad, thanks to your parents and community. you’d be branded a whore for the rest of your life, no doubt the worst of worst considering it was jeon jungkook you were canoodling with; a man so terrifying that others seemed to cower.
“you run here?” jungkook pulled you out of your thoughts, catching your gaze once more.
you nodded.
“ask to be accused?”
you shook your head in a small no, lip quivering.
“ask to be fucking hunted?” he hissed.
a no, again. this time, you could feel the tears coming back.
his eyes never left your face as the arms wrapped around you suddenly yanked you until you were completely and entirely flushed against him, your own arms having to wrap around his neck more comfortably to accommodate the move.
“then what’ve you got to be ashamed of?”
your throat tightened as your tears fell, the severity of the situation you were in scaring you. you had no where to go, no one to run to, and yet you’d still be condemned by the same community you had been raised in.
“i don’t know what i’m supposed to do.” you readily admitted to him, lip quivering in a way that had him angrier by the minute.
the thought of you in this position upset him. it had his chest rising and falling as he bit down the hunger for violence he so desperately seeked, wanting nothing more than to grab every person responsible for this and beat them till all they could chant were apologies to you. his sweet, sweet girl. just looking at you, all teary and pouty - he wanted to kiss it away. wanted to make it go away for you.
“don’t have to think, y/n.” he assured you suddenly, the hand on your thigh heavy. “don’t have to think again, you hear me?”
the words hung between you as he wiped your teary face, large, rough hands cupping your face in the sweetest of ways. it confused your brain. how could something so mean, so accustomed to the harsher things be capable of such gentleness?
thoughts of your father’s temper and your step-mother’s calculated fury only spurred the tears on further as you gently gripped his chest.
“they’re gonna be so angry.” you admitted through a quiet sob. “they’ll come for me. i should have just gone with the sheriff…they’ll prolong the shame this way.”
“they ain’t touching you.” jungkook scoffed for what felt like the millionth time that month.
you slipped your gaze away from his, breaking it as you looked down at your lap. his body was so warm, heat radiating from every crevice and after the adrenaline, the biting cold of the outside had finally soothed with him holding you.
still, sniffling, you felt him wipe your face. “they’re cruel like that.” you admitted.
“ain’t letting no one come near you, sweets.” he assured once more, his hand heavy on your jaw. “you’re protected now. y’hear me?”
this thumb lingered under your eye for a moment longer before dropping all together, the rough pad of it having collected another tear, watching as it disappeared into the calloused liners of his digit as though you had become one part of him.
you couldn’t understand it.
couldn’t understand how a man so feared could sit so still in front of you - how someone only spoken about in hushed tones around town had become such a calming force in a matter of seconds. every movement carried purpose, intent; every gap of silence voluntary. it unsettled you.
neither of you moved for a few more minutes as you absorbed his words.
then, without warning, he rose.
the leather beneath you groaned as he stood up to his full height all whilst placing you down on the seat on your own, no longer engulfed in the inappropriate embrace, the sudden absence of his heat making the room feel all the more colder. your fingers twitched against your skirt before you could stop yourself, a quiet whine echoing against the quiet walls.
he tensed.
his shoulders rolled, jaw flicking as his hardened gaze stared you down, all whilst you wanted nothing more than to scamper back into his arms where safety was promised.
heat climbed your neck, but jungkook had already turned away.
heavy boots hit the ground in loud footsteps, your ears peeking as you listened to him in confusion, his frame disappearing beyond the doorway.
you could hear the sound of a drawer being opened, followed by a rustling and a moment or two of silence you couldn’t quite place. it was loud enough to have you sit up a little, head craning to see beyond the doorway but the house was dark, and nothing was visible beyond jungkook’s body walking back.
your shoulders slumped in relief at the sight of him again, your shaking hands and nibbling lip enough to have his darkened eyes narrow. you almost didn’t notice the small box in his hands. tiny. palm sized.
he stood in front of you then, causing your neck to crane up.
it was your turn for eyebrows to furrow as you watched the big, burly man - too gruff to be anything gentlemanly, too rogue, too rough around the edges - drop to his knee.
your eyebrows raised in shock, as you watched him pull up the velvet box, a deep red, and reveal a ring inside that had your throat letting out a choked gasp.
“jungkook?”
“bought this in spring.” he murmured over the crackling fire. “was meant to come down tomorrow.”
your chest rose and fell rapidly.
