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catboyieejeno · 1 year

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don't kiss and tell: 2 ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

other parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

pairings: best friend! mark + best friend! jeno + best friend! hyuck x female! reader summary: a week after the events of the kissing bet, you and the boys are having a game night. everything is going smoothly, but it seems the problem always arises when hyuck starts insisting he’s the best at something. content: non-idol au, explicit smut, cursing, pet names, drinking (everyone is tipsy), oral (f! receiving), slight poly action wc: 4.8k

masterlist

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

18+ minors do not interact !

your eyes shut tightly as though the simple gesture would make the beer you're chugging any more appetizing. from the couch, your friends whoop and clap, cheering you on.

despite their enthusiasm, you grimace at them, hiccupping.

“hyuck cheated!” the back of your arm comes up to wipe your mouth. with an exaggerated gasp, hyuck's hand flies to his chest as if your accusation could not have offended him more.

“whaaat? i did not cheat- actually, yeah, i definitely did.”

the boy yells out when you reclaim your seat beside him, landing a couple of half-hearted blows on his arm that he weakly blocks.

mark quickly recoils away from your fight, trying to protect both his red solo cup full of fizzy beer, and his last few playing cards from everyone's eyes.

"you have to drink too, then, cheater," droopy-eyed, jeno points this out from his spot on the floor where he sits, shoulders slumped and knees tucked into his chest. he lays his head onto the coffee table that has been repurposed into the night's designated gaming area, covered by an array of different cards, board games, console controllers, salt, beer cans, and a few too many lime wedges.

hyuck only whines in protest, shaking his head no, "i'm tired of playing cards," he tosses them onto the table, leaning back into the cushions with his blood-shot eyes closed.

"what? no! i was gonna win for sure this time!" mark groans.

"boohoo. you snooze, you lose, mark.” his words are somewhat slurred, spoken mockingly in a sing-song tone, “let's play another game.”

"mmm," you hum, intrigued, "like what?" the latest drink you had to chug just moments ago, thank you, hyuck, has made your cheeks glow hot, and while you're not yet drunk, you've definitely been tipsy for the last hour or so.

tiredly, you rest your head onto mark's shoulder and pat his back as he huffs, leaning in to show you his perfect hand that would have surely won him the game.

"i know! truth or dare." hyuck snaps his fingers as the idea comes to him, looking between all of you. mark finally gives up on the cards, discarding them on the table as he turns to you younger boy.

"dude, what are you," jeno snickers, "twelve?"

"jeno, truth or dare?" he pushes.

with a sigh, jeno decides to humor him and gives in, "truth," he replies, leaning back on his palms.

"is it true that you’ve been single for two years because yeeun cheated on you?”

“haha,” he mocks, “fuck your game. i’m not answering that.”

“if you don’t wanna answer, you gotta drink.” hyuck practically beams with satisfaction.

“fine.” jeno takes a swig from his cup, slightly furrowing his brows at the bitterness. he points back at the boy, suddenly more confident as an idea comes to mind, “truth or dare.”

as self-assured as ever, lee donghyuck smirks, “dare,”

“i dare you to call miyeon.”

immediately, mark snorts, taking a sip from his drink as he eyes hyuck, awaiting his reaction. as you pair the name with a face, you lift your head, gasping, “is miyeon the girl you made cry after you guys had sex?”

“that’s exactly right.” jeno nods mischievously, reaching for donghyuck’s phone and handing it to him.

“dude, no way.” he pushes it away, grabbing his cup instead, “i hooked up with her twice like four months ago and that was that.”

mark raises a brow, ”damn, were you that bad at it?”

“no!” he says incredulously, as if his question was beyond far-fetched, “i wasn’t bad at all, moron. in fact, she said i was the best head she’s ever had.” he gloats, eyebrows wiggling.

at this, you laugh. and i mean, really fucking laugh. hand-covering-your-mouth and on-the-verge-of-tears type of laugh, “yeah fucking right,” you breathe out in between giggles.

mark and jeno were just about ready to laugh in hyuck’s face too, ridicule him for bragging about something they doubted to be true, but following your reaction, they immediately bite their tongues.

hyuck turns to blink you, just as shocked as the other two boys.

"y/n... you're officially cut off." jeno pulls all the beer cans toward himself and away from you but you can only shake your head and wave him off with your hand.

“sorry,” you apologize, wiping the corner of your eye.

hyuck scoffs, “what’s so funny?”

you look between the three of them, lips parted. when you speak, your voice is bouncy with amusement, like your next words are the most obvious thing in the world:

“everyone knows guys suck at giving head.” ...cue the chaos.

“woah, what?!” jeno chokes on his spit, eyes widening.

mark puts his cup to the side, leaning in as if he might've misheard you, “there’s no way you seriously think that.”

“who the hell’s been giving you head?” hyuck retorts, sitting up straighter like he's suddenly very interested in what you have to say.

“every girl knows it." you explain plainly, "my ex was only okay at it and even then, i had to tell him what i liked a few times before he eventually got that hang of it."

now, it's the guys' turn to laugh.

hyuck chuckles in disbelief, "is that the only guy who's given you head?"

"no, there's been others." you reply with a shrug, a bit more shy with all of their eyes on you.

"like, how many, though?" the liquor was blurring all boundaries of friendship between the four of you; normally, mark would be too shy to even bring something like this up, yet here he is asking how many guys have eaten you out.

and jeno? way too respectful and modest to ask about something this, but now his eyes bore into yours, gaze unfaltering as he hangs on your every word. even lee donghyuck had never been so keen on knowing the details of your sex life.

there's a redness flourishing on your cheeks, and it's not from the beers, "...a few? i don't know. it's not like i keep count."

"none of those guys knew what they were doing, believe me."

"why should i? because one girl said you were the best she's ever had?" you mock, eyebrows raising in disbelief.

"oh," he smirks, "i'm pretty fucking good," you scoff at hyuck, crossing your arms. his eyes relax, looking at you teasingly. a line of white appears below his dark irises as he tilts his head, "what? you don't believe me?"

"no." you reply quickly.

"in all fairness, neither do i." jeno adds.

mark leans back on the couch, one arm across the top, "yeah, i gotta agree with them. sorry, man."

his tongue presses into his cheek, "alright, fine. it's my turn right? y/n, truth or dare."

you shrug, "dare."

"if you don't think my head is incredible then i dare you to let me prove you wrong."

your eyes widen. "truth." you quickly amend.

he laughs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "okay, i'll bite: y/n, is it true that you've never come from head?"

you debate not answering, but your mouth moves before your brain can finish the thought, "that's true." you're speaking barely above a whisper.

"then let me have the honor of being the first guy who-"

"well, hold on a second,” alas, you can always trust jeno to be the voice of reason, "hyuck, i'm not letting you represent. I'm definitely better than you," or not.

"i've lived with you for four years, jeno, and i never once heard you pleasuring yeeun when you were together. besides, it's been forever since you last went down on a girl. you're rusty, dude."

"i don't know. i think the best out of us is me," mark pipes up, liquid-courage taking over, "but i happen to be biased."

"woah," as the gravity of the situation registers, you hold your arms out, "you're all talking about me like i'm not here."

"you're right, princess," at hyuck's pet name, your clit pulses and you suddenly feel that much more intoxicated, even though you're barely even tipsy anymore, "so tell me, who do you want to eat you out?"

if you were completely sober, you would probably have said something along the lines of "what the fuck? ew! none of you." or maybe "who says i want any of you to eat me out?"

some snarky comment—or any comment at all, really—would've suited you just fine! but, the reality is: the mere possibility of your three best friends going down on you is causing your thighs to squeeze together subconsciously.

so of course, your words betray you, and what you end up pathetically muttering is "i-i'm not sure."

