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sjyuns · 9 months

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WAY BACK HOME ┆ A SIM JAEYUN ONESHOT

BREAKING NEWS! the friendly neighbourhood superhero spider-man has been caught trying to swing into a girl’s heart — but why is he failing miserably?! is this the spider-man we all know and love? or has our hero lost his spark?

or in which sim jaeyun asks you, his best friend out, forgetting that he was still in his spider-man suit.

GENRE! best friends to lovers, mutual pining, extremely groundbreaking embarrassing pick up lines, my missed hit at being a comdeian, jaeyun being jaeyun ( ie a hot loser ),

CAUTION! idiots in love, two timing ( but they’re the same person ), kissing, love, mentions of weapons and fighting crime, bad pickup lines, embarrassment for sim jaeyun, both reader and jaeyun are nineteen in this fic

WORDCOUNT! 5100

MIKAELA’S! hey everyone, this is the first ever oneshot i’m posting on my shiny new blog! please feel free to leave feedback through reblogs or asks! hope you enjoy jake embarrassing the soul out of himself🫶 i love sim jaeyun so much ( too much it’s embarrassing tbh ) this is the last of my old drafts, sorry for the spam!

playlist ⟡ way back home — shaun ⟡ forever only — jaehyun ⟡ pov — ariana grande ⟡ daylight — taylor swift

i. with great power comes a platter of hot embarrassment

“With great power comes great responsibility,” is what Spider-Man once said in an interview with The Daily Times, the most widely read newspaper company in all of Seoul.

It’s so out of character of Sim Jaeyun that he himself wonders what exactly went through his mind at that given time to blurt out such a philosophical quote — especially when he was having the bad urge to take a piss at that very moment.

But whatever it was: he needs it to return now, because he’s standing in front of you, his best friend, and he thinks that now's the chance; to finally ask you out after saving you.

Unfortunately Sim Jaeyun is out of luck, like he always is with you, because nothing but five utterly embarrassing words come out of his mouth.

“You tingle my spidey senses.”

You choke back a laugh as you stare at the masked superhero, amused at his sudden pick-me-up. “Are you rizzing me up, mister friendly neighbourhood hero?”

It seems like too much thinking has altered the already broken thought process in Sim Jaeyun’s brain, because it is only now that he registers that he’s still in his Spider-Man suit, and you don’t have a single clue that he’s Spider-Man.

“Uh, I mean-” but he’s cut off by the roaring cheer of the gathered public, who have their phones out and recording.

“Don’t back down, Spider-Man,” a citizen calls out, and Jaeyun thinks it’s far too late to back out now, because not only will it crush his ego, you might think Spider-Man isn’t as cool as he seemed to be.

“Would you let me swing into your heart- I mean, could we” he pauses, “could we hang out sometime?”

You smile, and it makes Jaeyun frown slightly under his mask, because he knows that smile — it’s the polite one, the one you use in a slightly uncomfortable situation, as if you didn’t want to embarrass the popular superhero standing in front of you at the moment.

“Sure,” you grin, pearly whites on display, “could I bring my best friend Jaeyun though? He’s a big fan.” It’s him, he thinks, he’s the Jaeyun you’re talking about. And his heart skips a beat at your thoughtful action.

“Okay! Tomorrow, here, five in the evening,” he says in excitement without a second thought. You’ve just agreed to go out on a date with him, and he’s too drunk in love to think about how he’s going to meet you as Spider-Man without telling you his identity.

He shoots a web up and swings after shouting an elated “see you, yn,” in the air. All too caught up in you to realise the three critical mistakes he’d made.

ONE. He never asked for your name as Spider-Man

TWO. There’s no way he could ever go on a date with his suit on in public

THREE. How in the fucking world is he going to a date with you as both Spider-Man and Sim Jaeyun?

Sim Jaeyun spends the whole night twisting and turning in his bed, mind in a flurry as he tries to think of the smartest way to solve these problems.

And it doesn’t help him when his phone pings with a new message from you.

Guess who just bagged us a hang out with Spider-Man tomorrow!

Don’t wear that Spider-Man suit or I swear to god I will not bring you to see him.

He sighs as he presses hard on the power button of his phone, staring blanking at the black screen. Fuck power or responsibility, he thinks, all he wants is his best friend’s heart, is that too much to ask for?

ii. man up, spidey-boy!

“BREAKING NEWS! Spider-Man spotted trying to swing into a girl’s — who supposedly goes by the name yn, heart. And after failing miserably at the first try, he succeeded on the second. Spidey may be a hero who saves lives, but it seems like he might have to take up what youngster’s call ‘rizz’ classes.”

The wide billboard screen casts a video taken by a bystander as the announcer's voice blared into the main junction of the city.

Jaeyun groans as he hangs his head low, adjusting the baseball cap perched on top of his head to cover his face. Not like anyone knew he was Spider-Man, no, but it was just far too embarrassing for him.

He hears you before he sees you, your voice is illegally sweet as it causes a smile to appear on his face amidst all of the stress. “Jaeyun!” You call, “you’re unusually late,” and Jaeyun groans, blaming it on the lack of sleep he had gotten last night, “Spider-Man isn’t here yet.”

Right, Spider-Man. Jaeyun still hasn’t found a solution to that.

His suit is tucked safely in the bottom of his bag, just in case. But for now, Jaeyun thinks it’s a better decision to disappoint you as Spider-Man instead of as your best friend. Besides, he hasn’t missed a single hang out session with you, and he isn’t ever planning to.

“Do you think he’s actually going to come?” You ask, head tilting in question and eyes soft, and Jaeyun wonders if he actually underestimated how much you liked Spider-Man, misunderstood that seemingly polite smile you gave him yesterday — should he have came as Spider-Man instead?

“Uhm,” he pauses, hesitant to squash your expectations, “how about we go first? I’m sure Spider-Man will swing by, it seems like he likes you a lot.” And even though he was talking about himself, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy bubbling in him at the thought of another boy liking you.

“Right,” you say, giving him a smile that makes his heart melt, “I guess it’s just us, like it always is.” Your fingers wrap around his, “I like it like this.” You mutter softly, yet in the buzz of the city square, Jaeyun catches the whisper of your voice, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“Plus, if I ever need, you can be my Spider-Man — whip out that fake suit of yours. You have his physique anyway, and your pick up lines are just as idiotic as his. Maybe even more idiotic.”

Jaeyun lets out a loud laugh, one that’s of melodious dreams, and it causes a few pedestrians to stare but he doesn’t care, not when you’re next to him, asking him to be your very own Spider-Man. And he agrees immediately, all too ready to put on the ‘fake’ red and blue suit just for you.

He’s a little amused that you still believe that he’s a hardcore fan of Spider-Man, because the only time you’ve caught him wearing that very suit was two years ago, when you coincidentally entered his room to see him in a Spider-Man suit without a mask.

And he still remembers your accusations of him being a fanboy, asking him if dressing up as his idol was what he did in his free time. Jaeyun was way too flustered to even explain himself, and letting you know that he was the real Spider-Man never even crossed his mind as he bashfully nodded to your words.

But it wasn’t like you ever laughed at him about it, though you did tease him. You would still buy him different types of Spider-Man merchandise, ranging from Spider-Man socks to a custom Spider-Man mug with the words ‘Spider-Man loves Jaeyun’ in bold red.

With every gift given, came an opportunity to reveal his identity. Yet Sim Jaeyun never seizes it, he refuses to, because he finds it so endearing — the way you have the proudest smile on your face as you give him merchandise of himself that he has never seen before, the way you send him a picture of every single Spider-Man related thing you see on the streets.

“Right,” he nods as he gazes adoringly at you, “forget the real Spider-Man, I’ll swing into your heart.” And the giggle you let out once again makes his knees weak — he thinks the smile plastered on your face is much more genuine than the one he saw yesterday.

And he wants to kiss you so bad, tell you exactly how much he likes you, loves you. This familiar feeling that has settled comfortably at the bottom of his heart and back of his mind for the past four years, has only grown and never dwindled. It was times like this, where he didn’t feel the burden of having to be alert about ongoing crime.

Only with you can he feel like Sim Jaeyun — a lovesick nineteen year old and not Spider-Man, the hero of Seoul.

“Jaeyun, what do you want to do first?” You ask, pulling him through the blaring fun of the amusement park. He hums, following behind your excited figure, letting you choose what you wanted to do. “Oh my god, look it’s a Spider-Man toy.”

You halt in your step and immediately turn towards him, eyes sparkling. “Do you want it Jaeyun? I’ll get it for you. Just so you aren’t too sad that Spider-Man ghosted us today.”

He scoffs, as he examines the booth. It’s a shooting game, and he knows that you suck at shooting. “You sure, love? From what I remember, you aren’t too good at shooting games,” he brings up and you shoot him a sharp glare before pestering him to pay the vendor.

You end up blaming your best friend for jinxing you, “Yun, if you never said that, I could have shot them all down,” you complain, eyes morphing into slits as you pinpoint the blame on him. Jaeyun raises his two hands in innocence, face displaying an expression of shock, “I didn’t even say anything wrong, plus you barely hit one out of five balloons.”

You groan, shushing him in embarrassment, “If you’re such a professional, win it for me then,” you challenge him. Jaeyun shrugs, it’ll be easy — all those years of shooting webs has made him extremely sharp, so he manages to shoot all the five balloons without any effort, snagging the coveted Spider-Man doll.

“You sure you don’t want it, Yun?” you question, “add it to your collection as a fanboy.” He shakes his head, handing you the plush toy, “I won it for you. Plus, I like the ones you gave me more.”

It overwhelms you, the stark sincerity in his voice. And you feel the sudden need to kiss him, not like you’ve never thought of it before (more like you’ve thought about it too much), because Sim Jaeyun with his bright personality and handsome face is far too good to be real.

But you can’t bring yourself to be that direct, so you settle for a kiss on the cheek. A quick movement and a short peck before you let out a loud giggle, walking over to the next booth with a stupid smile plastered on your face, leaving Jaeyun in shock and awe — eyes wide and mouth agape before he bites back a smile.

He thinks it’s too hard to conceal his feelings any longer; that he has to tell you soon, next week, tomorrow, or maybe even now. And he feels the three words, eight letters, at the tip of his tongue.

As always, though, he swallows them back down, throat dry as he stares at you. The fear of rejection far too intense for him to handle.

How ironic, that Sim Jaeyun could fight criminals with equipped daggers that could kill him in one swift motion, yet he could not say three simple words to a girl who has pierced his heart and filled his stomach with butterflies.

iii. in a sticky predicament

“Now on to our very own Spider-Man’s upcoming love story that seems to be wilting by the looks of it — Spidey, in fact, did not show up to his date with yn, who was seen with another boy at the amusement park. Our very own hero is facing multiple accusations that he may be, like his representative colour, a red flag. However, a minority of fans have brought up a speculation; that the boy we call Spider-Man, might be the very boy accompanying yn yesterday unmasked. That’s all for Spider-Man, here on The Daily News.”

“Don’t you think that’s insane Jaeyun?” you laugh, throwing your head back into the soft pillow on his bed, “they think you’re Spider-Man.”

“Right,” he trails on, arms crossed as he leans on the doorframe, “that’s so impossible.”

His laugh awkward as his fingers find themselves combing through his hair for the nth time. And you turn your head, looking at him with suspicion. Right, that’d be crazy, insane maybe, you think, because Sim Jaeyun was well — him. He’s slightly awkward, likes physics, and hell he’s scared of bugs, so it’ll be mind blowing if he ever was the real Spider-Man.

But impossible, you think, might not be true. And you sit up on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on him. Same physique, similar height, he’s athletic, and he shoots well. Plus, from your ever so short encounter with Spider-Man saving you from getting your wallet stolen, Spider-Man is just as awkward as your best friend.

Could he really be Spider-Man? But he’s a fan of Spider-Man, wouldn’t it be weird if he was such a big fan of himself. Still, you couldn’t rule out the possibility.

“Jump,” you instruct, “hang upside down on the walls.” Jake is shocked, as his heart accelerates in nervousness at the thought of being found out.

“Don’t be weird,” he groans, trying to keep calm, “that’s literally humanly impossible.” His mind racing, finding a way to get out of this sticky situation, because as much as he wants to tell you his identity, the last way he wanted you to find out was through the internet. Also, maybe because you looked slightly angry, with your eyebrows furrowed and hands on your head, and Jaeyun didn’t want you to be mad at him.

You were deep in thought, was that why Spider-Man didn’t show up yesterday — because he is actually Sim Jaeyun, and he couldn’t be there as two different people.

That might be a stretch, but it isn’t an impossible scenario. You tilt your head, quickly grabbing the pillow you were just lying on, throwing it at him, “catch.”

He catches it easily, with one hand even, as his face contorts into an expression of surprise. “Don’t scare me like that, love,” he says. But you’re too flabbergasted at the fast reflexes of your best friend to even comprehend his complaint.

“You could really give Spider-Man a run for his money, you know?” you chuckle, as you tell yourself that no matter how much it might fit, it’s probably just a coincidence, “put on that suit of yours and fight crime.” It was all a coincidence, right?

“What if I’m scared of getting hurt,” he pouts, and you snort. With Sim Jaeyun’s level of cowardice, there’s no way he could ever be out there fighting.

“Then I’ll protect you,” you say, “I’ll be your sidekick, all you have to do is stand there and look pretty.”

He grins, walking over to stand in front of you; hands moving to ruffle your hair. “Okay love, you lead, I’ll follow.”

iv. tell him to grow a pair

Your newfound popularity brings you more drawbacks than benefits — by that you mean the sudden fury of boys approaching you to ask for your number. It annoys Jaeyun more than it does you, as your best friend flaunts a new irritated look that you’ve rarely seen.

“That’s the sixth fucking boy,” he grumbles, eyes rolling before he glares at the fleeting figure of Lee Heeseung, the boy who just asked you for your number, the boy who Jaeyun lashed out at.

“Be kind, Yun,” you chuckle, amused at your best friend’s sudden grumpiness, “I mean, I’ve never lashed out at any of the girl’s who ask you out.”

“No one has asked me out.” he groans, “are you flaunting right now?”

“Yes I am,” you reply, “don’t worry Jaeyun, you’ll always be my loser.”

He lets out a loud exaggerated sigh as he rolls his eyes, leaning against the locker as he grits his teeth in exasperation.

You wonder why no girl has ever hit Sim Jaeyun up. Granted, he wasn’t the best looking guy back in middle school with his choice of brightly coloured clothes that blinded eyes, but you think that was part of the appeal — how awkwardly adorable he was. Now, with his upgraded fashion style and bubbly personality, it’s a miracle no one has tried their shot at bagging him. Not that you wanted anyone to.

Sim Jaeyun is yours, just as much as you are his.

And he thinks the exact same. Despite what you think, he has had a girl approach him, professing his love only to get turned down by his puppy-like smile and his confession that he liked you.

Though his body exudes jealousy, there's a slight bit of relief at the fact that you turned all six of the boys down, telling them that you had a crush on someone else. He hopes, prays, begs that the person you think about is him. He furiously looks for a sign, because he’s tired of all this, and he needs a sign from you before he can courageously make the first move.

After school, the both of you walk down the buzzing streets with carts of street food lined up along the roadside. Your fingers bunching the fabric of Jaeyun’s shirt as he navigates the both of you through the crowded streets, making a beeline for his favourite churros shop.

“I told you the queue would be long, it’s Friday night,” you whine, mentally counting the number of people in front of you. Fifteen, that’ll take a while. “We should have just ordered in pizza and binge on Netflix shows.”

“Fine, we can eat churros another day,” Jaeyun pouts and you curse yourself for saying that even when you knew he wanted to eat churros.

“It’s fine, we can stay, since we’re already here.” You stop him, pulling him back beside you in the queue, “but you can’t leave to do something else like last time, you have to wait with me.”

The glow on his face coupled with the adorable smile on his lips makes you stare in awe. And you think Sim Jaeyun is so pretty and handsome all at once it’s a crime to look as good as him. His lips, god, they look so kissable and soft, you wish you could kiss them at any given time — now, tomorrow, forever.

But the moment doesn’t last long, as faint screams and shouts travel from a small corner shop down the road. “Thief, there’s a thief on the run.”

You watch as Jaeyun’s eyes widen, body in a sudden scramble, “uhm, I’m gonna go to the toilet for a moment,” he says amidst the whispers of the crowd, “stomach ache, you know.” Running off before you can give him a reply, brushing past people hurriedly into a random narrow street.

You shrug it off again because it isn’t the first time Jaeyun has acted out of character. However, you can’t help but realise it was always when there was crime.

The questions and suspicions floating around your head for the past week resurface as you focus on the narrow street your best friend had disappeared into.

Oh my god.

You blink profusely, pinch yourself, and rub your eyes because this is mind blowing information. You can’t seem to believe an ounce of what your eyes have just seen. Was that Spider-Man who just swung out of the very same alleyway?

Sim Jaeyun is Spider-Man. And your conclusion only seems to solidify as you hear the muffled voice coming out of his masked persona.

“Oops, sorry,” and a careless swing as he tries his best to manoeuvre through the crowd, accidentally knocking over a little girl’s ice cream cone, “I'm sorry, please don’t cry.”

Yup, that’s Jaeyun. His voice now so familiar you hit yourself in the head for not realising sooner. And his utterly helpless tone as he tries to soothe the little girl — you could recognise it from a mile away.

“I’ll get you a new one, I’m sorry,” he shouts as he spins his web and shoots again, lamppost to windows to signboards before effortlessly catching up with the thief; who was now bound to the wall by web.

“Sorry,” he groans for the fourth time in a matter of minutes, “it’s my job — i mean, not that you deserve to get away no, i just-” he rambles and you giggle at his comment. Seems like Sim Jaeyun will never change, even as a superhero or as your best friend.

“I meant to say, justice has been served,” he nods, seemingly proud of his awkward catchphrase that you were sure he stole from the superhero movie you watched with him a few weeks back. “I have to get back now, someone awaits me you know - i mean, no- I’m not supposed to give details of my personal life. I’ll just- stop talking… yeah.”

And you watch again as he swings back down the street. With his identity revealed, you can’t help but look up to Jaeyun even more now — a top student and a superhero? How unfair the world is. How lucky you were to have him as your best friend.

“Hey! Aren’t you yn? Spider-Man, is that your girl?” You shrink, head down as you fix your gaze on the floor immediately, cheeks a rosy red. God, you think, this is a little embarrassing.

You feel his presence before you see his shadow morphing with yours on the floor, “hey yn,” and you look up to see the superhero, who’s panting ever so slightly, stand in front of you in his glory. “Sorry about last week, I was well busy, and I know it isn’t any-”

“It’s fine,” you stop him from blabbering, a toothy grin plastered on your face. And Jaeyun feels proud, maybe him saving someone has put Spider-Man back into your good graces, maybe he has a chance with you as Spider-Man.

“I had fun with my crush at the amusement park. Actually, thank you for the opportunity, I kissed his cheek for the first time and it felt like heaven.”

He pauses, and Jaeyun wants to rip off his mask at the very moment to kiss you. You liked him back, fuck, you actually liked him back.

“Ah,” he says after a while of tense silence, his hands rubbing the nape of his neck, “that’s amazing. So- do you… I mean- so you’re like, in love with him? Wait love might be a little uhm-”

“Yeah, I’m in love with him.”

Time stops as your eyes pierce into his, and he can swear at this moment that you knew exactly who he was. He thinks it’s over, and he can finally ask you to be his — because he’s hellbent on loving you, for the past four years he has been.

“Seems like this crush of yours needs to step up his game, or I might just steal you away,” he remarks lightheartedly, uncaring of the sea of cameras pointing towards the both of you.

“Yeah, it seems like he does. Maybe you should visit him one day, tell him that it’s about time to man up, or I’ll be the one asking for his hand.” You shoot a knowing glance at him, a confident smirk on your face.

Jaeyun chuckles, “right, I’ll be sure to tell him that, wouldn’t want him to lose such a special girl.”

“Thanks Spidey, I wonder what I’d ever do without you,” you laugh, patting his suited shoulder before he once again swings away into the narrow alleyway, only to appear minutes later donned in his usual faded ripped jeans and white shirt, hair tousled and smile wide as he runs back to you.

And he’s before you all again, this time as your best friend and you swoon as his adoring eyes and elated smile. “You okay?” You ask, hand raising to fix his hair.

“I couldn’t be better.”

v. Batman vs Spider-Man, a battle of the mans

“Spider-Man should now change his name into wing man as he is spotted once again, engaging in conversation with the very same yn from last week. Spider-Man was not only ruthlessly dumped by her, but was also asked to quote on quote visit her crush to ask him to grow a pair. Seems like she is off the market for our poor lonely superhero, who can’t seem to catch anyone except for criminals. That’s all for Spider-Man, here on The Daily News.”

“Seems like you can’t catch a break, huh Yun?” You point out as you switch the television off, “not only defamed into a wing man but also asked to grow a pair.”

And it seems like he really can’t because ever since you confronted him about being Spider-Man, his days have been filled with even more ruthless teasing, and weird questions.

“How do you even piss as Spider-Man?”

“Can I swing from building to building?”

“Can you hang upside down for ten minutes?”

“How do you think you would fare against Batman in a fight?”

But there’s one unasked question still hanging in the air. And Jaeyun really wants to address it, but it seems like you’ve lost your confidence by the way the flesh of your cheeks heats an angry red at any slight hint of him being your crush — or as Jaeyun would like to call himself; your soon to be boyfriend.

“I’ve grown a pair,” he says, shifting towards you, eyes trained on yours, “seems like someone has lost a pair.”

“Have not” you argue, lies — you could barely look at Jaeyun now without a lovesick smile on your face. Neither could you muster up the courage to ask him to be your boyfriend. “And if you ever grew a pair, you would have asked.”

“Ask what?” He teases, face moving closer to yours. He looks too good, godly almost, with his black rimmed glasses perched at the bridge of his nose.

You pout, furrowing your eyebrows as you place a light slap on the middle of his chest. And he lets out a low chuckle, the vibrant sun rays flush through the sheer day curtains of Jaeyun’s room, a natural spotlight glowing on the both of you.

“Fine,” he whispers, and you can feel his breath on your lips, it’s warm and inviting and you feel yourself leaning into him. “Will you be my girlfriend, love?”

You barely nod your head before he attaches his lips on yours. And you think you’re going to be obsessed with Sim Jaeyun — your fingers find their way through his hair and he sighs. It’s like he’s imprinted in your heart and you want to kiss him again and again and again.

Sim Jaeyun with pretty eyes, pretty lips, a pretty face, a pretty being, breaks the kiss only to kiss you again and again as you wish.

“Did I swing into your heart, love?” He smirks as you playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “Are we not going to bring up the time when you fell after showing me your web skills?”

He tackles you down and you giggle, “I can fall from the sky, I can fall from a tree, but the best way to fall is to fall in love with you.” He grins idiotically before racing out the door as you cringe at yet another bad pick up line from him.

“Sim Jaeyun, are you kidding me? I wonder how you even make up quotes like ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ with that mind of yours.”

“What mind? You mean my mind — the place where you always are?”

You groan in fake disgust as you watch your boyfriend (boyfriend!) smile proudly at his idiotic pick up lines. The both of you drinking sunlight as if it’s love — where he’s all yours and you’re all his.

uncut. confessions i can’t make ( a crumpled confession letter written by a sixteen year old sim jaeyun )

hi dear yn,

i like you. it’s been a while since you took my breath away we first met. this is my first time ever writing a confession so i don’t really know what to say write… i guess it’s like writing physics notes so maybe it wouldn’t be too hard i hope

chapter one part one : what i like about you

i like the way you smile laugh, how your eyes turn into the tiniest of crescents, it makes me proud of the jokes i crack (that physics joke was good was it not). i like the feeling i have around you — it’s warm and fuzzy, natural — talking everyday without any forceful conversation, laughs or attention.

part two : why you should like me

i think you should like me because i like you. i think you should like me because i’m smart! i can help you with physics and maths. i don’t really know what else i can give you but i’ll try my best to make you smile everyday.

will you be my girlfriend? Oh god, this is so weird i actually like you a lot and

(a bunch of scribbling)

forget it. you’ll never like me back.

dear mister sim jaeyun,

after three hours of fighting for my life, i have finally gotten my hands on the most treasured item of the year, a sixteen year old you’s crumpled confession letter to me. and since you wrote it in a physics notes style like a loser, as your girlfriend i have no choice but to follow you (so that you don’t feel lonely)

one. what i like about you

everything. i like your hair, i like your face. I like the way you say sorry to every single person in the neighbourhood while courageously saving them. i like your pick up lines on some days and how you have the guts to challenge Batman to a fight when i proclaim him as my favourite hero. i like the way you laugh and i like the way you smile. i am especially enchanted by your kicked puppy ways and easily manipulated demeanour where i can always get what i want without question.

two. why you should like me

i’m your girlfriend and you’re my girlfriend. (you are my girlfriend) you should stop staring at me with those eyes, it gives me the ick (i meant that in a ‘whatever you say pretty boy’ kind of way) you should like me because i am the person who likes you the most. (i love you so much)

will i be your girlfriend? obviously i will, i mean who can say no to you.

love you babe,

spider-man’s (your) hot sidekick

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frenziedfireworks · 11 months

Text

Book Exchange

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary : You read quite a risque book next to your best friend and the next few days are filled with lots of tension.

CW : SMUT, f!reader, 18+ Characters, Praise/Degradation, fingering (f! receiving), breeding kink, possessive!seb (if u squint), lots of teasing & cheesy petnames

A/N : I thought of this idea a few days ago and have been working hard on it LMAO. I love the game and have such bad brainrot - if anyone has requests for the hogwarts legacy characters.. send them my way <3

Sebastian and you had been close for a long time. I mean with everything you two had gone through it was only plausible. He was your rock, best friend, and maybe.. secret crush. He didn’t need to know about that though! Besides, you would never want to ruin what the two of you had.

“You’re staring. What’s wrong?” Sebastian’s voice took you out of a daydream. You shook your head as the boy raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing. Just was thinking about the potions essay.” Sebastian groaned, throwing his face into the couch pillow.

“Don’t remind me. This is supposed to be our break, you know.”

He was right. For it being Christmas break it didn’t feel as much. All of your professors were going overboard with the homework as if a few weeks off would make your brain go smooth. You had barely any time to read or venture around with the looming thought of essays.

“It is quite tedious. I don’t get why they continue to add even more work.”

“Beats me. I think they just like to watch us suffer. Either way, I still don’t like them. I’m taking a nap.” Sebastian adjusted himself over the couch, laying his legs across your lap. You smiled as you rested your hands on his limbs, looking at his relaxed face. He was quite beautiful when he wasn’t talking himself up or making snarky remarks. Not that you would tell him that, you would never hear the end of it.

‘Does dear Y/N really think I’m beautiful? Am I like your little swan, my love’

You shuddered at the thought and rolled your eyes. He would. With this time alone, or more so, without Seb bothering you to death you looked around and took out your book. Nobody would catch you this late and it wouldn’t hurt to read.. It made you nervous thinking about if Sebastian woke up and caught you with such a scandalous book but you couldn’t help yourself. You had always secretly loved dirty literature. You’d go into a quaint bookshop where your friend, Agatha, had a hidden section for women like you. The scandalous and degenerative novels.

His fingers trailed down her bodice, lips making their way down her neck. Their breaths combined as he yanked at the last remaining garments.

You held your breath. You knew you were finally getting to the good part.

“Darling, you are ravishing. Look at you, such a smart and pretty girl, open all for me..” His hands circled her neck, pulling her ever closer. “Say it. Go on.” She shuddered at his domineering voice.

“Merlin’s beard.” Sebastian grumbled as he adjusted his back.

You had almost screamed, shuffling your book into your bag. Sebastian was just as shocked, holding his chest as if he had just had a heart attack.

“I think I’ve just died. What in the world did you jump for?” Sebastian breathed out, hand rubbing at his eyes.

You calmed yourself, rubbing soothing circles into his leg.

“Sorry. You moving scared me, I was out of it.” You gave him a small smile hoping that he wouldn’t pry anymore in his sleepy state. He just hummed and closed his eyes.

“Right. Try not to jump next time I wake up, yeah?” A half smirk made his way onto his face. You only nodded, continuing to fidget for the next few minutes. Maybe reading improper literature in the halls wasn’t your best idea.

—

It had been a few days since that incident and you and Sebastian were out and about. He had decided that going on a walk would ‘clear your minds’ before going back to the hell that was classwork. You had to admit that seeing his nose and cheeks tinge with a lovely shade of red was worth freezing your ass off.

“It’s pretty isn’t it?” Sebastian’s voice cut through the silence, his eyes wandering across the fields of snow. It was gorgeous but you couldn’t help but think that your view of him was much more of a sight.

“It is.” You murmured, watching as he turned to meet your eyes. He gave you a small smile, one he reserved for moments like these. The calm and kind Sebastian, the unprotected one that he let almost no one see. You liked this Sebastian. It made you feel special. He let you in to see his vulnerabilities and you felt like you could melt away in them.

“It’s getting late, you know. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble getting back after curfew.” His tall frame ushered behind you and weaved his arm around your chest. His head laid against yours and you swore Medusa had turned you to stone. You took a few slow breaths trying to calm your racing heart and finally spoke.

“A few more minutes couldn’t hurt Seb.”

His lips lingered by your ear and his scent engulfed you.

“Trying to get us in trouble? Such a naughty girl.”

Your whole body lit up in flames. Sebastian was a flirt but he had never said something so brazen before. There was no way in hell he was doing that on purpose, he had to be trying to get a rise out of you or something.

“Oh shut up. You’re one to talk.” Your voice cracked and suddenly your shoes looked very interesting.

“Heh. You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. Let’s get back.” Sebastian smacked your back and began walking away without a second word. Your mouth was almost on the ground. You would kill him if he didn’t kill you with his comments first.

—

Things had turned back to normal after your little moment. Well as normal as it could be. The comments he made still lived in the back of your head and got louder as you tried to sleep at night.

You had tossed and turned in bed for what felt like hours, dirty thoughts of Sebastian plaguing away. His large and calloused hands making their way down your body. His broad chest caging you against the bed as his fingers yanked at your undergarments. God was it insufferable. You finally got up and looked around the room for your bag. You desperately needed release or something to take your mind off the impurities of Sebastian.

Perfect.

Your hand pulled at your book and you settled down into bed again. It couldn’t hurt to finish the novel and at least there was no prying eyes while you were alone.

—

There was a bang against the door waking you up from your much needed sleep. You raised your head from the comfort of your pillows with a loud groan hoping it was enough to get whoever it was to go away.

“Sebastian has been annoying the shit out of me for hours, Y/N. I cannot take him for much longer and he has been begging for you. Can you please come take care of your boyfriend?” Imelda’s voice echoed through the dorm halls.

“He isn’t my boyfriend!” You moaned as you got up to get dressed. Leave it to Sebastian to keep you up all night and wake you up early.

“Yeah and I’m not good at Quidditch! Just keep him out of my sight!” She barged away, a few profanities leaving her mouth.

You begrudgingly made your way through the halls of the common room to be met with the puppy dog eyes of your best friend.

“Y/N finally! I was starting to think you’d never wake up!” Sebastian automatically took your arm in his and led you over to one of the empty couches.

“Wish I hadn’t. Wouldn’t have to deal with your ugly face then.” Sebastian mocked offense and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say. I have a busy day planned for us.”

The boy went over his need for a few potion ingredients, something about losing a bet with Ominis and how you would accompany him to Hogsmeade. You just nodded along, half asleep as he continued to dawdle.

“So then when I get that all done- Y/N are you even listening to me?” His hand shook at your form and you rubbed at your eyes.

“Yeah, your potion for Ominis and everything. I got it Seb. Let’s just get it over with.” You stretched and motioned for him to get walking.

“Jeez, someone didn’t sleep well. Nothing a few butterbeers can’t cure though.”

—

Half of the day you spent standing behind as Sebastian bought things. He even went and bought a few new sweaters with your ‘much needed approval’ as he put it. It was quite funny seeing him strike a pose or two whenever he tried on a new outfit. In your mind though Sebastian was handsome enough to pull off a garbage bag if he wanted to.

“Now we can go get those much earned butterbeers.” His cheery disposition made you grin as he tugged you along to the Three Broomsticks. You two quickly made your way over to ‘your table’.

“Oh if it isn’t trouble. I was starting to miss you two.” Sirona plopped down two butterbeers and grinned. “On the house today.” She walked away as you both spouted your thanks and got to drinking.

“Today wasn’t too bad was it?” Sebastian asked.

His hair was a bit askew and his new green sweater made his eyes blend with the caramel color of the drink. He was absolutely breathtaking.

“Yeah, not too shabby. You like pulling me around?” You joked. Sebastian’s fingers brushed against yours on the table and he sent you a look you had never seen before.

“Oh trust me there’s a few other things I’d like to pull you into.”

Your mouth went agape and it felt like you had just walked across hot coals.

“You-”

Sirona interrupted the two of you with a smack to the table.

“The two of you best leave, have to close early I’m afraid. One of my dear friends fell ill.”

Your brain had barely processed the words before the two of you were being shooed out the door and Sebastian was walking you back to the castle.

“She was in a rush. I’ve never seen her so concerned. I hope everything will be alright.” Sebastian filled the empty void with words but you couldn’t pay attention. The heat along your core still flamed as you took each step. How much longer was he going to keep up this charade?

—

You were having a major sense of deja-vu. Your eyes circled the drapes of your bed as your thoughts ran wild with Sebastian. Again. A plan had to be made because there was no way you could continue to be in his presence with the comments and tension. Would you tell him your feelings? No. Could you flirt back? Not to save your life. Whatever could you do.. You punched your pillow in defeat and got up looking for your book. You rummaged through your bag when something caught your eye. There was a book in there that hadn’t belonged to you. You brought it into the light and your soul left your body.

It was a scandalous novel. A new one that you had not yet read or bought. You peeled the cover open and a card dropped into your lap.

‘You don’t need to read these sinful books to get what you’re looking for. Although it was quite hot to see you do such a lewd thing right in front of me. You’ve got balls. Enjoy this one, yeah? Maybe we can even act it out once you’re done.’

If it was possible to die of embarrassment you would already be ten feet underground. Sebastian had caught you that night and enjoyed it. Who knew how long he had sat there and watched you squirm as you read the words. Not only that but he had the gall to buy you another and write such a cheeky note. Your body hummed with electricity at the thought of reenacting such stories with Sebastian.

You had a book to read.

—

You practically ran down the corridor stairs in the morning. You had come up with a perfect plan to corner him in his own game. Your mouth formed into a devious grin as you spotted Sebastian. Slowly, you approached him and ran your finger over the back of his neck. His eyes raised and his cheeks were dusted with a sheen of rose. You gave him a casual smile and sat down.

“Morning Seb. Any plans for today?” You asked as you laid your legs across his lap and stretched your back revealing just a tiny bit of your stomach. His grip on your thighs got just a tad tighter.

“I-Uh no. You have anything in mind?”

“Quite a few things actually. You game?” You rubbed at his hand, attempting to connect the dots with his freckles. You could hear his uneven breathing from the other side of the couch and that only fed into your newfound confidence. You tapped against his hand again.

“I said are you game or not?” Your voice commanded and his hues widened like saucers.

“Of course. When would I not be?” He exasperated and dug his nails harder into your flesh.

“Mm.. good boy. That’s what I thought. Come on then.” You couldn’t help but chuckle as you heard the tiny gasp leave his mouth. It wasn’t even seconds before he was in tow following you like a mother hen.

You cackled silently to yourself when you made your way to the front door of the Great Hall and turned. Sebastian had never looked so confused nor dissatisfied in his life.

“I’m starving!” You made your way down to your usual seats and watched as his sulky attitude got worse. His grip on his poor spoon would soon break it if he wasn’t careful.

“Your plans are to eat? That’s it?” His voice was deep and annoyed, dark eyes following the movement of your lips. Seeing him like this made you uncomfortable. Not in a bad way of course, but more so extremely turned on.

