Greta Van Fleet // Oneshots

Keep Them // Sam Kiszka *SMUT*

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~2600

Warnings: SMUT ALERT 18+ ONLY! [PWP. Non-penetrative sex. Cross-dressing. Tiny bit of dirty talking. The panties stay ON during sex.]

Yeah, I'm sure I'm not the only one who's thought about this (and if someone else has a fic like this, please send it my way;) ) and I've thought about it for too long. I had to write it. Hope you enjoy <3

---

The first lost pair of underwear was annoying, but not a huge loss–it wasn't a pair you cared much about and you chalked it up to accidentally leaving it in the communal dryer, left behind for whoever used the machine next to unknowingly scoop into their own basket. The second pair actually bothered you because you could have sworn you'd taken it out of the clean laundry and folded it with the others, then placed it right in its proper drawer. You had rifled through all your underwear, tearing through each pair in an effort to find the missing one that was embedded in your memory but to no avail. That pair was gone, too. The third missing pair, though–that one you knew for a fact you hadn't actually lost. Your boyfriend was wearing them.

"Sam–what the hell?" you asked, instantly thrown into a tizzy at the sight of your black lacy thong creeping up his hips.

Sam paused with his arm in the air, stretching upwards to put a glass on the top shelf of your kitchen cabinet. His shirt had ridden too high and the sweatpants too low; he looked down at himself, then tore his arm down along with his shirt, tugging at the hem as if he could erase what you'd just witnessed.

"Shit–sorry," he stammered, bewildering you more by being so unnervingly and unusually flustered. He really hadn't wanted you to see them? He was backing into the counter, waving his hands around as he struggled to speak. "It's–it's nothing."

Your voice rose to a shrill tone that pierced even your own ears: "Nothing? Sam, you're–you're wearing my underwear?"

Sam's face was scarlet, his eyes wide with his pupils so blown out you could see your own reflection in them. "I know, I know. Fuck, dude." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, turning his face away. "You think it's weird. It is weird. I'm so sorry."

You actually didn't think it was weird that he was wearing your panties. What you did think was weird was that he thought stealing them was more acceptable than just telling you he wanted to wear them. Or for you to buy him some. Because, even more truthfully, you'd thought about Sam in panties before. Full-blown lingerie, even. You'd just never expected to breathe a word of those fantasies to anyone, not even Sam himself.

You stepped toward him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, I'm not weirded out that you're wearing them. But I'm kinda annoyed you didn't tell me–I mean, I thought I lost those other pairs." You looked down at his hips–the panties were hidden again, but you could still see them in your mind. "You took them? You're a...panty thief?"

Sam laughed. Cheeks still flushed, he turned to look at you. "Looks that way. Looks bad, doesn't it?"

You lifted the hem of his shirt to catch a glimpse of the black lace peeking out from the waistband of his sweats. "Doesn't look bad at all, actually. I think it's hot."

Sam guffawed. "You do not, Y/N."

"I do," you assured him, running one hand down his stomach. "You should've told me you were into this a long time ago, Sam."

"I don't think it's something most girls are into."

"I don't think most girls have boyfriends as beautiful as you."