“had a whole fucking speech for you. kind of talk a man says to a lady.” his eyes never left yours. “was gonna meet your father like a man worthy of you. was gonna do it right f’you, you know that?”
“since spring?” you whimpered at him, knowing that had been months ago.
your heart was beating out of your chest, all whilst it raised and fell in quick successions.
jeon jungkook, the most powerful man in your entire town, infamous for his mere self, on his knee, in front of you with a box holding a diamond ring more lavish than anything you had ever seen.
for you.
“was gonna come to you.” he whispered then, your faces close. “but you came to me. tonight.”
your lip quivered.
“they chased my girl?” he hissed then. “made you run and hurt yourself, and you ran to me, to my house, without even knowing it.”
you watched him in silence.
watched the broad man before you settle onto both knees, body so close to yours that all you had to do was part your legs for him to truly become one with you. somehow, this position felt even more intimidating than when he hovered over you - what with him filling every inch of space between your knees, his shoulders so wide that they hid the warm glow of the fireplace behind him.
you should have shuffled backwards. should have remembered every lesson drilled into your brain from birth, from the society you grew up with, from your step-mother. you should have shuffled your dress down, skirt falling over your legs properly instead of where they sat mid thigh. you should have pushed him away, scandalised at the topic of marriage from a man that hadn’t spoke to your father.
more importantly, you shouldn’t have reached out to touch him.
your body had began leaning forwards immediately, your faces close now, bodies mere inches away from pressing against each other. one hand was settled on the box, the other moving up your neck, fingers longing to feel either side of it whilst you withered below him. it wasn’t until he cupped your cheek and he felt you nuzzling into him that he nearly cursed.
something unreadable crossed his face.
a slow breath left him through his nose before his gaze dropped to your left hand sitting, shaking, on your bare thigh. his eyes lingered too long, catching sight of dampened panties that were all but clinging to you, only causing further blood to rush to his already hardened cock. he grit his teeth.
he reached for it, watching the way your fingers disappeared into his. they looked so small compared to his own, so delicate - the thought was toying with his brain, with the sight spurring his need for you.
with careful movements, he slipped the diamond ring onto your finger.
“fits.”
you blinked back a new flood of tears, trying desperately to swallow down the wave of emotions as you took him in.
this wasn’t him asking you - he was telling you. you could feel your shoulders lumping all as you curled into him, his large arm coming to sit around your waist where he yanked you further into his chest. your large eyes peered at your ring with shaking breath, gaze flickering from his back to the jewellery on your hand over and over and over until jungkook wanted to laugh from how cute you were.
the man you had your eyes on for months. for so long, you sat, watching him from your hidden spot by the window, enamoured by the way he tipped his hat at all of the vendors he’d walk past. you peered through the opens doors of the saloon where he’d sip his drink, legs spread, eyes dark before you’d find them catching your own.
most times, you’d hide, looking away, cheeks red as you pretended to do something to hide your embarrassment. other days, where the exhaustion was high, or tears were fresh from the verbal abuse your parents had given you, you’d maintain the eye contact. wonder of a life where you’d be able to walk hand in hand with a man like him up and down the town.
here he was, promising you that life.
“it’s so beautiful.” you whimpered at him, feeling half unworthy of such a jewel.
it no doubt cost more than anything you had ever own, and despite coming from a respectable home, this was grander than anything your mother had too.
his grip on your waist tightened, just as your gaze returned to his, sniffling. he leaned forward, your nose touching his - another act of immodesty, all whilst he curled your dress further into his arms, as though he wanted to finally press himself against you just so you could feel the way his heart was beating out of his own chest.
despite the heat in your stomach, the corners of your mouth lifted slightly through a hiccup. “y-you haven’t even asked..me properly.”
that earned you a small twitch of his own lips. a rare sight.
“on my knees for you, sweets.”
“most men a-ask.”
“most men ain’t me.”
you hiccuped again, sniffling, shuffling closer.
the diamond caught the light of the fire behind him, illuminating the corners of the room and offering it a warm hue. both of you looked down, watching his thumb swipe it against your finger in a sweet movement.
“come morning,” he whispered, tone softer than anything you’d heard yet. “i’m taking you to the courthouse. stand beside you. give you my name.”
he said it with the same certainty he’d spoken every other promise thus far. your eyes shut gently as you found your heart blooming, nodding gently.
you didn’t realise he was still waiting for your confirmation.
you answered him though, not even seconds later, as your free hand moved before you could think. both careful and tentative, your fingers slipped into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, fingers grazing his pulse. he went completely still, with every hard line of his body seemingly locking into place.
you swallowed “is this..still improper?”
his gaze lingered on you for a long moment, slightly gulping as your nails scratched his scalp.