"hey, wait a second." hyuck turns to mark, then jeno, "this feels familiar, doesn't it?" the boys catch on to what he's saying, snickering quietly, "we all think we're the best right? so, why don't we make a little bet?"

you instantly whine in protest, "no, no way. i don't want you guys to make me pick a winner again."

"oh, don't worry," jeno brings a hand up to your knee, thumb rubbing your skin, "we'll definitely know who won this time around." he looks at hyuck, "trust me... we'll hear it," and you think, this may be the first time they so easily agree on something.

instinctively, you turn to your other side in search of mark who is already looking back at you through half-lidded eyes. he knew by your gaze exactly what you needed to hear.

"if this is something you want to do," his hand comes down from the top of the couch and onto your back to rub it soothingly, "then just say it, baby. we won't think differently of you. i know i speak for all of us when i say," his tongue swipes at his lips, "this will be as much fun for us as it will be for you."

you nod slowly, hips squirming, and let out a little breath. "okay. yeah, okay."

hyuck's eyes light up at your response and he shuffles back to make room in front of him, "lay down, pretty girl."

your stomach does a flip, unaccustomed to the collection of pet names hyuck is trying on you tonight, and you’re entirely sure there will be more coming from him, not to mention the other two boys.

you scoot down toward hyuck, brushing your hair to one side. behind you, mark pats his lap twice and you lie back, head resting on his thighs. when your eyes blink up at him nervously, he can't help but smile crookedly, captivated by you— so much so, that his pants get a noticeably tighter when he realizes he has the best view in the house.

"let me know if you wanna stop," mark reassures you.

"i don’t,” you mumble, keeping your voice steady despite the nerves and excitement bubbling in your stomach, “i don’t wanna stop.”

jeno sits a bit closer, "okay, but if at any point you're not sure, just let us know, yeah?"

"god, i can't wait to watch you fall apart." your head snaps back up to mark, and you clench around nothing at his words. there’s no way you haven’t pooled your panties by now, especially with the way you’re cunt is throbbing, edged on by the alcohol content in in your bloodstream.

"alright, baby. can i be honest?" hyuck asks.

you look down at him and nod your head yes, shivering when his fingers brush the hem of your shirt up a to reveal the button of your shorts and some of your stomach. a gasp leaves your lips as hyuck leans in, lips hovering over your exposed skin, breath tickling you with every exhale.

"i've imagined doing this to you many times," he continues, "you're so fucking hot." as he undoes the button and slides your zipper down, he places a single kiss above your bellybutton.

with one hand, he tugs off your shorts. they’re quickly discarded somewhere along on the floor and you're left in nothing but your panties.

now, the only thing left to cover your core from their hungry eyes is a thin, black strip of lace and cotton, and hyuck has to purse his lips to avoid drooling at the sight. his mouth is salivating, two fingers hooking around the material, "can i?" when you wordlessly nod, he purses his lips.

"tsk, tsk. try again."

"yes, hyuck. take them off.” you whisper.

he hums in approval and bemusement, removing the fabric in one smooth motion. your panties join your shorts on the floor.

every part of you is buzzing with sensitivity. the cool breeze that hits your slick makes you let out a shaky breath, and jeno chuckles from beside you.

both of hyuck’s hands slide up your bare legs and stop at your knees to gently guide them apart. he then settles between your thighs, sucking in a breath at the looks of you. your pretty folds are covered in your arousal, glistening, begging to be touched.

you can't help but feel small under the gaze of all three boys who gawk at you, growing hard in their pants at the way you're so pleasantly displayed for them.

"fuck, your pussy is so pretty." hyuck's eyes finally meet yours as he leans in to press a kiss to your thigh, one of his arms wrapping around to hold it in place, a preemptive measure, “i’m gonna make you come so hard,”

“we’ll see,” you tease, wiggling your hips slightly as if testing his grip and patience.

he only manages to scoffs at you, committed to doing it right; he wouldn’t bother to argue your lack of faith with words… as promised, he would simply prove you wrong.

you suppress a hiss as his tongue pokes out to lick a clean stripe from your entrance to your clit, eyes locked on yours and watching the way your lips part. teasingly, he kisses your sensitive bud a few times, tongue flattening against it as he seeks out how every action provokes a new reaction from you.

softly, just to test the waters, he attaches his mouth to you and sucks. when your hips slightly buck up, he takes a mental note, pulling back to lap at you again.

your core is buzzing eagerly, receptive to each new touch and sensation. everything felt fucking good, and he’s barely even begun. for the first time tonight, you think you’re definitely in over your head.

your first moan surprises you when he dips his tongue into you, fucking you with it at a passive pace, and you can’t help but lean up onto your elbows to get a better view of his face pressed into your cunt.

“you’re so beautiful,” jeno praises. his hand reaches up to hold your face and you lean into his touch, panting slightly as hyuck swipes at your folds. jeno trails his fingers down to stop at the hem of your shirt, eyes blinking at you for permission.

you nod, grabbing his hand and guiding it to push up the material of your shirt, revealing both of your breasts that sit covered by your bra. with a low groan, he squeezes one softly, still with your fingers over his, and brings the other to his pants to rub himself over the material.

mark grabs your other breast, whispering a quiet ‘wow’ in appreciation. you turn and he leans in, face properly close to yours now that you’re almost sitting yourself up. when his lips meet yours, you whine into his mouth, kissing him feverishly.

so much is happening at once, so many eager touches brushing your skin, so many sounds to listen for.

mark moans into your mouth at your kiss, jeno moans as he palms himself, and hyuck grinds into the couch, moaning into your core, shooting vibrations through you.

when you pull away from mark's soft lips, it’s because hyuck starts to pick up his pace, requiring some of the attention back on him now that he’s paid attention to and noted what you seem to like.

“oh, my god,” you mumble, letting your head fall back as your best friend works his tongue into you. your panting turns into whimpering, hips involuntarily grinding down into his mouth. the sounds get louder as he gets messier, shaking his head, arms holding your thighs down when they threaten to close.

hyuck smirks against you as he senses your desperation, taking one finger and slipping it into you as his mouth focuses on pleasuring your clit.

"how does it feel, baby?" mark whispers into your skin, lips trailing your neck and shoulder.

"so—fuck, hyuck, it feels so good," you moan out, no longer holding back. you're so close, and he knows it, so naturally, he adds another finger.

as you come, sputtering a string of incoherent pleas and praises, mark watches your face, admiring every expression you make. jeno has to stop palming himself at the risk of coming in his pants; instead, he focuses on gripping your breast and waist, squeezing occasionally.

hyuck keeps his pace up until he sees you're coming down, and only then does he slow down with you. when you recover, you're left panting, looking down at him in awe, and he feels his dick twitch. he crawls up to you, a mix of his spit and your release dripping down his mouth and chin, and kisses you. it's lewd, obscene, but you kiss him back hungrily, savoring your taste on his lips.

“not bad, huh?” he mumbles into your kiss.

“not bad at all,” you reply shakily, sitting up all the way. hyuck moves back, wiping his mouth with his thumb.

unable to wait any longer, jeno gets up from the floor, “my turn, doll. ready for round two?” he holds his hand out, which you take, standing up despite the wobbling in your knees.