“Yeah? Like I said I was hungry. Thought we could go out and play gobstones-“

“You think you’re fucking funny?” His grip was suddenly not on the spoon but your shoulder, lips lingering on your ear.

“I think I’m fucking hilarious.” You whispered under your breath. That was obviously the wrong move because he ripped at your shoulder, practically dragging you out of the hall.

“Fucking brat. Think you’re funny. I’ll show you fucking funny.” Sebastian grumbled as he shoveled you down the Undercroft stairs. Your core clenched at his snide remark and part of you hoped that he really was angry. Maybe he would finally stop dancing around the subject of you two.

Sebastian’s hand pushed you against a pillar as the other slammed next to your head. He had perfectly sandwiched you beneath him, his dark eyes watching your every move.

“Not talking much anymore, are you?” His breath danced against your face, nose nudging against yours.

“Kiss me already.” You groaned and Sebastian took action. His mouth was everywhere at once. Dangerous kisses were pressed against your neck and jawline, his teeth rubbing against the flesh enough to leave red marks. He moved slowly as if you were prey, his eyes watching the way you squirmed under his gaze.

“You’re lucky I want to kiss you. I wouldn’t be giving you it so easily otherwise.” His face melted into your own, tongue prodding its way into your cavern. His hands roamed your body earnestly pulling at almost anything he could touch. Your whole body was jolting from the little touches, feeling as though he had made you anew.

“Seb-” You moaned as his hands ran beneath your shirt. It was tantalizing the way he rubbed the plush of your stomach, eyes pleading you to take off the garment. You could only nod in consent before he had thrown it halfway across the room. His hues took your form in, tongue wetting his lips.

“You’re fucking beautiful. I’m going to ruin you.” His hands worked at the hooks of your bra and he raised an eyebrow in confirmation. You don’t know where the sudden confidence came surging from but you moved his hands and trailed it slowly down your body. Part of you wanted to hide but it was too late for that. He had already seen you and besides, you had been imagining this for quite some time.

“God. Look at you.” Sebastian shoveled his hair back and dove in. His lips circled your nipple, teeth tugging at it just enough to make you yap.

“Fuck! Sebastian please.” Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued to lap and massage your tits. He looked absolutely sinful making eye contact with you from such an angle.

“Please what? Tell me what you want.” His hand came down to slap your tit and an equally evil grin appeared as he heard your moan.

“P-Please. Put your hands on me.” Wanton moans passed your lips as he continued to indulge in his pleasures.

“My hands are already on you. See?” You could practically see his ego soaring as he kneaded your breasts.

“More.”

“More? Aren’t you demanding?” Sebastian mocked as his fingers trailed your waistband. He pulled at the soft material and danced on a fine line of barely touching you. He was slow and agonizing as he pulled at the buttons of your skirt, continuously glancing to watch your reactions.

“Sebastian, please. I need you.” Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt getting even more agitated by the second. His hands swatted yours away and quickly stripped away the cloth.

“You’re a greedy little thing. I swear I could’ve thought you were teasing me not even ten minutes ago. Now I have you pliant and needy. Should I really give you what you want?”

Your hands splayed against his bare chest and there was nothing more you wanted to do than to be one with him. A sudden primal desire to be as close as humanly possible and feel his muscles convulse against you. You knew that Sebastian wanted to hear you beg and you would give him whatever he wanted.

“Please. I’m begging you. I’ll be good.” You choked back a moan as Sebastian ripped your outfit off at the seams. Your underwear and skirt pulled away in one swift move and his hands rubbed deliciously at your inner thighs.

“Gonna be my good girl, Y/N? Gonna give me what I’ve been craving?” Sebastian hovered his hand over your core for a few seconds to let his words seep in. Your body yearned for his touch and you couldn’t help the way you bucked into him.

“Yes! I’ll be your good girl.” You practically yelled as his fingers finally dipped through your folds. He hummed in response and leaned back in to kiss you. His teasing had come to a stop when you felt his first digit slowly push into your heat.

“Oh fuck!” Your head fell against the pillar and your arms shook against his back.

“You’re so fucking tight. I can’t wait to be inside of you.” Sebastian began plunging in and out, his pace brutal. You had thanked Merlin that Ominis was busy because you were sure anyone coming near the Undercroft entrance could hear your screams. You could feel the string in your stomach becoming tighter by the second and Sebastian noticed too. He picked up the pace and added another digit making your eyes cross.

“Who makes you feel like this?” Sebastian grunted as his thumb rubbed at your nub pushing you even closer to the edge. Your hands gripped to his form for dear life as your orgasm finally hit.

“You! Fucking hell. Sebastian, all you!” Your head rested against his shoulder as he continued to pump his fingers in and out to prolong your high.

He gave you a few seconds before withdrawing his fingers and bringing them up to his lips. If you hadn’t just came you were sure you would’ve from the sight alone.

“You’re ridiculous.” You whispered as he pushed his boxers down and his hard cock slapped against his stomach. The sight alone made you drool.

“It’s all your fault.” Sebastian chuckled and swiped his fingers across your slit. You jolted in his hold and watched him in a trance as he used your slick to pump his cock. You had never seen a more erotic view in your life.

“I’m gonna fuck the life out of you now. Okay?” Sebastian’s words knocked any air out of your lungs. He was so vulgar and yet you felt yourself convulsing around nothing, wishing for nothing more than to be pummeled by the man.

A small please passed your lips before he was frenzied. He snapped his hips into yours, not even waiting for you to adjust as he got to work. It felt as if you were a rag doll being thrown around with the animalistic pace he set. Every spot within you was on fire and if it kept it up you would explode.

“F-Fuck Seb! So good.” Your back knocked against the pillar as he groaned.

“Fuck yeah. Only I can make you feel like this.” His grip was sure to leave bruises. Not that you really minded. If anything it only added to your pleasure.

“I can feel you tightening princess. Is the little slut gonna cum again?” His wicked words made you gasp and lose your composure. Your body shook as you came, Sebastian still impaling you on his cock in search for his high. You could tell he was close from his unintelligible groans and praises.

“Fuck! Good girl. Take it.” Sebastian’s dark eyes closed shut as he leaned his head onto you. His hot seed filled you up and the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing.

Sebastian pulled out of your wet heat, both of you whining in the process. His eyes shot up to yours and he grinned.

“That was so fucking good. I’ve wanted that for so long.”

You could only laugh and nod in agreement.

“Me too. Does that mean we’re done with the charade of being best friends?” You looked around the room for your top as he hummed.

“Yeah. Reckon my girlfriend deserves a proper date now.”

“I would sure hope so after getting my brains fucked out!”

Laughter filled the Undercroft as the two of you redressed. Maybe you would read more dirty literature in the halls if it led to this.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader smut #sebastian sallow x mc

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ressonancee · 9 months

Text

IMPATIENT

✦ genre: friends with benefits, a dash of humor (?), reader is a bit of a brat and this has sub and dom undertones - smut

✦ word count: 3.040

✦ Thea note: okay first this was supposed to be a drabble for my girl @toruro so mika - i hope you enjoy it. second, I won't say anything bad about my own work but lately, i have been so busy and tired that writing is just harder than usual even when I have fun with it, i really like reader on this one so maybe we will see a pt 2 when my brain is not working at 25% of its capability - but I do hope y'all enjoy this even tho my brain is like fighting for dear life!!!

Your mind was completely empty.

Hoshi had been speaking for a solid thirty minutes and if somebody asked what was the problem you couldn’t say something because everything that left Hoshi’s mouth did reach your ear, but your brain didn’t process it, because you were too busy using all your cognitive function. The only thing you could focus on was how Minghao was laughing at something Jeonghan said - even tho you actually didn’t hear his giggle it was something that you knew so well that your brain made you believe that he was laughing right there - at your side, but more than that, it was on how a brunette girl who was actually on his side - eating everything up, laughing at everything, looking at Minghao in awe, that, that scene was what making your brain way too busy.

"And then she was like super angry that I didn't text her I mean she said we should stop talking first-" Hoshi said and stared at you waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, that's sucks, I'm sorry," you say taking another sip of your beer, "you know what? Maybe you should talk to Jeonghan. He could totally talk to her about how you misunderstood everything," you say already trying to drag Soonyoung to the other side of the room.

"Yo!” Hoshi’s eyes lit up, “That's- That's really nice advice,"

"Right, let's talk to him," You say interlocking your arms with Hoshi and finally dragging him across the room, not even feeling that sorry, but again, you were too curious, too focused, to actually care about Hoshi’s love problem. Hell, you had one of your own right in your point of view

"Jeonghan my guy!" Hoshi calls making everyone in that little circle pay attention to you two.

"What is going on?" Minghao asks when you stop at his side, that side-eye he gives you when he knows - somehow - that you have been up to no good.

"You ask me?" You try your best to bat your eyelashes at him, even tho you know he won’t eat it up.

"You were the one planning everything," Minghao says.

“Planning?” The brunette girl asks, and she is cute, she seems nice, she is the epitome of the girl next door.

“Oh yeah, planning how Hoshi is gettin’ his girl back you see-” You start, trying your best to be your own version of the girl next door.

“Hey I need something to drink, be right back,” Minghao says and starts to drag you to the kitchen - oh, that was how Hoshi felt? Weird, Karma was acting super fast lately.

“Wait I wasn't planning-” You try to argue, huffing, and almost stomping your feet, "I was listening to a good friend talk about his heartbreak, and you? What were you doing with miss brunette and Jeonghan?"

"Are you?" He says and you can see how the corners of his mouth start to lift up, the foreshow of a smile and you just can’t take it.

"Nope," you say, trying your best, but you know he already won.

"You are!" He giggles - that silly giggle he always does, the giggle that you love to hear, the giggle that makes your heart full almost to the point it bursts. And you give up, because you know he knows, "Maybe? A little?"

"Sure, a little," Minghao says, crossing his arms and leaning on the kitchen counter, and god he looks so good, he is tired and you know that because he has his glasses on instead of his contacts, his hair is already huffed up and longer - you like that, and you like to think he didn’t show up on his monthly haircut because you said that to him the last time,

"Can we-" you start and before you finish you can see his smile.

"Sure, you go first or I go first?" He asks. You two made a routine of it, made an almost everyday practice, a little secret that you two shared, tucked in away os the curious eyes of everyone else. In a way, it was something sacred, cherished, something only you two could tap into.

"To your room?" You ask even though you know it is the only place possible right now, Minghao just nods, "Okay I go first, but you should go talk to Hoshi, he is in actual distress I wasn’t planning that up"

"Sure," Minghao says, standing in front of you - he looks at the door before he holds your face and just plants his lips on yours. And before you can say anything he vanishes.

Leaving you there, standing still in the middle of the kitchen.

It was weird the whole sneaking out to not get caught part of the deal. You and Minghao have been friends for so long that your friends were his friends, and his friends were your friends and the whole thing was just messy. And maybe you didn't want to share that with everyone - every new detail of Hao was yours. But you also didn’t want to share the tiptoeing in the shallow water phase.

In a way you wanted to learn what that was, is, and will become on your own.

So you try your best to not draw any attention to yourself, the first step of the process pick yourself a cold beer - that's why you were in the kitchen. Step two, go to Minghao's room, not that much trouble. Step three is not to fall asleep in his bed, he does spend way too much money on bedsheets, it feels like you are lying in a cloud. Soft, fluffy, and slightly cold against your skin.

And you are almost drifting until you hear the door open, and it is not Hao.

"Hey," Chan says, already rummaging around, opening Minghao's drawers, "Did you see a charger around? Someone took mine, for real people need to understand boundaries in this household."

"Don't you tell me," you say smiling at Chan, the irony of it.

"Yeah I know," he huffs making you laugh, "but someone stole mine first," then he turns out you, his expression is almost a question mark, "Wait, are you okay? Why are you here?"

"Just a headache," you say trying your best to give an academy winner performance, lifting up your hand, touching your forehead and all.

"Oh yeah, do you need anything? I know this house is a mess but we do have painkillers," Chan says sincerely.

"No, no, already took one, I'm good, thanks Channie," you say almost feeling bad to lie, almost being the keyword.

"Chan, what are you doing?" Minghao says resting his shoulder on the door.

"Oh man," Chan says defeated, "I am doing nothing, and if your charger disappeared it wasn't me ok? Mine was stolen too,"

"I-" Minghao shakes his head, huffing up a bit while closing the door.

"Lock it," you remark "or we will get Mingyu searching for a hair tie while your dick is in my mouth," You say taking off your own shirt, and already working on the button of your pants when Minghao's cold hands reach yours.

"Why are you always in a hurry," he says, his hands traveling to your shoulders, pressing you down until your back finds the mattress.

"You do live with four other guys, so-" you say like it was common sense, because you know Minghao's roommates, they are your friends as well, and you know they are fucking nosy.

"No, you always like that," Minghao says, lowering his body against yours, "even when nobody is around," he says against your neck.

"I'm not," you say, hands on the back of his neck, playing with his hair while his lips find the skin of your neck.

"You are," he says kissing your jaw, "you need to learn how to be patient."

"Yeah, whatever," you say almost rolling your eyes, tugging at Minghao's hair, "not today though."

"Why not?" Minghao says, voice low like he is telling you a secret, while his digits trace the strap of your bra.

"Because," you whine but Minghao is still working in slow motion, his lips tracing your collarbones, "today you gonna fuck me stupid, I can learn something tomorrow"

"I can fuck you stupid even if we do it slowly," Minghao giggles again, god and you almost hate him, his fingers finally tugging the strap enough, he gives your shoulder a kiss before tugging the cup of your bra.

"And if I say please?" You say making Minghao stop on his track and you almost laugh before he looks at you.

"If you say what?"

"If I say pretty please can you fuck me stupid and like right now? You can totally teach me a lesson tomorrow or-" you say hands against Minghao's face and tugging him just enough until he understands what you want - him - pressed against you, his lips against yours, him against your hands, your mind is only filled with thoughts of him, him, him.

“Come on-” Minghao says, holding your head - making you whine a little when you try to follow him, trying to keep your lips connected, “say it”

“Oh no,” It’s your time to giggle, your smile plastered across your face, and it is so easy to be happy when Minghao's cold hands are against your waist when he is kneeling between your thighs, “You like it too much”

“And? What’s wrong with that?” he says dragging his hands over your body until reaches the waistband of your jeans, “If you ask prettily," Minghao pauses tugging at the belt loops, "you know I will give you everything you ask for”

"Promise?" You say, your own voice sounds different against your ears somehow, your hands holding Minghao's forearm. You can feel your cheeks burn, but just like Minghao, you are willing to give him everything he asks for. And he just nods, hands pressed against your thighs now. "Can you please just fuck me? I promise tomorrow you can tease me and take your precious time."

"Yeah, sure sweetheart," Minghao says smirking at you, it is so condescending that you want to stand up and pick a fight with him, but in the end he means it - he is already working on your jeans, hands dragging against your hips before he gets off the bed just to pull at the bottom hem. "but, just so you know, make sure you have a free afternoon tomorrow."

"Sure, sure, gonna timeblock you right after my dentist appointme-" you start but end up being cut off by your own welp of surprise because Minghao's hand finds your thigh and drags you across the bed.

"You are so smart-mouthed sometimes," he says again finding his place in the space between your thighs, and you just pout - not because of the quip, but because he is still fully dressed, "What?"

"You're still dressed," you say tugging at the hem of his shirt, and Minghao laughs again like you are saying the silliest thing in the world, but that doesn't take your mind away when he lowers his body to kiss you again.

You try your best to keep your mind focused, still tugging Minghao's shirt, hands lifting the material off his back until it's pooling at his shoulders. When Minghao gets on his knee to finally take the damn thing off you follow him, lips against his chest, hands already on his jeans.

"Come on," you complain, tugging at his jeans.

"Ok, ok," Minghao huffs out before leaving the bed again, looking at you with a smirk on his face, "I'm taking it off don't need to pout," he says finally taking off those damn jeans but leaving on his underwear, "come on, your turn"

"Hun?" You say totally distracted, making Minghao giggle again, "Oh okay," you finally get what he means, taking off your own bra.

"Fuck," Minghao says, before he is kissing you again, "you are so pretty, you should let me-"

"Baby you promised," you whine, because you know Minghao like the back of your hand.

"You are the first one that hates the idea of me taking my time," Minghao says when his hands find your hips, tugging at your panties, making you lift your hips a little to help him, "I could totally eat you out right now,"

"I know," you whine, and it is true, he could eat you out, and you know he loves doing it. But Minghao is right, you do not have the patience, "tomorrow I let you go down on me for like forty-five minutes"

"You say like that is a hassle for you," Minghao says, hands against your knee, eyes on your pussy, "or for me by the way"

"Oh for fuck sake," you try to close your legs even though Minghao’s hand is still on your knees, blocking your action.

"Ok ok sh-" Minghao says, finally lowering his underwear, and for the first time you think about it. Think about learning how to be patient, to be calm, and composed, just so you can change your plans just to put Minghao’s dick in your mouth. Okay, maybe not calm and collected but less stubborn, but before you can say it all Minghao is just taking too long searching for the condom making you impatient again, but before you can complain he guides his dick to your pussy.

“This is insane,” you complain, Minghao hovering over you, his longer bangs over your face, making you ticklish.

“What?” Minghao says against the skin of your neck, his voice sound muffled. His hand is still on your waist, his dick hot against your thigh.

“You really want to make me beg?” You say tugging Minghao’s hair, “Is this a kink? Do we need to talk about this?”

“I mean, I’m not really against a pretty girl begging for my dick,” Minghao says, making you shudder.

“Not gonna give you that,” you say - and it is not because you are stubborn, you are, and you know that, but with Minghao is just fun, the push and pull of it, the banter, this thing going on between the two off you.

“You are so fucking stubborn,”

“Come on, I already said please,” You say pretending you are against the idea of begging Minghao - like you never did before.

“Sure baby,” Minghao says giving you a kiss on your cheeks, and is just so sweet like he is not about to fuck you like he is not holding his dick against your pussy - rubbing himself against you, "Just because you said please", he says in that condescending tone, but before you can argue or raise your voice, Minghao is finally fucking you and the feel of his dick stretching you out is enough to make you speechless.

And it was always like that, it always ended up with Minghao filling you up.

And you can't complain when he is fucking you the way he likes it - a lewd pace that makes your mind spin, it makes you claw Minghao's back, while his grip against your tightens. Maybe - you think to yourself - just maybe you try to hurry Minghao up to see if he caves up, to see if he has another side inside him, to see if he fucks you hard and fast makes you like him less, makes you less addicted to the feel of his skin against yours, the feel of his mouth against your neck.

But he never complies.

He keeps fucking you at his own pace, at his own volition.

“Hao please,” you beg - because you are ready to give Minghao everything he wants if he gives you something in return.

“Ah, so now we are not above begging?” Minghao chuckles, his voice so close to your ear that his lips graze your skin.

“Please,” you try again “I will beg, I will do whatever you want I promise.”

“Come on,” Minghao says, one of his hand trailing against your skin, until it reach your neck, “we both know you won’t, behaving is against your own existence”

“You say that like you hate it”

“I actually love it, that’s the problem,” Minghao says, planting a kiss on your cheeks before he finally picks up his pace.

You understand Minghao really, sometimes you are too hastened. Is not like you are particularly against him taking his time, warming you up, eating you out, and fucking you at his own pace - you enjoy all that. But you also enjoy what he is doing now, fucking you fast and hard enough that you need to hold on for dear life.

You like this Minghao too - this version of him that nothing is holding him back.

And the only thing in your mind is Minghao.

The only thing you can think about is him. How he feels against you, how Minghao licks your skin, how his hand clutches your hips, and how he is panting against your neck. When everything starts to get muffled you know that you are almost there - and the only thing you can do to muffle your own noises is to bite down Minghao's shoulder.

And everything stands still for a minute.

“We need to stop sneaking out,” MInghao says panting above you, you look at him and how disheveled he looks, how his sweaty hair clings to his forehead. He always says that to you, how he always brings that up after sex, If he weren’t a non-believer you would say it was the Christian guilt kicking in after sex, but you know Minghao, and you know why he asks.

“Yeah, I think Chan is finally catching up that something is going on,” You say, your own smile plastered on your face when you hear his silly giggle.

You look at Minghao again, he is sitting on the bed, back against you. probably dealing with his condom, and you try to bite your own tongue, you try to hold yourself back but the urge to say something is stronger than you, and to be honest when it is about pushing Minghao’s buttons you are not the strongest soldier “but first we are going to talk about your kink list sir," and Minghao silly giggle just turns into a disapproving growl.

#xu minghao fic #xu minghao fanfic #xu minghao smut #xu minghao x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #t: xu minghao #t: writting #svt fic #svt fanfic

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katiexpunk · 7 months

Text

Diner Girl | Pairing Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Summary: You frequent your local dinner pretty often, not just because you love their pancakes with extra syrup, but because your best friend Sydney is a waitress there. You've heard her talk about her hot boss, Joel, every now and then but you've never had the pleasure of meeting him; that was until one morning, after getting unexpectedly laid off, you decided to drown your feels in syrup and love from your bestie. Joel offers you a job, and he shows you the ropes in more ways than one. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~7.3K Warnings: Pining, flirting, hard core tension, age gap (unspecified, reader is 30), 2000s style (needs a TW lol), 2000s texting, Joel is a little rough/bossy, Joel is actually readers boss, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks, or don't idk you're not gonna listen to me anyways), no creampie (a katiexpunk first, weird, I know), rough blow job, oral (m and female receiving) pet names, cum swallowing, praise kink, inappropriate use of syrup, one tit slap, Joel rips readers uniform off of her, readers former boss is an asshole, reader gets fired from her job, eating/references to food, did I already say flirting. Joel and reader fuck on a table in the diner. References to a health scares (for readers coworker). A bit of a dom/sub dynamic. Fluff. Porn with plot. Joel calls reader slut twice. Hilary Duff/A Cinderella Story gets mentioned, as does Jennifer Coolidge yelling for more salmon. Authors Note: The fact that I'm posting this doesn't feel real. This idea has been in my brain for so long, and I am happy and relieved to have it out in the world. Special thank you to @endlessthxxghts for holding my balls, brainstorming with me, and beta'ing this. And another thank you to @sydneyinacoma, my inspiration for readers bestie -- thank you for being my slutty, smutty, sister and for saving my ass with the first blowjob scene; I owe you one. ILY both. And to @hier--soir, Jessie, your beautiful way of storytelling inspires me and I often find myself HWJWTS (How Would Jessie Write This Smut). Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

November 2004

The blaring sound of your alarm disrupts your slumber, and you jolt awake with a sense of urgency. Shit. You’re gonna be late. Again.

You stumble through your routine. You splash cold water on your face in an attempt to remove the pillow marks left behind on your cheek and smear on a mixture of lotion and face oil the saleswoman swears will make you look like you’re in your 20s again. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that that was only a year ago. You can see why she would have thought you were older as you look at your reflection in the mirror and the dim light from your tiny 1950s bathroom illuminates the bags under your eyes.

God, you’re tired. Truthfully, you’ve been tired for months now; no amount of caffeine can seem to make up for your lack of sleep due to the demands of finishing up your Master’s and your boss who keeps you late at work what seems like every night now.

You hastily get dressed and attempt to gather your thoughts. As you step outside into the cool November morning air, you bristle at the wind cooling the still-damp hairs that frame your face. You unlock the door to your beater and slip the keys into the engine. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach when a soft click, click, click, click noise reverberates through the air; the stubborn engine refusing to turn over.

Shit. Not again. No!

Frustration mounts with each futile attempt to bring the engine to life. You slam your palms against the cool leather of your steering wheel, a long sigh escapes your lungs and your forehead meets the top of the wheel in defeat.

You reach into your purse for your phone and quickly compose a message to your boss, explaining the situation. "Car won't start. Trying to figure it out. Going to be late. Sorry." With a sigh, you hit send, hoping for a sympathetic response.

The minutes crawl by as you anxiously await a reply. The familiar chime of your phone signals a message, and you eagerly check it. However, the words that flash across the screen only deepen your frustration: "This is unacceptable. You’ve already been warned twice. Don’t bother coming in, and consider this your termination."

The shock of the message hits you like a ton of bricks.

Sure, you had been late a few times in the past year, but you figured your staying late almost every night would make up for it. Maybe if he paid a little more you could afford to fix your piece of shit car and you wouldn’t be late in the first place.

Your eyes sting with disbelief, and your hands tremble as you clutch the phone. Anger and desperation dance the waltz in your mind as you fight to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

You sit in your silent car, the quiet sounds of morning make you feel frozen in time, unsure of what to do or where to go from here.

You look back down at your phone again and type out a quick message to your best friend Sydney.

“U working this am?” before you can even put the phone down, it’s chirping to life with her response.

“Hi babes! I am. R u?” her response reads.

You don’t want to give her the full details over text – too much to type out – and instead, you settle on a short response.

“No. Long story. Coming in 2 c u.”

“Kk! C u soon <3”

Your day was quite possibly off to the shittiest start ever, but you know there are three remedies to that situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, and syrup.

Lots and lots of fucking syrup.

++++

The early morning sunlight spills through the diner's large windows, casting a warm glow on the worn checkered tiles. The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee envelops the air, creating a comforting ambiance that feels like a hug. The clinking of cutlery against plates and the low hum of conversations provide a soothing soundtrack to the chaos of your morning.

Your usual booth is taken, so you settle for a seat at the bar. The stool is a little wobbly, but you have a nice view of the bustling kitchen and the seats next to you are empty.

You watch Sydney pour a coffee refill for the older couple at the end of the bar before heading over to you. As she approaches, her infectious smile illuminates the space. Her apron, adorned with a patchwork of food stains and coffee spills, hints at the countless meals she’s already served this morning.

"Morning, sunshine! You’re here early, you miss me?” she greets, grabbing a mug from the counter behind her before placing it in front of you and pouring you a steaming cup of coffee.

You let out a little chuckle at her remark, knowing you just saw her last night.

You grab the mug in front of you with both hands, wishing you could shrink yourself and jump into the hot liquid like a hot tub; your bones cold from your long walk to the diner. Stupid car.

"No really, what’s up? Everything okay?” she asks, a hint of concern behind her words.

“Not really. My car wouldn’t start this morning again, and John fired me after I told him I was gonna be late,” you respond, feeling the warmth of your frustration beginning to build in your chest once more.

“What an asshole,” Sydney responds, “I’m sorry that happened, babe. He’s a real piece of work, you’re better off without him,” she continues.

“I guess so. But I need a job, Syd. I don’t know what I’m gonna do now,” you respond, defeated. Your cheeks begin to heat and you think you might actually cry this time. You move the menu out in front of you on the counter to the side, and Sydney picks it up and removes the pen from behind her ear.

“I could talk to Joel,” she offers, scribbling your order down on her notepad. You don’t have to tell her, she already knows what this situation calls for – pancakes with a lot of fucking syrup.

“Joel?” you ask, leaning over the counter and looking both ways before you whisper to her, “as in the hot boss you won’t shut up about, Joel?”

She lets out a little chuckle and you see a little twinkle of bashfulness in her eyes.

“Yes, my ridiculously hot, mostly unreadable, but hot, boss Joel,” she replies. “Martha quit last week, something about wanting to spend more time with her grandkids, so we’re down a waitress.”

You look at her face, pondering her offer as if you really have another option at the moment.

“He’s here this morning, he’s in the back doing paperwork – I can go grab him and have him talk to you if ya want,” she says, nodding to the woman who just sat down at the bar, giving her a soft be right there hun.

“Plus, it’ll be so fun to work together!” she says, her voice more energetic this time, preparing to go back into customer service mode.

“I – yeah, alright, yes, I’ll talk to him,” you agree.

She does a little jump and says “YAY!” and then gives you a big smile before pouncing off to greet her next customer. Where does she find the energy?

As you wait for your emotional pancakes to arrive, you cradle your mug, the warmth seeping into your chilled skin, while you gaze through the window into the kitchen. Amidst the orchestrated dance of chefs and waitstaff, there stands a figure that looks like he doesn’t belong in the greasy kitchen of a diner – a towering presence, broad and resolute. His flannel shirt clings to the sculpted contours of his muscles and the determined furrow of his brow accentuates the intensity he’s directing to the clipboard in his hand.

That’s him. That’s gotta be the ridiculously hot boss. That’s gotta be Joel, right? You feel a little tickle in your belly at the thought.

You try not to stare too much, not wanting to be obvious, but like passing a car wreck on the freeway, you can’t seem to look away. You smile at the way he bites the cap of the pen in his mouth, only dropping it on occasion to make little notes or checkmarks. As you look at him doing his work, his eyes flutter up and meet yours. And in that brief moment, you feel a connection. The corners of his lips curl into a friendly smile as he stares back at you briefly, before once again dropping his gaze to the papers in front of him. Sydney did say he was unreadable; now you see why.

Before you can process further, Sydney returns with your stack of pancakes and places them in front of you. “Thanks, can I have some syr–,” but before you can continue, she’s placing the container of the sweet liquid in front of you with a wink.

As you dive into your comfort food, savoring each bite, the door to the kitchen swings open, and Joel emerges. Tall and confident, he approaches your seat, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Of course, he would come to talk to you now, right as you have a giant bite of pancake shoved into your mouth like an animal. The cherry on top of your already shit day.

"Sydney's been raving about you," he admits, a friendly smirk on his face. "Say’s you’re lookin’ for some work,” his voice is low and even, and his eyes briefly scan over the patrons before coming back to land on your face. For as hot as Sydney has been describing him as over the past few months, she forgot to mention how fucking sexy he sounds.

You stare back at him, gulping down the remaining pancake in your mouth.

Joel's eyes are trained on your face. What he really wanted to say was Sydney’s been raving about you, but she didn’t tell me how pretty you are. That was all the more apparent to him now that he sees you up close.

“We’re down a waitress, and we could use someone with your taste in breakfast and impeccable timing, if you’re interested?” he says, watching you fidget with the napkin in your lap.

“I – yes, yes I am very interested. I’ve never been a waitress, but I have great attention to detail and I’m sure I could pick it up quickly with the right guidance,” you say, straightening your posture, attempting to look more composed than he has you feeling right now.

“Well great, we’ll have you trained up in no time,” he says, his gaze lingers on your features for a beat longer than expected before he swivels on his heels, heading back to the kitchen. However, after a few steps, he abruptly pauses, pivoting back around with a thoughtful expression, as if there’s more he wants to share.

“Oops, my bad, sweetheart. Almost forgot my manners. I’m Joel, by the way. This is my diner,” he says, gesturing with one hand as if to show the space to you like you were seeing it for the first time, before offering his large hand toward you. You meet it with your own, giving him a firm shake while sharing your name.

"Can you start tomorrow?" he asks, and you respond with a satisfied "mhmm," sealing the deal with a wink from Joel. "Great – be here around seven in the morning then, and we’ll get cha all trained up" he adds with a grin, one that teeters the line between professional and flirtatious.

And just like that, in the midst of your syrup-drenched, emotionally charged morning you let out your first real smile of the day.

So there were four remedies to your situation.

Your bestie, pancakes, syrup, and Joel.

You finish your remaining pancake, letting your mind wander off, secretly hoping Joel will be showing you the ropes in more ways than one.

++++

The next morning, you get to the diner just as the sun is starting to rise, and you can't help but draw a parallel to Hilary Duff in A Cinderella Story, except now you’re the Diner Girl.

While you may not be gliding around on gaudy rollerskates, and Jennifer Coolidge isn't screaming at you “MORE SALMON! We need more Salmon!” there's an undeniable charm to the whole scenario that makes you chuckle. The uniform Sydney handed you on your way out may not be the stuff of fairytale gowns, but the fabric that clings to your skin is a tangible reminder that you're stepping into a different narrative today, a narrative where you’re employed and your boss isn’t a total jerk.

As you step into the diner, the familiar calms your nerves a bit. Joel, seemingly in tune with your arrival, glances up from behind the counter and shoots you a playful wink. Does he wink at all his employees?

"Morning, sunshine! Ready for your grand debut?" he teases, flashing a bright smile coupled with an adorable set of dimples. You manage a shy smile in response, feeling nervous once again, but it has nothing to do with learning your new job and all to do with the beautiful man in front of you that you’ll be close to the entire day.

Joel wastes no time guiding you through the diner's rhythm. With each task, he effortlessly blends instructions with charming banter, making the learning process feel less like work and more like a shared secret between the two of you.

"Here's where the magic happens," he says, gesturing to the row of gleaming coffee machines. "And trust me, making a perfect cup is an art; takes a lot of love."

“Aren’t these like super-fast automatic coffee brewers? You just load the beans and water and hit start?”

"Alright, smartass," he retorts, a playful glint in his eyes, "Yeah, they are, but you gotta press that button with love, baby. That's what makes it good."

Your laughter harmonizes with his, and you catch the infectious mirth in his expression – one hand on his hip, the other casually resting on the counter. Your eyes trace the veins on his forearms, distinctly visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves, and you can't help but admire the effortless confidence he exudes.

“Do it with love. I understand,” you respond.

“Good girl,” he responds. “Alright, next up – silverware rollin’, ya ready?” he asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, a playful smile dancing on your lips, as you follow him to the back of the kitchen to grab a tray of freshly washed flatware. Returning to the dining room, he leads you to an empty booth tucked away from the prying eyes of coworkers, giving you the first taste of true solitude with him all morning.

"Now, watch and learn," he says, demonstrating a silverware roll that rivals any seasoned server. "The key is in the wrist action. It's all about finesse."

You mimic his movements, chuckling when your first attempt doesn't quite match his polished technique. He leans in a little closer, his warmth and encouragement almost palpable.

"See, you've got the basics down. But let me show you a little trick," he says, guiding your hand with his own. The close proximity sends a delicious shiver down your spine, and you can't help but revel in the extra attention to detail in his guidance. As he imparts his expertise, the thought of him taking charge and instructing you in other ways goes straight to your core.

“You’re a natural,” Joel says, responding to your growing stack of rolled silverware.

"You like taking orders?" he inquires, his gaze intense as he places the second-to-last rolled set in the pile you both created, and you complete your own. The implication behind his words hits you, and your eyes widen with surprise.

"Do I what?" you ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice, unsure if your mind has ventured too far into the realm of innuendo to fully grasp his meaning.

"Taking orders – you seem like you'd be good at it," he says, pausing deliberately, well aware that he's causing a stir within you.

"You know, from customers?" he adds with a smirk, putting you out of your misery.

“Oh. Oh – uh, well, I’m not sure, I’ve never tried it,” you respond.

“First time for everything, darlin’. We can practice. I’ll be the customer, and you can take my order.”

He flashes you a charming smile, making it hard to resist. "Alright," you agree with a shy grin, readying your notepad. You start “Good morning, Sir! Can I get you starte–”

"Now, sweetheart, we've gotta do this right – stand up now, take my order properly," he interrupts, a playful tone in his voice. You shoot him a teasing side-eye, and he smirks, attempting to hide it by bringing his hand to his beard.

You rise and straighten your apron, and turn to face him at the table.

“Good morning, Sir –” you begin again, “what can I get started for you?”

"I'll have the classic bacon and eggs, toast on the side, and a steaming cup of your finest brew. Oh, and a side of your million-dollar smile, please."

You laugh at the last part, realizing this is exactly the kind of practice you need. "Got it, one bacon and eggs, toast, coffee, and a million-dollar smile," you repeat, jotting it down.

Joel nods approvingly. "You're a quick learner. Now, let's spice it up a bit. What if I want my eggs sunny-side-up, the toast lightly buttered, and the coffee extra strong?"

You take a moment to absorb the details, determined not to miss anything. "Sunny-side-up eggs, lightly buttered toast, and extra strong coffee," you recite confidently.

Joel grins. "Not bad, darlin’ – you’re a good listener.”

“Maybe you’re just a good teacher,” you playfully retort.

You don’t see it, but Joel palms himself beneath the denim of his jeans, attempting to adjust from the growing lack of space in them.

As the morning rolls into the afternoon, you finish out the rest of your shift at the diner and make the walk back home.

As you lay in bed, you try to rationalize all of your flirting with Joel.