“yes.”
you went to retract your hand, but he stopped you.
jungkook stepped forward until your bodies were completely brushed against one another, chest against chest, head against head, bulge against core. you could feel him in ways that you knew would have you ruined for life, with your eyes drying up from the tears and growing hooded at the feel of him. he held you so tightly, practically squeezing all of the stress and worry of the situation away.
it was then that he lifted your chin, noses kissing as your breaths mingling.
“good thing i’m fixing that tomorrow morning.”
—
being married to jungkook was the beginning of a life you never realised could have been yours.
three months into your sudden marriage and you were realising that this was what living was all about. you’d wake up to his lips smothering your cheek, your neck and lips - covering you in kisses that would wake you from sweet sleep to even sweeter reality. other days, you were the one who would wake first, your fingers tracing over a hardened chest, scarred and wide until you’d catch him staring at you.
oh, the stories you had heard before all of this.
mean, old jungkook. nearly killed a man for talking out the side of his mouth, pistol to his head after beating him up. the way he’d walk around town, picking up jobs that no one else wanted to do, getting paid handsomely for his time knowing that no other man would be able to do them. everywhere he went, people cowered, whispered even. got his beers for free simply because the bartender was too scared to actually charge him.
and yet, when it came to you, he was completely different. gentle, sweet, softer than anything you’d ever experienced.
in the first few days of being married, you had gone into town on your own, head lowered as per usual as your bonnet, neatly wrapped around your head and neck, hid most of your face from anyone staring in.
oh, it had spread like wildfire.
jeon jungkook had married the village freak. the girl accused of thievery by her own parents. the girl that sat quietly at her window, rarely being allowed outside of her home unless it was for a social affair, staring at everyone in town.
what use did he have for you?
what use did jungkook have with a wife?
people had gossiped with each step you took, and your hands had began to shake without even noticing. you frowned, shoulders raising at the feel of so many eyes on you when your only fault had been existing.
it wasn’t until you felt a heavy presence around you, chest brushing your back, breath touching your shoulder as a head dipped down that uou subconsciously relaxed.
your husband, only a few days in, stretched his arm beside you, picking up the ribbons you were looking at with his own hand. you peered over your shoulder, just as he looked down at you, your gazes meeting as a shy smile began to form on your face, a glint in his eye.
“i like the pink one.” you whispered up at him, and to his amusement, you began brushing you fingers against the very ribbon in his hand.
people were watching with bated breath. it was like watching a film, watching a scene that they couldn’t quite understand, what with the way jungkook openly held you, lips lifting in genuine humour.
“i’ll take the lot.” he grunted at the seller, who watched open eyed, nodding with a slight gasp at being pulled from his thoughts.
you giggled, hiding your mouth behind a gloved hand, before cheekily pushing him away, walking over to another stall, only for him to do the same thing with each vendor you went to.
it only took a month to fully grow accustomed to him. cooked dinners on the table, waiting for him as he’d come home all dusty and sweaty, worked to the very bone - you could feel heat deep in your stomach as you watched him take off his hat, hang it on the hook before walking over to you. before you could even greet him properly, he’d have you pinned against the wall with your skirts up to your hips.
you learned rather quickly that to be jungkook’s wife meant being fucked against every surface, at any given chance.
you knew your husband was obsessed with you, deep want swirling in every crevice of his mind as he practically snarled how sincerely he wanted you despite being in his arms already. working away from you, in town, all whilst making you bolt the doors so you wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone else.
exhaustion practically rolled off of him, but his sheer need for you trumped everything. it was his driving force for months, keeping that ring in his pocket until it was time to actually marry you, and now that you actually wore it on that pretty little finger, it seemed that the feeling had only intensified. he’d come home with it radiating off of him, almost shaking from how much you suffocated his thoughts - all you, only ever you.
the worst thing? you fed into it.
would purr at him the second he got his hands over you, sighing so pretty when he’d pick you up just to push you onto the dining table just to fuck you just the way he wanted.
his favourite was when you’d whimper his name back at him, all shy and breathy, fingers curling into his heavy shirt whilst the sound of skin slapping against skin hit every single surface. it was delicious, really, the way you’d beg for more and more and more like he was incapable of hitting that exact spot. it only spurred him on further.