“can this come off?” he tugs at your shirt. you quickly nod, pulling it over your head with his assistance. his lips find your chest and immediately, he's biting and kissing the part of your boobs that spills from the cups of your bra.

"bend over," he pulls away.

"what?"

"bend over the couch," by your hips, he spins you around, and you kneel on the cushions as instructed, grabbing onto the top and arching your back for him. when his hand comes down to land a slap on your ass, you cry out.

donghyuck, watching with intrigue from beside you, calls out to his friend, "she tastes so good, man," while he brushes your hair behind your ear.

"i'm sure she does," jeno lowers himself so that he's right between your legs. before his mouth even attaches to you, his fingers pull and tug your skin, playing with the way your thighs feel in his grip.

"are you ready, babe?"

"jeno," you start, "why do you always have to warn me before you-aah, shit," in less than a second, he's lapping you up, spitting and sucking at your folds. maybe its because you're still sensitive from your last orgasm, or maybe it’s jeno's eagerness to please you, but you find yourself writhing and squirming with every touch, much more than with donghyuck. and—when his nose bumps you in a particularly delicious way, all the while his tongue is massaging your clit—you whimper, arching even more.

he's moving his head up and down, something like a nod, to provide you with more friction, to taste more of you at once, gripping your skin tightly to hold you still or otherwise guide you where he wants you. it’s sloppy and messy, and you can’t resist moaning out his name.

“jeno, please, please don’t stop,”

you swipe your tongue at your lips to wet them and mark catches it. how could he not? his eyes have been on you all night. he reaches up, prodding at your bottom lip with his thumb. when your eyes meet his, his jaw goes slack and you mirror him, opening your mouth just enough for his digit to slip past your lips.

everything feels so overwhelmingly good in this moment—your lips wrapping around and sucking on mark's finger, hyuck pulling your bra down enough so he can pinch one of your nipples, jeno's tongue pushing into your entrance, two fingers coming up to rub your bud in quick circles—god, you feel like you're on fucking fire. each touch stands out as much as the other, each one makes your head spin and your eyes roll back.

jeno's pace hasn't let up once, and you spare a second to wonder if he's even breathing at this point.

"are you close, baby?" when you nod, mark takes his finger back, "then, say it, baby. tell me how close you are."

"i'm close, i'm so close. i'm-"

and then, it hits you.

you moan loudly, letting your head fall as jeno's fingers speed up. the sensation is almost too much, but when you try to recoil, his large hand that sits on your waist holds you still.

he's groaning into your cunt and it only makes you come harder. your toes are curling at the feeling, eyes squeezing shut. he doesn't stop or slow down like hyuck did; in fact, he keeps going until you're gasping out for air, legs squeezing together in desperation. he drives you until you're so intensely overwhelmed that you're seeing the stars behind your eyelids.

when he finally let's you go, you lean forward and prop yourself against the back of the couch as you catch your breath.

you feel him come up behind you, moving your hair out of the way to blow cool air on your neck, "y/n, that was the hottest thing ever," he mumbles and kisses your shoulder, resting his head on it.

"that was insane," you whisper, lifting your head to look at him. instinctively, he leans it to kiss you, tangling his fingers into the root of your hair. it's short and breathy, and when you pull apart to look for mark, he's no longer sitting on the couch.

your head pans around, "mark-?"

"i'm here, babe," a second after he calls out to you, he jogs over from the kitchen carrying a cold water bottle that he hands you, "drink some water, baby."

you twist the cap off and tilt the bottle back, replenishing your thirst, then handing the bottle to jeno, who chugs some down, also.

"thank you," you sigh out.

"yeah, course,"

jeno finishes the bottle and of course, hyuck instantly complains, "damn, dude, thanks,"

"you're welcome," jeno sighs sarcastically, tossing him the empty container. hyuck throws it right back, and they get distracted by that for a moment.

meanwhile, you turn to mark as he sits on the couch beside you, giving you some time to recover, which you don't bother to take. you're too interested in him, leaning in and pressing your lips to his soft ones hurriedly.

he wastes no time in kissing you back, just as delicately as he did earlier today, and just as passionately as he did last week. you crawl over so that you're closer, sucking on his bottom lip, swiping at it with your tongue.

mark hums into your mouth when your hand lands on his fully hardened bulge, "today's about you, sweet baby," he brushes your hair back, "come on, i want you to sit on my face."

your eyes widen slightly and he laughs, pulling you by the arm as he lies back and guides your hips up to his face.

"fuck, you're so pretty like this," he mumbles, eyes raking up and down your body as you hover above his face. you giggle, reaching behind your back to snap off your bra. as it comes off, you notice him staring, lips parted and teeth pressed tightly together to sound out a hiss.

"c'mere," his arms wrap around your thighs to tug you closer and you lower yourself until his mouth lightly brushes you. a shiver goes down your spine. you're so sensitive right now, on the verge of falling apart, but you need to feel mark's mouth on you.

his tongue licks you once over, then again, lingering for a moment on your clit. he kisses you there a few times, pulling away only to admire how swollen and wet you are from the events of the night.

you're starting to realize how much mark likes taking his time with you, savoring the taste of your lips before and now, relishing in the taste of your pussy. so, you intend to tease him a bit, just because you can.

one of your hands comes up to squeeze your boob, toying with your nipple, the other one running down and through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp.

he hums in appreciation, watching the way you play with yourself and stare down at him, bottom lip between your teeth.

he breathes hot air into your core when he chuckles. then, he lays his tongue flat against your core, guiding you to grind on it. you moan out quietly, practically whimpering as he sets your movements to a pace. the slurping sounds get progressively louder as his brows furrow in concentration.

"do you like that?" his voice is muffled, but you understand him nonetheless.

"yes, baby, right there," you whine, squirming a bit when his tongue moves side to side, a gesture so delectable that you react by tugging on his hair. at the pet name, falling from your lips so sweetly, exclusively for him, mark grunts into your core. he lifts his head off the couch slightly to rock you against him with more ease.

you lose track of jeno and hyuck and you can no longer hear them behind you. the only sounds now are the wet sounds coming from between your legs and the strangled moans coming from your throat.

it’s so intimate and intoxicating, the eye contact he holds with you, determined to catch every hint of desperation on your features. when he pulls away for air and you whine at the loss of contact, making him laugh yet again, "you make such pretty noises for me," one of mark's arms unwraps itself from your thigh, right hand reaching up to cup your breast. "i want you to come on my tongue,"

he attaches himself to you once more and his words send you over the edge, "mark, i'm-" the only reason you don't fall over is because as you reach for something to hold onto, mark takes your hand into his hold, intertwining your fingers. he moans into you, letting his tongue explore in you and against you until your juices are dripping down the sides of his face and his chin.

the pleasure is white hot and so unbelievably intense, melting your thoughts to mush. you’re trembling above him, bottom lip quivering from the waves of ecstasy that hit you full force.

and mark? he’s staring at you, his own hips slightly tilting up as he imagines all the other ways he could make you come. his own release is so close, the black jeans he’s wearing lending him just enough friction to groan in you again. he could come untouched just from the view you’re giving him.

when you finally still your movements, he kisses your bud and you shake a little, "you did so good." his voice is hoarse, lower than usual from the way he just devoured you.

"that was amazing," you whisper weakly, lifting yourself off of him. he pulls you in so that you're lying down, your face is level with his, "please kiss me," you plead innocently.

incapable of denying you anything, especially when you ask so politely, mark pulls you in by your jaw, kissing you softly.

"did you have fun?"

you nod, "yeah, i did. did you?"