He’s just nice. A Southern gentleman. He’s probably like this with all of his employees.

Unbeknownst to you, Joel lies in his own bed, also attempting to rationalize all of his flirting with you. He knows it’s wrong, but that doesn’t stop him from taking his heavy cock in hand to the thought of you that night.

++++

After nearly a month of seamlessly navigating the diner routine, you've become a fixture in the cozy ambiance. The playful banter between you and Joel has escalated to shameless flirting – a subtle touch from a passed laminated menu, an intentionally clumsy moment with the cash register as an excuse to get a little closer, and the unmistakable sensation of his gaze lingering on you as you lean over to wipe down the booths.

You even find yourself yelling out “Corner!” less than you should, hoping it might lead you to accidentally bump into him.

It's not exactly backbreaking labor, though it can take a toll on you physically. But you find yourself enjoying it—the thrill of pushing through a lengthy shift, the rush that accompanies swift movements and juggling various tasks during the bustling hours, the familiar faces of regulars who now greet you by name, and the bonus of spending extra time with Sydney.

For now, it's fulfilling enough. However, the more moments you share with Joel, the more it dawns on you that, at least when it comes to him, "enough" might never quite be sufficient.

++++

You normally work M-F, during the morning shift, and you’re grateful for the extra time on the weekends. You’re starting to feel like you might not actually need that facial oil now that you’re getting adequate rest. Take that, Mary Kay.

One Saturday night, as you’re sitting on your couch watching Kill Bill, your phone buzzes with an unfamiliar number, and curiosity pulls you in. Joel’s husky voice on the line tells you who it is, but he introduces himself anyway.

“Hey, darlin’ – it’s Joel. Listen, uh, I know it’s your day off but I was wondering if you might be able to come in to work tonight?” he asks.

Without pausing to let you respond, he lays it on thick, making a persuasive attempt to nudge you into saying yes, "The other servers are all tied up, and Suzanne had to call out, something about Mike not feeling right tonight, tight chest and all, so I told her to make sure he gets checked out."

"Oh no, that's awful. Yes, yes, of course, Joel. I'll be there in 15," you reply, hearing a sigh of relief on the other end.

"See you soon," he says.

"Oh? You're coming in, too?" you ask, trying not to sound overly excited.

"Well, someone's gotta make the food, right?" A little chuckle carries through the phone.

You remember it now; he had shared with you during that first day that working in the kitchen at night was one of the reasons he decided to take over owning the diner, his decision in part was fueled by his love of cooking. “Helps me remember why I started doing this in the first place," he had said. You were listening, but you were also distracted by him fidgeting with his coffee cup, watching him make small circles around the rim of it.

++++

As the night descends, the diner transforms. The hustle of the day gives way to an intimate, dimly lit ambiance. Joel, donned in his chef's coat, greets you with a sly grin, "Well, look who's gracing the night shift. It's just you and me tonight, darlin'."

"Think we can handle it?" you respond, not really talking about the dinner rush, and he knows it.

The air crackles with sexual tension as you and Joel maneuver through the shift. The need between you two is palpable; a desire only one thing could satiate, a hunger no amount of breakfast food could resolve.

The hours tick by, and the tile inside is illuminated by the soft glow of the neon sign outside. With the last order served, you both lean against the counter, a comfortable silence enveloping you.

Joel breaks it with a casual remark, "Hungry?"

"Starving,” you respond a playful edge to your voice, biting your lip. Joel’s eyes go dark as he stares at your plump flesh.

You are hungry, but not for food.

++++

Joel guides you to the prep station for a crash course on chicken and waffles.

“Now, I know you’re a pancake kinda girl, but trust me darlin’ when I say these chicken and waffles will make you fall in love,” he says. Yeah, they just might.

Joel, sleeves rolled up and a chef's jacket in hand, hands it over with a grin that hints at more than just a cooking lesson. The oversized jacket drapes over you as he gives a quick once-over. He chuckles, “you look cute like this, sweetheart,” he says before he heads to the fridge for supplies.

Returning with a bunch of ingredients, he starts showing you the ropes of making waffle batter. "You like to cook?” he asks, pouring flour into a bowl. His hands move with ease, adding baking powder, a pinch of salt, and a dash of sugar. You crack the eggs into the mix, and he throws in some vanilla extract, giving the batter a fragrant twist.

“I mean, I don’t not like to cook, but I can’t say I’m very good at it. I think I’m better with instruction,” you answer. You notice his gaze deepen, going darker almost, as he hands you a whisk. “Mix it up then. Give it your all,” he says, and you start blending.

As you stir the batter, you sense Joel subtly adjusting his position until he's right behind you. He towers over you from behind. His arms gently encircle your body, and his backside hovers just an inch away from yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "The secret," he murmurs in a low, almost whispered tone near your ear, "is to whisk it just enough, not too much. The air bubbles make it fluffy." His voice carries a blend of guidance and desire.

His hand moves up to sweep your hair away from your neck, causing your mixing to slow as his fingertips graze the sensitive skin. Goosebumps erupt across your entire body, and he presses his lips to the soft skin behind your ear.

“Joel,” you whimper, tilting your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck.

“Keep mixin’ darlin,” he commands. You try, but the distraction of him on you makes you forget the simple action altogether.

You close the gap between your bodies and take a small step back so your backside is firmly pressed against him. You let out a gasp as you feel the thick shape of him on your ass. He continues to nip at your neck, grazing his teeth along the sensitive skin there. You grab the counter in a poor attempt to steady yourself, and press into him harder, and he responds pinning your hips to the counter until his growing cock is all the more noticeable.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a little hiss. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to get you alone like this – haven’t been able to get it out of my head.” A soft moan escapes you, and in the blink of an eye, his hands find your hips. Before you can react, he swiftly turns you around to face him.

“You like being told what to do, baby? I’ll tell you what to do, but I’m not gonna tell you twice,” Joel says as his large palm comes up to hold the column of your throat, his thumb just under your jaw, tilting you up to face him.

“So if I tell you to get on your knees, you’re gonna do it,” he says, voice low. “If I tell you to look at me, you’re gonna do it,” he continues, “and if I tell you to swallow, you’re gonna do it like the perfect little slut I know you are,” he says, dipping his face lower to you. You wonder if he can feel your pulse quickening under his hand, caught in a lusty daze fueled by hot breath and the sight of his blown pupils.

“Tell me you understand,” he commands, not really questioning.

“Yes - yeah, I understand,” you say, tightening your grip on his forearm, feeling the strength of his muscles still grasping you, pulling you closer to him.

You think for a moment he might kiss you, his lips barely an inch from yours, but he doesn’t.

“Good girl,” he praises, “since I know you’re so good at practicing, let’s do it again,” he suggests, releasing his grip on you.

“Get on your fucking knees, baby.”

You fall to your knees and feel the hard, cold tile against your bare calves. You position yourself beneath him and fold your hands in your lap, waiting for him to give you further instructions. He reaches down and brings his pointer finger down to lift your chin up to face him. He runs his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty like this, baby.” He thinks you're pretty.

As he releases you, you take that as permission and reach out to undo the buckle of his belt. You fumble with the cool metal momentarily, until it’s completely unbuckled before you begin to work with the zipper on his pants. You tug both his pants and his underwear down just below his hips, and his thick length springs to attention.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the size of him. He’s big. His cock is already at full attention, red and weeping. Your mouth waters at the sight of it. You look up at him, silently asking for permission to touch him, and he nods. “All yours’” he says, and your hand comes to wrap around the base of him. The thought of all of him being yours stirs something low in your belly.

Before you can put him in your mouth, he grabs your wrist to pull you back up to your feet.

“Too many clothes, sweetheart. Need to see those fuckin’ tits,” he growls, tearing your uniform off, almost bare save for your bra. You’re gonna need a new one. His eyes are glued to your chest, admiring the red bra you’ve been hiding under your uniform.

“As much as I like the way this looks on, I’d like it a helluva lot better off,” he says while hastily unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the kitchen floor. Your nipples harden in the cool air, entrancing Joel. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits,” swatting your left one, in awe of the way it bounced on impact.

“Back on your knees,” ordering you once again. You obey without hesitation, almost automatically.

You stroke along his length, feeling the silky warmth of his skin, the heat, and the thick veins that add texture to each pass of your palm. You pause at the top of him and let out a little squeeze, until a small bead of precum forms at the tip. You lap it up, and Joel lets out a groan and his hands fall to grab the back of your neck.

“Keep that mouth wide open for me, baby.” I’ll do anything you want as long as you call me baby, you reply in your head.

You part your lips and tease your tongue around and then start sucking on the tip, slowly taking more in until you’re sucking on the full head of his cock and your tongue is whirling around it. Joel’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, and he gently cants his hips forward, urging you to take more of him.

You’re barely halfway down and the back of his cock is already on your throat. You start bobbing your head up and down, and Joel mutters a little curse under his breath and bites down on his lip.

“Such a good girl f’me, takin’ this cock down your sweet little throat,” you moan around him, the sound reverberating against him, “yeah, this what you wanted, hmm? Needed your throat fucked like a slut?”

Your thighs clench together, a syrupy mess of your own slick smears on your skin, and his filthy words add to the roaring ache in your cunt. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Joel as you notice him stiffen just a little more. How is that even possible?

You pick up your pace, pushing yourself to take more of him. He thrusts shallow but firmly, meeting your movements along his shaft.

“Tha’s it baby, just like that…” his groans are lecherous, coupled with the profane sounds of you gagging on his cock. You’d listen to that on a loop if you could.

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls you off him. There will be plenty of opportunities for him to fill your mouth up, but right now, he has other priorities. He does take an extra moment to watch you wipe the saliva and precum from your mouth with the back of your hand. It’s a vulgar sight and he commits it to memory.

He helps you to your feet, and your knees on fire from the harshness of the floor. You’ll pay for it later, but for now, the soreness is a small price to pay for the exhilaration you’re experiencing with your super hot, hung boss.

Without warning, he scoops you up in his brawny arms and carries you off to the closest booth adjacent to the kitchen. With your back flat on the table, you feel the cool laminate tabletop on your skin and it adds a stark contrast to the warmth of Joel’s chest pressed against yours moments ago.

Your upper back is on the small table, leaving just enough room for your hips to slightly dangle off the edge, Joel’s hips between your legs. Your head ghosts the condiment bottles at the edge and he holds you in place there, teasing you.

He pauses to admire the way you look up at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your perky tits slightly falling to the side, a little sheen of sweat on your chest. He pauses to admire the way you still look flustered, but composed, knowing he’s going to fuck every ounce of that right out of you.

Joel wants to untangle you like a knotted ball of yarn, he wants to claim ownership of every inch of your body, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer.

He drops to his own knees this time, hooking his thumbs into your underwear to pull them down with him.. His face immediately finds your cunt, and he wastes no time before he lays a trail of soft kisses over your wet and waiting folds. He starts slow, a kiss here, a lap there, and eventually begins to pick up his pace.

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your hips cant up at the welcomed intrusion and your back arches, unable to stay on the table. You feel his hot breath on your cunt, and let out a small mmm at the way he presses his forearm across your lower half to lower you back down to the table, to keep you still.

His mouth returns to your clit to work you, and he adds another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so fucking close – your slow crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a full-on sprint.

You’re so close, and he can tell by the way your body tenses under him.

“Please,” you moan. “Please – ugh, neeeeed to come, please let me come,” you beg.

“Just a little longer, baby. You can come when I say you can.” Joel says, voice slightly muffed against your wet skin.

He presses his lips against your clit, but doesn’t give you enough tongue to get you where you need to go. You’re already so swollen, sensitive – you know all you’ll need is a little suck and you’ll be gone.

You don’t know how much longer you can stave off your pleasure, but you want to be good for him, to listen, to obey.

He knows you want to come, that’s obvious, and god does he want to know what you look like when you do, to feel it, to be the reason; but still, he continues to tease and let it build. Your face twists, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes close and it all but screams I’m close, make me come, make me come.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and he grazes it with the top of his tongue and closes around you. You flutter your eyes closed. You warn him that you’re close, “Joel, fuck, please let me come. Please, please, please,” you rasp out your pleas with a symphony of moans.

Satisfied with your pleading, he decides to take mercy on you. He looks up at you through his thick lashes, drinking in the way he has you melting, the way he has you begging.

“You can come, baby. Go ahead, want you to soak my face,” he says, voice hoarse but still smooth like velvet.

You obey and feel the taste of your sweet release rush through you like a warm summer breeze on a hot day. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses with pleasure as he works you through it.

“Fuck, so pretty with you come f’me, baby. Being such a good girl, listening to my every command,” he says and lifts his head. His dilated pupils tell you he’s high on it; on you.

Your slick shines on his beard, illuminated by the atmospheric glow of the streetlights peering into the dark diner. He looks at you, breath slightly ragged, and brings his fingers to his lips to smear the remaining slick from his face onto them, and he pops his finger in his mouth like he’s savoring the last bite of the best meal he’s ever had.

“Taste so fuckin’ delicious, baby. Must be from all that syrup you eat.”

And shit, it’s filthy. He looks indecent in the most delectable of ways.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he says, grabbing his thick cock in hand and lining the head of it up against your wet and waiting hole, pausing there before pressing in. You let out a little whine.

‘Shh, baby,” he coos, “‘m gonna give you what you need, don’t worry,” he says. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, even with the size of him. Your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it’s your fucking job, like it was made for him.

He pauses for a moment to give you a second to adjust; you feel so full, you swear you feel him in your lungs.

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a wet and wanton song made as a result of your wetness keys you up.

“Fuck, yes, Joel – YES,” you cry.

“Yeah? Say thank you to me, baby. Say thank you for giving you this cock, for fucking you dumb,” he commands.

Thank you – thrust – tha - thrust – thank you, fuck, thrust.

He fucks into you so hard that your head hits the condiments, knocking them over. The ketchup bottle falls, the sugar packets scatter, and the syrup tips over. A slight ooze of the viscous substance starts to pool on the table and get into your hair, but you don’t care, this feels too good to care.

Just as you’re about to come, Joel notices the pool of auburn liquid running over the table and onto the red booth below.

“Tsk, tsk, baby – makin’ a mess – creaming on my cock, and spilling syrup on the floor,” he says, continuing his pace. You feel your walls clench around him. Just as quickly as he entered, he retreats, and you whine at the loss. “Get up,” he says.

You do as he says and rise onto your legs. They’re shakey like Jell-O. You watch as he reaches over the table and grabs the sticky glass bottle from the table.

“On your knees again,” he asks of you for the third time tonight. You pause, your body sore and your knees aching. “You hear me, baby? I said get on your knees.”

You do as he says, and kneel before him, once again worshiping at the altar of the man above you.

You look up at him with bated breath and watch him use his free hand to rip off his shirt and throw it onto the booth beside him.

“Come closer,” he says, “and open,” you kneel before him with your mouth open, your inviting tongue waiting to be used. He uses his hand to grab the base of his heavy cock, and he taps it on your widespread tongue a few times before holding the syrup bottle high in the air, centering it above his cock and your open mouth.

You watch with wide eyes as he tips the bottle over just a smidge, and a long, thin, sticky stream of syrup begins to rain down onto his hardness, falling off the sides of it, down to the floor, and all over your chin.

“Clean me up, baby,” he says, and your lips close around him. You begin to suck and lick every inch of him, savoring the golden liquid that creates a tantalizing mix of sweetness from the sugar and salt from his pre-cum. You hum as you work him, savoring every bit, and eventually, the skin on his cock is syrup free and you take him at a more consistent pace. You hear Joel groan, and it encourages you to take him deeper, harder, faster.

You look up at him through wet lashes, tears forming in the corners of them, as he holds your now sticky hair into a makeshift ponytail and uses your mouth.

“Such a good hole for me,” he says, “so fucking good, baby, you’re so perfect.”

You let him chase his high, and open wider when you see his jaw tighten and his tight core tense, the grip on your hair pulling tighter.

“You’re gonna swallow,” he says. “All of it,” he commands, and his jaw goes slack and he releases a rush of warm cum down your throat. It tastes musky, but a little drop of syrup you missed during your cleaning job makes it sweeter.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he says, panting heavily, holding you on his cock as he throbs out the final pumps of his release.

He lets go of your hair and you pop off of him and use your fingers to clean off the rest of the syrup from your chin and smile up at him. God, you must look like a wreck.

He extends out his large palm in a gesture to help you off the floor. As you rise to stand, his fingers find the underside of your jaw and he tilts you up to look at him.

He looks at you, the darkness behind his eyes has been replaced with someone else; pride.

“You really are a good listener, baby.” He says. He gazes down at you, his thumb delicately tracing the contour of your jaw. This moment feels significant.

Leaning in, he tenderly places his lips on yours. The sensation takes your breath away, and as he intensifies the kiss, you willingly welcome the exploration of his tongue, relishing the warmth and savoring his taste. Tonight, you've experienced every other aspect of him, but in this moment time seems to stretch as your lips remain locked.

As he breaks the kiss, a contented smile graces your face, and you feel as if you could float away.

“Now really, let’s eat some food,” he says, letting a low chuckle escape from his lips, “I still owe you some chicken and waffles.”

“And you owe me a new uniform,” you say, grabbing his hand to follow him to the kitchen, totally naked.

Joel actually teaches you how to make the meal this time. He offers you another chef's coat to cover your body, but he doesn’t let you keep it on for long. As your breakfast-dinner cooks, he hoists you up on the counter and eats you again. He makes you orgasm more times in one night than you think you ever have with any of your previous partners.

You were right in your initial thinking. Enough will never be enough when it comes to Joel.

You’ll always want more.

More of this, and more of him.

And the one thing that’s the most certain is that you’ll most definitely want more fucking syrup.

Good thing you work at a diner.

END

Bonus Drabble Coming Soon: How will Sydney react when you tell her about your steamy night with Joel?

Tagging moots and those who showed interest in the preview: @nosesitter @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lovebandrry @dugiioh @frodo-jojo @ghostwritesthings @planet-marz1 @josephquinnswhore @cinnamon-gurlll @dragonfire @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #syrup #early 2000s #pedro pascal

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pascals-doll · 3 months

Text

CONVENIENCE STORE

ellie williams x reader

『••✎••』 in which ellie self-loathed in her mistake as the weeks pass. you both went back to your regular lives, so will life spare a divine intervention? | WC: 12.0K

🫧 THIS IS A SERIES | FOR ALL PARTS GO HERE

🫧 SERIES MASTERLIST | CH.3 HERE

🫧SHE TOLD ME WATCH THE SNAKES CUS THEY WATCHING YOU! TYSM BABIES FOR THE IMMENSE FEEDBACK ON THE FIRST CHAPTER OMG 🥹!!

🫧description: MODERN AU! DESCRIPTIVE ANGST!, INTRO TO 2 IMPORTANT SIDE CHARACTERS!, latina!reader, descriptions of reader having bronze/tawny skin, mentions of religioius la virgen, a little bit of a abby mention ☺️, mentions of smoking marijuana, talk about about identifying sexuality, mentions of toxic relationships, bff!dina, reader speaks spanish! (very little in this this chapter), dina speaks spanish, reader’s nickname from her close friends is “gatà”, mention of y/n once (___), kissing! love reconciliation, use of pet name (mama).

CHAPTER TWO

oh, how Ellie texted you the morning right after as she woke up thinking about you. the way she grabbed her phone, opened the contact, and began to fly her fingers away in confidence.

Ellie had every intention of contacting you, she genuinely couldn’t get you out her mind as she had already put the lipliner you left her on her nightstand for safe keeping.

just like any regular person with the phone number of who they spent the night dancing with and even ending the night off with a kiss, you would think to text them.

yet, she sat there on her bed slightly hung over but Ellie truly believed that she could’ve been plastered, and she still would’ve remembered meeting you. she had her phone in her hands.

how hard could it be right?

how hard can it be to just type a quick message to the girl she over the moon infatuated with after the first night?

it was alot harder than ellie definitely thought….

Ellie wishes she could say that as she had her phone in her hand, her thumbs got to typing away with ease, and already asking you on a date.

a simple hello could’ve also just sufficed.

still, her fingers wouldn’t move, loosing control. it was like the wiring in her brain had short-circuited; a blank mind being the only thing processed.

in reality, she sat there with phone in hand, staring at the blank blue bubble waiting to be written in.

it had been 2 weeks since the night of the party.

2 weeks.

two weeks.

how did Ellie fuck up this badly?

she wasn’t quite sure, but she had been living in an eternity of pity and grimace since then.

why?

it was because only Jesse’s ass could be spending almost any given moment he has on the phone with Dina while Ellie couldn’t even send you one damn text.

one night Ellie came back from home working late-night at Joel's car-shop.

she was beyond exhausted and the first thing she heard as she walked through her shared apartment with Jesse was Dina's laugh.

Ellie was happy Jesse finally found someone he genuinely likes but it was her own 'pussy-ness' that irked her.

she practically dragged herself to her room in her own wallow but of course, Jesse wanted to greet his best friend.

"hey Els! how was work with y'old man?" Jesse questions, approaching you while still on the phone.

"fucking mute that shit!" Ellie panicked as she whisper-shouted like she was going to be caught or seen. Jesse rolled his eyes before pressing mute on the Face-Time.

"bro what the fuck is wrong with you?" Jesse retaliates, he looked at her like she was wielding a gun around.

"what the fuck! nothing!" Ellie sneers out harshly like as if she wasn't the one causing a scene.

Jesse huffed out but before he could speak, a familiar voice rang through the speaker of his phone.

'Deens! I brought my mom's menudo! your favorite!'

She knew it was your voice, even off one night with you.

she would be able to recognize your voice anywhere.

Jesse watched how you relaxed when you heard her, completely pulled into a trance in a matter of seconds between a phone call that wasn't yours.

"do me a favor—and a favor for yourself, text her for fuck-sake." Jesse sighs out, shutting the door to your room.

Ellie was sure it was too late to try again now.

it was too late all because of her own overthinking.

she was sure it would take a miracle to get another chance with you.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

on your side of things, you felt completely fooled.

when you woke up the next morning and finally was conscious enough to check your phone; just to see your notification box empty.

could you even be angry at Ellie?

you would begin to slightly overthink.

you didn’t know why you cared so much, you were cross-faded half the night and it was just a party….so why couldn’t you stop thinking about her.

you’re not gay…..well…no….ehhh..

you literally felt so stupid as you mentally pondered with yourself. even if it was just drunk you acting up last night.

you remember it so vividly and clearly, there was no way you could try to play this off.

“que piensas, gatà?” Dina huffs out, bagel in hand as she throws herself on her bed right next to you, referring you to the name she's been calling you since 7th grade.

“has he texted you?” you gave Dina this look which Dina reciprocated by arching one eyebrow in case you were trying to insinuate something.

“girl…he called me!” she looked around with an exaggerated look of shock with a hand on her heart causing you to giggle out with her.

you let out a whistle at her playful smugness “‘atta girl!” you were happy that at least one of you got a message back.

"What!? did she not text you?" Dina asks you slightly shocked, Dina did not miss the little kiss you had shared last night.

you didn't even meet her gaze, just twiddling with your thumbs.

"no... but I mean, she was just another person at a party that you have a good—" you rambled, trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince Dina.

she quickly cut you off "yeah babe, but that was with men and during all those stupid little breaks that dick claimed were needed." Dina begins. you already know what she was getting at.

"hoe, if you don't look at me."

you brought your eyes to meet with Dina's.

"look I know we made out in 8th grade—" Dina chuckles out which causes you to groan out annoyingly. you throw one of her stuffed animals at her; she caught that shit with ease.

"Dina!" you beam out, you were internally cringing for some reason and felt anxiety bubbling inside you out of the blue.

"babe! you were on gay shit last night. somebody had to say it." Dina could've worded this so much better, but it was Dina.

she was going to put it in the only way your current stubborn self would understand; by being blunt.

you weren't shocked.

you weren't acting as if hearing those words make zero sense to you.

you were confused, maybe slightly ashamed too.

you couldn't quite put a pin in your emotions which was now causing an inner distress to ignite.

"I-I-am....I-I" you sounded like an infant trying to mutter your first word.

que mierda, fucking get it together.

you internally scolded.

"___, I'm not telling you anything. I'm just saying that Ellie is definitely a lesbian and she made you feel something. that is okay—i mean girl! you were with your ex since our highschool sophomore year....do you really even know yourself—like that at least?” Dina was your closest friend and each word that fell from her lips was for your own good.

you needed to open your eyes.

yes, you were so assured of yourself and your life.

yet, you let someone dictate for so many years how to feel. you were never sure of your emotions till now; but you still find yourself struggling with the aftermath of how he treated your feelings as you forgot how to treat your own.

just having to recollect the memory of it, how he could take the power away from your words.

it enraged you as you felt sick.

"no, he fucking deprived me of myself." you spat out, a slight shake in your voice at the mix of emotions. you wanted to cry; not knowing why.

Dina got closer on the bed to now be completely side by side with you. she pulled you into her embrace from the side.

"you deserve to find out, it is your life now." Dina reassures you, calming you down.

she was 100% right.

you deserved the opportunity to find out who you really are, not just naive high school you because you were way past that time.

you needed your mental to catch up with you after being under someone else's impression.

you were going to do just that.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

after that morning after the party; for the next 2 days, you hoped for something.

a text or a call.

you got nothing.

you will say you thought about Ellie quite often, but you gave up hope she would contact you what felt like to be a while ago now.

you had a life to get back too, you were too slightly egotistical to let yourself get too wrapped up in ‘what if's'.

you weren’t quite sure now on your whole self-discovery journey.

you weren’t reliant on the woman but the way you couldn’t even restock items while you were at work without thinking back to her.

the way Ellie felt.

the way she felt on you.

you recalled every single little thing about her like you had been precisely studying a subject for school.

the way her lips fell perfectly into yours.

the way her warmth was able to whelm you in.

the way she was able to pull you into her by doing nothing.

she had completely contaminated your membrane with just her.

it was becoming infuriating as the days pass.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

Ellie was beyond fed up with her mind.

anywhere she went, almost everything reminded you of her.

it felt like universe was trying to rub her stupid mistake in her face.

Ellie was working another day at the car shop with the clock reading 5:40 pm.

the sun had begun to set as she finished up the last tweaks, she needed to make on the car's engine she was working on.

she wiped the slight sweat off with the back of her wrist as her hands were covered in black grease.

"why don't you g'head on home, kiddo. I’ll finish it up." Joel perks up from behind as he placed the toolbox he brought in on his workbench.

"you sure?" Ellie questions as she walks over to the utility sink at the far corner of the repair-shop.

"Yeah, I gotta work on that client's tires—the one I told ya he came in makin' a fuss his tires weren't low enough." Joel chuckled out slightly at the end which caused Ellie to give a soft giggle.

"you talkin' about Sergío?" you recall a couple months back how a man came into the shop with the coolest lowrider she had ever seen up-close.

"yup. that's tha'man." Joels southern accent draws out.

"he should be comin' in soon" Joel told Ellie as he began to move the car Ellie finished up into the lot with the rest of the other vehicles.

now you could call Ellie crazy for this but there was no way this was coincidence.

Ellie was sat on the stool, sipping on a soda as she took her small break as she watched the familiar old school impala drive up.

the blaring headlights caused her to raise her hand, shielding her eyes with the long of her arm.

Ellie's vision was obstructed temporarily but as it quickly refocused; she immediately noticed the huge rosary pendant that hung from the man's rearview mirror.

it was the same religious female procession that was on your lighter.

for some reason whenever she thought of you, she would then see an image or an item of the beautiful prophet.

call Ellie delusional......but to Ellie, this was a sign.

if this is you, please let me see her again. she mentally prayed for.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

more days passed during these dreadful two weeks.

the both of you lived in sync as you both spent time moping over each other during your daily duties of life.

another day where you were having an unpleasant smoke session. you usually would roll up after you got out the shower, depending on the weather for your drink of choice.

you would have a hot tea or iced latte to go with the lit joint in your hand as you sat on your woven chair outside of your porch.

your mind couldn't even relax as you inhaled your kush, you would ask yourself if it was something about you that made her 'unattracted' to you.

she probably thought you were one of those girls…

you felt yourself physically cringe at the fact you even thought that.

you truly just didn't know.

Ellie had been the first woman to ever give you enough attention to have you really question yourself.

couple months before you left after the college semester finished, there was this girl in your finances class that had sat down next to you.

she had the strongest female physique you seen, her arms showing she was a gym-rat.

you even remember her name being Abby, she was sweet when she flirted with you.

it had been the first time a woman ever flirted you which automatically caused your body to flush and grow shy.

you remember shutting the poor girl down by just switching your seat, not really processing the fact she had just flirted with you.

you rubbed your head slightly as you continued to drag out your joint, puffing your smoke out after each inhalation.

this situation is different, you weren’t in a relationship this time.

you had already got a taste of Ellie and now it was something turned gluttonous.

you ash your roach before grabbing your bag and heading off to work; your brain tingling still over the auburn beauty.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

you worked in a convenience store; it was owned by your family. more specifically, your tía owned the store ever since your tío had passed away a couple years ago.

she needed help with the store, so you quit working as a sale's assistant to spend half of your day behind a counter.

you honestly thought this was better than the shit you called your old job, you were practically your own boss all day.

the convenience store was located at the corner of a cold-de-sac.

it wasn't too far from a couple car-repair shops and a plaza that had a few options of chain-stores.

your family made a lot of connections through the shop. you would say that the area you lived in was community dominated and tend to be the same community who have lived there since you were born.

your convenience store was like the hot spot for your neighborhood due to the popularity of your tío before his passing.

this made your heart full, and it was worth it every time one of the regular's came in, like right now.

"aye! Pachuco!" you shrilled in pure excitement as one of your dad's friends that you grew up with walks in through the front door.

your convivence store was a little bit different than your regular 7/11 or liquor store.

the counter was all the way in the back, so it would be a bit hard to see who's coming in unless you look at the reflective circular mirror that was at each corner.

Pachuco dressed exactly like his name though, you could not miss him from miles away.

"como estas, neña!?" you leave your section behind the counter, greeting him as you smile at his term of endearment.

you enjoyed the times your job and store gave you, especially moments like these because you never knew if it could be someone you knew who can walk through the doors at any moment.

"I've been good! what will it be today?" you question happily as you get back behind the counter.

"how's that little boyfriend of yours?" the question was a harmless one, he didn't have a single idea that you guys broke up, but you still felt yourself wince at the mention.

"aye pachi, boys will be boys." you state simply, not wanting to get into it.

he observed your demeanor as you pulled out his favorite pack of cigars from the back-shelving.

"then just two Tylenols, gracias Mija—ay! what did i tell you? don't fuckin' date this age. to be honest, we never stop being dumbasses! Jaja—es un milagro que mi esposa no me haya dejado!" Pachuco laughs out as he pays.

you let out a laugh with him before giving him one last hug before he is on his way out, waving goodbye and throwing him a smile.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

“so kiddo….y’tellin’ me that you finally get a girl that gets—you— t’dance and y’dont text her?” Joel summarizes to his understanding at Ellie’s rundown of that night while cleaning grease from the wrench he held.

Ellie just stood there with an awkward look on her face “I thought I raised you right…” Joel grumbles out teasingly.

the awkward look completely fell into a straight-doomed face “jokes kiddo! jus’jokes!” Joel chuckles out, putting the wrench down and popping the hood of the car he was working on.

“ugh! why did I even tell you!” Ellie now began to complain, throwing her gloves off and onto the chair she was once sat on.

“oh, c’mon now! jus’admit it….it was love at first sight.”

the phrase his Ellie’s ears completely drowning out all her sense.

Joel’s voice echoed through her ears with only you as the single thought that lied on her head for what felt like was already decades.

“you wouldn’t even believe her beauty, man…”

Joel knew you were kind of-talking to him, but you were so lost in thought it was almost as Ellie was trying to process it herself still.

“alright alrigh’—why don’t you go down t’store and get us couple drinks, yea?”

Ellie agrees with a nod her head before hold her palm out towards Joel’s direction.

“what?” Joel questions with a hip popped as he works on the popped-hood.

“the money, fam” Ellie remarks simply.

Joel’s expression glazed as ellie continues for stand there with a cheeky expression causing a roll of his eyes.

“fine ma’treat” he mocks out, pulling out a 10 from his jean-pocket.

“awh! thank you Joel.” Ellie’s tone was sarcastic as she threw joel a goofy grin that joel returned.

“you almost 21, y’know that right?” Joel interjected sassily with an eyebrow raised.

“that’s why you let me near the stove now!” ellie bantered childishly before grabbing her headphones; leaving out the car-repair lot.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

♫₊˚.🎧 now playing: land of the snakes

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Ellie walked down the cracked gray pavement as she took in her surroundings.

she observed each end of each street, looking at the street signs as she walked down; headphones blasting Cole.

she looked at the gas stations, smoke-shops, and laundromats as she crossed the cross-walk as she turned the street more into the busy neighborhood.

she peered an eye-out for a store as her head moved to the beat of the music, the buzzing of the street inaudible to ellie.

she watched as a group of women were walking up with different drinks in her far-view from more down the street.

Ellie followed the direction from where they came from turning the corner. at first, she was greeted with a plaza and a parking lot.

she passes the plaza slightly and it was almost hidden if a person werent looking in the right direction, they would miss it.

Ellie did not miss the store that she assumed the girls must’ve come from.

she couldn’t miss it when the convenience store had a mural of La Virgencita.

Ellie stopped dead in her tracks, only paying attention to the music in her headphones as she couldn’t fathom it.

♫ ain't no wedding and I do the most here

I'm the President you the co-chair.

you the player, yeah, I'm the coach here.

—I coast here.

this weather got me set up on this West Coast shit, yeah ♫

Cole playing in my ear and im seeing this? fuck my life.

Ellie pondered to herself as she just stared at the store, taking in the mural while the lyrics rang through her mind straight into the recollection of you.

her mind recalling your brown skin and the your gold jewelry sparkled as your eyes pierced through her.

she could feel her heart pounding against her chest as she observed the beautiful painting on each side of the store.

Ellie felt she was going mad but every single part of her reeling her in like fish on a rod.

she felt closer to you somehow.

like as if you were there.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

call yourself unprofessional but it wasn’t like you worked in a office or something.

if that was the case, you definitely wouldn’t be rolling up like you are right now.

you took the split cigarillo that was now packed with good greens up to your lips to lick a slick stripe along the cigarillo before pinching it sealed.

you grabbed your lighter, flicking it open as you focused on the ignited flame; drying your saliva into the blunt.

your focus was interrupted by the sound of the store-bells chiming.

no mamés—im on my fucking break. did they not read the fucking sign.

you complain mentally as you remember switching the ‘We’re Open’ to ‘Closed’.

you walk out from the backroom where the surveillance cameras were back behind your counter.

you knew someone entered but you couldn’t see who.

you decided to duck into the room real quick to put the rolled blunt into the wrapper; placing it in your sweater-pocket.

♫ nothin’s impossible

and all you lame—show me what not to do

i met a real bad bitch in the club tonight

she told me, “Watch the snakes ‘cause they watching you” ♫

Ellie was greeted with aisles of merchandise the second she walked in. she took a few steps down, passing a few aisles as she got closer to the section of refrigerators.

she wasn't paying attention much to her surroundings as she just took in the style of the store. she moved one-side of her headphones off her ear before opening the fridge and grabbing a lemonade for herself, and a sparkling water for Joel.

Ellie turned the corner, catching a glimpse of the clerk counter but she didn't see anyone behind it. she went down the aisle that was now in-front of the counter, grabbing her favorite bag of chips and a slim-jim.

now the next moment that happened.... Ellie swore it was all in slow motion.

if Ellie thought something was wrong with her brain before, her entire cerebellum just shut down for fucking sure.

she turned around with full expectation of having to wait and not seeing you behind that counter.

it genuinely was a miracle.

it was like the universe had been listening all along to the both of you, plotting this moment perfectly to unfold divinely.

Ellie dropped the snack items that were in her right hand, drinks in her left as her pupils flared. completely gleaming her eyes at you just standing there.

♫ now if you only had one wish is it devious?