today was no different.
you, scantily dressed. it was the mere definition of improper, with your cotton dress, just passed your knees but with an open neckline, sleeves slipping down your shoulders whilst your hair sat behind your back. you had cooked him something good, perfecting the recipe over the months you had shared with him until it was the meal he asked for over and over.
you could hear the sound of hooves outside, his horse slowing down making you bite your lip in anticipation. you had been needy for him all day, having choked on his cock until he had cum down your throat but that hadn’t been enough for you. you wanted more. you always wanted more.
turning, you walked over the door just as it opened up, the wooden frame rattling as his heavy boots shook the very ground he walked on.
jungkook appeared. chest wide, shoulders wider, dirt smeared on his boots and jeans as his sun-kissed skin was hidden from you by his cowboy hat. immediately, you walked up to him, taking a hold of it before putting it on your own head with a loud giggle, peering up at him through your eyelashes.
“hi.”
he gruffed at you, a man of few words still.
before you could say anything more, his too large hands grabbed you, picking you up with an ease that came from a life of manual labour.
you sighed all pretty, legs wrapping around his waist almost immediately as he breathed in your scent, heavy, lips attached to the pulse in your throat almost immediately.
“fucking missed you.” he hissed, almost angry, as though the thought of you had been plaguing him all day. “always smell so good.”
“it’s the perfume you bought me, kookie.” you hummed back, hat still on your head.
“need to buy you more.”
that earned him a smile as he lifted his head to look at you. for a few moments, his eyes traced over ever inch of your face - his chest tightened. his pretty, little wife. you were the sweetest thing he had ever gotten in his life and having you in his arms like this, barely dressed, breasts peaking out over the white cotton, already littered with purple bruises created as a manifestation of his feelings for you.
“missed you.” you admitted softly, noses brushing against one another. “you worked for so long today.”
the whine in your voice had his already hard cock push against the denim of his jeans.
“gotta work hard for you, sweets.” he murmured back in that gentle tone he reserved solely for you.
you frowned a little at his words, knowing he pushed his body a little too hard for your liking all in the name of being able to spoil you rotten, when all you wanted was him and him alone.
“you look tired.”
“m’fine, baby.”
“worked all day without eating again.” you muttered with a deeper frown, just as he dropped his head to kiss the corner of your mouth. “told you i don’t like it when you do that, kookie.”
“like coming home ‘n eating with you.” he responded, lips attacking your throat.
you bit back a soft whimper as you tilted your head to the side, eyes slowly closing at the familiar and yet euphoric feeling of jungkook savouring you. sweet kisses always became ravenous, especially when he’d find that sweet spot on your neck, your shaking hands clinging to his shoulders.
you squeaked as he bit down on your neck, hissing, grunting, large hands moving down to cup your ass cheeks.
“c-cooked for you..” you whimpered out then, opening your eyes despite wanting nothing more than to have him ruin you. “made..made you your favourite.”
“yeah?” he whispered. “my girl been cooking for me?”
“mhm. made it real nice this time.”
jungkook knew his curse in this life was to feel too much for you. the cuteness aggression practically overtook him every time he took a look at you - so sweet, so eager to please. he placed you on the ground after planting a final few brushes of his lips against your jaw before leaning down properly, head pressing against yours, and placing a kiss to your lips.
you utterly melted in his arms, his arms tightening around yours as you slacked against him, kissing him back with just as much passion.
your lips moved in unison, fingers clinging to the material bunched around his stomach as he leaned down in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable. his body engulfed yours, shielding your own frame from anything other than the feel of his love for you.
you moaned into his mouth just as his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, making you readily open up for him to swirl and devour you in every way you wanted. his hands trailed over you, kissing, taking, fixing - you were his sweet girl and you relished in it, all whilst taking his kisses. feeling you melt against him had his brain short circuiting.
you pulled away breathlessly.
he chased you with his lips, kissing you over and over until you were a giggling mess struggling for air, pushing him away with a gentle pat of his chest. he wasn’t a talker, not much of a smiler, but fuck; one look at you and he couldn’t help the small quirk of his mouth.