"fuck yes. i literally almost came in my pants." he admits. you laugh and nuzzle your face into the material of his hoodie to hide the way your cheeks are turning bright red.

at the sound of feet padding against the floor, the two of you break apart slightly and turn to see jeno coming in from the kitchen, water clutched in his right hand.

"where's donghyuck?" you wonder.

"bathroom," jeno snorts, "said he had to rub one out."

"of course he did," mark sighs.

"yeah, uh, so do i... so," he clears his throat, "i'll be in my room," awkwardly, he walks away, one hand cupped over his crotch as if you and mark didn't know he was obviously turned on.

when jeno disappears behind his door, you turn back around to look at the boy you're laying on top of and- oh shit.

"oh, my god-sorry!" you rush out in a panic, lifting yourself up, "sorry, sorry!"

"no, it's fine, bab- i mean, y/n."

"i-uh, got caught up in the moment." you quickly explain, apologizing again. when you grab your shirt and panties and slip them on, mark turns around to give you privacy.

"no, you're good. it's fine, i got caught up, too, i-"

"mark, you don't have to turn around like you haven't seen me, i just sat on your face."

"right," he spins back around slowly, but not before fixing himself in his pants a bit, "do you," he sighs, calming his heart, "do you want me to get you some of my clothes so you can take a shower? you can sleep over, too, if you want. it's kinda late."

"yeah," you nod, "that'd be great."

"okay, uh, i'll take the couch. let me," his mouth is exceedingly dry, "go get you something to wear."

you finish putting on your shorts, just so you can be decent for now, as mark leaves, somehow more nervously than jeno had just moments ago.

exhausted, for more reasons than one, you lean against the couch, hands covering your face. everything that went down flashes before your eyes as you sigh heavily, busy with your thoughts.

there's simply no way you'll be able to sleep tonight.

ੈ♡˳

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chrollohearttags · 9 months

Text

sweetest release • e. jaeger

“I touch myself just thinking of you…”

it’s never easy having a bad day, but your best friend is more than happy to help you get over it.

content + themes: phone/FaceTime sex, mutual/guided masturbation, fluff + angst, pillow humping, plus size, black!fem reader, praise kink, some sweet affirmations, slight mentions of body dysmorphia + sexual harassment and discrimination (racism and intersectionality are touched on too..yeah I got a little deep in this 😭) eren being the sweetest dom :(, squirting, crying from reader (not dacryphilia), cumshot

📝: and just so we’re clear, this is not me downplaying these topics or desecrating them for just sex. This was just something I wanted to touch on a bit because I was having this conversation with someone not too long ago and it’s based an audio I heard that just made me cry so yeah 🥹

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨* ≈

“I told you, I’m fine. No need to worry about me, babyboy..promise.”

“You sure? Because I don’t think you are. You’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

“And bore you half to death with my stupid ass problems? I’d rather not.”

back and forth banter ensued in the now thirty minute conversation between (y/n) and the only person you’d allow to be on your line at this time of night..

“(Y/N), don’t ever say some stupid shit like that ever again. What do you think I’m here for?”

as you exited your bathroom, swaddled in a fluffy, warm towel and a bonnet atop your head, you’d listen to the sound of clicking buttons on the other end. Eren, your right hand and long time best friend was nearly fifty miles away back on campus at you guys’ university. Where he was a star basketball player. The two of you had just entered your sophomore year when you got offered an exciting opportunity to intern for your dream company…a marketing firm However, the one prerequisite was to relocate for a couple weeks. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing; as you were provided pretty cozy living amenities in a five star hotel overlooking the beach but considering the fact that you didn’t necessarily get along with the rest of the potential recruits. You were feeling a bit down, especially after one of the other interns made a rather off comment about your ‘full, voluptuous figure’ and ‘giant afro’ in comparison to your very..thinner, paler cohorts and how it could be a distraction. Normally, you’d be quick to flash on someone but this wasn’t a chance you’d get again so you had to bite your tongue. Fortunately, the execs did not tolerate this outlandish commentary and sent his ass packing but you were still a little self conscious. Of course, you confided in Eren about this and he was pissed. Saying how he’d whoop dude’s ass if he was there and not to let his stupid remark get to you. But it made you feel cheap..as if your body and hair would deter you from doing your job!

“Listen, don’t let that dumbass make you feel bad about yourself. He’s gone now..hell, if you send me his address, I might pay him a little visit.” Winking into the camera, which you’d just shrug off because you knew he was serious! It wasn’t the first time he had beat someone’s ass in your honor and he’d do it time and again. Besides, he didn’t like the idea of somebody eyeing his girl. Whether you guys were dating or not, you were forever his. As he clicked away at his PlayStation controller, you continued getting ready for bed. Still sporting nothing more than that fluffy bath linen.

“…I wish I looked like everybody else sometimes..” The sudden declaration taking Eren off guard because he truly couldn’t understand as to why you’d feel that way all of a sudden. Granted, he wasn’t in your shoes and being objectified would make anyone uncomfortable but you had nothing to worry about anymore. Outside of that one incident, your trip had been a very positive experience. Everyone was super kind and no one else had even dared to make such a stupid comment. They were truly committed to making their future, potential employees feel welcomed and safe. Not to mention, you were beautiful..stunning. He told you that everyday. But that wasn’t the true reason you felt so down..

“Like, every time I feel good about myself or think I look good, somebody reminds me that I’m different..shit’s annoying, y’know? If it’s not my size, it’s my color. If it’s not my color, then it’s the way I speak or a fucking hairstyle. Can’t do anything right, I guess..I don’t know what to do, baby boy. I just want to be seen for my hard work and not my appearance. I can’t change who I am and I shouldn’t have to—“

by this point, you were feigning back some serious tears and Eren had heard quite enough of this! He couldn’t believe that the girl he first met in choir class his freshman year of high school..the one he nearly stared a hole through because he thought you were so pretty was even considering that you were anything less than perfect. The same one that saw his little nerdy ass and befriended him without a second thought. You guys had come a long way in your roller coaster of a relationship but too far for him to sit here and let you sit here and talk about yourself like this. Understandably, he’d never be able to walk a day in your shoes or understand your hardships, navigating this life as a woman with your skin tone or body type but he wanted you to feel as if this was your world and everyone else on this bitch was just living in it. None of that ever mattered to him, he wasn’t raised like that and it infuriated him that people were so ignorant! It wasn’t a topic that you guys avoided either. If he was going to be in your life, he wanted to truly hear everything you went through. From people that looked like him down to the guys that looked like you, everyone had an opinion or negative thought. You were over it. He may not have been there physically but he was going to be with you..mind, body and spirit to help you. And he had just the plan.

“(Y/N)…lay down.”

the sudden shift in his voice and tone catching you slightly off guard, so much so, you’d ask him to repeat his rather off request.

“What are you talking—“

“Just lay down and please don’t argue with me. I promise this isn’t another one of my stupid jokes.”

you had no idea what it was he was planning but alas, you followed his command regardless. Slowly, you’d crawl on to the bed and lie flat on your back. By now, your phone was lying on the night stand and you couldn’t see him but you could hear your best friend’s voice loud and clear. Which was more than enough for what he had planned. And indicative of his tone, he was pretty serious about whatever scheme was circulating his mind.

“I’m laying down, just like you said..now what?” And nothing could truly prepare you for what was about to transpire but he promised he was going to make you feel ten times better..