'cause you already know who your genie is

ain't get a cover now your mag on my penis

like damn, he turned out to be a genius ♫

you felt frozen in place as you both burn into each other’s stare, neither of you processing the moment.

you caught a glimpse of the 'random woman' when her head was turned. she had her hair up in a loose bun and from the back—what looked like a black jumpsuit.

the second she turned around, your heart stopped.

you actually felt your heartbeat turn irregular as you were sure your eyes were gaping as jaw slacked obscurely.

you both were just gawking at each other absentmindedly. slowly, you began to remember how the woman didn't even text you and now here she was; meaning she lived in the area. your area.

you felt yourself emotions fume up "are you gonna pay or?" you nettled out, sounding way meaner than you meant too. you bit your lip in regret as you watch Ellie blink herself back into reality.

she took a step closer, still feet away from the counter you were behind. she tore her eyes from yours.

the woman didn't owe you anything but for some reason, you found yourself pushing for an answer "you come in here for that-" you began, taking your manicured nail and pointing at the items she held in her hands "or for somethin' else?" you finish questioning.

your tone was still bothered but you weren't rude.

Ellie didn't miss a single emotion though, feeling each one of your emotional vibrations straight into her heart. she wanted to open her mouth to explain everything.

in her heart, she was ready to tell you how you made her feel something no one else ever has before or how she wanted to ask you out to a fancy restaurant like she's never done because she's never met a woman who oozed of such divine elegance; while your looks could kill anyone with just one glance.

for fuck-sake, she's looks even better than I imagined.

Ellie knew this was the worse time to be checking you out, but this was something only Ellie had been dreaming about. she needed to soak in this moment.

you were wearing a black Juicy tracksuit; the zipper was halfway zipped revealing the pink halter that slightly pushed your breasts up complimented by your signature cat-eye liner and cocoa-lined lips.

your bronze skin shining through the same statement gold necklaces on the night she first met you, your hoops this time were small gold ones that Ellie didn't miss them. she took in the same details and your different ones.

you crossed your arms starting to get more irritated as you felt like the woman was judging you.... not checking you out.

“i-i’m—” ellie huffed as her eyes didn’t leave the floor before finally gaining the confidence to stride herself over and placing all the items on the counter.

“i’m sor-” you cut her off.

“i’m not gay.”

if you thought ellie’s facial expression was wistful and apologetic, her face went sour—completely deadpanning as each syllable was uttered out your mouth.

you jump immediately “wait!—” now it was your turn to take a breathe, Ellie didn’t move from her spot although her heart felt like it had been ripped out her chest.

“I’m not sure…. it’s a long story.” your explanation was pathetic.

"I was just gonna apologize...I see..." Ellie’s eyes trailed off from yours down onto the items on the counter as she dug into her pockets.

you examined her, trying to pick up on any sense of how she felt.

you looked at her up and down, she was wearing a mechanic jumpsuit that had a few stains and a white wife-beater under it. you felt yourself grow nervous at how good she looked; she looked worked out, but it made you even more attracted to her.

the small details of her becoming clearer as her freckles on her face were kissing her all across her cheeks, you took in how her clothing looked like she just came from a car-shop, and how her loose bun let a few free strands fall in her face.

you felt her rooted into you completely, just taking in her appearance bloomed your heart.

you felt yourself sigh once more, picking up the merchandise scanner and scanning each item. your hand wanted to shake so bad as the invisible blimps of your skin goosebump.

say something, say something.

your mind was burdensome as you force a sentence out of you "I'm-I'm on my break. the sign said closed." your voice was low, wanting to be hidden almost.

Ellie watches you bag her snack and drinks, rubbing the back of her neck to ease the tension that riled within her racing body; heart thrashing against her chest.

"the mural—it caught my attention.... I didn't even know there was a sign." Ellie's eyes meet yours once again.

"I understand if you didn't like me." you rush out, Ellie almost didn't catch it as you held onto her bag of items; she didn't even get the chance to hand you the 10 bill yet.

Ellie thought she was hearing things, there was no fucking way you just stated that shit.

she couldn't help but let out a very audible scoff.

"you ain't even let me say'somthin''" you could hear somewhat of a country undertone in her now loud and clear voice. nothing like the first night, where you could barely hear her.

you rolled your eyes as you felt no hope with the woman, handing her the bag.

"I never said that did I?" Ellie didn't hand you the bill yet, still in her hand. the way she let the sentence fall from her lips made your face hot.

she finally handed you the 10 "you said you were on your break?" she hinted as she held the bill in-between her fingers, making you grab it from her.

you lean in, reaching your hand out but not grabbing the bill "don'tcha know it's rude to interrupt a lady's smoke sesh?" you tease.

"m'sorry mama, any way to make it up to you?" Ellie slys out as you both flirt over the counter with each other like some shit out of a movie.

"join me?"

"i could listen to that 'long story' of yours"

you both gave each other a soft smile as you chuckled, finally taking the ten and putting it in the register before stepping outside your store with the fine roughed-up woman.

༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻ ༺ ♱ ༻

the moment was picture perfect.

you both stood outside your shop, the mural captivating the background behind the both of you as you leaned against the gumball machines that were outside on the side of your shop-doors with Ellie in front of you.

you took the blunt out of the wrapper the cigarillo originally came in, taking it between your lips.

Ellie watched you bring your signature lighter up to the tip to ignite it. you puffed on it a couple times, flicking the lighter to crisp the edges to make sure it burned correctly.

you handed her the blunt, eyes meeting as you caught her staring. there was a moment of silence as she puffed herself. you kicked your feet up in a soft bored-playful manner as you continue to challenge your mental.

"Ellie..." you began, her name falling off like butter as it sounded like a lullaby to Ellies ears. she had all ears and eyes on you as she continued to drag out the blunt.

"I would love to tell you everything—but for right now...." you took a deep breath as you felt the cottonmouth begin to catch you.

Ellie leaned closer, putting a hand over yours comfortingly. she did it unconsciously, by the time she even realized she had her hand on your shoulder; she was already feeling ready to comfort you to even mentally process.

"that's okay-like I said, I'm all ears"

you couldn't process how compassionate she was with you as you spoke up.

"not too long ago, I broke up with a long-term boyfriend—he cheated that's not the point—the point is that.... I have never been with anyone besides him." you explain, your pauses being inhalations of the sparked bud.

Ellies brows furrowed but she listened to you intently, she couldn't believe a woman like you could ever be cheated on.

"I'm sorry, you don't deserve someone like that." she reassures once more causing your heart to skip a beat.

you disregard the comment by giving her a soft smile and passing her back the blunt, not wanting to focus too much on that aspect "I know I sound complicated, but I just never got the chance to figure it out" your voice was somber, picking at your fingers nervously.

your breath hitched as her hand gently picked up your face by your chin, her face a good distance from yours as the steps she took closer to you only closed the space that was left between the both of you.

"y'know that is not your fault right?"

those words brought you back to what Dina told you weeks ago.

"thank you...." you gave her a weak smile as you trailed off "not what you thought, huh?" you gave her this look of pity, not for her but for yourself.

"maybe not but to be fair, I was thinking a lot worse after 'I'm not gay' right then and there" Ellie lightens the mood by making the both of you laugh as you continue to smoke together.

"i may not know much—" you puff out before taking a couple more hits of courage out of your blunt.

"but I know I really like you, Ellie."

your voice was sincere, not a single doubt, or hint of all of this being a 'joke'. she searched your face to see any hence of regret or anxiousness. she found none.

your face was assured and if anything, you had straightened yourself up more which inched your faces closer slightly as your confidence flourished through you within seconds.

the switch up drove Ellie crazy.

your demeanor screaming 'I know what I want' and it was all pointing towards the woman in front of you in this dirty black jumpsuit which made her look ravishingly good.

Ellie followed your confidence naturally, something only you were able to derive out of her so easily.

she inched her face closer as you let out of puff of a cloud of smoke in front her face in a playful manner before her face met yours, now only feet away from yours.

"been one night and I already can't think of any other woman than you, mama."

your heart was running a thousand miles per second.

the same nickname she called you affecting you more than before.

"that why you ain't text me?" the real question of the evening.

the confidence Ellie had just gotten completely diminished.

"I'm not maddd" you drag out, reaching a hand to tug on her jumpsuit gently as you smirk. you weren't anymore.

Ellie was like putty under anything you did, your look and if you commanded her to do anything; she would do it in a heartbeat and Ellie knows she would.

just like that, her tense aura calmed down.

"i was so fucking ready to ask you out on some fancy shit. i was gonna tell you im picking you up at 7, having a whole ass bouquet while you stepped down all divine as fuck—i was so close! my fucking fin—"

Ellie couldn't finish your sentence by the crashing of your lips onto hers.

the kiss wasn't heated or fast, it was purely passionate. you both sulked into each other as your bodies needed this. you indulged in the warmth you both brought each other, your arms wrapping around her neck as the once lit blunt blew out while still in between your middle and ring finger.

the mix of the tobacco from the cigarillo creating a swish in the taste of each other's tongues in distasteful pleasure as neither of you could care or process anything besides being together right here in this moment like a heaven-sent.

if this was the work of the divine, ellie found herself mentally thanking them as your lips moved in sync together.

Ellie pulled away with the biggest smile on her face, biting her lips ever-so-softly before speaking.

"Is there any way tis'beautiful woman could spare a poor mechanic woman one more chance?" Ellie takes a hand, placing it across her heart dramatically causing small giggles to erupt out of you.

you pick up on how ellie mentioned she was a mechanic. ‘that’s so fucking hot’ you thought to yourself.

Ellie watched you in pure admiration and beauty "and what would that be, hmm?" you hum out contently, your forehead's brushing against each other.

"that date. you and me, and a fancy dinner—how about it, mama?"

Ellies eyes gleamed hopeful as your gaze's pour into each other.

"i thought you would never ask, bebé"

there you two were, rekindling outside of a convenience store.

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lilac-5ky · 8 months

Text

get him back! (ex-boyfriend!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: hate sex

plot: you broke up with toji and he decided to break your friends, until you decide you've had enough.

tags: hate sex, toxic relationship, exes to ???, reader tried to be a good friend, toji is a manipulative asshole, against a door, unprotected sex, spanking, recording, derogatory petnames, slight angst and arguing.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“You fucking asshole! I know you’re holed in there like a damn rat; open up!”

Your fist bangs against his door with abandon. You don’t care that it’s 4 a.m. on a Thursday night or that the neighbors probably think of you as some crazy bitch, which maybe you are. You turned into one the moment your best friend was dumped through a three-word text.

“Saw your clunker out front; open up or the whole block will learn what a prick you are!”

Kimie was in love with him. She was in love with him when she collapsed on your doorstep an hour ago, and she was still in love with him when you left her sleeping soundly in your bed. So were Nanako, Azami, and Rio—the victims before her.

His modus operandi was the same with all four of your friends. He approached them one by one, casting the same spell that enchanted the panties off their thighs, dated them until he got bored, and then broke them into a state beyond repair, leaving you to pick up the pieces.

“I swear, if you don’t open the door right fucking now—” You’re suddenly dragged into his apartment, your wrist pulled against a firm wall of muscle as the door shuts behind you with a thud.

“And they say prayers don’t get answered.” His smile makes your guts churn, pearly white canines beaming below a taut, scarred lip. “Tad late though, aren’t ya? Been—what, two hours since I dumped that b—”

An attempted slap has your hand joining its twin in his grasp. “Call her a bitch again, and the next will be your balls!” You flail, trying to break free.

He doesn’t look disturbed in the slightest. His grin only turns wider at the sheer hatred with which you look at him.

You hate him. You hate Toji with every inch of your being. You hate how he ruined your friends’ lives on a whim; how he poisoned them against you, pointing you out as the reason for each of their breakups. You hate how there’s an ounce of truth in that accusation because, in his twisted brain, he’s doing all that for you. Because his ego can’t stand that you bailed on him first.

“Oh yeah?” He sneers, shoving your hands back against your chest. “Try me, girl. Show me what you got.”

His eyes provoke you, as smug as the rest of his face. You hate to think they were once the most wonderful thing in existence, and you treasured them like pure jade.

Your hands ball into fists, that remain glued to your sides. Your threats are empty, and he knows that. You aren’t there to fight. Just to give him a piece of your mind and hopefully, put an end to this insanity.

“Finally came around?” Toji asks at the lack of reaction.

You sigh. “How long will you keep this up?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Any more cute friends of yours left to fuck?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Your voice climbs a whole octave above his.

“You are.”

“Really? You’re gonna pin all of that on me?” It takes every bit of self-restraint not to pluck the hair out of his stupid head. “Please, enlighten me!”

“I miss you.” He admits, and he sounds earnest, but you aren’t fazed. You’ve heard all of that before; read all about it in the countless texts he’s sent over the past five months. “I miss my pretty baby and all the fun we had together. Miss how we talk, how we laugh, how we fuck.”

You managed to disregard the sculpted muscles decorating his bare chest that had been in plain sight since before you entered his place, yet now you look at them with a stare that is almost nostalgic.

“We were so good together, princess. Why be apart now, mm?” He reaches out to you, his forefinger curling near your cheek. “Don’tcha think your tantrum lasted long enough?”

“My tantrum?” You smack his hand away. “You are the one who had it good, Toji. You are the one who had a maid, a girlfriend, and a wallet all in one. You did nothing, and I did everything! I cleaned for you, I cooked for you—I even tagged along to all your stupid races, and you did what exactly? Fucked all my friends to get back at me for calling things off? If you really think it’s my fault, then you’re sick in the head, though that’s nothing new. You killed us; not me.”

Toji scratches the back of his head uncomfortably. As expected, he has nothing to say in return. He doesn’t miss you; he misses the comfort of you, and you don’t miss him either. You simply miss the way he sometimes held you tight against his chest and whispered he loved you so many times that you were inclined to believe him. You miss the dreams you created—the entire life you’d planned together only for it to be viciously torn apart by his current self.

“Can’t you see it? There’s no ‘we’ anymore. There’s only ‘you’ and ‘I’, and the poison that’s left behind from what we once were. It’s over between us, but ” you take advantage of his silence, “Kimie did nothing wrong. She loves you, so better give her a call, say you got high on some shit—I don’t fucking know—and apologize. Beg if you have to, but get back with her.”

“And why would I do that?” His arms fold over his chest, a thin obsidian brow shaping an arch. “Boring bitch was only good at getting my dick wet. Nothing like you.”

His voice mellows down as he speaks your name, his eyes waning past his eyelids, both soft, unlike the calloused palm that traces the outline of your face. “I was serious about you. Still am. Why else you think I did all that? I love you. Love my baby and her little pussy so much.”

“S-stop that.” Your heart skips a beat as he corners you against the door, your hand searching for the handle behind your back.

“My pussy.” His lips ghost over your neck while his hips buck into you possessively. “C’mon, baby. Be honest with yourself. You don’t really give a shit ‘bout Kimie. You came to me cause ya knew I’d fuck you good. Haven’t let anyone in my pussy since last time, mm?”

“You are wrong.” You breathe out, nails digging sharply into your palm. You don’t want this. You don’t want him. You are here for your friend—the only friend you’ve got left after he turned everyone against you. “You ain’t shit, Toji.”

“Yeah? How many guys have made you scream like I have? How many of ‘em have fucked both your brain and thighs into mush? How many of ‘em you called daddy, hm?” He bites into your shoulder, and an immediate shudder circuits from the point of impact across your body. “Thought so. No one fucks you like I do. No one will ever love you the way I do.”

“Fuck you, Toji.” The way his knee presses between your thighs coaxes a sigh he doesn’t miss. He grinds harder, your heat pulsing below your soaked underwear.

“Yeah? Fuck me?” He’s gone back to facing you, his minty breath tickling your bottom lip right before it follows his tongue into your mouth. Your body doesn’t resist; worse, it reciprocates.

“Yes. F—fuck you,” you mumble, having found a new reason to hate him.

He is right. You never cared that much about Kimie, because if you did, you wouldn’t have sneaked out in the middle of the night in your skimpiest outfit. Avenging your friend was the last thing in your mind, an afterthought drowned by his lips and his hands crawling beneath your dress.

“Why not do it yourself, baby?” Toji nibbles at your lip in the exact way he knows that you like. “Fuck me. Fuck me, and I’ll take that bitch Kirie back ‘f that’s what ya still want after.” His finger curls around the elastic band of your panties, awaiting your answer.

“God, I hate you so fucking much.”

“Hm?”

“It’s Kimie, you asshole.”

In an instant, your arms loop around his neck and your legs around his torso as Toji lifts you up against the door. He grunts into the kiss, teeth and tongues clashing while each tries to gain access to the other’s body. He rips your underwear into a single shred he flings away, giving your ass a rough smack that makes you whine countless little I hate you’s into his mouth.

Fumbling with the laces of his sweatpants, you lower them enough for his cock to spring free, already rock hard even when you’ve done nothing besides arguing. You almost moan at the sight, thinking to yourself there might just be a part of him you actually missed.

“Shoulda wash that potty mouth for all the useless shit it spews,” he murmurs against your skin, sliding your dress’ straps below your breasts and rolling the hem over your stomach. “‘member how much ya loved to suck me off? Gagged on every inch and swallowed every drop like the fucking cockslut that y’are.” His teeth dig in your flesh, coloring a mark right above where his fingers close around your neck. “My cockdrunk whore.”

“Just fuck me and get this over with.”

Your breathing grows strained the more pressure he applies, your walls clenching around his cock as he finally sinks inside. You try not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, pursing your lips together while his thick girth stretches your cunt to its limits. You channel all the miserable memories he left you with, every tear you shed over him seemingly gathering as slick that squelches with each thrust your moans drown out. Oh no.

“Liar,” Toji smiles haughtily, a continuous drum from his hip ruthlessly slamming yours against the wooden door, your back rising higher each time. “Knew ya wanted this as much as I do.”

“N-no,” you pant out, stubbornly holding onto your last vestige of self-respect while the tip of his cock insists to kiss that one spot that has you seeing stars quicker than you can account for.

“Don’t tell me ya still lie to yourself ‘bout doing this to be a good friend.” And when you don’t answer, he reaches into his pocket to dig out his phone, first pointing the camera at your face and then at the point where his cock splits you open. “Wanna make a video and send it to her? See what she makes of you getting railed?”

“You fucking piece of shit!” You slap the phone from his grasp, the entire screen filling up with cracks before going dark.

“That was new.” His tongue clicks against his mouth’s roof. “Guess I’ll have to make you pay for this, hm?”

Both his palms drop to your ass, spanking both cheeks in tandem with his thrusts until tears thread your eyelashes, the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure speeding up your orgasm.

“A bit louder, baby. Don’t think the neighbors heard ya.”

He bullies his cock faster into you, husky moans complimenting your high-pitched whimpers that fill the space and echo across the halls of his apartment building.

“T-Toji, I—” He finishes you off before you can finish your sentence, your eyes squeezing shut as fireworks blast behind your eyelids.

“That’s my girl.” He praises, laying soft kisses that you reject on your sweat-covered forehead. You don’t want to be fooled again. This is a one time thing.

“‘m not your—ugh, fucking girl.” You hiss, yanking at the frayed tufts of hair your fingers pick from his skull. “Never will be.”

“Sure about that?” A hand sneaks between your bodies and finds your clit. “Bet if I make ya cum ‘nough times, you’ll come crawling back to me.”

“N-not a chance,” quickly shifts into a loud, “Fuck!” when he starts rubbing quick circles around the sensitive nub. You can’t seem to stop moaning for him, feeling your second climax creep up on you at the same time he spills his load, fucking every velvety rope of his cum deep inside your sopping pussy.

You stand on your feet for the first time in a while, your knees trembling as you struggle to keep straight without his aid. Toji looks so smug with his cock still throbbing in his hand, the swollen red tip mocking you and your efforts to resist it.

He pulls his sweats up, and without a warning, the door flies wide open. This is your chance to leave. It’s what he wants. For you to either bear the shame of stumbling back home with his cum staining your legs down to your ankles or stay the night and be tricked into getting back together; humiliation on both ends.

“What’s it gonna be, baby?”

And as the door falls shut behind you, you know you’re going to hate yourself even more after this night than you ever hated him.

a/n: so i planned this waaaay too late, but i still wanted to partake in the madness known as kinktober. i'll be doing some of the days at random, sometimes adding more than one kinks to one one-shot. most will be about toji, unless-

and yes, i'm obsessed with olivia's new album. sue me. masterlist tomorrow, it's 5 am ffs.

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spaceshipellie · 9 months

Note

hear me out, ellie, “is there someone who has your heart, that keeps you gone, away from me?”, angry confessions in the rain, modern or tlou au, angst and smut if you want. (i really am just fiening for a heated confession LOL)

“is there someone who has your heart, that keeps you gone, away from me?”

pairing: ellie x reader

summary/warnings: you’ve been dating ellie and everything’s been great, until you suspect she might be involved with someone else and have to confront her. angst. cheating. modern au. mdni

i hope this was heated enough! i’ve been writing a lot of angsty personal shit lately so needed to write an angsty request whilst it’s still in my system lol

being with ellie had always felt like the sun was kissing your skin with smiling lips. like when you first step into a pool and at first the coolness nips at your skin and you’re unsure if you want to go any further but once you allow yourself to be completely submerged, it feels delicious.

you hadn’t had the best of luck with relationships in the past which admittedly made it easy for you to get anxious. the sickening cold rush that travels up through your body, debilitating any move you try and make, was one you felt often and you hated it about yourself. not that it was your fault but you couldn’t help but beat yourself up about it.

ellie knew this and had always gone out of her way to make you feel good. she showered you with reminders about how beautiful and funny and smart you are, how lucky she is to have you, how she never wants to make you feel bad and if she ever does you’re to tell her so she can fix it.

you had nodded your teary face when she had told you this, a weak smile on your lips preparing an apology for getting emotional. you always felt embarrassed crying in front of people, especially people who you were dating. but ellie had held your hands, wiped the tears from your cheeks with delicate touches and kissed them before kissing you like you were her everything.

it was a saturday night and you were lying in her bed, naked, breathless and completely fucked out. she was lying with her face smushed in your neck, a hand comfortingly holding your boob and a cosy smile on her face letting out tiny satisfied sighs. she then reluctantly climbed off of you to go to the bathroom when your phone dinged on the bedside table. you rolled over to grab it but not before seeing a message light up on her phone which was right beside yours, reading:

ava

god i literally adore you

that familiar cold rush creeped up your body and your face went hot. that word, adore, was jabbing your mind. maybe if you knew who this person was you would understand the context of the message but you had no idea. ellie came back in the bedroom then and you quickly shuffled as if you were just getting comfortable. she didn’t seem to pick up on anything as she slid in behind you, wrapping an arm around you and kissing your shoulder.

you held her close, as if it was tricking your brain into believing it would keep her there. that hugging her tightly meant she was yours and couldn’t possibly be someone else’s too. you turned in her arms and glanced down at her closed eyes with her pretty lashes and freckles scattered like a painting. she was so beautiful it made you want to cry. but you suddenly felt like an imposter being here with her, naked in bed. so intimate yet so detached. what if another girl had been in here with her recently? holding her like this with her hand trailing soft lines up and down their arm, fucking her like you just had, making her cum on their tongue whilst she tells them how good they make her feel, giggling and exchanging i love you’s when it’s over. no, she wasn’t like the others. she couldn’t be.

you had pushed the thoughts so far back you had nearly forgotten about them several days later, until a girl drunkenly waddled up to you at the bar you were at with your friends. she touched your forearm to get your attention and hiccuped when she giggled, her eyes struggling to keep contact with yours.

“oh my god, are you ellie’s girlfriend?”

you looked at her, confused.

“yeah? i am, why?”

“oh,” she laughed again, her friends now catching up to her and snickering. “no reason.”

okay, what the fuck? your body suddenly felt too heavy to hold up as you leant further against the bar.

“who are you?” you asked but her friends had already started to drag her away. however, the blood drained from your face when you heard one of them say “ava, come on.”

i adore you. it screamed in your head like a banshee. you needed to speak to ellie. you made an excuse up for your friends and cursed when you walked outside into the pouring rain. hugging your jean jacket around you tightly you marched in the direction of ellie’s apartment, deciding to call her on the way.

“hello?”

“hi, i need to talk to you.”

“sure, what’s wrong? are you still out?”

“i just left. ellie i– please say you’re at home.”

“i’m not.” your heart sunk. “i’m at jesse’s but i can walk back right now if you need me to.”

“please. i really need to talk to you.”

“okay, babe. see you in a bit.”

you were drenched at this point. your hair was sticking to your face and your jacket felt heavy. you hadn’t quite made it to ellie’s street yet when you suddenly saw her walking over the road. you called her name and she spotted you, immediately checking for cars quickly as she jogged over.

“baby, what’s going on? why are you by yourself?”

“who’s ava?” you’d hoped you could be more chill about the situation but the little bit of alcohol you’d already had had made you lose all hope of that.

“what?”

“ava, ellie. some girl i know you’ve been talking to.”

she stared back at you. her face scrunched slightly due to being pelted by rain drops.

“what are you talking about?”

“don’t do this right now,” you sighed, “this girl came up to me giggling and asked if i was your girlfriend and i’m sorry but i saw you had a text from her a week or so ago so, explain.”

you wiped your cheeks as if that would get rid of any of the rain droplets and folded your arms across your chest. her face looked forlorn and concerned.

“how do you know that girl was av–“

“because i heard her name! fuck, is that really what you wanna say first?”

“no, sorry.” she looked down at her feet and didn’t follow up with anything.

“ellie! tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“nothing! it’s not like that.”

“what does that even mean? just be fucking honest, please.”

“we just talked, i swear. nothing happened.”

“talked about what?”

“i don’t know, stuff. fuck.”

“stuff.. hmm. like what, like how much she adores you?”

her eyes shifted to look away from you.

“i saw the text. promise i wasn’t snooping but maybe you should be more careful about your phone next time you decide to fuck around with another girl.” your voice was bitter and she looked like she was struggling to find the words.

“that, that text– fuck. okay. i fucked up. i slept with her once and i regret it entirely.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, desperately trying not to keep it together in front of her.

“when?”

“like, two weeks ago.”

you paused for a moment to relive the past two weeks in your head. all the touches, late nights, texts, kisses, photos, words, all tarnished by the fact that her attention had been shared with another girl.

“why? how?”

“honestly, i don’t know.”

“well think.”

“i–i met her at a party. i messed up, i wasn’t thinking.”

“is that the best you can do?”

“what do you want me to say?!” her voice was raised now, leaving you both in a bit of a screaming match.

“what is wrong with you? i thought everything was fine. what the fuck did i do?”

“nothing! i just– i don’t know what to fucking say other than i’m sorry and i’ve blocked her already. it’s not going to happen again.”

“oh, you’re so considerate,” you snapped sarcastically.

“tell me how i can fix it.”

“i’m not sure, ellie. i think i need to go home.”

“please don’t.”

“i can’t do this.”

she tried to reach for your hand but you slipped away and walked quickly back to your apartment, not daring to look back at her. halfway through the drenched walk you realised you could have called an uber but you just needed to get away and the adrenaline was carrying your legs too fast.

you had no idea what you were going to do. the sound of ellie’s laugh when she danced with you in the kitchen and ava’s smug giggle when she approached you fought for centre stage in your head. you closed your eyes, praying that when you opened them it would all have just been a huge nightmare, but it wasn’t. ellie had hurt you, just like the ones before.

#tlou x cain requests 🌙#anon requests 🌷#ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams #tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie angst

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bandgie · 9 months

Text

Ghost in the Night

Ghostface!Jeongin x fem!reader

AU 1 | AU 2

synopsis: Keep your doors locks, shut your windows, don't go outside after sundown. Rules were quickly put in place when a killer, known as 'Ghostface,' began terrorizing your city. You listened to all these rules until finals night, but still, there's no way in hell Ghostface could get to you. Right?

warnings: MDNI 18+, DUBCON/NONCON, breaking an entry, implied kidnapping, PIV, forced oral (m! receiving), face slapping, blood/murder, face fucking, slight pain during sex (no prep) crying/begging, cumming inside, degrading words (slut, bitch, etc), not proofread,

4.1k words shheesshhh

Another college student was found dead. Their throat slashed along with their stomach. The police found them in their apartment with the words 'COME FIND ME' smeared on the walls with blood. The story along made you queasy. This killer, who the town nicknamed Ghostface, has been on a spree for about two weeks now. It really happened out of the blue. One day, you're attending college parties, and the next, you're too scared to even shop for necessities.

Rumors began to speculate about who it could be. Many people thought it was the rival university, some thought it was the son of the dean who couldn't get into the school, most thought it was just a psycho. The question remained though, why did Ghostface only go after college students?

Your friends dropped out of college upon hearing the news. They urged you to do the same, but you were so close to graduating that you decided to push through. After all, most of the students attacked were sorority or frats, you weren't either of them. If you kept your head down, didn't attend the stupid parties students kept throwing because they liked the thrill, you would be fine.

So here you were, on the second floor of the library late at night. You're thankful your library had open hours until midnight, it was great for last minute studying. The librarian was very friendly, even offering to drive you home. "I hear about what's been happening," she tells you as she rubs her trails hands.

You shake your head, "Thank you for your concern. I really don't wanna waste your time, I'll be fine." She eyes you cautiously, as if hoping you'd second guess yourself and take her offer. When you don't, she sighs. "Fine, deary. You be safe out there." You nod your head and watch her descend back to her from post.

A few hours pass before you decide to head home, your brain fried from all the studying. You wave the librarian a goodbye and exit the doors, greeted with the moon and stars in the sky. Had there not been a killer loose, you would have loved to admire the view. It's a blood moon tonight, and you pray that it's a good omen.

While walking back to your dorm, you couldn't help but hear music blasting. You pass one of the frat dorms, watching as people passed out in the front lawns and other vomiting. You grimaced at the sight. How could they party like this when people were being brutally murdered? You ignored their hollers and whistles to continue on your path.

"Hey!" One of them shouts at you. You ignore it, walking faster to get to your safe place. "Hey! I'm calling you!" Still, you maintain your pace. If you keep walking fast enough, you'll be able to-

"Damn girl! I'm tryna talk to you," the guy had caught up to you. He held you by your upper arms stinking of booze. You turned to face him in an attempt to intimidate him, "I'm not interested." You try your best to sneer, but he only laughs. "Never said I wanted you to be. I was just gonna say you shouldn't be walking all alone." His ominous statement send chills down your spine.

"I appreciate you tryna be my hero, but like I said, I'm not interested." You sternness throws him off, and he quickly lets go of your arm. "Bitch," he mumbles, "I was just tryna help." You don't bother replying, quickly turning around to escape his presence. You can't trust anyone, you can't take your chances.

You make a sharp turn, hoping that you're out of his sight. It doesn't take long to hear the familiar steps behind you. Rather than ignoring him this time, you turn around quickly to confront him. "Didn't you fucking hear me? I said-" You stop yourself. You were fully excepting to see his drunk ass behind you, but instead your faced with nothing.

You shiver, whipping back around to scurry home. It was just the wind, you think. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, feel the blood that pumps in your veins. No no no, calm down. You're fine. There's nothing here. Even while you try to relax your heartbeat, you start hearing the footsteps again.

Too scared to turn around, you run. Maybe there's nothing behind you at all. Maybe you're running like a manic only scaring yourself more. It doesn't matter though, you're filled with too much fear to think rationally.

Another turn, and you can see your dorm complex in the distance. You stop running as fast, convinced that you're just overreacting. You do keep a fast walk though, still unsure if you could really walk so carelessly. Your gaze is up in the sky, watching how the moon gets bigger and bigger.

The sky provides a good amount of light as you finally make your way to the front door as your house. You reach for your keys only to see that your front door is already open. Your eyebrows raise, unsure if your roommate just got home and forgot to close the door. You push it open, taking a peek. The lights are off and it's quiet. Perhaps they just forgot and went to sleep.

You walk in and flick on the light, setting your bag down. It's not until your eyes are better adjusted in the lighting that you see your roommate. She's hunched over, limp on the couch as if she was waiting for you. You gasp at her, jumping slightly.

"Oh my god!" You breathe. "Jesus Christ you scared the shit outta me." You take steps towards her waiting for her response. There is none. "Hey, girl you good?" You reach out to grasp her shoulder and the little contact makes her fall on the ground. It's then that you see the blood that pool on the couch, how easily her head lolls to the side.

You fall to the ground with her, flipping her around to see a giant slash across her neck. Her eyes are wide with fear, her mouth open as if she was screaming. You can't help but try to shake her despite it being in vain, tears falling down your face. You're so caught up in your mourning that you don't hear the footsteps that come towards you.

A shadow hovers over you, and you turn around to see the familiar descriptions you've seen in the news. A black cloak, gloved hands, a white mask with a permanent open mouth. You cry even harder upon the sight. A part of you doesn't think it's real, that it's all just a sick dream you're having. Even as the killer kneels down towards you to stare at your face, you pray it's just a nightmare.

"I had to come pretty quick, you were almost home," it speaks. You don't really register what he's saying. He straightens back up, "You know, I also killed that dude back there that grabbed you. Guys like that piss me off. They have no respect for personal space ya know what I mean?" Perhaps he said that as a joke, considering this man literally killed your roommate mere moments ago.

"Please," your voice is horse and thick with emotion. "I don't want-want to die." You start sobbing, bloody hands cradling your face in an attempt to comfort yourself. The masked man cocks his head to side, seemingly intrigued by your cries. "You think I'm gonna kill you?" He doesn't wait for an answer, yanking your head up by your hair. You whimper and nod, vision blurry with tears.

You try begging more, but all that comes out are garbles sentences and pathetic wails. Ghostface is rather enjoying the show, smiling behind his mask. "You've got a good crying face. Keep begging," his grip tightens on your hair. You do, and honestly he didn't even need to ask. In the midst of your sobs, you can feel the cold edge of something sharp against your throat. You feel it slowly dig into your neck, but not hard enough to break the skin.

The contact makes you freeze up, eyes wide with absolute terror. Ghostface literally moans at the sight. "Fuck, I love that look." He makes the knife dances around your neck, staring at how your pupils dilate. Pleasurable shivers travel his body, and he can feel the blood traveling to his cock. Killing you now would be a waste, he should at least have some fun first.

He removes the knife from your neck throws it across the room. You jump at the clattering noise, almost missing how he uses his now free hand to yank his pants down. On your knees, your face-to-dick with his half hard on. You almost throw up at the realization, eyes staring into the masks eyes pleading.

He shoves his crotch closer to your face, smearing his cock on your face. You keep your mouth closed, determined to keep your dignity intact. Ghostface doesn't like this, and pulls your hair back so hard you think you'll go bald. "You think this is a fucking game?" He forces you to look at him while he speaks. "You wanna end up like your bitch roommate? Huh?" You shake your head as you sob.

"That's what I fuckin' thought, get to work slut."

You don't think you can manage to even keep your mouth open with how violently your sobbing, but Ghostface doesn't wait for you to open up all the way. He quickly shoves his half hard in your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, trying your best not to gag. A part of you thinks about biting down on him, and he must see a glint in your eyes because he yanks your face off him.

The force of his pull makes you cry out, but he responds by slapping you hard across the face with his free hand. Pain surges in your face, and you can't help the continuous tears that fall. "If you fucking bite me, I'll make you choke on your own insides," he threatens. If it wasn't for the corpse of your roommate mere feet away, you would still believe him because of the look in his eye.

"I won't!" You speak through your cries. "I promise I promise just please don't hurt me." Ghostface smiles under his mask, giving your cheeks three more light slaps before shoving your face back on his cock. Determined to prove your life is worthy, you stick your tongue out to lick his underside. You can tell he surprised by the way his breath hitches.

You let your lips run over his length along with your tongue. Salvia quickly begins to pool in your mouth, and you spit on his dick. You carefully reach your hands up, scared that he might slap you again. You can tell he's watching with judgement as you grab the base of his cock with one of your hands. Your other one steads on your thigh as you let your mouth fall open.