“come on, cowboy.” you teased him.
he followed you, watching you adjust your dress once more despite his wandering eye, his cock half hard from the sight of your hips swaying innocently. his little wife was a minx, a destroyer of his very sense and being and she had no idea - perhaps that was what attracted him so much to you. the sense of constant naiveness, a gentleness stretched to you that he loved to pollute, wanting nothing more than to hear you beg for it first.
you shoved him down into the chair at the table, almost cheekily, whilst plating his dish.
jungkook sat with spread legs, thighs large and toned, eyes dark. he tracked your movements until you placed the plate in front of him, and watched as you turned to sit opposite him.
no chance.
one swipe of your waist and you were squeaking, pulled onto his lap, your dress sliding up in an immodest way as it revealed your inner thighs, jungkook making you press your back to his chest. he loved having you on him when he ate, or when he did anything, really.
his favourite was having you on his horse with him. riding his horse around the county, you facing him, chest to chest as you clung to him like he was the only thing you needed in the entire world and it made him feel like more of a man than ever. you were his darling girl, his sweets - your mere existence had him pumping up his chest as he rode you into town, burning holes into anyone who dared even look at you.
you couldn’t help your giggles as jungkook made a show of positioning you properly on his lap, his body engulfing yours despite both of you being sat, causing you to snuggle back into him. you watched him begin to eat, your fingers curling into his shirt, observing with curiosity.
you weren’t the best cook. cleaning and maintaining the home was difficult too; but you tried - not like it mattered to jungkook whatsoever. he liked you lounging around, looking pretty and reading your books, playing with the new ribbons you were ready to sow onto your bonnets.
he was obsessed with you. hard not to be, in his eyes, as he deemed you the dream woman he had always wished for, still half unbelieving that you too had shared the same feelings for him. he wasn’t a man of love or romance by any means but for you, he wanted it all. wanted to show you it piece by piece if it meant it would make you shine brighter.
he manoeuvred you then, feeding you the last few bites so you could get a taste of the stew you had cooked so nicely, positioning you oh so perfectly onto his cock so that it nudged your clit just right.
the feel had a soft sort of gasp leaving your throat as you clung to the edge of the table, looking down to see his hands on either side of your waist, grinding you down onto his cock like it was normal. you threw your head back slightly, moaning into the air as he pulled you back and forth, a hiss leaving his own lips.
“tell me, sweets. you like wearing slutty dresses like this around the house?” he harshly whispered into your ear, nudging your clit meanly.
“mhm.” you nodded, not even denying it. “like what you do when i wear them.”
at that, he squeezed the skin on your stomach, leaning down to bite down on your shoulder.
“yeah?” suckling on the skin. “what do i do?”
“make me take it.” you whimpered back, leaning forward even further.
“yeah i fucking do.”
jungkook grabbed your throat, one hand rough on your delicate little neck before moving you on his lap and pressing his lips to yours. you kissed him back with a level of passion dedicated solely for moments like this where pleasure overtook your brain.
your tongues danced in unison, a false war you had no intention of winning, and yet it felt so good to tease him just the way he liked teasing you. facing him on his lap only amplified the feeling against your clit as you grinded down, earning you a hiss from his throat.
before you could even think, jungkook had parted from your lips and he was pushing you against the table, your back resting on the smooth, wooden surface whilst he hovered over you.
he pressed kisses against your chest, your stomach, your hands that clung to his body as though he was your very own lifeline. you whimpered as he yanked the dress off of you, practically ripping it in order to get to your breasts. his mouth latched onto your left boob, grunting as he bit down on your nipples sucking, panting, licking. you were left purple and bruised, covered in honeyed hickeys that sunk into your skin like love drunk promises.
by the time he was done with you, you were a whining mess, breasts too sensitive for the way he was ruining you.
“my girl.” he whispered down at you, pressing kisses to your lips once more in hurried pecks, only for your hands to lose themselves in his hair, pulling him right back.
“mm. want you inside already, kookie.” you slurred up at him, all whilst he swore he couldn’t breathe from the sight of you.
hair blown out, legs spread, pretty pussy on show. you were flushed red, purple littering your chest with bitten lips driving him insane. you were everything he had ever wanted, and he often wished he was a man of better words for he had little in his vocabulary that felt adequate regarding his feelings for you.
“can’t, sweets.” he murmured down at you, fingers rubbing at your clit openly. “gotta stretch you open.”
your moans were music to his ears.
“i can take it. wan’it now.”
“you can take it?” he asked, voice condescending.