“Good, so close your eyes for a second and just take a couple deep breaths…you’re so tense right now, I can feel it from here.”

and he was right! Your jaw was clenched tight enough to shatter your teeth into tiny pieces. So you’d do as he asked and take in a deep breath before exhaling. Repeating the same step three times until you felt that tension ease up a bit. Just as you went to get up, he’d command you right back down, telling you that this little makeshift therapy session was far from finished. “Just listen to me for a second..I know it’s hard going through what you do. People are assholes, what else can I say? It pisses me off, it always has and trust me, I’d fight the whole world for you if I could make it go away but I can’t..and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, pretty girl. I’m sorry they don’t see your worth. But I don’t ever want to hear you think any less of yourself just because they’re too fucking stupid to see past their own prejudice.”

you guys weren’t exactly expecting this conversation to become so deep and intense but now that it was, he wanted you to focus on pouring that energy back into yourself. To stop thinking about people who were committed to misunderstanding you and only worry about yourself. It was all about his precious (y/n) right now. Just then, you began to sniffle a bit and your face flushed with holding back from crying but this was only beginning.

“Ren..”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything right now. I just want you to feel good. Only tears I wanna see are the ones of joy, alright?”

his next order was for you to truly get in tune with your own body. Let all of those emotions out and not bottle them up as you had done so many times before. As you lied there, hands folded across your stomach and eyes shut, still clothed in that towel, he’d ask you to slowly remove it and unfold it to either side..rendering you nude. He couldn’t see you at the moment, but if he were there right now..he’d give you the sweetest kisses. Starting at your lips, down your neck and even to your thighs…he’d peck you all over so gently whilst rubbing your soft, gorgeous skin and tell you how beautiful you were..that he loved every inch of you and everything about you. But he’d settle for doing it vicariously.

“Take your hands and just feel down your body for a second..it sounds weird but try it. Real slow..don’t even look. Just touch yourself.” and not in a sexual way either..he had quite the reason for this as well. One you had never truly thought of. “I used to struggle with the way I looked for a long time. It seemed like no matter what I did, I’d never get bigger. Even when I worked out, I was still small. Turns out, I had a lot of growing up to do..and a lot of vegetables to eat.” Prompting you both to laugh. “But I realized that even if I done all of that to change how I looked on the outside..if I felt the same about myself on the inside, there was no point. So as corny as the shit sounds, being comfortable in your own skin is the key.”

everything he was saying was beginning to make sense and the tension in your body was starting to dissolve..slowly, you’d caress your skin..from those supple breasts, pudgy tummy and down to your thick thighs..feeling every line, bump and curve and falling deeper in love with it as the seconds passed. That quiver in your lip turned to a smile. That slight tremble in you turned to complete relaxation and your mind went to a place of tranquility. One where you imagined Eren hovering above you right now with his hands on your hips as he kissed below your bellybutton. On your mound and all..but he didn’t want you thinking that far yet.

“Do you feel yourself, baby? How beautiful you are?…how soft your skin is?…that body is perfect. It goes through so much..so many things me and no other man could ever imagine but it’s still perfect.” his words, voice and all so soothing and alluring. Like a giant, comforting hug after a long day. Exhaling softly, you’d continue touching all over your body, in no specific direction at all but that was about to change. “Mhmmm. I can feel it.” “Yeah? Well, I wanna hear you say it..I wanna hear you say how beautiful you are. Tell me right now.” you’d repeat the words back to him as he called out the cadence. “I’m beautiful..my body is beautiful.” “That’s right. And you’re so in love with yourself that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks because you look in the mirror and you see perfection. You see someone God took his time on. A work of art. You’re priceless..” his affirmations were about to make you burst into full blown sobbing yet again but you’d hold it together, repeating everything he said just as he instructed. He could tell you these things all day long but until you truly said it, believed and felt it yourself, you’d never overcome that hurdle. So a few seconds later, he’d ask you to cup your breasts..groping those soft tits in your palms and soft pinching your nipples, you awaited his next move. You’d shift the phone so that you could see him but he requested that you keep your eyes closed. The sole point was to solely be in tune with yourself right now..

“There you go..rub on your titties for me.” it may have sounded as if he was gassing you for no reason but every word he spoke, he meant it. “You know many people would pay for what you have? You’re so fucking fine, baby. You have no idea.” He knew many girls that would constantly ask him who did his best friend’s surgery because you were so thick and stacked. Saying that you were like a goddess..and he agreed. He would kiss the ground you walked on if it was allowed! And of course, he’d ask you to tell him what you loved about your body, and even if it seems redundant, it was necessary. The more you spoke it into existence, the more you’d believe them. Suddenly, he’d tear you began to whimper and moan, thinking of how cute you looked. Squirming on that bed, especially when he began to fill your head with all of the desires he had as well. “Those pretty little nipples too…you always liked having them played with too. I wish I was there to kiss them, lick them…” his voice so sensual and loving as always when he spoke to you. He had this nature about him that made you so easily submit..

“So you’re gonna do it f’r me. Gonna touch yourself wherever I say, right?” “Mhmph! Yeah..”

he couldn’t help but to smile at your sudden falter in voice as the sensitively of those buds increased and your experienced your first pang of pleasure. He wanted you to absorb all of those sweet things he said to you…internalize them and never forget who you were. Carefully eyeing you, his phone angled from an upright position where you could see his abs and handsome face. “Good girl..now run that hand down your stomach..just feel on it. How soft it is. It’s my favorite part of you, honestly. I love when you let me kiss on it. Lay my head on it when you come over..” He was so pleased to see you following his command and letting him take control. He wanted to completely reset your mind. Just then, Eren would shuffle in his seat and watch as your tongue spilled from between your lips. “P-play with me, ‘Ren. Wanna see you too..” and of course, he was elated to join in. Wiggling his hips, he’d work them down until his lower half was exposed and his cock sprang out, slapping against his bellybutton. He’d cup his shaft and run his fingers along the veiny part, which made him suck his teeth.

“See what you do to me, pretty girl? ‘M so hard just thinking about you. Nobody else makes me feel like that.”

slowly, he began to stroke himself..all whilst trying to maintain that dominion. But the more he imagined doing these acts, the less disciplined he became but for you? He pulled himself together. He still had far more to dote on you about. “Tell me, pretty girl. How do you feel right now? Be honest with me.” Checking in as he kept massaging himself and stealing glances as you squeezed, touched and admired your own flesh. “I’m good…feeling so much better.” “I’m so glad, baby. That’s all I wanna hear..all I—ahh shit.” Becoming one with yourself was some of the best advice you’d ever received. You’d begin to feel faint twitching between your thighs, prompting you to brush against a pillow you had meshed between them. Eren would definitely notice and grant you permission to grind on it, chuckling.. “Go ahead, baby..rub your clit against that pillow. Anything to make yourself feel good right now…this is all about you. Don’t hold back for me or anyone else.” and like a helpless pup, you’d rut your hips into that silk lined linen and bite down on your thumb as you pictured him down there, flicking his tongue against your wetness and eating you out slowly. Hiding your face into your palm, you’d work yourself over and try to feign those expressions.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to be ashamed of it…you deserve this. You work so hard and God, I’m so proud of you, (y/n). My babygirl always handles her business, stays on her shit..I’m so in love with you. Not just for the way you look but your mind, your soul..it’s all so beautiful..you deserve all the love, the care…to be given everything you want, baby.” in combination with those sweet words and your clit being massaged, (y/n) began to work yourself into a tizzy; pleasured senseless and drooling as that orgasm began to build in the pit of that plump little tummy; which collided with the pillow. Still pinching those nipples and whining out, you’d cry out for Eren, begging him to keep encouraging you. To give you those instructions and what to do next…alas, he’d keep thrusting up into his own enclosed fist and release a chorus of sexy grunts.