Working in one fluid motion, you bob your head to the speed of your hand. His cock is smooth, save for the pulsating of his veins. He's completely hard now, and it's pretty difficult to get more than half his girth between your lips. Your hands become sticky with precum and spit. You can feel how your drool dibbles down your cheeks as you continue to take him in your mouth.

Now there's two hands in your hair, and he's started pull you closer and closer to him. A particular thrust of his hips has you gagging, nearly coughing his cock out. He doesn't let you pull him out, instead forcing you to keep a couple inches in. You're making noises that both sound like moaning and suffocating, and it turns him on a lot more than he'd like to admit.

Watching you try your best to suck his cock like your life depends on it makes him feel alive because, well, your life does depend on it. You doe eyes wide with fear and concentration amuses him, makes him feel almost bad for the fact that he's still going to kill you when you're done. Not to mention your lips, how swollen and red they are from pleasuring him.

A part of him wishes he could take his mask off, make you look him in the eyes rather than his mask. The clear view could possible make him cum quickly in your mouth. Instead, Ghostface makes do with your current state. You're dripping in him and your own liquids, hands feverishly moving easily in the slobber.

All you and him can hear are your choked sobs, wet sucking, and the occasional movement of his hips hitting your face. To both of your shock, you find yourself getting aroused by his cock in your mouth. The fear in your stomach slowly begins to bubble into desire. Your panties getting slightly damp. You can't stop yourself as you clench you thighs together to get some friction.

You try to convince yourself that it's normal to get like this in a life or death situation. There's been cases of people's brain getting so scared that it gets sexually stimulated. You pray that this is the case now because you're starting to think how pretty this man's moans is. He sounds breathy, needy, desperate. Like he hasn't gotten much action in a while, or at least not to this extent.

A self-defense mechanism, you try to tell yourself as your pussy begins to seep through your underwear.

Ghostface suddenly thrusts his hips into your face, his cock hitting your throat deep. You throat contracts around him, and the pressure has him pulsing. You think you might suffocate with how he just keep shoving his dick into your mouth without caring how you claw at his thighs. Then he moans, almost sings his groans as he shoots his cum down your throat.

If you thought you were suffocating then, you must be dying now. His hot cum chokes you and slightly trickles down your chin. Your wide eyes have now rolled to the back of your head, and your chest began burning from lack of oxygen. Perhaps this is how you go out, dead by dick.

Just before you can feel yourself lose consciousness, he pulls away. You gasp and cough for air, hands grabbing your throat. Ghostface takes a few steps back as if he was surprised by his own orgasm. You heave, lungs burning from the intake of fresh air. Before you have the chance to fully recover, he pulls you up by the back of you head and harshly throws you on the couch. You hate how your shirt begins to grow damp with your roommate's blood, but you try to persuade yourself that it's just sweat.

Ghostface is between your legs in a matter of seconds, lifting up your skirt to expose your underwear.

You're still trying to catch your breath as your hands aimlessly attempt to push him off. You hear him snicker, gripping your thighs tightly to pull them apart. He sighs dreamily, "You're so wet baby. I can't tell if you're that turned on from sucking my cock or if you're so scared you pissed yourself."

Shame overtakes you, and you fight even harder to push him away. He only laughs at your attempts, releasing you for just a second to wrap his hands around his throat. Your finger try to pry him off, but all he does it squeeze harder. You can feel your face turning read, the familiar sensation of suffocating returning.

"I thought you would have learned to be nicer to me by now," he tsks. "Be a good girl and let me fuck you. I would rather like to fuck this pussy warm and alive." You can't verbally answer him since he's crushing your windpipe, so you meekly nod. He released your throat just before your vision went fully dark.

His gloves hands trail over your body, cupping at your breasts before continuing on their way down. You're scared that moving would make you faint, so you stay still as he explores your body. You can feel the warmth of his hands through the latex. How strong his fingers are as they reopen your legs. He rubs a thumb on your clothed pussy, keeping on hand on your abdomen.

Then, he does something even he knows he shouldn't do; Takes off his mask. If you weren't so oxygen-deprived, you could probably see his clearly. All you can make out is his dark hair, thick eyebrows, full lips. His specific features are a little hazy, but you can see enough to know that despite your better judgment, he's not bad looking at all.

He throws the mask onto your face, blocking your vision. "Don't take it off," he commands. "Take that mask off and I'll rip your throat out with my hands." You nod as shivers run down your body, "I won't." Those are all the words he needs to heat before moving your under to the side. The sight of your aroused clit has his breath caught in his throat, he's never seen anything as beautiful.

"Oh baby," he practically moans. His fingers feel a little uncomfortable as he plays with your lower lips, but it's not painful. He smears your wetness all over your pussy and thighs. Ghostface is amazed at how much your pussy was drooling for him. Maybe you're sick too, just like him.

Your cunt feels cold when he withdraws his hand from you, and your body reactively chases his touch. You hate how you hear him chuckle at your actions. He takes his finger and shoves it into his mouth, curious about your taste. You can't see too clear, but from the way his eyebrows go up, he likes what he ate.

"I'd kill to eat your pussy," he compliments. "Don't have the time to though, maybe next time."

No prep, no lube, just this man precisely angling his cock to your soppy entrance. You're whimpering quietly, little sounds as if to say please don't when it only entices him more. He lets out a soft groan when his tip enters your soft walls. You try to close your legs, but now with two hands gripping the back of your thighs, you really don't have a choice.

He pushes in, and you use both your hand to cover your mouth. He has more length than girth, so it feels never ending as he slides in. It's slightly painful at first, but you find yourself feeling satisfying full. Your assaulter can't fit himself all the way since you're too tight, but it's enough for him to rock his hips.

There's no warm up to his strokes, and your thrown in forced pleasure all too quickly. The feeling of his sliding in and out, how he manages to get deeper and deeper each time, the bruising grip on your thighs. Now you're covering your mouth to suppress your moans rather than cries. Even though, he can still hear how you squeak and groan as he pounds into you.

He watches as your breasts bounce from underneath your shirt, the way your body completely shifts every time he thrusts into you. You can say you want him to stop all you want, but he can feel how inviting your pussy has gotten. Almost begging in to stay inside, to pump you full of his cum.

Now he meets you at the hilt, his pelvis slapping against your ass. It's getting hard to breath under his mesh mask, but you don't dare to take it off. You should be ashamed with how you look up at him, practically admiring his expressions and how he groans. From what you can see, his mouth is fallen open as he moans carelessly. Like he didn't just make you take his cock, like he didn't just kill your roommate without remorse.

The pain is completely gone, and you find yourself wondering how you could have been in pain to begin with. He's so good with his cock, like he knows where in your cunt you like it. His hands stay at your thighs, but you wish he could use his gloves fingers to rub your clit. You might've been gripping his by his broad shoulders if you weren't too busy quieting yourself.

Even without the stimulation on your lower lips, you can feel your stomach tightening. The warm orgasm slowly collecting in your abdomen. You let your legs fall open even more, eager for him to drive deeper into you. He accepts happily, laughing maniacally. "God fuck, I knew you were a fucking slut. Putting your nose in a book, acting like a good little girl when you're just as sick as me."

'W-What?" You can't stop from questioning him. Has he been watching you this whole time?

You don't think he's going to answer you with how hard he's driving his hips into you, but he does. "The library. You- ngh fuck!- rather be a fucking loser than party. That scared of me huh?" He cackles. "So scared that you take my fat cock." He stops talking for a few beats to focus on fucking you.

"Aw shit, I'm gonna cum inside you." A statement, not a request. His thrusts become sloppy, aggressive. You cam feel his tip in your throat with how deep he is, and you lose your composure. One of your hands whisk down to rub your aching clit. The movement startles him for a second, but then he smiles once he realizes.

You're despicable. You should feel huge amounts of disgrace as you finish on his cock, but you don't. Instead you feel bliss with your walls squeezing around him. The sudden pressure of your pussy makes him whimper, then cum right after. He's so warm, so lively that you forget that he's a serial killer.

He gives you a few more deep strokes to ride out his high, making you tremble. Your legs shake as he slowly pulls out, but his grip on your legs in firm. He watches as his and your cum oozes out, like blood from a gash. He moans at the sight, feeling his softening cock twitch.

You're breathing heavily under him, still whimpering from the aftershocks. The post nut has not hit yet, and you're tying to relish in his body warmth. If you close your eyes, you can imagine that he's just a hook up. You can tell yourself that you'll get Plan B after this, that you'll take a shower and go to sleep. And when you wake up in the morning, it'll be like nothing happened.

That's not true though, and your fantasy is quickly shut down when his hands wrap around your neck. You gasp at the feeling, your weak hands clawing at his wrists. You both know your fighting is in vain, he was going to kill you regardless of what you did. Tears spring your eyes as you come to terms with your fate. So much for graduating on time.

Maybe it's your tears that have an effect on time. Maybe it's the fact that your pussy is still dripping with him, but Ghostface is having a change of heart. He uses one hand to rip the mask off your face to look into your eyes. It's his favorite part when taking someone's life. Yours though, are not the same. Yes he can see the sadness, the pain, but he can see something he hasn't seen before: Acceptance.

With the mask off, you're able to see his face clearly. He looks like he's thinking with the gentle creases on his forehead. His nose is scrunches and his eyebrows furrowed, and you can't help but think he's..."Cute."

It's the last thing I.N hears you say before you pass out, face turning a purple color. He quickly releases his grip on you, pressing a finger under your chin to feel for a pulse. When he feels it, he sighs in relief. Killing you was on his list since he first saw you weeks ago at the library. You did party, he's seen you before. Yet, watching you turn into a hermit because of him was romantic. He loves having that much power over people, over you.

I.N knows better than to play with his food, but he might make an exception this time. After all, he does have a spare room waiting to be used.

a/n: this took a few days and I feel like I could have done better but here ya go, feeback is appreciated update: au part here!

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sweetsweetjellybean · 2 months

Text

Your crush on Eddie was better off a secret and a kiss that should never have happened leads you into a storm.

I wasn't happy with my first version of chapter 4. So I polished it up and added a little more dialog. Feel free to wait for the next chapter but if you'd like to read it, either as a refresher or for the very first time, please let me know what you think. XOXO-Jelly

Masterlist Listen to Fake Plastic Trees Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Mentions of DV. Smut Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC: 11646 beta'd by @superblysubpar

A sharp chill nips at your cheeks as gusts of autumn wind blow through the amber-leafed trees surrounding Hawkins High's parking lot. You pick at the splintered wood of the picnic table beneath you, etched with initials and scribbles. The anguished croon of Placebo plays through your headphones, drowning out the sounds of the start of another school day. Shifting the pile of books on your lap, you steal a glance at where Eddie stands with his back to you a few yards away.

Lately, it’s like your best friend has purchased real estate in your brain. Daydreams resulting in hearts doodled in the margins of your notebooks a little too close to where you printed his name. His dark curls spill over the collar of his worn denim vest, shadowing the frayed edges of the Dio patch he had sown on last week. He's deep in conversation with Dan Shelter, a senior in the same class that Eddie would have been in if he hadn’t missed so much time after his mother passed. They both turn and look at you at the same time.

Eddie’s eyes narrow as his brows pull tighter into a frown. You push one of your headphones back, and the noise of everyday chatter and car engines bursts into your reality.

"You know your girlfriend is deeply weird, Munson," the spiky-haired jock says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket, not even trying to hide his distaste.

Girlfriend. You’ve both tried to stamp out that rumor—yet no matter who else you go out with, those sparks never last and pale in comparison to the steady flame you feel around Eddie. Would it really be so bad if it were true? The answer scares you more than you expect.

"She’s not my girl," Eddie retorts with a swift shake of his head, his voice edged with that familiar bite of annoyance. His foot scuffs against the asphalt, the white Reebok stark against the black jeans clinging to his narrow hips. An impatient sigh pulls the fabric of his Hellfire Club t-shirt tighter across his chest, outlining his lean frame. "You in or out?" His fingers snap near Dan's face, the sunlight catching on his silver rings, "I've got other places to be, and you're not my only customer."

"Sure, whatever," Dan grumbles, extending a hand with a few crumpled bills.

Eddie accepts the cash with an easy smirk, teasing the dime bag between thumb and forefinger, letting it sway like a pendulum. Dan’s hand hovers while he glances around for prying eyes, but Eddie lets the bag drop to the ground before he can take it.

"Oops," Eddie’s voice drips with feigned innocence before he pivots on his heel and walks away without a backward glance.

Dan’s face ignites with anger as he stoops for the bag, muttering a curse.

"Always a pleasure," Eddie calls over his shoulder, flashing a dismissive two-fingered salute. A gaggle of pink-cheeked girls from the sophomore class crosses his path, eyes trailing over him like he's their favorite song come to life.

"Ladies." He extends an arm, waving them on, his voice as smooth as a melody. They flutter past with giggles and heated glances. Despite their whispers of 'freak' in the corridors, they all vie for a chance to climb into the back of his van when no one is looking – to be the subject of the rumors they'd later deny.

He never hides his interest when he likes a girl — everybody knows when Eddie Munson is into someone. But he’s never looked at you that way, never given you that smile meant for those he desires. And that’s something that has never bothered you. Now, it stirs something else — a green thorny vine wrapping around your insides. He’s just Eddie – your friend. The same old Eddie, you reaffirm, even as your heart whispers lies of a different tune.

Without missing a beat, he saunters over, the rhythmic clink of his chain wallet punctuating each step. He leaps onto the picnic table, landing beside you with a thud, sending vibrations through the timeworn wood. His eyes linger on the girl's retreating forms.

"You need to be careful, Eddie," you warn, tipping your chin toward where Dan is stalking off in a dark cloud of annoyance.

"Careful is my middle name, doll." He smiles a big, sly grin, dimples deepening, causing a flutter in your chest, an unexplained sensation that's become strangely frequent these days.

He nods at your leg, eyes dropping to your thigh. "What’s this?" His dark lashes make half-moon shadows on his cheek as his thumb brushes over the square field of bright white crosses covering the denim patch on your jeans. A trail of tingles follows, unbidden and unwelcome. You disguise the shiver as a chill from the wind, even as you crave more of his touch.

"It’s called sashiko," you explain, hyper-aware of the warmth of his skin as the ghost of his touch lingers. "The art of visible mending."

"Looks cool." His gaze meets yours, a little too intense and a little too long. Your fingers clutch your notebooks tighter, a shield against whatever this feeling is.

"Are you coming over after school?" Your voice is steadier than you feel.

"I’ll drop you off, but I’ve got to go back to the trailer after," Eddie replies, his eyes still holding yours in a silent conversation you can't quite interpret. "I’ve got stuff to do." Something in his tone suggests layers you're not ready to peel back. "Not your kind of stuff."

The house where Eddie grew up doesn't look the same anymore. Someone else has moved in – keeping the lawn perfect and fixing up all the broken things, erasing any traces of tragedy. The neighborhood has moved on, absolving themselves like they hadn’t just turned their back and let it happen. As if it wasn't their problem. Eddie's staying on the other side of town now with his Uncle Wayne in a tiny one-bedroom trailer. Wayne's heart is in the right place, even if he drinks too much, just like Eddie's dad did. But he's not bad, just... lost when it comes to dealing with an angry teen, and with him working nights, Eddie's on his own to figure out how to deal with it all.

"I can keep you company?” You try to keep the offer casual despite the hump in your pulse.

He shakes his head, a shadow crossing his features. "Nah, I’ve got to stop at Rick's, then a run." There's a hardness in his eyes that wasn't there before.

You frown and look away, hiding your disappointment. "I don’t see what the big deal is," you argue, keeping your voice low, "We smoke together all the time."

"The big deal," he says, reaching out to lift your chin and forcing you to look at him. "Is that this is business, and I don’t want you involved. Alright?" His voice is firm, letting you know he won’t budge. "I’ll pick you up later," he promises. "Movie night. Just us."

The shrill ring of the bell is your cue to retreat, to put distance between you and these feelings threatening to upend everything. You nod at him, shoving your books into your bag. His gaze holds you for a heavy beat before breaking away. There's a shift in the air, a prelude to something you can't name, like the static before a storm. Eddie's last glance sears itself into your thoughts when you part ways at the door.

As you make your way to class, those feelings nag at you like a forgotten lyric. You hug your arms, trying to squeeze out the persistent ache that spreads through your limbs. It's a tangible pain, this longing, like a hand squeezing around your heart, making it hard to breathe.

But you push it all down, guarding it like a secret. To lock it away in the confines of your ribcage, where it can't taint the one thing you value most. The friendship you've built is too important, too rare to risk on a silly crush that might only live in your head and fade with time. It’s a gamble you won’t take. You can't lose him. You won’t watch that light in his eyes dim for you, awkward silences replacing the laughter. Without him, you’d be alone.

Cold gray days give way to dark, inky nights. The stars and moon are veiled behind thick cotton clouds, stealing the light earlier as fall edges closer to winter. Winds gust, sending wet leaves sticking to the glass of your office windows as the bare fingers of the boxwoods planted around the brownstone scratch against the house in protest.

Lowering the lid of your laptop, the light in the room dims as the brightness is trapped between the two halves. Your arms stretch over your head, loosening the tension in your neck as you push away from your desk, drifting towards the sounds of life from the living room. Steve’s long legs are stretched out on the chaise end of the couch, a Bulls game on the TV, but his attention is stuck on the laptop resting on his thighs.

“My eyes are going to fall out my head if I stare at that screen for any longer,” you declare, rounding the corner of the couch.

“Well, then, come stare at this screen instead.” He nods at the TV, extending his arm to make space for you to crawl onto the couch next to him and fit yourself into his side.

“You’re so warm.” You nuzzle into his chest, and his lips touch the top of your head. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“I’ll wake you up when it’s time for bed. I still have a few hours of work left,” he sighs, his finger sliding down the trackpad as he scrolls through a document that never seems to end.

“Is that for the launch?” Your eyes squint at the brightness of the screen.

He groans at the ping of another incoming email while toggling between the many windows he has open. “Yeah, we're in the final stretch. The event team is trying to finalize the details. Maroon 5 and Fallout Boy are locked in to perform, but we’re still waiting to hear back from a few other acts and about a million other details that need ironing out.”

“It’s going to be a great night, baby. Everyone will be so impressed,” you assure, the arm you have draped across his stomach tightening, trying to impress your words into him. “Everything is going to go smoothly, you’ll see.”

He scoffs, doubt clouding his voice. “I wish I had your confidence. The server's capacity is still a question mark, and we're racing to fix streaming delays. Fuck!” The heels of his hands press into his eyes. “All I need is this thing to fail at the last minute, especially with Richard and my dad watching.” He imitates his father's stern tone, “Typical. He’s always been a fuck up. Chokes right before the buzzer.” Letting his hands drop, his eyes turn to you. “I should have listened to you and not invited my parents. I actually never thought they would agree to come. Now I’m running around trying to get things ready for them too.”

“Hey,” you take one of his hands between yours, “That’s not going to happen, Steve. If the servers have issues or if there's a lag, it's just a hiccup. You've got a team to handle that. You've put in the work, and you're brilliant at what you do. Your parents will see that. Everyone will.”

He manages a smile, but it’s just a placation.

“What can I do to help?” You ask, “I’ll make sure we have some Pellegrino stocked and that cheese your parents like.”

There's a pause as he weighs his next words. “I’ve already called the housekeeper and told them to put fresh sheets in the guest room in case they decide to stay here, but I still need to make a reservation at the Four Seasons as a backup.”

Your jaw tightens, but you curb your annoyance at how John Harrington has everyone trained to cater to his high-maintenance whims, but this is for Steve’s peace of mind. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow. Consider it done. Anything else?”

He hesitates, a little apologetic. "My suit... the dry cleaner closes early tomorrow. I hate to ask, but I might not make it in time–"

“No problem. I’ll make time.”

His lips lift at the corners, and this time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I love you.” He leans forward, slotting his lip softly between yours. “I’ll put the ticket in your bag. Thanks for helping out, Ace.”

“I just have Eddie's interview tomorrow afternoon. I should have plenty of time." Standing, you tug at his hand. "Now, can we go to bed? Everything will look better after a good night's sleep.”

His mouth sets in a determined line as he shuts down his laptop, yielding to your pull as he rises. His hand finds a place on the small of your back, grounding you both as you climb the stairs together.

Hitching the strap of your messenger bag higher on your shoulder, you kick at a loose stone on the sidewalk in front of the brick building. Car horns blare in the distance as traffic rolls by in the busy neighborhood. The sun casts a glint off the steel CursedSound sign, its metal already weathering with a faint tinge of color. The heavy door is yanked open, its clank and whine making you jump.

"Hi," Eddie greets you with a soft tone from the other side of the threshold.

"Hi," you return, shyness adding a tremble to your voice that shouldn’t be there. His fingers grip the edge of the door, and light flashes off the Rolex peeking out from under the cuff of the plaid flannel he wears over a fitted v-neck and jeans, the fabric snug against his defined shoulders. It’s still a novelty to see how his slim build has filled in over the years. Part of you still expects the boy you knew instead of this man in front of you. He looks you over in the same way, like he’s trying to decide if you’re really there. Maybe it’s the differences he sees in you, too, or does he still see the lonely girl he once knew? You shift your gaze down the street, your toes curling inside your Converse as warmth climbs up your neck. "Are you going to let me in?"

"I don't know." He pretends to ponder, a smile forming, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Where's your hard hat?"

Tilting your head to the side, you purse your lips until he breaks into a chuckle. He swings the door open wider, welcoming you in. You pass him with a shake of your head and continue down the hall.

The lobby is in chaos.

"Sorry for the mess. The maid took the week off," he quips, watching you take in the space.

The brown paper has been removed from the windows, allowing bright light to stream through the streaked and dirty glass. All the furniture has been pushed toward the center of the room, and ladders and paint cans litter the floor space. A large mural wrapping around the windows and front entrance has been outlined but not completed. In the same graffiti style as the one upstairs, this one displays more cityscapes with waves of the lake breaking at the forefront. Winged skulls and guitars blend with colorful swirls of clouds rising toward the ceiling.

"It’s perfect," you tell him as your eyes follow the sweeping, colorful lines around the room. “Really beautiful.”

"Was that a compliment?" He asks, coming up behind you, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "I thought it was a dump."

"Well, what can I say?” You spin around. “It’s growing on me." Your fingers move to your lips, concealing your smile as his deepens with your praise.

"You look really good." His low voice bounces off the empty walls, "I mean…your, uh, outfit is nice." He waves his hand toward you before wiping it on the front of his jeans.

Your brows raise as you glance down at the jeans and plain Lolla tee you put on this morning. None of the trendy outfits you usually wear for interviews seemed to fit right today.

"Wow, that was smooth," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don’t know why I’m so nervous."

The fluttering in your stomach matches his energy. “Maybe it’s because I’m going to get you to spill all your secrets and print them so the whole world can sit in judgment."

A choked sound comes from his throat as his eyes widen into saucers.

Unable to keep a straight face, you giggle. "Relax, Eddie. I already told you I’m not writing some hit piece. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Besides," you shrug, "It’s only me."

A sharp breath escapes as his shoulders lower. "Yeah, you’re right." He says, taking a step forward, his gaze locking with yours. "After all these years, it's still you.

"Eddie." His name comes out on a breathless sigh as you look away. The shield of anger between you is heavy and battered, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can hold it up. He takes another step forward, and you clear your throat. "Why don’t you show me what else you’ve done?"

He rakes a hand through his curls, "Of course." His lips tighten into a flat line as he gestures toward the stairs. "After you."

You lead the way to the second floor, where the smell of fresh paint permeates the air. A ladder leans against a half-painted wall, and orange extension cords crisscross the carpet in the hall, winding into the studios like work has been suddenly halted.

"Where is everyone?" You look around the abandoned space before stepping inside Studio A. It's come a long way since your last visit. The deck that holds the mixing board is ready, and the wiring is underway.

"I didn’t know how long you’d be here, so I told them to take the rest of the day off." His eyes follow the movements of your hand, brushing over knobs and sliders of the soundboard that's still sheathed in a protective layer of plastic.

"You didn’t have to do that," you say, walking back out into the hall.

"I didn’t think we needed the audience," he shrugs, walking along with you to the next room.

"I hope you don’t fall behind schedule." The walls of the small Studio B are covered with walnut slats to create an acoustic barrier while still keeping the room open, while the mixing room kept the original exposed brick.

"I’ve got time."

"Even so," you move to the window. The sun glints off the mirrored surface of the tall building across the street. "I’m sure you're eager to open. Put out that first album with the CursedSound logo in the liner notes."

"Of course I am." He comes to stand beside you, taking in the bustle of the city at midday. "It’s gonna be good to have nothin’ between me and the music. Let the artists be as creative as they want. Their management can deal with the corporate A&R people and leave me out of it."

"You never did like playing by the rules," you smile, catching his eyes in the reflection of the glass.

He turns his head, studying your profile. "Why should I?" he continues, his tone more determined, "The rules sure as hell never helped me. I'm gonna take my chances as I find them, even if I have to play a little dirty. I deserve happiness the same as the next guy."

"Of course you do." The world has done nothing but take from him.

"What about you?" He asks as you return to the hall. "The rules seemed to be treating you well."

You raise your shoulders with a warm smile gracing your lips, one you have no intention of concealing. "I love my job. I like the city, and…I have Steve."

"You ending up with Steve Harrington," his voice curls around the name, a sneer you can almost see, "I gotta admit, I didn't see that one coming."

Stopping, you pivot to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. "He's a good guy, Eddie."

He sighs in a short, almost defeated breath. "I know he is, doll."

The unmarked door at the end of the hall provides a convenient distraction. "Where does this go?" You wonder with your hand closing over the knob.

"My apartment."

"You're living here?" You let it go like it burned you, swallowing the lump that has made a sudden appearance in your throat.

"Sure. Can't beat the commute." He reaches around you, turning the doorknob to reveal another flight of stairs. "Do you want to go up?"

Flashes of that day are more vivid than they should be for memories two years old. The closet carpet is soft under your fingers as wet tears rain down on the glossy pages. Steve's voice gets closer as he calls out your name. A tightness grips your chest as you attempt to step back, momentarily forgetting that Eddie's right behind you. He supports you with a steadying hand on your hip as he faces you, seeking your reaction.

"No, that's okay. I think we're fine down here. I wouldn't want to disturb anyone," you say, attempting to sound confident as you wipe your palms along the sides of your jeans.

Eddie scratches the side of his head as his brow wrinkles. "Who do you think it up there?"

A hot breath passes your lips as you turn away, walking back down the hall toward Studio C. "I don’t know," you call over your shoulder, too chicken to face him. "Skyler Simmons. Rock royalty. Media darling. According to the magazines, your long-time girlfriend. The one you own a house with. Ring any bells? Isn’t she here with you?"

"My what? Skyler Simmons?" The deep belly laugh that follows has you spinning on your heels to face him.

"Wait. You’re serious?" His dimples make an appearance as his smile deepens. "Me and Skyler?" He can barely get her name out without chuckling.

"The one you’re photographed with constantly."

His brows shoot up. "Keeping tabs on me?"

"Oh, don’t flatter yourself," you huff. "It came up in my research. Do you have a relationship with her or not?"

"I know her," he offers, shaking his head, "She’s a friend. We go to the same group."

"What group? The one for annoying assholes."

He pauses, his arms crossing over his chest. "The one for people with addiction in their families. That okay with you?" His voice escalates. The simmering anger in his eyes mirrors the intensity of his tone. "Skyler is gay. Her girlfriend's usually hanging around, too. Does that mean I’m fucking her too? Jesus."

Frigid water clashes with your hot blood as the fight drains away. Glancing at your feet, your voice diminishes to barely more than a whisper. "Why hasn't she come out in the media?"

"Maybe because it’s none of anybody's fucking business." His piercing gaze bores into you as the sharp words land like heavy stones in the sour pit in your stomach. "Hold on," he waves a hand in front of you, "Why do you even care?"

"I don’t," your voice falters as the dishonest answer leaves you without hesitation. Your eyes trace the patterns on the floor. "It just makes for a better story, is all."

His hands run through his hair, fingers tugging on the ends as his tone softens. "Doll," he pauses, taking a deliberate step closer. His warm fingers cup your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. Those amber swirls, always seeing beyond your surface. "No one else is in my apartment, and no one else is gonna be."

His touch sends a searing heat spreading through your skin as the weight of your engagement ring pulls on your finger. "You’re a grown man, Eddie. Do whatever you want." Stepping back, his hand falls from your face as you turn and enter the studio.

"Fucking stubborn," the low murmur carries under his breath as he follows you inside.

"It looks like this one’s almost finished." You spin around the room, taking in the progress, before letting your bag slide down your shoulder and sinking onto the couch.

Gray triangles of acoustic foam now adorn the live room walls in contrasting patterns, and layers of soft carpeting line the floor. The mixing room's mural stands completed, and the furniture has all been placed.

His eyes move around the room, the pride evident on his face. "Just some wiring and the vocal booth, and I’ll be ready to start setting the levels."

"This one’s your favorite, I can tell," you shift, tucking a leg under you as he joins you on the couch.

"Shhh," he hushes you, raising a finger to his lips. "The others will get jealous."

Rolling your eyes, you pull your phone from your bag, open the recording app, and set it between you both.

"How does this work?" Eddie's eyes are fixed on your phone while he rubs the back of his neck.

"Well, typically," your hand slips back into your bag to retrieve the neatly stapled pages of your notes, "I ask a question, and you provide the answer." You set the pages in your lap, drawing in a steadying breath. He’s sitting in front of you with a key to a locked door – one that might be best left closed and forgotten, but it’s time to hear him out.

"Eddie Munson interview, part one."

"Mr. Munson." You slip into your most professional tone. "Thank you for granting us an interview during this busy time. All of us at Stax are very excited to welcome CursedSound to Chicago."

He leans forward, his voice dropping slightly in timber as a much smoother, older Eddie begins to answer, "Thank you. I always have time for my favorite magazine." He winks.

Your lips press into a line as you tilt your head to the side, taking a quick glance at your packet. "In April 2003, Fever to Tell was released by a relatively new band and a completely unknown sound engineer. It went on to sell over a million copies, putting The Yeah Yeah Yeahs and the name Eddie Munson on industry minds. Fever to Tell is still, to date, one of my favorite albums. Were you aware of the significant impact this record would have when you were working on it?"

"At the time, we were really just hopeful, you know? We believed in the music we were creating. Karen and Nick, and Brian flew out from New York with their last dime, and we just got to work. Karen had this kind of raw, untamed energy, and I wanted to capture that, to add an edge to the album. It was this post-punk dance-floor-friendly racket that injected a much-needed dose of authenticity into a musical era that was getting stagnant."

"It's not an exaggeration to say that record helped shape the direction of indie and alternative rock for years to come. But what I want to ask is you before all that. What was the road like moving from Hawkins to having your dreams come true in LA? Was this the path you first set out on, or were there curves in the road?"

"I think 'curves' is a generous term for the absolute shit choices I was making for myself back then," he chuckles. "As you know, I left Hawkins about a year after I graduated. That town had already decided I would never be anything more than a freak– a loser with no future. If I had stayed, that's exactly what would have happened. I was trying to outrun my past without a clue what I wanted for my future. I had my own band back then, and sometimes, we’d open for slightly bigger bands that rolled through town. One of them was about to tour and invited me to go as their one and only roadie, and it felt like a free ticket out."

"Bananafish," you interject, swallowing and glancing down at your notes.

"Yeah, Bananafish. God, they sucked. Did you know they started as a Spin Doctors tribute band?"

"No," you laugh, "And that wasn’t a red flag for you?"

"It should have been. I wasn’t with them for long anyway. I think I lasted for three weeks before they cut me loose for getting in a fight with the drummer." He pauses, shaking his head. "I never knew when to shut my mouth. At that point, they had hooked up with another band called Everly. Slightly better, but not by much. I managed to hold it together for a few months. I was high or drunk most of the time, the only reason they kept me around was because they liked the way I babied their instruments."

"I remember,” you nod. “You’d spend half an hour polishing that Warlock every day after school."

"Got to treat a lady right if you want her to sing for you," he says with a sly rise and fall of his brows, draping an arm over the back of the couch, shrinking the space between you.

"I was surprised that you left it behind."

Eddie's expression turns more solemn. "There were a lot of things I wished I could’ve taken with me. But back then, I couldn’t even take care of myself."

"I don’t believe that," you swallow, the words sticking in your throat, "You could have tried."

"If I had tried, they would’ve ended up broken, and I’d‘ve lost them anyway." His fingers brush your shoulder, and you flinch. The leather creaks as you sit back against the arm of the couch, just out of reach.

"Back to Everly. Why did you part ways?"

"Oh, well, I fucked it up, of course. They had landed a spot at Bonnaroo, and I got so fucked up the night before I missed sound check. When I managed to pick myself up off the floor of the van, they handed me my duffel and a twenty and told me to pound sand." His eyes drift away, fixating on a point across the room. "I had barely been outside of Indiana, and there I was, stuck on some farm in Manchester, Tennessee, with no ride, no money, and no one to call. I was angry at the world and never felt more alone. People always talk about hitting rock bottom, I thought that was it, but now that I look back, it was more of a crossroads. If I had followed that darker path, there would have been no coming back. I was wandering around backstage where they park buses, hungover, maybe still half in the bag, and that’s when I met Max."

"Max Navarro?" You shuffle through the pages of your notes.

"Yeah. You know him?" Eddie’s eyes brighten as his gaze drops to the pages in your lap.

Your head turns from side to side. "You referred to him as a mentor in the Stones interview, but I couldn’t find much on him besides his name being listed as an audio engineer for several tours."

"That’s Max." Eddie breaks into a smile. "He’d tell you he likes flying under the radar. He was hanging out in front of the bus playing guitar with a couple of guys when I walked over like a cocky shit, picked one up, and started playing. He gave me something to smoke, and it wasn’t weed. All I know is that I woke up face-down in the dirt the next morning. I don’t know if he liked me or just felt bad for me, but he dragged me on the bus and had me start assisting him with the sound for Faith No More."

"Faith No More? Are you kidding me?" Your hands fall to your lap, slapping against your thighs, jostling the cushion enough for your phone to slide toward the back of the couch. "You had their poster in your room. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you had a charmed life."

"Well, even the sun shines on a dog's ass some days," he laughs.

"So Max is who taught you about engineering?"

"Max is who taught me about everything." His voice holds a reverence when he says his name. "He kept an eye on me. Showed me how to work the boards. He said he could see shadows following me around, so when we got to LA, he took me out to the desert, fed me some tea, and exercised my demons."

"Did it work?" Max wasn't the only one to see shadows looming. Consequences of decisions made by others. Expectations of a community that turned its back. They clung to him like an impenetrable fog.

"I’m not sure. I felt lighter after, but it could have been the gallon of water I sweat out," he chuckles. "After that, he cashed in a favor and got me an internship with a small studio in Laurel Canyon. I parked cars at night and lived in a room the size of a closet at Max’s house. I worked my ass off. I went to therapy–"

"How very L.A. of you," you chime in.

"Don’t knock it until you try it." He looks at you from under raised brows. "It’s, uh, good to talk about things. Be open, you know?"

"No thanks. I tried that once," you tell him pointedly, the tightness in your chest returning, "It didn’t work out for me."

Your arrow hit the target. Regret flashes in his eyes. "Doll–"

"You decided to stay in L.A. and work at a studio instead of going back out on the road?"

"I like studio sessions. Makes me feel like I’m working towards something. I like completing an album and putting it out in the world. Some people thrive being out on tour, like Max. Not me," he scratches at his chin. "Too many ghosts on those old roads."

Like the ones back in Hawkins that jolt you awake in the dead of night, murmuring past shames of a lovesick and foolish girl. Robin had seen it, and so had the entire town, but you aren’t her any longer. She lies resting beneath the frigid earth, her memory an unmarked grave. You've moved forward, and you’ll never go back, the city drowns out the remains of her cries.

"So you stayed and built your life there," you conclude, flipping through the pages of your notes, ticking off the points from your outline.

Eddie leans back, a contemplative look on his face. "I guess you could say that. I got my own place, made some great friends. Sundays are for Max's family and Chile relleno. The weather is always beautiful. But I really stayed for the music,” he shrugs. “Have you been? I could take you some time. Show you around. Max would love to meet you, the girl I won’t shut up about. I think you’d like it there."