“mhm. promise.”
jungkook felt a thrill deep in his stomach at your words.
you had been together for a few fickle months now, and every time you had sex, it was the same conversation. it thrilled him at the beginning, and it only fuelled him more - the illusion of bravery. you’d tell him you could take all of him, all at once, only to whine and whimper the second he started to fuck you, too sensitive to stop shaking.
it was his favourite game, hearing you beg and beg and beg, only to watch you beg and break once it actually began.
he found himself in that exact situation now, rubbing his cock up and down your folds, your tattered dress ruined in fragments around your body. you were staring up at him with such hazy eyes, clouded by pleasure, unburdened by reason.
“you sure, sweets?” he whispered down at you, jaw clenching.
you hummed, with a big nod, wiggling your hips. “gonna take it all.”
“yeah?”
jungkook lined himself up, slowly and surely inserting his cock inside of you.
two hands sat on either side of your head as your mouth fell open to form an o, large eyes growing wilder and shaking arms coming to desperately hide your own face. the stretch was unfathomable, both painful and yet so, so pleasurable - a deep itch that could only be situated by your husband’s cock.
immediately your eyes shut tight as he pushed another inch in, just to hear you suck in a deep breath of air, trying to mitigate the overwhelming emotions.
“c’mon. thought you could take it?” he cooed at you, voice dripped in a condescending tone.
it only had you clenching harder around him.
“c-can’t…too big.” you whimpered loudly, much to his glee, feeling your much smaller hands beat against his chest as he further pushed.
“yeah you can. can and you will.” he hissed down at the feel of how tight you were despite being fucked open nearly every night by him.
his words had you moaning out loud, your legs opening wider as he pushed your thighs apart.
before you could whine again, complaining about his size despite being the one to beg and ask for him to fuck you the way you knew you couldn’t handle, he pushed the rest of his cock into you with a single thrust.
your eyes rolled to the back of your head, all whilst your body fell limp into his arms. it turned him on so much to see you wither below him, fingernails scratching already scarred skin all whilst clenching around him so sweetly.
the feel of him so deep inside of you, so heavy against your frame as you whimpered, pounding against his chest only causing him to grab your hands. he held them tightly to his chest, forcing you to stay still, all whilst you gasped for air.
just as you were adjusting, jungkook pulled his hips back and began to thrust. in and out, deeper and deeper - the feel of him had drool beginning to form at the corner of your mouth as you fell into cockdrunk territory at the mere feel of his cock. your back rose from the table, hands still locked away in his own, your moans echoing off of the walls of the room.
it brought him such pleasure to know your voice carried, whimpers and cries so loud he was sure that despite his secluded home, the whole town could probably hear him making love to you. his sweet wife, withering and begging for something she couldn’t even handle.
his thrusts began to pick up, growing in speed as the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed in his ears. he released your hands momentarily, watching as you immediately wrapped them around his biceps, begging for him to get closer to you as though you weren’t one.
jungkook turned downwards, picking up your smaller frame from the table and sitting back down on the heavy set chair, pulling you onto him so that you were straddling him with his cock nestled inside.
the position had your brain short circuiting, hitting deep inside of you. you could feel him planting sweet kisses to your cervix, your head pressed against his just as he planted his feet firmly on the ground before fucking up into you meanly. harsh, rough, fast - he didn’t bother to take it slow, knowing well enough that after weeks of fucking each and every day, it was the last thing you craved.
“so tight.” he growled down at you, slapping your ass loudly, all whilst you whimpered into him.
“so mean.” you whined at him, feeling him pound into you like a man scorned.
“gotta be mean to you, baby.” he cooed then. “pussy like this needs to be fucked open.”
your eyes rolled to the back of your head, all before he grabbed your throat, pushing on either side. the lack of oxygen was intoxicating, even more so once he pressed his lips against yours, chasing you despite your bodies already being pressed so intimately together.
“love you. love you so fucking much.” he parted from your lips, watching the way your eyes maintained eye contact, so far gone. “love you, kookie.”
fuck. he loved nothing more than hearing that. your declaration of love, the woman he idolised, worshiped. the very woman he had eyed for months and months, cleaned up his act, sorted himself out just to marry. you loving him was the greatest gift he had.
“again.” he hissed. “say it again.”
“i l-love you.” you moaned, just as he thrusted harder.
you were meeting his thrusts, grinding hard down, riding your cowboy husband closer and closer to your highs.
he goaded you into repeating yourself over and over and over as he shuddered from your promises of love, an understanding shared between you that you were his, entirely. forever.