“I’d give you everything you want. The type of love making you deserve. I’d let you know how beautiful you are while I’m fucking you slow. The type of deep strokes you love so much. The ones where you’re digging in my back..calling me daddy and telling me not to stop. They’re my favorite too, baby..I’ll fuck you just like that when you come home.” he was so vocal, outright letting you know exactly how he felt. And there wasn’t a single doubt that he was bluffing. He was obsessed with you! Literally so infatuated that he wanted nothing more than to be with you right now. To hold you close and protect you from anyone who thought you were less than amazing. Those dimmed green eyes focused on you as he tried to ward off the urge to come right now. He had to get you there before he could..but first…“You’re so close now though…I know you wanna come. Let all that stress out but I need you to do one last thing for me, okay? Flip over..” and without hesitation, you’d roll over onto your back, still clutching that pillow between your fingers and legs, holding onto it as you were afraid if you halted that friction, you’d combust right now. However, he knew exactly what you needed for that final push. You’d spread your legs wide open, massaging that overstimulated center for as long you could withstand and suddenly, you’d find yourself writhing atop those crisp sheets.

“I can’t let you come until I hear you say it..until you tell me that you love yourself as much as I do.”

and just then, all of those positive comments and self love he forced you to pour back into your own psyche plagued your mind. They deeper in and you came to the realization he had been waiting for you to reach. Exhaling and gasping sharply, (y/n)‘s back arched and you clutched the sheets, crying out his name as you neared that peak even further. “I-I love myself. I love myself so much! Oh my gosh!…” in that moment, Eren flashed a warm smile, and praised you for your resilience. “Good girl…now, same time..”

right on the brink of climatic bliss, you rubbed until you could no longer hold back and simultaneously, the two of you released all of that tension and built up arousal. A flood of juices splattering the mattress and a flood of emotions hitting you like a truck. Like a tightly wrapped bow..a spring coiled too high..you let it all go and it felt..

“So good…so fucking good! Shit…”

just then, Eren would glance over, still strumming out and playing with strings of his own nut to see you in full blown hysterics. Crying those sweet tears of joy he had hoped for and he was equally as happy. “Good, baby. That’s all I need to hear. I don’t ever want you hurting..feeling bad about yourself. Not as long as I’m around.”

and you knew it to be true, especially after tonight. Something told you, you would never have to worry about a bad day or clouds over your head with an amazing man like him in your life.

“As long as you keep letting me love you, pretty girl.”

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professional-yapper · 3 months

Text

You

Lo'ak x Tayrangi! Reader

Warnings: mistaken identity kind of, teens having fun, arranged marriage, fighting/arguments, how they meet is very 101 Dalmatians and i love it, they're both oblivious asf

Neytiri sent Lo'ak to go collect fruits from the grove near the other end of the Omaticaya territory. Normally he'd complain about extra chores, but not today. It was one of the better tasks to be landed with, anyway, even if it would consume his whole day.

But then Jake said Lo'ak could take his ikran, and that would cut the journey in half at least. Maybe more, since Lo'ak, like every other teenager, was all too fond of letting his ikran set the pace. Which, more often than not, simply meant break-neck speed, especially since Lo'ak's ikran was as young as himself in ikran years, according to Neytiri, and just as headstrong.

Lo'ak's ikran, named Spitfire by Jake in one of his rare moments of fatherly affection, was raring to go, practically launching himself into the air the second Lo'ak settled on his back and made the bond.

Kiri had, at one point, taken to calling the ikran Spitty, resulting in Lo'ak pitching a fit and pulling her hair, which then meant days of not speaking to each other. Lo'ak still got sulky every time he remembered the undignified name.

Lo'ak whooped, punching his fist in the air, gripping tightly with his thighs and trusting Spitfire not to let him fall, or at least to catch him if he did. The wind whistled past him, snatching at his braids, whipping a brisk flush into his face.

It was a good day. The sun was already high in the sky, warm on his back despite the wind. The air was heady with the scent of flowers coaxed into bloom by the warm weather, even at this height.

Spitfire, after a little urging from Lo'ak, evened out, gliding smoothly through the sky, occasionally letting out a screech of contentment. Lo'ak settled back, keeping one hand on the handle and feeling for the pouch strapped across his hips Neytiri had given to him to store the fruits in, making sure it was strapped on securely.

It wouldn't take him long to gather enough fruits to satisfy Neytiri. Maybe a few hours.

Maybe more if he decided to take a nap. Lo'ak loved naps, especially deep in the forest amidst the undergrowth, where he could burrow himself into the sun-warm grass and no one would bother him for hours. He probably liked them so much because they restored all the energy he burned living up to Jake's expectations. Very high expectations.

Yeah, he could use a nap. It was just that kind of day.

And it would give him time to think, too. About what his parents had told him a few days ago. About how, since Neteyam had mated with the youngest child of the Olangi olo'eyktan, Lo'ak would do the same, but with the only child of the Tayrangi olo'eykte.

It would benefit the Omaticaya, Neytiri had soothed him, smoothing a hand over his braids. These kinds of unions would prevent any conflict and better the relationships with other tribes. Jake, on the other hand, had told him there was no wriggling out of it, and he'd be mating with this stranger before the end of the year whether he liked it or not.

Comforting, right?

Neteyam had tried to comfort him over it. It was easy for Neteyam. He and his mate were arranged too, but they were crazy about each other, and Neteyam had always wanted to settle down and have a mate of his own and a family anyway. It was why he'd bent so easily to their parents' decision.

And it was easy for Kiri too. She was their dad's favourite, his babygirl. She wouldn't get married off to Aonung or some other guy if she didn't want to. Lucky shit.

Tuk was... well, she didn't have to worry about marriage for a good while yet.

But Lo'ak did. He didn't care about maintaining good relationships with other tribes, or having a mate of his own and settling down. He didn't care about any of that shit. He just wanted his freedom, and the freedom to choose who he mated with. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently so.

Spitfire shrieked, and a ripple of confusion and panic hit Lo'ak through the bond, right as something large and colourful shot past them like a flash of lightning.

Lo'ak caught a glimpse of a face with an equally panicked expression, then swore as Spitfire reared and shrieked again. Though this time, instead of confusion in the bond, all Lo'ak felt was a sudden burst of childish joy, right before Spitfire dived after the other ikran.

Lo'ak yelled in exhilaration as both ikrans went into a nosedive, and crouched low over Spitfire's back, knuckles going white as he tightened his grip. It was dangerous, and if his parents found out, he'd never hear the end of it, but they weren't here now and Lo'ak found this was too much fun for him to care.

He whooped, and heard an answering cry from the rider of the other ikran below, you, which made something in his heart twist with further excitement.

Spitfire was uncontrollable with the excitement of having what was probably another young ikran to play with, and Lo'ak let him have his head, content to just go along for the ride.

The other ikran straightened out before it hit the canopy, and Spitfire followed, flying alongside, steadying himself with a few flaps.

"Sorry," you called, face flushed and apologetic, but then began laughing breathlessly. "Great Mother, I am so sorry! Kikorangi- my ikran- saw you down below and he just took off-"

"It's okay," Lo'ak shouted back, smiling uncontrollably at you. You were probably the most attractive person he'd ever seen, so one couldn't exactly blame him for being so quick to forgive you for the scare. "But I've never seen you before. You're not Omaticaya, are you?"