The girl he hasn’t bothered to call in a decade. "To Los Angeles?" Your gaze rises from your notes to meet his nodding response. "I've been a few times. With Steve. Mostly for work."

"Oh yeah. Makes sense." His jaw tightens, and he averts his gaze. "Well, I guess the rest is history. Is that enough for your story?"

"Yeah." You reach for your phone, tapping the red square to stop the recording. "It will be a great opening piece for the series." You pick up your messenger, hauling its weight into your lap, tucking your notes inside. The afternoon is ending on a flat note. A stone sits on your tongue, holding back questions that you lack the courage to ask, but maybe it’s better this way.

Eddie sits up suddenly, snapping his fingers. "Speaking of history, I want to show you something." He stands up, looking towards the door and back at you, "Um.. wait here, okay? I’ll just be a minute."

"Okay-"

He holds up flat palms. "Don’t go anywhere." His eyes close as he winces, " I mean, you can wander around if you want. Just don’t leave."

"Eddie-"

"I’ll be back." He holds up one finger as he exits the room.

With a sigh, you push up from your thighs, rising to your feet, walking through to the live room where a drum kit stands at the ready. The snare looks a little worn, and the symbols have lost their shine. Your nails tap the high hat, and you smile at the shimmering sound.

"What am I doing?" You whisper, spinning the gold band on your finger.

The sound of the floor creaking echoes through the hall. Eddie enters the room with the large box he's carrying obscuring his upper half. His name written in Wayne's shaky handwriting, peeking out from underneath his fingers.

"What's all this?" You ask as he sets down the box with a heave in the center of the room and sinks to his knees, hovering over the taped flaps.

"I have no idea," he grins mischievously. "Wayne gave it to me when I stopped by last week and told him I would see you. But you know him, he never throws stuff out. It could be anything." His hand smoothes over the top as he raises a brow. "Wanna find out?"

Your hands slide over your jean-covered thighs before your feet carry you forward. "Mrs. Click better not be in there."

His head tips back with laughter. "I make no promises," he jokes while you take a seat on the floor on the side of the box.

His mouth quirks up, watching you get comfortable. With a fluid motion, he leans and grabs a box cutter beside the soundboard. His shirt lifts slightly, offering a glimpse of hair trailing down his belly and the sculpted muscle beside his hips. His tongue lightly grazes his upper lip as he expertly flicks the knife open, his jeans snug on the contours of his strong thighs. Exhaling slowly, you avert your eyes, scanning the room instead as you wait for him to slice the tape.

"Score!" He pulls out the ragged-edged sheet that was folded and tucked into the top of the box. "Corroded Coffin," he reads aloud the words scrawled across it with something resembling shoe polish.

"Oh no," you laugh, your head turning side to side as you rock in your seat.

"Hey. This is rare band memorabilia. It’s probably worth money," he defends, holding it up proudly.

"Yeah, to the guy you have to pay to haul it away," you giggle.

"Alright, Alright," he folds it up, the smile never leaving his face as he reaches into the box. "These are yours." He pulls out a stack of comic books and hands them to you.

"Still in good shape." You thumb through the copies of Tank Girl and Witchblade.

"My campaigns." He pulls out a pile of notebooks and sets them aside before reaching back in. "Some CDs." He comes out with a hand wrapped around a stack of jewel cases, the one on top catching your eye.

"Hey, that’s my Cranberries Cd!" Your fingers dig into the carpet as you tip forward, yanking it from his hand. "I looked for this everywhere. I knew you took it, you thief."

"I don’t know how that got there," he scratches his head, "You must have left in the van."

"Nice try, Munson." your eyes narrow, "I checked there." You lean over the box, poking a finger into his chest, "I knew you had a crush on Dolores."

"You got me. It was the accent," he admits with a grin full of dimples, his hand closing around your finger.

"I’m keeping it." You drop back into your seat and pick up the case to examine the disc.

"Holy shit."

You raise your head to meet his wide chocolate eyes, a look of sheer delight written across his face. "Close your eyes," he instructs, pulling back the flaps of the box, hiding whatever he's found.

"Mrs. Click?" You set the CD on top of the comics.

"Better," he says excitedly, waving a hand toward your face. “Come on. Close your eyes."

"Fine." You leave one eye open, folding your hands in your lap.

"No peeking." He wags a finger.

Your lips purse as you close your other lid, waiting for the big reveal. Plastic clanks against something heavy, followed by the rustle of cardboard.

"Okay. Open."

"Daisy!" Your hands fly to your mouth before you reach out with wiggling fingers.

He winces as he hands over the two-foot garden gnome. "How can you call something so ugly a pretty name like that?"

Taking the heavy lawn ornament in both hands, you gaze down at her droopy hat and too-large ears, which stick straight out beside her bulging eyes and porcine nose. Her rubbery lips are pulled back in a smile, showing off her buck teeth and flowery dress that barely conceals her body.

"She's beautiful." You cradle her in your arms. "Besides, you're the one who stole her."

"You’re the one who dared me to," he scoffs.

Your cheeks already ache with an unrestrained smile as the memories from that night surface. "I didn’t think you were going to wake up the whole neighborhood crashing into the bushes in Mr. Lawson’s yard."

"I was drunk," he defends, his face turning red.

"You tripped over your feet and ripped your pants," you gasp for air, trying to get the words out with your laughter, "You had on those Garfield boxers with the hearts."

"Of course, you remember that." His laughter joins yours, easy and familiar. "You're the one that woke up the neighbors, making the van backfire."

"It was the first time I drove, and I didn’t have a license." You clutch Daisy tightly to your chest as you try to catch your breath. "Mr. Larson came out in his bathrobe, screaming about shooting you in the ass."

Eddie shakes his head as you laugh at his expense. "He almost caught us when you stalled out. All for that hideous thing."

"Shh," you cover her ears with your hands. "You can’t get rid of her."

"Never," he agrees, reaching out for her. "I’ll find her place of honor around here somewhere."

"Put her on your nightstand," you suggest, handing her over.

"Ugh," he says, setting her aside, "I’ll have nightmares."

You burst into laughter once more, and his eyes ignite. He smiles like he’s savoring every sound, like your happiness is a hard-earned treasure he's been longing for.

The shards of the past press against the scar tissue encasing your heart as if struggling to free themselves and reassemble in the present. Your hand finds its way to your chest, pressing gently on the tender center, trying to quell the ache and remain in this moment—with him.

"What else? What else?" You clap your hands, bouncing in your spot.

"Okay, okay," he gives in, happy to indulge you. "Um, a pack of crayons, a monopoly piece." He places them aside. "Thanks, Wayne. Could have done without that. Looks like some clothes. Oh, this is yours." He tosses a ball of red fabric at you, and you catch it with both hands before he continues to search through the box.

"Is this what I think it is?" His voice brims with excitement as he pulls a rectangular tin from the box. He shakes it, and a sharp sound follows. "Yes." His tongue sticks out from the corner of his mouth as he pries off the lid.

His voice fades into the background as your focus turns to what you're holding. The fabric of your Musicland vest unfurls as you hold it out in front of you, the gold name tag still pinned to the front catching the light. A heavy sensation settles in your stomach, tightening and cramping as a sick, painful feeling creeps in and spreads — nausea churns as each inhale becomes battle.

There’s a scrape of metal as the lid pops off. "Polaroids," Eddie declares, his attention lost to the thrill of his find as he flips through the stack of photographs.

Your heart races as the room seems to shrink. "Stop it," you whisper, your voice quivering, your trembling hands twisting the vest as if folding it small enough can make the pain disappear.

"They’re pretty faded, though," he goes on, unaware.

"I said, that's enough!" The balled-up vest flies from your hands, landing back in the box. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you push yourself up on unsteady legs. "I need to leave."

Eddie's laughter dies in his throat as he looks up, the joy in his eyes replaced by confusion. "Wait a minute." He gets to his feet and follows you. The small pile you made topples over, forgotten as you pick up your bag from the couch. "What just happened?" He moves in front of you, blocking your path. "I thought we were having fun."

"Fun?" The word is a shard of ice. Without hesitation, you sling your bag over your shoulder and maneuver past him towards the door.

“Just hold on a minute.” He blocks your path again, hands up, eyes searching yours for answers. “Tell me what's going on.”

"What do you want?" The words slice the air, eyes locked, a bare blade of anger.

"I wanted to-" His eyes flick toward the abandoned box in the center of the room.

"No." Your head shakes, "Why are you here? Now? After all this time? What do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to see you." His arms cross over his chest as his voice turns softer. "I missed my friend."

"Your friend," sarcasm drips from your words as you quirk a brow, "So you show up here with a box of crap and a ‘hey doll’,” your voice lowers to mock him, "And I’m supposed to what? Forget about everything that happened and hand you a clean slate. Drop everything in my life to follow you around like a puppy because you feel like paying me some attention?"

"That’s not…I’m not asking for that." His hand runs through his curls, frustration building in his tone.

"I'm not going to sit here with you wandering down memory lane and watch you pretend like you cared." Your eyes sting, but tears won't fall. You've shed your last one for him long ago. "Like any of it mattered."

"No one's pretending here, doll." He steps closer, his hands falling to his side, fingers rubbing at the seam of his jeans. "Of course, it mattered—all of it."

Your bag falls from your shoulder with a resounding thud, its weight matching your resolve as you push your hand against his chest. "I don't believe that for a second. If it mattered, you never could have done what you did."

"Done what?"

"Left me!" Your hand lands flat across your heart. "Without a goodbye, just some shitty mixtape full of songs that I can't listen to without my heart breaking over and over."

"You're right, okay." His voice rises to match your volume, his fingers closing around your biceps. "I was a fucking coward, and I ran. I couldn't see that look on your face again, the one you had when I told you I was leaving. I should’ve said goodbye, but I knew you'd try to convince me to stay, and that was never going to happen. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I can't be sorry I left."

"Hurt me?" You push his hands away, taking a step back to control the cracking in your voice. "You didn't just hurt me, Eddie. You destroyed me."

He swallows, looking away. "You were better off."

Fresh anger surges, along with the strong desire to escape – to leave this dead and buried, maybe for another decade until the hurt isn’t so strong.

"See, that right there is why I'll never believe you," you snap, pointing an accusatory finger his way as you step around him, your hand closing around the doorknob. But at the last moment, you turn, wanting him to hear it. At least once.

"I didn't quit Musicland. I got fired. I was a mess after you left. I cried for days, but I clung to this pathetic hope that you’d call to explain everything. To say it wasn't the end for us. You wouldn’t just throw me away, right? Not after everything we had been through together. I wouldn't leave my room, not even to eat. I was so afraid that the second I left, the phone would ring."

There's regret in his eyes as he steps forward, getting closer until he can touch you again, one hand gently gliding up your arm.

"But that call never came, did it, Eddie? Not one. And every day that passed, I died a little. But then I wasn't sad anymore. All those tears, they turned to hate," you say coldly, locking your gaze with his. "I hated you. I hated every song that came on the radio, reminding me of you. I hated Hawkins and everyone in it. But most of all, I hated myself for trusting you. For believing that you ever cared about me. That I wasn’t alone. That's what you did to me, Eddie.”

“You made me hate myself."

"I’m so sorry, doll," his words barely crest the silence as his gentle hand cradles your jaw. “There’s so much I want to explain to you.”

His touch is hot, but inside you, a coldness lingers–inside your stone. "You kissed me. And then you left me the next day. You knew how I felt."

"I know. I know. I’m sorry." He steps closer, trying to pull your rigid form into his arms, lips brushing your temple. "You don’t even know how much. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing. Trying to make it up to you. But you’re wrong. It all mattered. I did care. That kiss..it’s the reason…" He pulls back and looks into your eyes, "You knew me, you always did, but there were things I couldn’t tell you. Things I couldn’t admit even to myself. I was scared and angry all the time."

Your head shakes as you swallow hard. "You're not even real!" You shout in his face, your fingers clutching the doorknob behind you. Spinning, you tug hard, but his hand slams against the door above your head, keeping it shut.

"Stop, doll," he pleads. “Let me explain,” but the push-pull intensifies. You're no match for his strength. "Stop it!" he yells. His hand pushes on your shoulder, turning you to face him. Anger flashes in his eyes, and his cheeks flush.

"I made you up.”

“No.”

“The boy I knew could never have done that. He could never have hurt me like that." Your shoulder jerks, breaking his hold as you attempt to turn away again.

His fingers wrap around the side of your neck, keeping you in place. "That boy could never have given you what you wanted. He wouldn’t have had the first clue how to handle you."

"Is that why you’re back?" You ask, still defiant even as his thumb presses into your throat, tipping your head to meet his gaze. "Dragging this all up again, ruining my life? Because you do?"

"Damn right, I do."

His words are a gravelly assertion, barely escaping before his mouth descends toward yours. For a heartbeat, the world pauses until your mouths finally meet — urgent and fierce. You part your lips eagerly, tongues finding their way together in a hungry and unapologetic dance. The firm pressure of his mouth moving in sync with yours is a spark, igniting a fire that seems to spread with each touch. The scent of clove and cedar leaves you lightheaded as the flames lick through your body. The scruff on his cheek is a rasp against your skin, a roughness contrasting with the smoothness of his kiss. He tastes like cinnamon and a hint of coffee. This kiss is filled with years of longing, swelling and crashing like an orchestra's finale.

Minutes slip away, yet your greedy mouths remain desperate. The room falls into a hushed stillness, save for the sharp intakes of breath and the sensuous wet slide of lips. The kisses seem endless, broken only by fleeting gasps for air, compelling you to pull each other closer, savoring every taste. Your fingers tangle in the soft waves at the nape of his neck, evoking a low, guttural groan that mingles with your shared breaths when you tug. His hands trace the curves of your body, touching every inch as they follow a path beyond your hips and ass, seizing the back of your thighs. With a firm grasp, he lifts you, pressing you against the unyielding door. You gasp as he positions you just how he wants — aligning himself hot and hard against your center.

"Fuck," he growls against your lips as his hips roll, igniting fireworks through your body. Your eyes flutter shut, and a kaleidoscope of colors burst in the darkness.

He nips at the plush of your bottom lip, teeth grazing in a tender claim, a muted buzz begins in your bag—a sharp, insistent sting—that yanks you from the haze back into the real world. His eyes remain closed when you pull away. He leans closer, chasing your mouth, but the moment is already shattered.

Your stomach plummets as the harsh reality sets in. His kiss now tastes like the ash of betrayal. The distressed whimper escaping your throat finally has him looking at you, shock written clearly across his features. Slowly, he releases you, your body sliding against his until your feet meet the floor. He takes a step back, hesitating, swallowing, "Doll —"

"No." You shake your head, your hands covering your mouth. The gold band on your fourth finger is a cool scorch against your swollen lips. "I have to go." You spring into motion, rushing to gather your bag.

"Stay, and we can talk about this," he implores, moving one hand to his hip while the other rakes through his hair.

"Please don’t," you plead. "Don’t ask me for anything else." You swing the strap over your shoulder. "I just ch—" But the word stays stuck in your throat, as your eyes swim with tears.

His face falls, "It's not your fault, okay? I kissed you."

"Eddie—"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was me," he insists, frustration in his voice as you scrub your face with your hands. "I don't want you driving when you're upset."

"I'm sorry," you say with an aching heart, pushing past him and closing the door behind you.

The sidewalk blurs under your feet as you race to your car. Fat raindrops splatter against the concrete like a spray of gunfire, each one a cold, wet slap against your skin. The sky chooses this moment to crack open, unleashing a torrent that feels personal. Your car comes into view, a bright orange ticket flapping under the wiper. Perfect. Just perfect.

With hands slick from the rain, you fumble with your keys before throwing yourself into the driver’s seat. Snatching the ticket from under the wiper as you go and crumpling it into your fist, stuffing it into the glovebox to be dealt with later. The downpour drums on the roof, enclosing you in a watery cocoon as you search through your bag for your phone. A missed call from Steve and a text reminding you about the dry cleaning. You spill the contents of your messenger onto the passenger seat, pens and lip gloss tumbling into the footwell. "Shit!" The word is a half-sob as you clutch the receipt marked with today's hours in unforgiving black ink.

Glancing at the clock on your dash, it hits you with the subtlety of a wrecking ball– six minutes until closing. It might as well be in another time zone, given the snarled rush hour traffic and the river that the streets have become. Your car roars to life, and you pull out onto the roadway, tires hissing on wet asphalt, windshield wipers barely keeping up with the deluge. Your skin still sings with Eddie’s touch, but it's the burgeoning storm of words—cheater, adulterer, betrayer—mixed with the soft hazel of Steve’s disappointed eyes that tattoo themselves across your conscience. This is the unforgivable sin, and you can't undo it, but you'll be damned if you don't at least try.

You're double-parked now, hazards blinking a frantic rhythm. The 'CLOSED' sign on the dry cleaner's door mocks you as you rattle the unrelenting metal handle. "Please, please, please," you whisper, pounding on the uncaring glass, your unheard pleas bouncing off the empty shadows within. A car horn cuts through the rain —"What the fuck, lady?" The other driver yells, uncaring of your predicament.

"I'm moving, I'm moving!" The words are a rain-soaked shout as you slosh back to your car, drenched and defeated.

Another angry horn sounds off as you pull into traffic, carelessly cutting off a Yellow Cab in your haste. Rainwater drips from your hair, soaking your shirt. Even with the heater set to blast, it does little against the chill that has settled deep in your bones. Down the road, a bright blue sign glows like a beacon, and you jerk the steering wheel, the car fishtailing as you skid into the lot.

The pharmacy's fluorescent lights are too bright and too sterile as you grab a small bottle of mouthwash off the shelf in the travel section and wait in line to pay, the store's generic electronic music grating against your already frayed nerves. Outside, you stand on the corner, swishing and spitting the minty liquid onto the sidewalk, repeating the process, trying to cleanse more than just your mouth. A passerby wrinkles their nose at you from under their umbrella. "This is Chicago! You've seen worse!" You snap, arms thrown up in exasperation while the rain and your regrets mingle on the cold pavement.

With pruney fingers, you pull the cardigan you had left at Stax off the back of your office chair. Shrugging it on, the material dampens from your wet t-shirt but offers a little warmth. Your phone buzzes as you settle at your desk — five missed calls from Eddie and four texts. The roar of the heavy rain and being buried deep in your bag had muffled its sound, not that you would have picked up.

Eddie: Answer the phone, doll!

Eddie: Look, I need to know that you’re okay.

Eddie: I swear to Christ if you don’t pick up.

Eddie: Okay, have it your way. I’m driving to your place.

What? No! Your thumb presses the call button, and it rings twice before it connects. There’s no hello, just the slight hum of an engine and the rain pelting glass.

“I’m okay,” you breathe into your phone, “I didn’t go home. I’m at my office.”

Your heart drums in your ears with each second of silence. Your eyes flutter shut, relief flooding you when he finally responds. An exhale loosens the tension in your chest. His voice resonates in a dark rumble through the phone, "We need to talk."

“I….I know,” your voice wavers as you wipe your nose on the back of your hand. “I just need a minute here, Ed. Can you give me some time?”

The rhythmic blink of the turn signal punctuates his heavy sigh. “Yeah. Alright. But doll,” he pauses as the sound of water splashing against his vehicle mingles with the whoosh of passing traffic, “You’re not running away from this. And trust me, the irony of that statement isn’t lost on me. Think about what I said, okay? I meant it all.”

With a tight throat, you whisper, "I have to go," and disconnect the call.

Placing your phone on the desk, you dab the raindrops off your face with a tissue. The quiet of the office wraps around you, its half-dark corners and the soft glow from the monitors creates a place for you to breathe and be still. The raging storm and the ticking wall clock echoing in the solitude do little to distract you from thoughts you’re not ready to face. With a deep breath, you lift the lid of your laptop, seeking refuge in the normalcy of work as you coax the screen back to life.

The song erupts from the speaker on the edge of your desk, a jolt of sound shattering the silence like an accusation. You grab it with fumbling fingers, scrambling to press the off button. Covering your face with your hands, you let out a sound that is equal parts sob and hysterical laughter, wondering how you ended up in this situation. With your elbows pressed against the wooden top, you bury your face in your hands.

“What are you doing here, kid?” The gruff voice cuts through your misery.

"Jesus Christ, Hopper," you gasp, clutching at your chest, "You scared the hell out of me."

"Guess we're even since Mr. Brightside nearly sent me into cardiac arrest." Hopper towers over you, standing beside your desk with his hands buried in his pockets.

“You listen to The Killers?” You ask, surprised while he drags a chair from the next desk, its wheels screeching faintly against the concrete floor.

“You kids really think Jim Croce is the only thing on my playlist?” A chuckle escapes him as he eases into the chair beside you, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

You muster a puzzled look, shaking your head in feigned denial.

“Don’t bullshit me, kid. I don’t have much time. I’m meeting Joyce for dinner at that Italian place on Taylor Street. Have I told you about it? I’ve been dreaming about the breadsticks. Enzo puts some spice on ‘em, I don’t know what it is, but it’s good. You dip it in olive oil,” he groans, “Forget about it. Those things knock your socks off, and I’m wavering on the main course between—”

“I need you to take me off the studio opening,” you interrupt, folding your arms across your chest.

“We’ve been over this. Unless you have some good reason–”

“Eddie kissed me,” the confession slips out, eyes widening in shock at your admission, hands flying to cover your mouth.

His brows rocket upwards, then draw together, his gaze sharpening, voice dipping into a low, protective timbre, “What do you mean he kissed you?”

“No,” you clarify, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing an elbow against the desk, massaging your temple to soothe the forming headache. “I kissed him. We kissed. It was mutual.”

Hopper reclines, the chair creaking under his weight, his gaze level and unreadable. “I’m disappointed in you, kid. I never thought I’d be having a conversation like this with you.”

“I know. I know. Steve…” you trail off, eyes drifting to the photo of Steve on your desk.

Hopper leans in, his hand cutting through the air. “I don’t give a fuck about Harrington,” each word gains in volume, “This is about you and everything you’ve worked for. It’s 2012. That kind of nonsense ends careers. Do you know what can happen if he complains?”

Your eyes roll. “He’s not going to complain, Hop.”

“You don’t know that,” he counters, his head shaking off your naivety. “These things like this have a way of coming out. That was an amateur move. Where is your professionalism? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, lowering your eyes. “We have more of a history than I let on.”

“Well, stop the presses. I couldn’t have figured that one out.” His voice lowers in resignment, “Maybe this is my fault–”

“No–”

Your protest is swift, but he plows right over you, “I’ve babied you. Maybe it’s because you’re my favorite or because you were just a kid when you started. I let you get away with too much over the years because you’re a damn good writer. But that stops now, I’m going to treat you like all the rest of the idiots in this place.” His hand waves around the room before pointing right at you. “You’re going back to that studio, and you’re going to keep your dick in your pants and get those interviews done. If you want to play kissy face, you do it on your own time. You got me?”

Your mouth drops open, disbelief palpable. “You're still going to make me finish?”

“Damm, right I am,” Hopper affirms, not missing a beat. "If I hand your work off, it raises questions. Big, messy questions. What do I tell downtown when they ask why the piece was reassigned? Unless you’re ready to come clean to Harrington?”

Your lip goes between your teeth as your head shakes.

“I thought so.” Hopper leans back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "This could be both our necks," he mutters, concern filling his voice.

Your head shakes, but your determination is clear. "It won't."

“It better not. I don’t want to hear another word about it until that last story is on my desk. Are we clear?”

Your jaw clenches, the reality of the situation hitting hard. "Crystal."

Hopper's gaze remains fixed on you, ensuring his point has been made. "Good," he says, his voice softening, "Now go on, get out of here. Deal with whatever mess you've got going on. Just make sure it's sorted by Monday."

Your key slides into the lock and you turn it slowly, the tumblers falling into place with a series of soft clicks. You pause, leaning your forehead against the chill of the metal door, grappling with a rising queasiness that sours your stomach.

A wave of home's warmth engulfs you, mingled with the earthy aroma of herbs and roasting potatoes. The vibrant strains of Queen accompany Steve's honeyed tones floating down the hall from the kitchen.

"Welcome home, ace. I was beginning to wonder where you were," his voice, laced with a touch of concern, greets you, “Busy day? Did you write me a Pulitzer?”

Your messenger bag slides from your shoulder, giving into gravity with a loud smack against the hardwood.

His voice grows nearer, warmer as he moves down the hall, the floor lightly creaking with each footfall. “I swung by the Athenian Room, grabbed us Chicken Kalamata, and I have a bottle of Chardonnay breathing.”

Your favorite. Your heart sinks further, receding behind your ribcage, unworthy of his care or devotion.

He stops short when he rounds the corner into the foyer, taking you in, his eyes reflecting your disheveled state.

"I didn’t get the dry cleaning," you admit, struggling to keep your voice steady. "I was... too late."

For a heartbeat, he's silent, but his eyes remain tender. “Hey, that's alright, ace. I'll just skip the gym in the morning and swing by the cleaners before work. Are you okay?”

Traces of the day find a path down your cheeks as you sniffle and draw the cardigan tighter around yourself. "I got caught in the storm."

“Did you forget your coat?” He draws closer as you give a small nod. His hands slide up your biceps, continuing on to wrap around you. “You're frozen.” He uses his thumb to lift your chin. “How about a hot shower, yeah? I'll keep dinner warm. You'll feel better after you eat.” His mouth begins to near yours, but you turn your face away.

"I think I'm coming down with something," you manage, your lies teetering atop your mounting guilt. "My throat is sore."

Concern etches his features, his brows knitting together as he adjusts, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You don't feel hot.”

Pulling away, you bury your face into his shoulder. "I think I'll just shower and go to bed."

“If that's what you want,” he presses a kiss to the crown of your head, though his tone is threaded with disappointment. “Go on up. I'll bring you some water and a couple of Tylenol.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you step away with a weight in your chest. “I'm really sorry.”

“Don't worry about it.” He waves off your apology, his smile faint but sincere. His arms fold over his chest as he turns back toward the kitchen.

As you climb the stairs, the music snaps off, replaced with the distant roar of a sports game, the announcers' voices carrying up the stairwell.

The embrace of the hot shower strips away the cold clinging to your skin, but it cannot wash away the regret. Sliding down the tiles, you draw your knees close while your tears fall, mixing with the stream of water spiraling towards the drain.

Your life is a song made up of the choices you've made, each one a different note that sounded so sure at the time, but now the harmony seems slightly off-key. The steam rises around you like a specter. It's the quiet between the chords. And you're there, just listening, trying to figure out if there's a note you'd change or if every single one was necessary. As you nestle into bed, sleep tugging like an insistent tide amidst the drift into dreams, one truth resonates clear– the music plays on.

Song 5 coming this week! Follow @tornupdates for notifications

Thanks for indulging me with this new version. I wanted to get it right. This next chapter is going to be Steve's launch party and will explore the fallout from that kiss. I love each and every one of you and I hope Torn!Eddie makes an appearance in your sweetest of dreams. -Jelly

#steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn series

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harrysfolklore · 10 months

Note

tamara anthony (ttamara.anthonyy) has great fitness lifestyle content

came up with this idea while harry was on tour and honestly i loved how this one turned out ! hi hope you like it <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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yourinstagram recipe for banana bread latte coming asap

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yourbestie yeees please

username1 Can’t wait for my class on tuesday

username2 fit queenie 🕺

bradgouldtraining I miss you

↳ yourinstagram excuse me mr celebrity trainer you’re living your european summer

↳ bradgouldtraining You can come along you know that

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harryupdates Harry and Brad working out in London recently!

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harryfan1 OH WTF

harryfan2 this just altered my brain chemistry

yourinstagram so THAT’S what you’ve been doing @bradgouldtraining

↳ bradgouldtraining You mean working? Yes

↳ harryfan3 LMFAO BRAD ??? 😭

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Madrid. July, 2023.

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harryfan1 OMGGG

paulithepsm ❤️

harryfan2 ABBSRRY

yourinstagram oooh great job @bradgouldtraining

↳ bradgouldtraining I’ve been telling you

↳ harryfan3 HUUH what’s going on

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harryupdates Harry just followed this account on Instagram ! From what we gathered, she’s a pilates coach based in Los Angeles and she’s Brad’s bestie 👀

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harryfan1 oooh tea

harryfan2 following his boyfriend’s besties

harryfan3 she’s so prettyyyyy

harryfan4 just followed her she posts cool content

INSTAGRAM DMS

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yourinstagram pizza ! pasta ! colazione ! 🍝

also did i play the love on tour outfit game right ?

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yourbestie SLAY GIRL

username1 we’re going to miss your class this week 😢

pillowpersonpp 🙌🏻

harryfan1 ohh that’s brad’s bestie and she’s going to the show tonight that’s cuuute

bradgouldtraining You won the game 🕺

↳ harrystyles Agreed.

↳ harryfan2 HARRYYYY ACTIVERRY WTF

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harrystyles Love On Tour. Reggio Emilia. July, 2023.

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harryfan1 NOOO DONT LEAVE

anthonypham End of an era 😢

bradgouldtraining 👏

harryfan2 I MISS HIM ALREADY

yourinstagram congratulations, rockstar 🕺

harrystyles liked this comment

harryfan3 my heart hurts

alessandro_michele 💘

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yourinstagram finally back in the city, who’s coming to 5pm pilates today? 🤸‍♀️

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harryfan1 hello bestie

bradgouldtraining Bet 💪

harryfan2 SO was she the girl in the yatch with harry or not

harryfan3 harry liked tho 😭

glenne_azoff See you tomorrow !!

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harryupdates Harry leaving a gym in LA today !

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harryfan1 BUUUB

harryfan2 he looks so hot

harryfan3 PILATES GIRL

harryfan4 I MISS HIM

DEUXMOI VIA IG STORIES

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celebrityleaks HARRY STYLES LEAVES LOS ANGELES GYM WITH MYSTERIOUS GIRL 👀

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harryfan1 CUT THE CAMERAS

harryfan2 so what was said in deuxmoi was true 😭😭

harryfan3 aren’t we going to point out that might be yn, brad’s best friend

bradgouldtraining Busted @harrystyles @yourinstagram

THIS COMMENT HAS BEEN DETED

harryfan4 LMFAO BRAD WE ALL SAW THAT 😭

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yourinstagram life lately 💗

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harryfan1 HAAAARRRYYY

harryfan2 SO THEY’RE DATING ??

bradgouldtraining Text me ASAP

↳ harryfan3 LET ME INNN

paulithepsm ❤️

harrystyles Pilates girl, pilates.

↳ harryfan2 STOOOP😭

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bradgouldtraining Thirdwheeling with my friends is a thing now.

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harryfan1 BRAD

paulithepsm 😂😂😂 Those kiddos

harryfan2 HARRY AND YN??

harrystyles That’s what mates are for.

↳ harryfan3 no way he friendzones brad

↳ yourinstagram exactly

↳ harryfan4 HEEEELP

gif by @londonharry <3

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harryupdates Harry in @thepilatesclass new Reel!

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harryfan1 STOOP

harryfan2 WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY

harryfan3 yn works in that studio 😭

yourinstagram my favorite pilates girlie so true

↳ harryfan4 HEEEELP

↳ harryfan1 I LOVE HER

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yourinstagram one direction themed class tomorrow 🕺 requested by a very special and annoying someone. book your spot now !!

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harryfan1 I BET HARRY’S ASS REQUESTED THAT 😭

bradgouldtraining No way I’m missing this

harryfan2 LET ME INNNNNNN

harrystyles You adore me x

↳ yourinstagram ugh as if

↳ harryfan3 idk if they’re dating or they’re just friends but i LOVE this

FANS VIA TWITTER

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harrystyles Working out to One Direction is cool.

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harryfan1 OMFGSGGSGSG

harryfan2 THIS JUST COLLAPSED THE INTERNET

niallhoran 😂❤️ Miss you mate

↳ harryfan2 TODAY IS THE BEST DAY EVER

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bradgouldtraining Proven that results are boosted by 100%

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↳ harrystyles 🥰

↳ harryfan5 THIS ENTIRE POST IS A FEVER DREAM

HARRY’S CLOSE FRIENDS STORIES

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

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angelwonie · 2 years

Text

CHERRY CHAPSTICK || hwang hyunjin

PAIRING: hyunjin x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

SUMMARY: being hopelessly in love with your best friend is bad enough in itself, but when you decide to spontaneously kiss him at a party and he kisses you back — that's when it gets complicated. or maybe it's not complicated at all.

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining

WARNINGS: smut [unprotected sex, fingering, praise, manhandling, use of petnames], consumption of alcohol, hyunjin is a simp

happy birthday deni @cosmic-railwayxo my gf!! i love you so much and i hope you like this gift babe

It’s not all that difficult to pretend Hwang Hyunjin is your friend.

Okay, clarification – Hwang Hyunjin is, in fact, your friend. For real. No pretending is required. You suppose that’s a given after he’s been by your side for the past seven or so years. And through all those years, he has time after time proved himself to be the shoulder you can lean on no matter what. Which means that your friendship is perfect.

In a perfect friendship, there is no room for secrets, though. No facades or lies. So maybe it’s not a perfect friendship, after all. At least not on your part. Because you do keep secrets from Hyunjin. One secret, actually. One thing you can never tell him, no matter how badly you want him to know, just because you’re way too scared of losing him.

The fact that you’re madly in love with him.

Your best friend. Hwang fucking Hyunjin. It’s the most annoying thing ever. Only you are unlucky enough to fall for the one person you shouldn’t fall for.

Your self-pitying is cut short when you hear your phone buzz and the phone caller ID shows up on the screen. Of course, it’s Hyunjin. You sigh, rolling out of bed as you pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m outside,” He greets you. “Are you ready?”

Ready? It takes your brain a second or two to process what he just said and then it hits you. You’re supposed to meet up with your friends and go to an art museum together. One look at the clock on the wall tells you you’re already running late – you’re supposed to meet them at the museum at 1pm, which means you have less than twenty minutes left. And you’re still in your pajamas.

“Uh,” You bite your lip, frantically searching for a shirt to wear as you hear Hyunjin giggle through the phone. That alone makes you smile despite your situation – he’s got such a pretty laugh. If you could, you’d record it and listen to it every night before going to sleep.

“It was a rhetorical question,” He says. “I know you just woke up. Just hurry up, okay? It’s cold out here, so wear a jacket.”

“Okay.”

He hangs up and you’re left smiling, not only because of his laugh, but also because he cared enough to tell you to put on a jacket. Of course, he did, you mentally scold yourself, because he’s your friend, dumbass. You put your clothes on quickly so as not to keep Hyunjin waiting for too long and apply your cherry Chapstick – the one you've been using ever since Hyunjin mentioned cherries were his favorite fruit.

You walk out the door with your jacket slung around your shoulders around ten minutes later.

He’s leaning against the wall of your apartment building, looking down at his phone with his black hair falling into his eyes in a way that looks totally planned, because there's just no way those hair strands arrange themselves like that naturally. What is he, pretending to be a model because God forbid if one day passes without some random girl asking for his number? You scoff a little too loudly at the thought, and it makes his head snap up, eyes meeting yours as he puts his phone in his pocket.

“Finally,” He drawls, dramatically as always, as the two of you start walking in the direction of the bus stop. It’s automatic now – when you’re going somewhere, you always take the bus together. “I would’ve freezed to death had you taken any longer.”

“Oh, shut up,” You nudge him with your elbow, smiling when he lets out an all too loud ‘ouch’, rubbing his arm like you just punched him with all your might. “Why are you so excited about this, anyway? Haven’t you been to that museum, like, seventy times?”

“So?” He furrows his brows. “It’s still refreshing to look at paintings, even if you've seen them thousands of times. Art is timeless, you know.”

You hold back a smile. Hyunjin really has a way with words. You don’t think you’ve ever heard anybody talk the way he does – like the whole world lies in the palm of his hand but he doesn’t realize it. But maybe that’s just your own feelings talking. Either way, the way he speaks is one of the things you love most about him, and so, it has simultaneously become one of the things you have to pretend to hate.