“my wife. i’m gonna give you the world, sweets. gonna give you everything you’ve ever wanted, you hear me?” he hissed in your ear, hand no longer on your throat. “gonna give you children, get you nice and round for me, hm? you want that?”
you nodded desperately, chest rising and falling in pants as you rode him quicker, the burn and pain completely overshadowed by the aching pleasure each thrust left behind.
“fuck. such a good girl for me, taking my cum inside your pretty pussy every day.”
his coos were taunting you, and you could feel it deep inside your stomach. you were falling victim to it, letting it roll off of you in waves as his tone only heightened the already growing pressure in your stomach.
you knew you wouldn’t last, knew that it was only a matter of time you’d be cumming all over him, only causing you to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in even closer, just as he continued to pound.
“wan’it, kookie.” you whispered against his lips, a heightened sensation in your stomach. “get me pregnant.”
the crazed look in his eyes was enough to finally push you off the edge, just at the same time as him, as the both of you let out final moans from a heavy orgasm that overtook the two of you. your eyes shut tight as you squeaked, clenching so hard around his cock he nearly choked, feeling you milk him for every last drop. your legs began to shake around him, caged around him whilst he sat in the chair, still fully clothed whilst you were naked on his lap - the denim of his jeans irritating in your skin almost deliciously.
by the time you were calming down from your high, jungkook had you up in his arms, walking towards the bathroom. his cock still sat inside of you, your shaking figure whimpering in his arms as he bent down to start the bath for you both, all whilst you clung to him like a koala.
your words were spinning through his head at a million miles per hour.
get me pregnant. get me pregnant. get me pregnant.
it’s all he could see.
minutes later, when you were both in the bath, your head rested against his chest, snuggling into him in warm water whilst he clung to you as though you were a precious jewel. in many ways you were.
“you mean it? you ready, sweets?” he softly asked down at you, breaking the silence, all whilst you traced patterns against his skin.
you bit back the soft smile that wanted to form on your lips, knowing exactly what he was referencing. your husband was nothing if not a man who wanted to provide for you, especially when it came to the things you really wanted - you had discussed starting a family before, but this felt like the first time in which you were actually ready.
“wanna have a family with you.” you admitted softly, blinking up at him gently. “do you?”
he brushed a hand against your stomach, cupping the area far too sweetly for a man who knew nothing other than grit and violence.
“i want everything with you.” he confessed honestly.
this time, you couldn’t help the shy smile that appeared.
outside, the wind continued to howl against the walls of your shared home in the very same way the night you had stumbled into his arms, afraid and fearful for your life. you had fallen onto his land, unaware of the fact you had just entered the lair of perhaps the scariest man in town, an act that typically would’ve resulted in a fate far worse than death.
the desert remained unforgiving, the people in town no kinder but everything else has completely changed. no more were you the same girl that sat, locked away in your home dreaming of the very life you were living now. no longer were you the girl, often ridiculed by the people in your shared community for merely existing. no longer were you the girl sat by your window, watching jungkook from afar, wondering his name, wondering what he was like and more importantly; wondering whether he had ever noticed you.
oh, how little you knew then.
how naive you must’ve been to think there was ever a reality in which jeon jungkook could have done anything other than love you in the darkest of ways, possessiveness clouding every one of his actions.
his arms only tightened around you now, broad palm resting against your stomach as though to will an extension of your shared future, chin settling atop of your head all whilst you snuggled deeply into him.
he had promised you protection the same night you had ran into his arms unknowingly, begging for safety, for anything that would take the horrible sense of fear away. he remembered the way you had shook in his arms, half breathless and the other half terrified beneath the pale moonlight - it angered him. he had given it to you, in more ways than one, in forms that you never thought could be for you.
now, months later, you had realised his true devotion.
he had been protecting you from a life that had only ever brought you pain, replacing it with one he vowed to make joyous in every single manner he knew; even if that meant changing the very world to adapt to it.
he knew the whole city could come and knock on his door, but he was ready to answer it the same way he had done that night - with one hand on his gun, and the other holding your shaking body to his almost harshly. he dared anyone to take his girl away, his wife, his sweet, sweet girl.
he’d make them fucking pay.
—
hi my loves 💜
fighting the PCD really hard rn but also using it to fuel my writing, so i hope you guys enjoy this!!
as usual, let me know your thoughts & if you have any ideas for me my babies <3
if you wanna support a bad b pay her london rent, my kofi is here !!
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