He didn't have to ask. He knew you weren't. You looked like a young warrior from another tribe, like him. Your skin was covered in a pearly white paint, in swirling patterns. It was mesmerising.

"What?" you called, then raised your eyes skyward, laughing again. "I can't hear you. Wait there."

Lo'ak blinked, confused, as you steered your ikran up and over his head, flying along above him. He tilted his head back, looking up, trying to see what you were doing, only to nearly smack heads with you. You were performing some risky manoeuvre, sliding around to the underbelly of your ikran, gripping on with only your thighs, swinging upside down and smiling at Lo'ak, eyes bright and beautiful, nose nearly brushing against his.

You chuckled at his stunned expression, then righted yourself and leapt down onto Spitfire, breaking the bond with your own ikran. Spitfire jerked at the foreign addition to his cargo, and tilted his head, shooting you a baleful look.

Lo'ak stiffened as you seated yourself behind him, one arm loosely around his stomach, making his abs tense beneath your warm skin, your thighs pressing against his own. "Sorry, what were you saying?" you asked airily, mouth next to his twitching ear, like this wasn't the most intimate position he'd ever been in.

Words failed him. He could only hold very still, in the hopes you wouldn't become uncomfortable and move away. He liked having you there, the weight of your body against his back comforting.

But you shifted back, away from him, laughing again, and the sound rang through his mind, etching itself into the walls of his skull. "Sorry," you apologised for a third time. "I didn't mean to freak you out."

"It's okay," Lo'ak replied almost robotically, words feeling clumsy and foreign on his tongue. Great Mother, get it together! he told himself firmly. There's a beautiful warrior cuddling up to you, wanting to talk and all you can say is it's okay?!

He forced himself to relax, turning his head and smiling crookedly at you over his shoulder.

Your face was like the sun. You seemed to be lit with a golden, gleaming warmth from the inside out, and it honestly made him a little dizzy.

"I was just asking what tribe you're from," he repeated.

"Tayrangi," you answered blithely. "You must be Omaticaya, I guess."

Lo'ak nodded, noting that you were from the same tribe as his future mate. He didn't want to bring that up, though, figuring if he was to have any chance with you he shouldn't bring up his imminent union.

Even though he wouldn't be able to pursue you because of said union... What the tribes didn't know couldn't hurt them, right?

"That's sick," Lo'ak said, smiling that same lopsided smile at you. "Never met any from the Tayrangi before."

"Never met an Omaticaya before either," you grinned back, leaning back on your hands.

"Am I living up to your expectations?" he teased, gathering all his courage to do so, ears drooping slightly in apprehension of your response.

"Who said I had any expectations?" you teased back, nudging the back of his thigh with your knee, sending hot flames of want up his spine.

Lo'ak rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his delight at finding someone who could match him blow for verbal blow. "Oh, come on!" he scoffed. "You came all the way here, you must've thought about what we'd be like at some point!"

"Maybe I did," you agreed, and the glint in your eyes told him you were being purposefully elusive.

"Go on, then," he encouraged. "Am I everything you hoped?"

You pretended to think, finger pressing into your chin, eyes fixed on the clouds above. Then you smiled again. "Nope."

Lo'ak scoffed again, preparing to fire back some surely witty retort, before you inched forward again, leaning on his back, arm tightening around his middle again, pressing your lips to his ear decisively.

"You're better."

@frogletscribe

Woohoo done! Proud of this one tbh everyone enjoy x

#avatar #avatar x reader #atwow #avatar 2 #avatar fanfiction #neteyam #loak #neytiri #jake #jake sully #loak x reader #lo'ak x reader #loak fanfiction

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didhewinkback · 13 days

Text

thirty, flirty and thriving

a something old blurb for the birthday boy. 2 and a half months late but who's counting

word count: essentially 3k, warnings: none

---

He can feel tears prick his eyes the second they all start in on the song. All of his favorite people in one place, just for him, gathered around the cake you’re holding up. Suppose he’s someone who cries at birthdays now.

He’s just…bloody overwhelmed. Perhaps it’s all the tequila flowing through his veins but it feels like more than that. Thinking about how you somehow managed to surprise him with all these people to celebrate his birthday, that his friends - some of whom he hasn’t spoken to in ages, ranging from the lads from school to the friends he made in LA when he was 22 - all made the trek to London to be with him tonight. How he’s often the youngest in his group of friends and how it feels like just yesterday that meant being 19 in a group of 30 year olds and now it's being 30 in a group of friends on the other side of 40.

He’s fucking thirty.

It should send him into a spiral about where the time has gone and how it went by so bloody quick but right now, he’s just grateful for where it’s landed him. Right here. Surrounded by his favorite people on the planet, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the woman he’s going to marry, his best friend in the entire world. Ten years ago, he was getting monstrously drunk at a club with Grimmy and their mates, feeling both on top of the world and more alone than ever in ways only an incredibly famous 20 year old can. But here and now, he feels settled. He feels good. Like he’s lived a thousand lifetimes but also like he’s just getting started.

“....happppy birthday to yOouUuUou” everyone sings, all eyes on him as they wait for him to blow out the candles. He places his palm to his chest, trying to lock eyes with as many people as humanly possible, trying to say thank you with a look, doesn’t want to do a speech, not now. He just loves these people, he loves this life, he loves his birthday and –

He feels an elbow in his side and looks over at you, your face aglow from the absurd amount of candles you’ve squeezed onto the cake - he’s 30, not 87, thanks - your eyebrows raised in expectation.

“Cake’s fucking heavy, mate” you say and he throws his head back in laughter, smacking a kiss to your head before looking back out at the party.

“Sorry - know the wax ‘s getting everywhere, but just wanted to say -” he says, taking a deep breath, vision blurring a bit. “‘M so lucky and feel so grateful to you all for being here. Thank you’s never going to be enough. But you’ve all made me into the man I am today ‘nd I wouldn’t be me without you. So thank you and I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And with that, he takes a deep breath, squeezing you close and making a wish, wishing for every birthday to feel just like this, for the ability to make everyone in this room feel like they’re making him feel now as he blows all the candles out in one swoop. The party erupts in cheers and whoops and he barely has time to press another kiss to your cheek before he’s pulled back into the fray, bombarded with an endless stream of hugs, kisses, people rubbing his head and pressing glasses of tequila into his hand. He just feels like he could burst, is the thing. A room full of people who know him and love him and don’t want or need anything from him, just want to celebrate him for who he is. They’ve turned the music back on and he sways his hips and stomps his feet as he knocks back another glass, letting the beats wash over him as he gets lost in the crowd of friends.

It’s later, he’s tucked in a booth with the lads as he takes in the room around him, though it’s spinning a bit more than it was before. Tom’s got his arm around him and is telling the 18th embarrassing anecdote of the night, trying in vain to bury the fact that just moments ago he got a bit teary when he spoke about the first time they met. And that’s when he sees you across the way, laughing about something with Johnny. His eyes trace the line of your neck as you tilt your head back, the curve of your jaw, and then, as if you can sense him, your eyes lock with his.

It never gets old, this. It feels like electric currents are buzzing through his system when you smile at him, that just for him smile, as he tilts his head towards the doors leading out back, once, twice, three times, topping it off with a dramatic roll of his neck until you’re smirking, already making your way up to stand. He taps Tom on the thigh before sliding out of the booth and making his way over to where you’re waiting by the doors, instantly wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as the two of you duck outside.