“And there you go with that hopelessly romantic talk again,” You’ve reached the bus station, so you stop walking, and so does Hyunjin.

The air’s not as cold as Hyunjin had claimed, but with how much wind there is, you don’t regret putting on a jacket at all. You lean against the bus stop sign, eyes darting to look at Hyunjin as you wait. He’s deep in thought, you realize, with his hands buried deep in his pockets and his gaze scanning the area like he hasn’t seen it a billion times before. He really does find beauty in everything, you think to yourself. The wind ruffles Hyunjin’s hair and he closes his eyes to feel the breeze – a simple act yet it’s enough to make you question whether you’ve got a hopelessly romantic mindset, too.

Maybe you only have that when it comes to him. Is that even possible? You suppose it’s just as possible as falling in love with your best friend – unlikely, but not impossible at all. You’re living proof of that.

The bus arrives and Hyunjin looks back subtly as he’s entering to make sure you’re following. It’s sweet. He’s sweet. Oh, what a tragedy this whole thing is. Probably even more tragic than those Shakespeare books you read unwillingly because Hyunjin said they were his favorites.

The bus is almost empty, so you plop down next to Hyunjin in some of the front seats. Your leg bumps into his accidentally and you snatch it back far too quickly, but he doesn’t seem to notice, glancing out of the window, tapping his fingers on his thigh to some tune. For a while, you look at his movements, trying to figure out what song he’s playing, but you give up soon enough when you can’t seem to recognize it. It’s way too early for that kind of thinking, anyway.

“We’re here,” You say when you arrive at your stop, well aware that Hyunjin knows it. That’s just another part of your routine, you guess. He picks you up, looks back when you enter the bus and you announce the stations for him even though he’s got it memorized. “They’re angry we’re late, aren’t they?”

“Probably,” He sighs. “I’ll just tell them the bus was late.”

It feels like your whole heart swells up at his words. Yes, Hyunjin knows you don’t like to get blamed for things and yes, he’s your best friend, so it would seem that it’s only natural he tells a white lie to save your ass.

Except Hyunjin doesn’t tell lies. He’s like the god of honesty or something, because you swear, all these years you know him, you’ve never heard him tell a lie. Not even when he and Changbin were planning your birthday party – when you asked him why he was busy, he told you straight up he was choosing what cake to buy. Changbin pretty much beat him up for that, and yet he did the same exact thing the year after that. Now there’s no beating up at stake and he’s willing to cover for you?

“Why would you do that?” You mumble to yourself as you walk behind him, the museum coming into view.

“Just ‘cause,” He says as you catch up to him, and you realize he must’ve heard you. “It’ll take up our time if they start whining about it. I’d rather look at paintings than hear them complain for half an hour.”

Ah. There it is. The reason he’s willing to lie. Of course, it’s because of the paintings, you should’ve known. He’s obsessed with them, after all. See, this is where having purely platonic feelings for Hyunjin would’ve been a major win. It would’ve been so much less painful if you weren’t getting your hopes up each time he did something remotely affectionate – you would’ve simply thought of them as friendly acts, not signs of his undying love for you. Guess you really are like Hyunjin, after all, if not a romantic, at least you’re hopeless.

“Good point,” You say, voice faltering just a bit.

After that, you just walk alongside him in silence until you reach the museum. As expected, your friends are standing out front, some of them talking loudly in between each other, and others smoking cigarettes. The smoke reaches you when you walk closer, and from the corner of your eye, you can glimpse how Hyunjin scrunches his nose up in disgust at the smell. Cute, you think to yourself, letting out a soft laugh.

“Hyunjin, Y/N,” Changbin is the first one to spot you, and soon every one of your friends is looking in your direction. “What the hell took you so long?”

“The bus didn’t arrive on time,” Hyunjin says instantly.

You look at him and he sends you a soft smile – one that drowns out the sound of Changbin’s annoyed voice and makes you zone out for just enough time to make Minho grab your wrist and pull you inside, muttering something about ‘wasting time’ under his breath. The two of you enter the museum first and show your tickets to the staff and stand in the hallway, waiting for the others.

“You’re making it obvious, you know,” Minho says as you smile in Hyunjin’s direction, and it makes you turn to him with a confused expression. “That you like him. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes it, too.”

You sigh in defeat. There’s no use in lying to him, he’s got you all figured out already, so instead, you just mumble a small ‘I really hope he doesn't’ and glare at him when he chuckles.

“You shouldn’t look this depressed even before he’s rejected you,” He comments and you scoff. Like he has any idea what it’s like to be in love with your fucking best friend. “What do you know, maybe he likes you, too.”

You roll your eyes at the way Minho wiggles his eyebrows at you, but you don’t get to do much more than that because all of a sudden all of your friends are there. Hyunjin is there, too, his shoulder brushes against yours when he stands next to you. How do you know that it’s him before you even turn to look at him? You have no idea, but you can just kind of tell the warmth you’re feeling is radiated by him. And it turns out to be true when you turn your head to the side, almost losing the ability to breathe when you’re met with his gaze already set on you.

He looks beautiful even in the poor lighting provided by the lamps above his head, eyes shining with this light they only hold when he’s surrounded by what he loves the most. Art. You can tell he’s happy even though he’s not smiling or laughing. It’s silent, his happiness, but for someone like you, someone who’s spent years looking at him, learning how to read him, it’s evident nonetheless.

“Someone’s happy,” You hum to Hyunjin after your friends have vanished to look at the erotic paintings, giggling like school girls and boys.

“Them? Yeah, they’re really enjoying this.”

“I meant you,” You follow him when he slowly walks to look at one of the paintings, examining it. His brows furrow and his jaw is set when he’s focused, and right now is no exception. “One would think you just won a million dollars from the way you’re skipping around.”

You don’t say that you think it’s adorable or that if it were up to you, you would come here every day just to see his eyes sparkle like that. His stare leaves the painting when you utter those words, moving to look at you with an expression you can’t figure out. Which is weird, because you know exactly how to read Hwang Hyunjin. Usually. But now, his eyes are a little widened, his lip pulled between his teeth, fingers tapping his hip like he doesn’t really know what to do with his hands. It stresses you out a little and makes your heart jump in your chest because you could swear for a moment his gaze fans down to your lips.

This only lasts a second or so, though, because soon enough, he turns his attention back to the painting in front of him. No words, no nothing. You walk a little closer, feeling kind of hurt that he’s so uninterested in holding a conversation. Maybe he senses something is wrong, or maybe his timing is just perfect, because not even a minute later, you hear him gasp quietly, shuffling next to you.

“Look,” He says just as you’re about to ask him what’s going on, and you turn around to look out of the window like him. You immediately recognize the vehicle you’re met with, a smile slowly spreading itself over your face. “It’s that food truck you mentioned last weekend, isn’t it? The one with the hamburgers you wanted to try”

“Yeah, it is.” You grin wider. He remembered. You were rambling about that food truck while he was trying to finish his homework, so you didn’t really expect him to listen. But he did.

“Let’s go, then,” He smiles, eyes still trained on the vehicle and sparkling.

“Wait-” You start, but before you can say anything else, his fingers wrap around your wrist and he drags you through the hall in a hurry. The paintings surrounding you start to blur when he starts running, his hand tugging at yours and forcing you to pick up the pace, too. He runs out the door and you shiver when the cool air hits your skin – now you’re really regretting leaving your jacket in the dressing room. Sensing your slight hesitation, Hyunjin whips his head around to look at you for a moment, before pulling at your hand again and jogging up to the food truck,

You’re left catching your breath as he orders something, just now realizing that you left all your friends behind at the museum. Hyunjin seems pretty unbothered, though, handing the seller his card, his cheeks a little red – probably from the cold air or all the running. You’re a hundred meters away from the museum now, and surely, your friends have noticed your absence, but you can’t really bring yourself to worry about that when you see the satisfied smile on Hyunjin’s face as the seller hands him his order.

It’s only then that you notice his hand is still holding onto yours, and you pull it back so quickly you hit your thumb on your thigh. It hurts a little, but the pain is dull compared to how fast your heart hammers against your chest – it’s like when you’ve run a few laps too much around the stadium, and it makes you feel dizzy and nauseous as hell. Hyunjin sends you an inquiring look, but you avert your gaze, waiting as he takes the order from the man inside the truck.

You’re so stupid. What if he understands you like him now? What if you’ve just ruined everything? You can’t act this weird. You’re supposed to be his best friend. But a friend wouldn’t react like this to his hand touching yours.

“Let’s sit,” You say this as he walks closer to you, partly to break the tension, but mostly because he’s making you nervous with the way he’s eyeing you cautiously like he’s trying to look into your soul and find out all your secrets. “There’s a table over here.”

You plop down on the chair furthest away from Hyunjin, even though it sparks up a feeling of guilt in your stomach. He might look like he doesn’t notice this – to someone that doesn’t know him, at least. But you do know him, and you can see how his jaw tightens, gaze a little absent. You can basically see the thoughts racing through his mind. You wonder if one of them has the suspicion that you like him.

“You realize we can’t go back inside after running out like that? Our tickets are in Lisa’s bag,” You say after a while, breaking the awkward silence. You don’t want it to be awkward. Not with him. So the best thing is to just pretend nothing happened. Essentially, you think, nothing did. “You won’t get to look at your precious paintings.”

Hyunjin shrugs and his gaze softens. “You said it yourself, I've seen them a million times before.”

You nod, reminded of the hamburger in your hand. It’ll get cold at this rate, you realize, and bite into it, mostly because you don’t know what else to say to Hyunjin. The food is great, though, so you’re thankful he brought you here. And thankful he remembered. But instead of thanking him, you’re acting like a crazy person – all because you’ve got this stupidly huge crush on him and everything he does makes your heart beat faster. Even though he probably only means it in a friendly way.

Wow, this is getting impressive. At this point, you’re just friend-zoning yourself so he won’t have to.

“Is it good?”

“What?” You look up at him with your mouth full of food. Hyunjin’s lips quirk upward, and it makes you want to die as you swallow. Why do these things always happen to you, of all people?

“The hamburger. Was it worth it?”

“Oh,” You say, this time making sure there’s no salad between your teeth. “Yeah. It’s really good.”

“Good. Let’s go then, if you’re done eating,” He smiles and stands up. Looking down at the lack of hamburger wrapping in his hands, you realize he didn’t buy anything for himself at the food truck, and it makes you knit your brows together in confusion. Why did he run all the way here, then? Especially when he could’ve stayed inside and admired those paintings he’s always gushing about instead?

You stand up, too, but as you take the first step in Hyunjin’s direction you basically trip over your feet. Or, as it turns out once you lower your gaze, your untied shoelaces. “Shit.”

Hyunjin interrupts your intentions of tying them by kneeling down himself, making you freeze in place as his fingers come up to tie the laces. You don’t say anything – just look at him from above, the way he moves his fingers swiftly, the way his muscles flex when he does it, and the way he needs to shield his eyes from the sun as he stands up (way too soon, according to you), flashing you a smile. It’s genuine and cute – one of the rare times he’s not laughing at you or smiling because the situation requires it.

“You should be more careful. Not tying your shoelaces is dangerous, especially for clumsy people like you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, but you don't really get to react in any other way because suddenly, your friends jump out from behind the corner of the building you ran away from, crying out when they spot you. They’ve been looking for you, that much you can gather, but your eyes linger on Hyunjin, and Hyunjin only.

Vaguely, you can hear how they’re complaining about you and him ‘leaving them out’, but you can’t really focus on the words spilling out of their mouths, mind occupied with replaying the picture of Hyunjin tying your shoes earlier, the way his smile made you weak in the knees. You seriously need to stop thinking about him this way.

But you can’t. Not when you’re so hopelessly in love with him.

—

Parties aren't really Hyunjin’s thing.

Of course, he enjoys spending time with his friends, and he doesn't really mind hanging out as a group and drinking. But these kinds of parties – sweaty bodies everywhere, all too loud music and cheap alcohol mixed with the sight of people hooking up in the open – he genuinely despises. There are way too many people and way too little space.

You don't feel the same way about parties. That much is obvious from how you're dancing with Changbin in the middle of the living room belonging to someone whose name Hyunjin doesn't remember. You’re on your third, maybe fourth, drink already, but who’s really counting. Except for Hyunjin, of course. Your laugh is louder than usual, it reaches his ears even though he’s standing a couple meters away, hiding in a corner. He’d never admit it, but the only reason he ever comes to these godforsaken parties is because you beg him to. And because, usually, he has to drive you home afterward.

He doesn’t mind it as much as he pretends to, though.

“Hyunjin!”

Your words are slurred as you fall into his arms suddenly, but it’s a miracle you even managed to spot him in that state of yours. He crunches his nose in disgust at the reek of alcohol surrounding you and pushes you away from him so he can grab at your shoulders. The way you pout is cute, he thinks and shakes his head immediately as if that’s going to get rid of his dumb thoughts. His eyes fan down to your outfit – the all-too-low cleavage of your top and the short skirt that hugs your hips. It’s shameful how his pants feel too tight all of a sudden, so he averts his gaze. He’s too late, though, because you already noticed.

“Do I look pretty?” You ask him and swirl around, like what he needs right now is to get a better look at your legs. It takes all in him to keep his eyes on the back of your head until you turn around to face him again.

“You look drunk,” He replies, albeit not very convincingly due to the light shiver in his tone, holding your arm tighter when you almost trip over your own feet.

“I’m not drunk,” You protest, but lean into his touch nonetheless. The way he holds you against his chest when someone tries to pass by leaves your heart pounding at a dangerously fast speed and makes you feel a little lightheaded. That has nothing to do with the fact that you’re drunk, though. But the words you let escape your mouth after that do. “I like it when you hold me like this.”

Due to the alcohol in your system, you don’t really realize what you’ve said, but Hyunjin does. And it feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He hopes you can’t hear it, because god, how embarrassing would that be? Here he is, feeling nervous over something you said while being both drunk and his friend. It’s natural for friends to like hugging each other. Right?

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” Hyunjin can feel how you lean more of your weight on him, your smiling face a little too close to his own. He can hear your breathing clearly now, and the hand that holds onto his shoulder for support is burning his skin. “You’re lucky you look so cute right now or I would’ve gotten real mad at you.”

His breath hitches, but he doesn’t think you notice. Or maybe you do. He can’t really tell in this poor lighting and with the way your thigh rests between his legs. It’s distracting. You are distracting.

“But, then again,” You lean so close to him that your noses almost touch and he can feel your hot breath on his lips. “You always look cute. When you’re focused and you furrow your brows. When you’re looking at paintings and your eyes light up. Even when you’re scolding me and your jaw is set, I find it cute. Because you’re doing it out of concern for me. You’re always so nice to me. Always so sweet. It’s not all that weird that I fell in love with you, actually.”

That’s when it all slows down. It’s like the world outside is nonexistent. His eyes are wide, and he’s pretty sure his hands are starting to shake. He looks at you – your wide smile, the way your gaze drops to his lips for a second longer than appropriate, and how you’re tilting your head to the side. You’re going to kiss him, he realizes. You’ve just told him you like him and now you’re going to kiss him. He can feel your warm hand rest on his chest and he wants nothing more than to pull you closer, even though he shouldn’t.

What he should do is push you away. Tell you you’re way too drunk and you won’t remember any of this tomorrow. But he doesn’t. Because there's still that part of him that reminds him you haven’t even drunk that much, that you’re completely aware of your actions. It’s still you – your sparkling eyes, soft hair that smells of strawberries, and touch that drives him insane no matter how innocent it is. His best friend. The girl he’s in love with.

When your lips press against his, Hyunjin knows he wouldn’t be able to pull away even if he wanted to.

You taste of whiskey and cherries, the latter presumably from the chapstick you’ve been using for the past couple of years – the one Hyunjin has been dying to know the taste of for a shameful amount of time. It’s even better than he expected. Your hands are in his hair, and his fingers rest against the bare skin of your stomach, spreading goosebumps all over it. Experimentally, he urges you to open your mouth and when you do, he lets his tongue slip inside.

He pulls you closer, and you sigh contentedly into his mouth in response, pulling at his hair. It feels so good – feeling his lips on yours after only having imagined what it would be like to kiss him. And he’s kissing you back, just as fervently. It’s like a dream come true. You slip your hands under his shirt, way too drunk on him to even think about where you are and that you’ve just confessed your love for your best friend. Alcohol is good for something, after all, you suppose.

Feeling your fingers trace his abdominal muscles brings Hyunjin back to reality, and as much as he wants to let you touch him, he remembers you’re at a party. And there’s alcohol in your system. This is wrong. There’s no guarantee you even meant what you said, or if you’ll remember it tomorrow. So, as much as he doesn’t want to, he pushes you away.

“You need to go home, Y/N,” He says upon seeing your confused expression. “You’re drunk.”

For a moment, none of you move. You’re just staring at him with your lips swollen from kissing, pupils wide, and Hyunjin thinks you must be the most beautiful person alive. But there’s a hint of pain hidden in your eyes when he meets them and it sparks up guilt in his stomach. He wants to hug you, but he doesn’t. You’re drunk and overreacting. Tomorrow, if you even remember anything at all, you’ll be thankful he saved your friendship from going under. Because there’s no way you’re actually in love with him, after all.

“Come on, let’s get you home, alright?” He wants to grab your hand, but you pull away.

There’s no reason for you to be this upset. He’s drunk, you’re drunk, it happens. And so it’s only natural he wants to pretend nothing happened. You’re best friends, after all. But it still hurts and the alcohol still flowing through your veins only urges you to speak your mind.

“If you didn’t want to kiss me, you could’ve just said so.”

And before you can think twice, you leave him standing there and ask Minho to drive you home. He doesn’t ask any questions and you’re thankful for that.

Right now, it doesn’t feel like you have any answers.

—

You’ve never avoided Hyunjin before.

Not when you were mad at him for listening in on a fight you had with your mom, and not after he caught you making out with his best friend in high school. Sure, both you and him got mad sometimes, but you’d always talk it out. Or, as it would be more accurate to say, he would talk, and slowly, but surely, you’d come to realize there was no reason to be mad. And everything would be back to normal.

But the thing is – this time you’re not mad. Just embarrassed. And scared. Really fucking scared. And since Hyunjin is the source of those intrusive emotions, your smart brain came up with the idea of avoiding him until you magically fall out of love with him and will be able to tell him that the kiss was a mistake you regret making.

It’s a horrible plan, really. But it’s all you’ve got.

And it works just fine for, like, thirteen hours. Out of which you slept ten.

In the morning, Hyunjin calls you, but you ignore it. He doesn’t call again, probably coming to the conclusion that you’re still asleep. Then, you skip class to avoid him. Stupid move, because that just makes him send you even more messages, asking you if everything’s alright. And the worst part is, you want to respond to them. You really do. This is Hyunjin, after all. Your best friend. You’re missing him already. Why did you have to be so stupid and kiss him? You could’ve just let him live in ignorant bliss and saved your friendship, but instead, you chose this. You really are stupid.

All in all, dodging his calls and skipping class is manageable, but you can’t really keep avoiding him when he quite literally grabs your hand as you’re on the way to the bathroom, pulling you into some empty classroom.

“What are you–” You begin to say, but he cuts you off.

“You’re avoiding me,” It’s not a question. His gaze is hard and you look down – partially because you’re ashamed, but mostly because you’re afraid that if you look at his handsome face you’re just going to start crying, reminded of how he pushed you away yesterday. “Why?”

That is a question, but it’s so dumb it makes you scoff. Does he really not know why you’re avoiding him or is he just playing dumb? It seems pretty simple to you – you told him you like him, he rejected you, and now avoiding him is easier than facing the truth. But he doesn’t appear to understand that, eyebrows raised as he eyes you cautiously.

“Why?” He asks again, and so you cave.

“Because,” You lock eyes with him and feel all those emotions you felt at the party all over again. “I told you I liked you yesterday. So now I’m embarrassed to even look at you.”

Silence falls over the room after you say that, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you wait for him to say something. Anything.

“You were drunk,” He sighs after a while. “I didn’t take it seriously. You don’t need to be embarrassed, so let’s just forget it ever happened if that’s what you want.”

One second passes. Then two. He thinks you weren’t serious. That’s amazing news – it means you can just lie about it and never talk about it with him ever again – so why don’t you feel relieved? If anything, it makes you feel even more miserable. Because maybe – just maybe – you’d hoped he’d say he’s in love with you too. Or at least that he’d take you seriously, because, fuck, this is serious. And honestly, lying about it for another seven years seems worse than telling him right now and getting it over with.

“I meant it,” The words fall off your tongue suddenly – an outburst of feelings you hadn’t originally intended to share. “What I said yesterday. I wasn’t even that drunk, that was just an excuse.”

You suck in a breath. One. Two. Three. It’s fine; you’re fine. Just say it. You can’t exactly back off now, either way. Hyunjin’s expression is unreadable, but that might just be your heart banging in your ears so hard you can’t focus on anything else. Okay. You can do this.

“I’m in love with you, Hyunjin. I’ve been in love with you since I can remember. It was bound to slip out sooner or later, I guess. This just kinda makes me wish it happened later.”

There. You said it.

Hyunjin’s face remains unchanged, only a small spark in his eyes indicating he heard you. A few strands of his hair fall into his forehead, but he doesn’t push them away. It’s like he wants you to step forward and do it yourself. You don’t have the courage to do that, though. Instead, you just stand there and look at him until he decides to say something.

“Why?”

His voice is soft and welcoming, so you reply right away.

“Because you don’t feel the same way about me. And I’m scared nothing’s gonna be the same between us after this.”

He looks at you and it feels like he’s staring right into your soul. Though you suppose he wouldn’t need any special powers to do that, since you basically exposed all of yourself to him right now. He’s only silent for three or four seconds, but it feels like years as you’re standing there. You’re in the chemistry classroom, you realize, so if you were to run away now you could just say you were afraid a professor would catch you. You never get that far, though, because, at that moment, Hyunjin decides to finally speak.

“You always do that, you know,” You furrow your brows, but he only smiles shyly. In surprise, you notice how his cheeks are tinted light pink. He’s blushing. You haven’t seen him blush since, like, sixth grade, when your mom called him handsome. “Jump to conclusions. I pushed you away yesterday because I didn’t want you to do anything you would regret later. Like drunkenly kiss your best friend that is hopelessly in love with you and give him false hope.”

It takes a minute for his words to sink in, but when they do, it feels surreal. Is he saying what you think he’s saying? He must notice your confused expression, because he walks closer and leans his face down so it’s parallel to yours.

“I’m in love with you, too, stupid,” His nose touches yours and you shiver. “Did you really think I would’ve gone to that food truck if it weren’t for you?”

You giggle as if trying to hide the way your heart is doing loops inside of your chest. “The hamburgers really weren’t that good.”

“I knew you were lying.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side. You can feel his breath on your face, his eyes sparkling in the poor lighting of the lamp above your head. When his hands settle on your waist, you feel like you’re about to float into the air. “Can I kiss you?”

There’s no hesitation when you nod and that’s all the convincing Hyunjin needs. He leans forward to close the space that is dividing you from him and presses his lips to yours softly – carefully, as if not to hurt you. His tongue swipes across your lower lip and you hold onto his shoulders like you’re afraid your knees will give out. The kiss, his hand settling on your cheek to caress the skin, the softness of his lips – it's perfect. All of it.

Until suddenly, the door flies open and you jump away from him like you just burned yourself.

“What are you guys doing here?”

Hyunjin’s fingers leave your waist, and it makes you look toward the person that interrupted your moment. You start fixing your clothing awkwardly as you lock eyes with Changbin, whose gaze flicks from you to Hyunjin and back again, before the realization hits him and he audibly gasps, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand.

“Oh my god,” His dramatic tone makes you roll your eyes, but really, you can feel your whole body heating up. “You’re hooking up and you didn’t tell me?”

“We’re not ‘hooking up’,” You’re not looking at Hyunjin but you just know he’s scrunching his nose up in distaste. “We’re… figuring things out.”

“Well, maybe you should figure them out somewhere else, because I have class here in three minutes.”

Changbin sounds amused, and you can see from the corner of your eye how Hyunjin glares at him before taking your hand in his and leaving the classroom. You’ve almost arrived at the dorms by the time it hits you that he’s actually holding your hand. Hwang Hyunjin is holding your hand. And not just loosely, like he’s done since you met him when dragging you off somewhere – no, this time, he’s deliberate about it, interlacing his fingers with yours and walking right next to you.

The warmth you feel settle in your chest isn’t just because of the temperature change that occurs as you walk into his dorm, that’s for sure.

“Minho’s not here?” You ask, looking around. You’ve been here plenty of times as Hyunjin’s friend, but this feels different somehow. It doesn’t exactly help your nervousness that the dorm is empty, except for you and him.

“Went out with his girlfriend, I think,” Hyunjin lets go of your hand to pull his sweater over his head, probably noticing the change in temperature like you. Maybe it’s stupid, but you can’t help the way your eyes linger a little too long on the stripe of skin that is exposed when he unintentionally drags his shirt up with the sweater, your brain going into overdrive when you see how his muscles flex as he drags it down to cover his stomach again. Unfortunately, it seems that this doesn’t go unnoticed by Hyunjin. “Are you uncomfortable or something? Because if you need time to think this over or something, I’m okay with that.”

“What?” You look up to meet his gaze, feeling your face heat up. “No, I don’t, I was just… Thinking about how I like your kitchen.”

You’re fucking stupid. You could’ve said anything – literally anything – but you chose this? And just like you fear, Hyunjin notices your embarrassment, and you can clearly tell from the look he’s giving you that he’s got you all figured out already. That’s one of the disadvantages of falling in love with your best friend, you suppose.

“You’ve seen my kitchen, like, a thousand times,” He points out and you send him a glare when he purposefully leans on the counter so his muscles are even more visible. “I don’t think you’ve seen my bedroom, though.”

Your heart jumps up to your throat as his eyes scan your body, lip pulled between his teeth. It’s not like him to be so straightforward, and you can see how his cheeks are turning pink from what he just said. Cute. That makes you feel a little less nervous, though your heart still pounds against your chest when you walk closer to him, grabbing hold of his shirt to press your lips to his.

His touch is warm when he wraps his arms around you, his mouth moving against yours slowly. He’s taking his time, a sigh escaping past his lips as he parts them, letting your tongues interlace. You’re the one to start walking towards his bedroom, fingers pulling at his hair and he helps you open the door. His hand feels warm on your waist when he pulls away from the kiss to rest his lips against your cheek and sit down on his bed, pulling you along.

Situating yourself in his lap, you connect your lips to his again, but he doesn’t let you ravish in his taste for too long before he starts pressing kisses against your jaw. It’s not like you mind, but you grind your hips against him in revenge nonetheless, noticing how his grip on your waist tightens and he sucks down on the skin on your neck, making you moan out softly. One of his hands works to unzip your jacket and push it off your shoulders, the other slipping under your shirt and sending shivers down your spine.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, you know,” His fingers trace your skin slowly and the sound of his voice when he rests his mouth against your shoulder – all raspy and quiet – is enough to have your underwear soaking through faster. If he thinks you want to stop now, he’s insane.

“I want to,” He looks up at you with hooded eyes, smiling when he lifts your shirt over your head. Then, his hands come up to slide your jeans off and you help him by lifting your legs a little, now sitting down on his bulge with only your panties and his sweats dividing you from feeling all of him. He drags your hips along his experimentally and you whimper quietly, feeling how you’re soaking through your panties and probably onto the fabric of his pants. “I want you, please.”

His eyes grow a little wider at your words and you help him unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the ground. You whine when his fingers find their way between your legs, rubbing against the fabric of your panties softly. Wriggling in his lap to create friction, you hold onto his shoulders and he gives in quickly, pushing your panties to the side so he can press his palm against your clit and rub it, eliciting a moan from you.

“You’re so wet,” He mumbles against your shoulder, pressing kisses to it as he starts dragging his fingers through your folds, all while the palm of his hand keeps rubbing against your clit. “And so pretty.”

Your fingers work to get rid of his shirt, and he helps you by lifting your hands. This makes you whine at the loss of contact between his fingers and your pussy, but he only smiles as he brings it back between your legs, rubbing against your heat agonizingly slowly. You buck your hips into his hand to feel more, but that only causes him to retract it, looking at you disapprovingly.

“You’re so annoying,” You groan at him, feeling your pussy throb, hungry for his touch. “Can’t you just-”

But you don’t get to finish that sentence as he pushes two of his fingers inside of you, making you gasp loudly and hold onto him tighter. He starts pumping them in and out of you, stretching you out so well and making you squirm in his grip, your breath uneven. You’d expected him to start off slowly, but he doesn’t – he buries himself knuckles deep inside of you and his thumb rubs your clit in a steady rhythm. The kisses he litters all over your collarbones are soft – a contrast to the way he’s fucking you with his fingers that – as you notice upon looking down between your bodies – are glistening with your arousal.

“Feels good, baby?” He asks, and you clench around his fingers in response, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

He starts pushing his fingers in and out of you faster, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and makes you moan his name. It’s getting hard to keep yourself up now as you’re approaching your orgasm, Hyunjin’s hand grabbing at your tits while the other makes you clench around him repeatedly. Your thighs are starting to shake, that familiar feeling of pleasure stirring up in your stomach. The feeling of his hard cock poking into your thigh doesn’t help at all, only serving for your moans to grow louder when he rubs your clit faster, more precisely.

The sound of your pussy squelching with arousal as he drives them into you fills the room along with the moans you let out into his ear, and you feel his cock growing harder from underneath his sweats. Even though it’s difficult to gather your thoughts enough to think of anything else other than how good he’s making you feel, you manage to bring your hand to palm him through his sweats, which earns you an even quicker pace of his fingers that’s making you see stars.

“Fuck, do that again,” He moans and you comply, grabbing his dick through his sweats and making his hips buck into your hand. You whimper at that, tightening around his fingers, nails digging into his biceps. “Want to fuck that pretty pussy of yours so bad. You want me to, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, pushing your hips further down on his fingers and moaning his name with each movement. You’re so close now, clenching around him like crazy, pretty much bouncing on his fingers to feel him deeper. He brings you to the edge quickly, continuing to rub your clit as you cum, soaking his fingers with your slick and moaning in a way that would’ve made you feel embarrassed if it weren’t for how lost in the pleasure you are.

“Oh my god,” You breathe out when he retracts his fingers, licking them clean of your juices.

He looks up at you worriedly. “Are you oka-”

You cut him off by kissing him, opening your mouth, and swallowing his moans when you palm him through his sweats again. He slips his tongue inside your mouth, and groans when he gets a taste of your cherry chapstick – he wants to bottle up that sensation and replay it every night. Your hands move to slide his pants down, and you grind down on his dick, now only divided from you with his thin boxers.

“I want you, please, Hyunjin,” You’re way past getting embarrassed, begging him without even batting an eyelash. “Want your cock.”

His worried gaze turns lewd, and he helps you pull his boxers down, letting his cock spring free. The sight is mouthwatering, and you know he notices you staring from the way his lips quirk upward in a soft smile, reminding you exactly why you’re in love with this man. He pulls you into his lap again, so close that your tits are pressed against his chest and his cock rests against your clit. You whine when he drags it through your folds, soaking it in your juices but not really creating any friction.

“You’re so impatient,” He coos, positioning himself at your entrance and pushing just the tip in, causing you to clench around nothing. “You want my cock, princess? Want me to fuck you stupid?”

“Mhmm, please.”

Hyunjin smiles, grip tightening on your hips as he pushes you down on his cock, a moan leaving your mouth when he enters you fully. It’s painful only for a few seconds – then, feel the throb in your pussy grow again and so you start moving up and down slowly, moaning softly each time you sink down on his cock. He’s biting his lip, watching your movements, and letting his hands come up to play with your tits.

You push your chest out into his hands, bouncing up and down on his cock and feeling your walls suck him in tightly like you don’t want him to ever pull out. And you don’t. It feels so good to have him inside of you – you can feel every bit of his dick clearly and he looks really hot, with his eyes half-closed and a sheepish smile on his features, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“You look so pretty fucking yourself on my cock,” How he manages to look so angelic while saying that, brushing your hair away from your face, and at the same time making you clench around him frantically, you don’t know. “Wish I’d fucked you sooner, princess.”

His words make you whimper, and you feel your thighs burn from the way you’re bouncing on his cock already. You hold onto him, but it doesn’t stop your legs from shaking and you whine, annoyed.

Hyunjin’s hands move to your hips when he sees you struggling, and you whimper a little when he lifts them with ease before pushing you down on his cock again. It’s a whole different sensation when he does it. He’s fucking you much harder now, driving into you from a deeper angle that makes you see stars, legs giving out completely, and letting him do all the work. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind that, though, small groans leaving his lips as he helps you ride him.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” He whispers and presses a kiss to your jaw, not slowing down in the slightest. “My pretty girl.”

You’re feeling a little dizzy from both the praise and the way he’s hitting all the right spots, fingers probably leaving marks on your skin from how he’s holding onto you, ravishing in the way you whimper his name with each roll of his hips. You can feel the knot in your stomach tighten yet again, and there’s no way you’re going to last much longer with the way he’s splitting you open on his cock.

“Fuck, Hyunjin, I-” The words die down in your throat as he keeps rutting into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when his dick hits the spot that makes you curl your toes in pleasure repeatedly. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too.”

He groans and captures your lips in a kiss as his cock twitches inside of you, the feeling pushing you over the edge and making you clench and unclench around him repeatedly when you cum. He follows not long after, shooting his cum into you and moaning softly at the sensation of your walls sucking him in. You whine when he pulls out, but the sound is soon replaced by a hum of appreciation when he lies down on the bed and pulls you down so your head lies on his chest and he can wrap his arms around you.

“I love you so much,” He says, burying his face in your hair.

You smile. “I love you, too.”

And as you’re left regaining your breath in each other’s arms, Hyunjin still feels the faint taste of your cherry chapstick on his tongue. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

–

You never thought facing your friends after everything that happened would be easy, but it’s safe to say you weren’t expecting to hear party horns go off the moment you entered the cafe at which you decided to meet.

“Congrats on bagging your best friend, Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind? Be quiet,” You really want to kick Changbin as he shouts that as loud as he can, but you settle on sending an apologetic smile to the people sitting by tables around you and glaring at him instead. Looking to your left, you meet Hyunjin’s gaze, but he doesn’t seem as if he’s about to run away, so you decide that Changbin hasn’t lost his title as your friend just yet. You’re really thankful for the way Hyunjin squeezes your hand reassuringly, winking in your direction – even if it doesn’t exactly help calm your heart down.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t care that much,” Minho comments as the two of you get seated. “Changbin’s pretty much spilled it to everyone, anyway.”

“What?”

“Not everyone,” Changbin protests immediately. “Just a few trusted individuals.”

“A few hundred, you mean,” Minho snickers. “Either way-”

“Stop lying, I literally only told those girls from NCTU-”

“Either way, we just want to say we’re happy for you. Even if this means I’ll have to witness you kiss,” Minho shudders playfully and you can’t help but smile. “You look happy together, and that’s enough for me.”

“Just please don’t break up before spring break,” Changbin adds. “It will make the camping trip so awkward.”

You smile at them, feeling as if a big weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. They’re happy for you. You feel Hyunjin squeeze your hand, and you whip your head around to look into his eyes that sparkle with adoration.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any plans of letting Y/N get rid of me that easily.”

Butterflies swarm in your stomach, just like they always do when he says something this cheesy and sweet at the same time. You suppose you’ll feel this way for another seven years. And then seven years more. You smile, and he smiles too. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips and you can’t help the way you feel like the happiest girl in the world when your lips move together.

“You guys are so gross.”

Hyunjin laughs as he pulls away, and so do you. Moments like these make it worth waiting seven years to have him.

#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #stray kids headcanons #hyunjin x reader #skz smut

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somanyratsinthewalls · 8 months

Note

I know you already said you'd do it... BUT maybe could I request a standalone fic (not a kinktober one) of a Franky x Reader x Robin fic with daddy/mommy kink, sub!virgin!AFAB!reader

idk if you ship frobin though but if you want to feel free to add that in!

YEAH BABY THIS HAS BEEN FLOATING IN MY MIND EVER SINCE I SAW THAT POST!!! I need more Franky Fuckers in my life. I have zero ships in One Piece EXCEPT FROBIN! They are clearly so in love I can't stand it. Here's the fic, I love it.

Sex Education

Pairing: Robin x afab!reader x Franky

TW: threesome, cyborg banging, misuse of devil fruit powers, girl on girl, two girls one guy, fingering, riding, face sitting. porn!

——

“That color is ugly.” Nami comments at the shade of light green you had chosen to paint you toenails.

“Is it really that bad?” You lean back and admire your half painted foot. It shimmered in the sunlight on the deck of the ship.

“Looks like barf.” Nami didn’t look up from her work, carefully painting her own nails a dark shade of pink.

“Well now that you’ve said that, I can’t unthink it. Do you have the polish remover?” You ask.

“I think Robin has it in her room, you can go grab it, puke-toes.” Nami laughed.

You roll your eyes and stand up. You begin to head towards the inside of the ship in search of the nail polish remover. You reach Robin’s bedroom door and grab the handle and open the door. You three girls were best friends at this point, knocking was a moot point.

“Hey, Nami said my toes were ugly so can I just grab the-“

Your eyes immediately meet Robin’s as she gasps. Fully nude, she is seated on Franky’s lap who was also shed of his swim briefs. His huge hands cradled her pale, plump ass. A slight sheen of sweat covered her forehead as her arms wrapped around his massive neck.

“Y/n!” Robin yelps out at you.

“OH my god?! I’m so sorry!” You stutter out and slam the door shut behind you and run back up through the ship. Your mind was racing. Franky and Robin? A thing? I mean… it makes sense the more you think about it… but seeing it first hand was still a bit jarring. Were other people here having sex? Were you the only one who had never done it before? Is this something you were missing out on?

You burst through the door to the deck where Nami was fanning her drying nails.

“Woah where’s the fire, y/n?” Nami asked you, noticing your panicked expression.

“Nami I- I went to get the nail polish remover- and I? I don’t know! The door wasn’t locked! I just went in! And she- and they- they were…!” You were out of breath and couldn’t get out a coherent thought.

“Oh, walked in on Franky and Robin? Yeah they’re like rabbits lately. Good for them, honestly.” Nami went back to fanning her nails.

“Wait… you knew?” You couldn’t believe it.

“Duh? Are you that oblivious? Why do you think they’re always mysteriously absent after dinner? Jeez you need to get laid.” Nami rolled her eyes.

“Wait… are YOU fucking someone!? Is everyone here having sex but me?!” Your eyes bugged out of your head. Were you the only (human) virgin left on this ship? Sure you had urges, but you always just took care of it yourself in the quiet of your own room late at night.

“Not since that last island, no. Nobody on the crew, obviously, pickings are way too slim. I made out with Sanji once when I was wasted but he was such a bad kisser I told him to get fucked. It was all wet and gross.”

“Really he was that bad—? Wait come on, you’re getting laid too? Is everyone else?!” You returned to the point of your questioning.

“I mean yeah, y/n, we all have needs. Except for Zoro… I think there’s something seriously wrong with his brain. Sex is great, especially with someone who knows what they’re doing.” Nami gave you the truth. Maybe it was time for you to finally explore your sexuality…

You both turned your heads as a door swung open. A red-faced Robin smiled meekly at the two of you as she walked towards you and sat down at your side.

“You need to start using those hands to lock doors, girlfriend.” Nami chuckled and rose to her feet. She winked at the both of you and headed into the kitchen.

“Hi y/n… So… I’m sorry about that. I should have been more careful. It was a private moment and I apologize for you having to see it.” She genuinely searches your eyes for forgiveness.

“it.. it’s okay. I just didn’t know you guys were together like that…” You blush and look down at your feet. Robin smiled.

“He’s sweet. I know we might not look like we’d work out, but I find him quite charming actually!” Robin’s eyes sparkled. “And the sex is phenomenal.”

“Oh.. I… um… I wouldn’t know…” You felt your cheeks continue to heat up.

“Are you a virgin, y/n?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, talking mostly to yourself. You continue. “It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose… I’m plenty old enough and I’ve thought about it loads… I just… haven’t had the right opportunity…”

“Well… If you really wanted to change that… I’m sure we could help you.” Robin takes your hand in hers. You look up into her eyes, they were kind and warm.

“What?” You were confused as to what kind of help she was offering you.

“If you wanted to experience sex with people you trust for your first time, I have no doubt Franky would jump at the opportunity. I would be there too, of course, to guide you. We’re very… open… to new experiences… if you’re understanding what I’m saying.”

“Oh…” Your eyes widen. It might be a good idea to finally get that awkward first time out the way, especially with someone you trust and know well. “I mean… yes? Sure. I guess I’m saying yes.”

“Perfect.” Robin squeezes your hand. “How about tonight? After dinner? My room?”

You nod. You can’t believe you’re casually agreeing to lose your virginity to two of your closest friends.

— —

That night, after dinner, you excused yourself from the table a little early so you could freshen yourself up. You took a quick shower, shaving your legs and trimming your bush, washing your hair with the most expensive shampoo you could find in the Sunny’s shared bathroom. After the shower you dried your hair and slathered your body in lotion. You felt like you were getting dolled up for a date, not a dick appointment.

You perused your closet for something to wear. You wanted to look comfy and casual, but still sexy… wait why were you overthinking this? You had known Robin and Franky for years, who were you trying to impress? You shook yourself out of your racing thoughts and settled on a black pair of knee length spandex bike shorts and a black cropped tee. You finished your hair and applied a bit of makeup before spritzing yourself with perfume. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Ok y/n. You can do this. It’s your totally normal friends who are a robot and someone with devil fruit powers who are going to take your virginity. This is fine and normal. Your life is normal.” After a few minutes of hyping yourself up, you make your way to Robin’s room. You take a deep breath and knock on the door a few times, remembering to knock this time after your intrusion earlier.

Robin quickly opens the door with a bright smile.

“Y/n! Come in! Are you thirsty? I have some wine.” She grabs your hand and pulls you into her room. Franky was relaxing in a large armchair against the wall facing the bed.

“Hey pretty thing! So good to see ya!” He beamed at you with a cola in his hand.

“Hi Frank, sorry about earlier…” You meekly apologize and stared at the floor.

“Hey no problem! Sorry ya had to walk in on me and the lady like that without warning.” Franky pushed his sunglasses up on his head and took a sip of his beverage.

“Here, y/n.” Robin shoved a large glass of white wine into your hand. She clinked her own glass with yours and winked. “Come sit.”

Robin retreated to her bed and patted a spot next to her for you to sit down. You took a big gulp of your drink and sat next to her on the fluffy purple comforter.

“So I was just telling Franky that you’re a virgin.” Robin states casually as she sips her wine. You choke on yours.

*cough* “Oh um.. yeah…” *cough* “I’ve never done anything really…” You sheepishly say as you catch your breath.

“Wow, someone as gorgeous as you? I’d had never guessed. Well don’t you worry sweet thing, we’ll take care of you real nice, right mama?” The cyborg smirks and leans back in his chair.

“Of course daddy, we’re going to make sure she feels so good.” Robin uses her free hand to start stroking your upper arm.

“Oh, so we’re like- doing this? Now? Okay uh-“ You stutter out.

“Well, whenever you’re ready, sweet girl. You’re just so pretty I can’t help myself.” Robin scoots herself closer to you on the bed and starts playing with the hem of your crop top. “Can I take your clothes off? I can take mine off too, if that’ll help you feel more comfortable.” Robin purrs into your ear.

“O-okay…”

Robin pulls your shirt over your head, breasts falling and bouncing against your chest. She then slips off your shorts, making you fully nude in front of them.

“Wow sweet cheeks, no bra or panties? And pierced nipples? Such a little minx.” Franky remarks at your lack of undergarments. You blush at the comment about your piercings.

Robin stood up and pulled her dress over her head.

“Isn’t she cute?” Robin smiles at you and back at Franky as she slips her panties down her legs and unhooks her bra. Her incredible rack was staring you straight in the face and you unconsciously rubbed your legs together in excitement. Her body was so gorgeous and toned, you wanted to feel it on top of you.

With both of you completely naked, Robin sits next to you again on the bed. “May I kiss you, y/n?” Robin asks, bringing her hand to your chin.

“Yes…” You whisper, meeting her gaze. You close your eyes as she leans into you. Her kiss is soft, her lips are buttery and smooth. After a brief moment of pressing her lips to yours, she begins rolling her tongue along your lower lip, silently asking for you to open your mouth. You oblige and she slips her tongue into your mouth to explore it eagerly. You bring your hand up to cup the side of her neck.

“Mmph!” You huff out in surprise as she slid one of her hands up to your breast and experimentally toyed with your nipple. You continue to make out as her hands play and squeeze at your breasts. Robin pulls back from your lips, continuing her ministrations on your tits, rolling the silver barbells in her fingers.

“You’re so sensitive, little one, can’t wait to see what else turns you on.” Robin giggles.

“Spread her legs, mama, wanna see that cute little pussy.” Franky prompts her from his chair.

Quickly, Robin is behind you, your back pressed against her ample chest. She gentlly takes your calves and hooks them over her spread legs so you were fully exposed for your robot lover. She begins open mouth kissing on your neck from behind and you sigh at the feeling.

“Can I touch you, y/n? Is this okay so far?” Robin whispers into your ear.

“Yes… I want you to touch me…” You whimper out, body aching for more contact.

“But no one has ever touched you here… right? Maybe just yourself?” She slid one of her hands down to cup your mound. Her voice became more sinister. Your face and ears were bright red, feeling embarrassed but your sexual desires were too strong so you pushed the feeling aside.

“Just me, Robin… no one else…”

“hmm… So you know what you like? How about this? Do you play with your little clit like this?” Robin coos at you as she begins to apply pressure to your throbbing bud and rub it in circles, your pussy was leaking at this point.

“Hnnnnn, yes! Yes I like this!” You whine out.

Robin continues slowly rubbing your clit and kissing your neck. She uses her free hand to pinch your nipples. Wait, was that a third hand? You looked down and you had one hand touching your sex and two on your breasts. You had never thought about it before but her devil fruit powers were certainly useful in this situation.

“You two look so super like this…” Franky lowly slurs out as he takes another sip of his drink from across the room. “You know she won’t be able to take me if you don’t stretch her first mama…” He adds.

“I’m getting to it… let me enjoy her first. You’re so impatient my love. Don’t forget who’s in charge here. I want to make it special.” Robin teasingly scolds her boyfriend as she doesn’t falter in her movements against your clit.

“Mmmm- more please! Wan’ more!” You wanted to feel something inside of you, having been worked up by Robin’s hands.

“Aww what a sweet baby. I can give you more.” Another hand appeared and one slender digit slid into your aching hole.

“Robin!” You gasp out and lean your head back on her shoulder. She slowly dipped her finger in and out of your cunt as you moaned in pleasure. She added another finger and you yelped.

“Have you made yourself cum like this, y/n?”

“Yes- nnghh! But you’re! You’re so much better! Ah!” You breath out as she pulls and taps on your sweet spot with her soft fingers.

“You’re too kind, baby.” Robin smiles down at you on her shoulder. “Daddy is pretty big, sweet girl, so I’m going to have to add another finger, okay?” She has another hand stroking your hair.

“O-okay… Fuck!” Robin adds a third finger into your weeping cunt and bullies them all into your spot. You felt a familiar yet stronger feeling build up in your lower half. You were sighing and moaning as you look towards Franky in the armchair. He had shed his minimal clothing and there was a hand sprouting from the chair and stroking his large cock. You had no idea how that was going to fit inside you, although your mouth watered at the sight of it. It was cut, thick, and gorgeous. Your orgasm was so close.

“I think- I think I’m gonna cum, Robin! I wanna cum!”

“Go ahead and cum, sweetheart, want you to feel so good….” She continues her work on your pussy as you slam your eyes shut in pleasure. You feel your orgasm rip through your body and spill out onto Robin’s hands. You moan out loudly. She slowly pulls out her hand and rubs your cunt comfortingly.

“That was so good, little one! You’re so wet and open, I think you’re ready to take daddy now.” There was a glint of mischief in her voice as she stroked the sides of your arms and kissed your cheek.

“You… you think?” You were hazing coming down from the powerful orgasm that Robin had just given you.

“Mhmm.” Robin kissed you on the forehead. “Come here daddy, lay down.” She nodded towards her cyborg lover.

“Showtime, ladies!” Franky laid down on the bed, as you were sure he had done hundreds of times. “Hop on up, little one!” He beckons you with a large hand. You collect yourself and straddle his huge hips.

“I.. I don’t… I don’t really know what to do, should I-?” You sputter out, your eyes darting from Robin’s and Franky’s.

“Let me help, sweetheart… You ready?” Robin leans forward and grabs Franky’s thick cock and lines it up with your soaking hole. You nod.

Another hand grabs your hip and begins to lower you down onto Franky’s dick.

“Ahh! It’s too much!” You felt the sting of his fat member stretching you out as it entered your virgin cunt.

“It’s okay! It’s okay just take it slow, okay?” Robin was kissing your upper arm as she guided you down further onto the man below you. “I’m right here…”

You mewled and whined as you slowly took Franky inch by inch. Eventually you felt your muscles relax as your body was flush to his. He was fully seated inside you.

“You did it! You did it, y/n! Mommy and daddy are so proud of you! Look how pretty you are with a cock inside you!” Robin gleefully released your hip to tilt your head down to look at where Franky’s dick was balls deep in your little hole.

“Ohhhh pretty girl, you’re so TIGHT!” Franky exclaimed as he grabbed your hips with both hands. “Never felt anything like this!” He praised you as he rubbed loving circles into your pelvis.

“I.. I did it…” You were breathless, never having felt so full in your life.

“Can I fuck her now, mama? Please?” Franky looked up at Robin, pleading to be able to wreck you.

“Yes, daddy, but don’t scare her off now. Be gentle.” Robin captured your lips in a soft kiss to distract you from her boyfriend planting his feet and beginning to thrust upwards into your tight hole.

“OH- Robin! Ah!” You moaned against her lips as your lover began to rut into you from below. It was so big and rubbing against your sweet spot so deliciously.

“I know sweetie, I know. You’re doing so good, taking daddy’s cock so well!” Robin cooed as she pulled back from your lips.

“Come on mama, take your seat. I want both!” Franky panted out as he thrust into your pussy.

Robin giggled as she moved to hover over Franky’s face and sat down on his waiting tongue. Robin sighed as she felt his tongue move against her wet folds. She leaned forward into you and wrapped her arms around your neck as you continued getting speared by Franky’s cock.

“Isn’t this mmhmmm- nice, y/n?” She mewled out as Franky sucked on her clit.

“AH YES!” You shrieked out, feeling your belly begin to tighten again. You felt a hand rubbing your sensitive, engorged clit. You felt two more hands pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples. You felt two more hands squeezing your ass cheeks in addition to the large metal ones clutching your hips desperately. There was so much stimulation from every direction you could barely take it. Robin captured your lips in a messy kiss.

“Come on girls, I can’t take much more of this!” Franky shouted from underneath you both, he was clearly affected by your tight wetness.

“I want to kiss her for a little, be patient, daddy.” Robin pulled away briefly to scold him playfully. She dives back in to your swollen, wet lips. You grab the back of her head with both hands, the pleasure driving your boldness. The lewd wet slurping of Franky on Robin’s pussy was causing you to clench on the dick inside of you. Robin was keening and moaning into your mouth and you had never seen anything so hot.

“Fuck daddy, I’m going to cum. Want to cum with me, little one?” Robin looks you in the eye and continues her work on your sensitive bits.

“YES! Fuck I’m right there, please daddy!” You shriek out.

“Soak me, cum on me, ‘wanna feel it!” Franky pushes into you as far as he can go and your body spasms and creams all on his robot cock. You scream out in pleasure. Robin moans his name as she, too, finishes all over him. His blue hair was soaked in Robin’s gushy release. Robin kisses you deeply as you both finish your orgasms.

“Let me fill her, please mama, wanna stuff her so bad!” Franky begged his partner from underneath you.

“Of course daddy, anything you want.” Robin moved off his face and pinched his nipples to encourage his finish.

“FUUUUCK-“ Franky groaned loudly as he spilled himself deep inside your no-longer-virgin pussy. You fell forward, burying Franky’s face in your sweaty breasts. You were so dick drunk you couldn’t move.

“Come on little one, let’s get you tucked into bed.” Robin lifted you off Franky’s cock with her strong arms and laid you down under the covers.

“Th-thank you guys…” You whisper out.

“Hey, after that? I’ll let you join me and the lady ANY time!” Franky proceed to tuck both you and Robin into her comforter and head out to finish his repairs for the evening.

“Robin that was… so incredible…” You stroked her jaw as you laid in bed facing each other.

“Well sweetie, if you want to part of our little arrangement, I think we could make it happen…” Robin giggled at you as she raked her fingers through your hair.

“Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow…” And you drifted off to sleep.

#one piece anime #one piece #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #zoro x reader #law x reader #nico robin #robin x reader #franky x robin #franky x reader #one piece x reader

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marthawrites · 1 year

Text

The Gift That Keeps Giving

Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.8k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part 2 to A Gift for the Queen (pls be kind it was the second thing I wrote ♥)

About: You've happily stayed with Daemon and Rhaenyra since her birthday. They have a little game up their sleeve to play with you.

Includes: Explicit sexual content!! *takes a really deep breath* involving typical canon incest, M/F/F content, p in v, female masturbation, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), forced orgasm, orgasm denial, overstimulation, some degradation, manhandling, crying, adult language, and aftercare. With a sweet ending. WHEW. That's a mouthful. Idk friends there's a lot going on here and if I missed anything I apologize!

Note: Hello lovely reader! I'm not in charge of your imagination, but I write with the implications that Westerosi men go in raw and are uncut. Do with that info however you like. As always, reader is nondescript! Huge shout out to my girl Eliza who is just fucking awesome and I love her. This has been stewing in my brain forever and I finally was able to get it out. It's filthy. Please, enjoy! ♥

While it wasn't home, Dragonstone remained lovely. What made it even more lovely was the attention Rhaenyra bestowed upon you during the early mornings and late into the evenings. The Black Queen, despite (or perhaps in spite of) the neverending amount of responsibilities she had, had an insatiable taste for pleasure.

Her body showed all the signs of motherhood: faded stretch marks, widened hips, heavy breasts, and a soft cushion of fat around her middle. If she was beautiful before, deemed "The Realm's Delight" by her uncle-husband, then she was even more so now. Motherhood fit Rhaenyra. And in turn she was a good mom, too.

You couldn't imagine how she balanced everything on her plate. Being a caring mother, a Queen against an upsurer king, a wife… How?

Daemon and Rhaenyra, like many in their ancestry, could only be sated by the fire of a fellow Targaryen. Twin flames from somewhere deep and ancient in the earth. Together they burned. You were certain it was the passion they shared in their intimate moments that kept them in check; a contained bonfire instead of rampant wildfire.

The Rogue Prince, still standing by what he said the first night you shared with them, had yet to let you have his cock. "Whores aren't deserving of my seed." As much as you savored every second of pleasure with Rhaenyra, you ached for him.

Doing as you were told, you sat in one of their chairs and were allowed to merely watch as Rhaenyra rode her husband until sweat sheened on her skin and her legs shook from exertion. It was torture. Daemon had a beautiful cock. Thick, solid, and forever eager to be wrapped around his wife's needy cunt; seemingly as many times as she'd like. And there you were. Both of your legs draped over the arms of the chair to expose yourself wide open, fingers fucking into yourself at the show, unable to reach the kind of climaxes Rhaenyra experienced. Your fingers were half useless despite their best efforts.

"You're being awfully quiet over here," Daemon crooned, walking over to you once he and his wife were finished. Sweat sheened on him too. "Is your Queen fucking her prince so boring?"

You'd been far from quiet. A blush had taken home in your cheeks and your folds glistened with evidence of orgasm. "Never boring," you breathed in reply, looking up at Daemon from beneath your lashes.

He tutted and swatted your hand away from your center. "You are. Perhaps you need to be reminded just how loud you can get." Bringing two fingers up to your mouth he pushed past your lips until his Targaryen signet squished against the corner of your mouth. He smirked at your eager acceptance. He planted his other hand upon the back of your chair, eyes keen on you.

Were your gag reflex any weaker it would have stuttered around his abrupt intrusion. The shadow of his bulk looming over you caused a whine of anticipation to escape your throat, vibrating around his fingers.

He pulled them out and a lewd little line of spittle broke between your lip and the tip of his finger.

"My prince…," you purred, heart thumping wildly beneath your flushed chest. "I do think I need to be reminded. I haven't had a cock in sooo long… my fingers can only go so far. They are much smaller than you." Unintentionally – or perhaps wholly intentionally – your hips squirmed in a silent beg for any sort of attention he might give you.

Dark amusement swelled his pupils. "Small and pathetic," he said sardonically. "Can you even reach where you're begging to be touched?" With his question he delivered a quick smack to the fullness of your spread cunt.

You yelped, surprised, eyes popping open as a second slap followed. "A-ah!" Your legs closed in an attempt to shield yourself from his touch.

"Play nice with our sweet girl," Rhaenyra chimed from the bed. Amusement laced her words too. "We want her to be eager to play later. Isn't that right, husband?"

Flicking your attention to the marital bed you saw that Rhaenyra didn't look up or anything else – content to lay and relax in bliss for a few moments longer before getting ready for the day.

Daemon sniggered, one big hand easily parting your legs open. You weren't squeezing too hard, merely had your thighs pressed together to keep yourself protected from further taunts. "That's right," he replied to his wife over his shoulder before turning his gaze back to you. “Our favorite, and prettiest, whore.”

The weight of his gaze sent your own pupils swelling. You smiled at his praise. “Always happy to be in service of my Queen. And King.” The Prince Consort liked it when you called him that. He liked it even more when it spilled from your pretty lips in a beg for him to fuck you – a gift he still hadn’t given you. Most, though, he liked it when you and Rhaenyra half whispered it on your knees between sharing his cock.

A third slap was delivered to your cunt and you barely managed to muffle a startled whimper behind a bitten lip. “How quickly do you think you could come on my fingers?” He tilted his head in question, eyes still sharp on yours. In the same motion he squeezed the back of your chair for extra support while pushing two calloused digits into your yearning center. He knew right where to find that delightfully sensitive spot along your walls. He sought it and abused it. And, to make matters all the more lascivious, his thumb worked your clit in tandem. “You won’t get a second chance, girl. If you wish to come, then come. Now.” His pace was brutal. And wonderful. He had no shame when it came to pleasure; the obscenity of the wet slaps from his finger fucking sent you over the edge quickly.

The coil of pleasure in your belly snapped with all the force it had been wired with; a straining haste that left you gasping as if Daemon’s hand were wrapped around your throat. A moment ago you were merely under his gaze. Now, your thighs squeezed his forearm as bliss washed over you in hot waves of desperation. You whined a string of moans so sweet it sent the towering prince to near purrs.

“Say thank you,” he said, pulling his fingers from your clenching depths.

“Thank you, my prince.”

That is how Daemon and Rhaenyra left you for the day. Alone to do as you please; eager for their return. Duty called and kept them away until after sundown.

“Will Daemon not want to be present for this, your Grace?” You were barely able to whisper between heated pants.

Rhaenyra had propped pillows beneath your backside to give herself a better angle to your soaked core. Her arms were looped around your thighs so she could support herself upon her elbows. She was happily face down into you with her ass up and pointed to the door. Slowly, she lapped, and slowly, she sucked, seeming to be more than content to have you as many times as she pleased. Your fingers curled in her soft hair. It was in a single haphazard braid and you didn’t feel guilty for messing it up anymore than it already was.

A playful hum vibrated against your folds. “Even in this room I am still the Queen. If my lord husband isn’t happy with what he sees upon arrival, then, well…,” she paused, thinking. “I suppose he won’t get to play.” She returned her attention to you and your eyes rolled closed at the skill of her mouth.

Just on the edge of your pleasure, right before you were flung into the crest, the door opened and Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder to see who would come in so rudely. The peak she’d been working you towards was gone in an instant. If you were lucky, it wouldn’t take long to reach again.

“Sȳz bantis, ābrazȳrys,” good evening wife, Daemon said softly in High Valyrian – their ancestral language a thing you still couldn’t understand. “Emare kirimves?” having fun He asked with a quirk of brow.

“Kessa,” yes she replied, grinning.

By now the door was latched and locked behind him. “Ȳdra daor ivestragī nyke keligon ao,” don’t let me stop you he said and he stepped further into the room and began to disarm and undress.

Were these two ever not horny? You thought privately to yourself. Almost daily, and sometimes multiple times a day, they coupled. You’d witnessed firsthand their sex life was far from boring – and that’s only what you’ve seen! Surely you hadn’t witnessed all that their passion could bring.

“Ziry's mazilībagon, valzȳrys,” she’s set, husband Rhaenyra said with a glimmer you hadn’t seen in her eyes before. Her attention turned fully to you, then, a smolder behind her vibrancy. “Tonight it’s my turn to watch,” she cooed, delicately kissing your sensitive bud in departure.

A shudder ran through you at the combination of her words and lips. Could she really mean…? Was tonight the night you’d been waiting for since arriving at Dragonstone with the Rogue Prince? Excitement shot through you as Rhaenyra moved from the bed to the chair you normally sat in. Even fully nude she looked like a queen should. Poised. Regal: a glimmer of something mischievous or unhinged – perhaps both – right there behind her eyes.

Daemon, now nude, wordlessly beckoned you over. He stood at the edge of the bed: every burn and scar of his seasoned warriors' body on display in the low light of their room. You obeyed with barely any other thought in your head. The same glint as his wife's shown in his face. You were nothing but a play thing for them. A pretty little bird for them to clip and make sing. If Dragonstone – their room – were your cage, you cared little. Who would ever complain about being in service to the Black Queen and her Prince Consort?

"Kiss it," he said evenly, a bite of sternness behind his tone.

He wasn't yet hard. Even his flaccid manhood made your thighs clench. It was as handsome as the rest of him and you wasted no time in trailing warm kisses along his cock, reveling in the sensation of him growing harder beneath your attention. "Gonna let me have it all for myself tonight?" You asked, pumping along his length with a spit-slick hand. Your kisses were open mouthed and wet, tongue accompanying here and there.

"Be a good little whore and quit teasing. If you want it hard then make it hard. Stop this playing," Daemon sneered down at you, pinching your chin between thumb and forefinger to turn your eyes up to him. "Have you had a good day lazing about like a spoiled cat?" Head tilted with his question, traditional silver tresses catching moonlight. "No thoughts in your pretty head… daydreaming about being bent over and fucked. How does it feel to haven't anything to fret over?" A mock laced his tone – bitterness and amusement alike.

You merely smiled up at him. Taunting. "Boring…," you replied before taking his tip between your lips. He tasted warm and salty. Your head bobbed forward and backward as you worked him up the way you knew he liked it. Musk filled your nose and your core instantly clenched. You wanted nothing more than to have him thrusting in and out of you: claiming you, taking you, using you for his pleasure. And if you were lucky, Rhaenyra would join too.

He laughed dryly. "A spoiled little bitch." He twitched in your mouth. By now his cock was fully hardened and slobbery; your eyes glassy from need and strain. Whether prompted by your words or a wave of lust, he grabbed the sides of your arms, squeezing harshly, and maneuvered you around to his liking.

Before you could put it all together, you were on your hands and knees atop the bed with Daemon looming behind you. His cock seared your skin. You gasped wholly surprised and wanton as you looked up to where Rhaenyra still sat and watched; purple eyes alight with wickedness. "Your Grace…?" You asked, spine bending down tantalizingly to prop your ass firmer against the Rogue Prince. Lust consumed your blood and you gripped the plush bedclothes, cunt throbbing with anticipation.

"It's time for you to have your fun. And for me to have mine," she replied, lips pouting in a smile before flashing her teeth in a delighted expression. In her hand she held a phallic shaped object and you knew exactly what it was. The base portion that was meant to be held sparkled with an array of dazzling cut gemstones. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds. The toy the Black Queen meant to fuck herself with gleamed with enough wealth to buy youself a comfortable new life – and yet for her it was merely another thing. An object to use for pleasure as her husband fucked her sweet little pet. She looked at Daemon with a tilt of her head, her body lax and open for the voyeuristic experience. Whatever was shared between them was private, meant for only husband and wife, and Rhaenyra bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

Daemon’s hands gripped your hips and your heart thumped to a new high. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered how many other women – or men, if the rumors you'd heard of the dragon prince were true – were in this position before. Words couldn't even form on your tongue. All you could manage was a sultry connection with Rhaenyra as your eyes stayed on her. Eager. Excited. Fucking elated.

She began circling her clit right as Daemon lined himself up with you. His tip was swollen with as much need as coursed through you, and he pushed himself into your saturated core.

Immediately your jaw slackened with a lusty gasp. He was so big, and so thick, and so hot, that the air was forced from your lungs. He pushed deeper and your eyelids fluttered, fingers gripping into the smooth quilts. With a final flex of his hips and thighs, he was fully hilted into you.

The weight of his torso fell over your back. "If I were any smaller you'd be loose around me, whore," he hissed by your ear, one big calloused hand palming up the length of your spine until it reached the back of your neck. He held you there, mindful of his finger placement, before dragging his hips backwards.

You barely had time to miss the delirious stretch of him, because when he snapped forward into you, an unrestrained moan shuddered through your form. "O-oh! Yes, Daemon, please…!"

He grunted as his grip tightened around your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh that padded there. "Was it your Queen who got this cunt so wet? Or was it me?" He asked, the slaps of his pelvis against your asscheeks quickly filling the bedchamber. The natural clench of your body had his already hot blood boiling. The desire to relentlessly pound into you for his own high and pleasure clouded his mind. As much as he'd love to give into that primal part of himself, he wouldn't. There wasn't any fun in that. At least the kind of fun he and Rhaenyra were after.

"Both," you barely managed to say. He'd hardly been fucking you for longer than a few moments and already he had you cockdrunk and ready to drool into their expensive bedding. His pace and pressure hit you at all the right angles. You’d been with Rhaenyra and Daemon exclusively for a couple moons now, and you hadn’t the satisfaction of a cock in that time. The backs of your legs tightened. Your toes curled.

A dark laugh vibrated out from Daemon. "Look at you... already dazed out on my cock. Little slut. You don't get to finish yet," he said with a firm slap to your backside, pulling out and leaving you empty right before climax could wash over you. "Watch your Queen's perfect cunny take her toy." Pulling you by the hair at the back of your head, he turned your attention forward as he slid into you once again. His pace, while still as powerful, was slower this time. His balls slapped against your clit to add another level of obscenity to the lewdness of the night’s event.

The denial of your orgasm seemed to spur Rhaenyra on even more than she already was. The smooth leather wrap of the dildo shone with her slick. Her hips rolled in tandem with her wrist, and both were accented by her pants and whimpers of solo bliss. Pleasure relaxed her face. She grinned at both of you.

Wonderful tension coiled in the pit of your belly. Warm, and tight, and tingling, echoes of it reverberated throughout your entire body and your eyes closed with the sensations. Daemon’s grip hardly laxed, yet you still found the strength to push back against him to meet his thrusts. It was maddening. Beautifully maddening. Something – perhaps nothing – changed in his pace and the embers he’d been stoking threatened to combust. “I’m gon–... fuck, please, my prince… Don’t stop!”

Instantly, he pulled out of you and stopped. The entirety of his length was shiny with your arousal; even the hair of his groin was damp with you. He laughed when you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him with wetted eyelashes. “You should see yourself right now. Pathetic.”

Rhaenyra’s ministrations grew hotter and sloppier, climax seeming to threaten her as well. Unlike you, she didn’t have anyone controlling the reins. The Black Queen gave into her pleasure and allowed orgasm to take her. Panting, shuddering, and glowing, she was lovely in the throes of her peak.

The squelching of her bejeweled toy sent Daemon half-feral. He flipped you over on your back, leering down at you as he squished your thighs flat against your breasts. You were bent in half and each thrust led him to the deepest parts of your cunt. You half screamed behind your hand, jolts of white hot ecstasy webbing throughout your senses as he fucked you. “Cover your mouth again and I’ll fucking smack you,” he huffed between throaty growls, relishing the sight of you and his wife alike. She was fucking herself again, greedy for more.

This had to be part of the game they were playing. The build up of your peak only to be denied at the last second… what a cruel thing to do. Emotion swam in your eyes until they were glassy from unshed tears. “Please let me come!”

Again, he pulled out from you. Again, you glared with a half sob. The muscles of your legs shook and your scalp felt fuzzy. He wasn’t going easy on you and you wondered how long he could do this before he drowned beneath a crest too. Tears pricked from the outsides of your eyes to roll behind your ears. He almost lost it right then and there. “No,” he smirked coldly. Muscles flexed and tightened as he positioned you up on your knees: his front to your back, you facing Rhaenyra, one arm holding you flush to him as the other gripped your hip. “She likes it when you cry. Let’s show her more of those pretty tears, hm?” He rasped by the shell of your ear, pushing into your overly sensitive center.

A sheen of sweat covered Rhaenyra. The fingers of her free hand played with her clit now, too, edging her bliss as long as she could.

Daemon palmed your breasts and squeezed your nipples. His pace was near brutal now; sweat slicked between your bodies through the control and exertion. “Gods… it’s too much! Please, your Grace, my prince…!” You begged through broken moans. Just as your body began shuddering against Daemon’s, he stopped all he was doing and let his cock slip out of your bullied walls. You sobbed fully this time. Tears fell down your face. Desperation washed over you. They were cruel – both of them – never had they strung you along like this.

“Poor sweet little whore. Begging and crying. It should be your Queen you’re begging to. Let’s give her one more orgasm, yeah? Then maybe she’ll let you finish on your prince’s cock.”

As if together, Rhaenyra’s self-driven thrusts matched Daemon’s as he began taking you yet again. You couldn’t think straight. Could hardly keep your blurry eyes open. You cried out whimpered moans of their names and begged through broken syllables. It was too much. All of it was too much. Daemon’s cock felt so fucking good it took everything you could muster to not give in to your body’s primal desires.

Fresh tears clumped your eyelashes. Rhaenyra found her second climax at the sight of them. Her chest heaved with the force of it; soft abdomen rolled with the release. Creamy slick coated her dildo and her actions finally slowed before stopping; core too sensitive to take anymore.

“Come now, girl,” Daemon cooed, fingertips swiping and circling over your clit. You didn’t need to be told twice. Once your orgasm took hold of you, you nearly blacked out with its intensity. Never in your life had you experienced something like this, and if you weren't already teary you would have cried real tears with the release of such a high build up.

Your gripping and convulsing walls were too much for the Rogue Prince, too, and he barely pulled free from your depths to release his seed into the air. Ropes of it landed atop the bedding – white against the dark material – and he groaned like a beast at your back.

You slumped forward, wholly spent, and Daemon carefully moved from behind you. Laying on your belly you looked between Daemon and Rhaenyra, laughing. "Seven Hells… maybe next time there could be a little warning?"

Sweat and sex hung in the air and it took all of you a few moments to gather yourselves from the fervor of shared passion.

"That takes some of the fun out of it though," Rhaenyra answered after a few moments as she walked to you with a clean washcloth. She had a silk robe wrapped loosely around her. She bent to kiss your forehead. "You did very well for us tonight, little dove. If you truly wanted it to stop, you know all you needed was to say something."

"I know," you replied, cleaning yourself up. "Thank you."

"My lord husband wasn't too rough with you, was he?" She asked sincerely.

You laughed again and shook your head. "No, your Grace."

He smirked at your answer, as did Rhaenyra. "Good," she said. "We can all remember that for next time."

The three of you finished cleaning up with light-hearted chatter and soft touches. Afterwards, wine and a late night snack were shared. When sleep finally overcame you, all of you were a tangle of limbs and silk in the big bed.

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