It’s cold, but the heaters and fire pits around the patio help and he wraps himself around your back, matching you step for step as you head over to the corner railings, away from any prying eyes. You lean against the railing, looking up at the night sky, what you can make of it from the city lights. He wraps his arms tighter around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Y’ cold?” he asks and you’re shaking your head but he feels you shiver against him and that’s all the answer he needs, already pulling his suit jacket off despite your protests, and holding it out for you to put it on. “C’mon, ‘s my birthday wish.”

You shake your head and snort, sliding your arms into the jacket and turning around, wrapping your arms around his waist as you smile up at him. He shuffles you a bit closer to the heater, pressing a kiss to your cheek, brushing his knuckle along your jaw.

“Good birthday?” you ask softly and he’s already nodding, can’t believe you’re even asking.

“The best,” he says, “Can’t believe you did all this.”

“You really had no idea?”

“Surprised the shit out of me.” he says. “Y’ always get stressed when we’re running late for dinner so that’s the only reason I thought y’ were being jumpy.”

“Oiii–” you say, slapping him lightly as you laugh. “Not my fault you took ages to get ready. Man’s early for everything but the second you tell him what time to meet at a restaurant, he moves in bloody slo mo.”

“Heeey.” he whines, but there’s no heat behind it, pulling you closer and laughing when you do.

He can hear the party raging on from out here and he still just can’t wrap his mind around it. That he’s 30. That he’s gotten to live the life he has over the last ten years and he has all those people in there to thank. He’s bowled over, the love in that room radiating through his every pore. Not sure he ever knew he could be this loved.

He can feel your eyes on him and knows you’re letting him gather his thoughts, content to just stand there and patiently wait until he’s ready. Letting him do what he needs to do. Never pushing, or prying. Just knowing him. And loving him. And there’s just something about that, isn’t there?

“‘M just like…” he starts to say, stopping himself when he feels emotion clog his throat. “I cried 10 times already. Bloody Cal is here.”

“Easiest party planning of my life,” you say back softly, tightening your arms around him. “Everyone said yes immediately, they were so excited to celebrate you. Everyone in there really, really loves you.”

His breath gets caught in his throat at that, blinking back the tears that seem to permanently reside in his eyes tonight. He rests his hand along the side of your face, dragging his thumb along your jaw. Not sure what he did to get nights like this, to get you looking at him like that. He’s so, so lucky.

“I really, really love you.” you say softly and he just - he can’t explain the noise that escapes him as he crashes his lips against yours, tightening his grip on your jaw as he kisses you the way he’s been thinking about all night. You sigh against his lips as he pulls you impossibly closer to him, lips not daring to leave yours for a second, kissing you over and over again.

He could stand here forever, kissing you like this, but he has to breathe, eventually. He pulls back slowly, kissing along your jaw, cheek, temple before burying his head into your neck. You slide your arms up his back, hugging him around the neck and pulling him close, your hand coming up to rest at the nape of his neck, scratching at the short hairs there. You just stand there for a minute, wrapped up in each other and this may just be his favorite part of the night. There’s something about knowing he’ll always have this. Your arms to fall into. And that’s the greatest birthday present a lad could ask for.

“Thank you so much for all this,” he mumbles into your ear. “Best birthday ever. Proper birthday.”

His heart skips a beat when he hears your delighted laugh, pulling back to get a glimpse of your face, the way your eyes are glowing as they stare back at him.

“I can’t believe you remember that.” you say with a laugh. “You were pissed and burning your mouth on a cheese toastie almost a decade ago when you said that.”

“Mmm, a cheese toastie,” he says, giggling at your eye roll. “Course I remember it. Think it every year. ‘S not a proper birthday unless you’re there. I love you so, so much.”

“Thanks for being born,” you say softly, leaning into his touch. “Greatest thing to ever happen to me. You.”

“Baby - ” he breathes out, but can feel emotion clogging his throat again, trying in vain to blink away the tears your words made spring to his eyes. His thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hand shaking not just from the cold. A lifetime of knowing you and you still make him weak at the knees.

“Y’ make every day feel like my birthday, y’ know that?” he says softly, feeling like he’s found the right words for the first time tonight. “This party ‘nd this night is incredible. But nothing - nothing - compares to getting to go home with you every night. Greatest gift I ever got.”

He can see the words hit you, the deep breath you take as your eyes rake over his features, smile twitching at your lips as you look at him with such love in your eyes he feels his heart skip a beat. You’re looking at him like you always look at him, really, really seeing him with nothing but utter love in your eyes. God. There aren’t words for that, are there?

You pull him in, kissing him hard, like you’re trying to pour every ounce of love from your mouth to his and he’s more than happy to drink it up. Drink you up. Drink you in. His favorite taste, his favorite mouth, his favorite person on his favorite day.

His hands squeeze you tighter, living for the way you lean into his touch as it rakes down your back, settling on your bum. He could lose himself in this, in you. But you both seem to become aware of your environment at the same time, deep kisses slowing into gentle pecks before you drag your lips up his jaw, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you pull him close, hugging him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist as he sinks into your hold. He nuzzles his head into your neck, breathing you in, as he slowly sways the two of you, the party mere background noise to the sounds of your steady breathing, the feel of your hands carding through his short hair.

It’s a while before he moves, slowly, begrudgingly, pressing a kiss to your neck and tightening his arms around you before mumbling, “I’ve got a crazy idea,” into your skin.

He lifts his head to look at your face, can see your eyes twinkling, already bracing yourself for what he’s about to say, already in on the joke. It’s a bit he’s been doing every few weeks at this point, ever since you set the date.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” you ask, unable to stop the smile growing on your face as you slide your arms down his shoulders, resting your hands on his biceps.

“Was thinking - since y’ did such a good job planning this party… what do y’ say we throw another one? Like, end of June maybe? Right after your birthday?” he says, pretending to actually mull over those dates, trying to remain deadly serious while your lips twitch into a smile.

“Hmm. I think I could be down for that.”

“Yeah? Same guest list, bit more of your friends. Some family maybe. Could do it in Italy, near the house.” he says, trying to keep up the bit but the reality of what he’s saying is catching up to him, the familiar tears making an appearance again as he chokes out his next words. “Y’ could wear white.”

“And you could wear a suit.” you say softly, eyes never wavering from his. “Maybe get a new ring.”

“Yeah. You’d like that?” he asks, bringing his hand up to your face when you nod. “You wanna marry me, baby?”

“I really, really do.” you say, the look in your eyes making his heart beat out of his chest.

“Four months,” he says quietly, almost in disbelief of his luck, his life. “You’re gonna be my wife in four months.”

He can’t tell who moves in first after that, both of you clutching on for dear life as you just about snog the living daylights out of each other. He’s never wanted to ditch a party more in his life. Just wants you, your bedroom, and several hours to even begin to express all he’s feeling right now, all he wants. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you.

You softly moan into his mouth and he just about loses his mind, thinking about he’ll have a lifetime of getting that sound out of you, just for him. He pulls you impossibly closer as he drags his tongue over yours, keeping your jaw in a tight grip. He could die here, actually. He’d die a happy man, being slowly taken apart by your mouth.

“Oiii!!!” Johnny’s voice through the open door has the two of you springing apart in shock, though he doesn’t let you get far, burying his head in your neck as he moves his hand off your jaw to flip Johnny off.

“If you’re both done rubbing against each other out here –”

“Oh grow up, Johnny!” you shout at the same time Harry lets out a “You wish!” that has you smacking him against the head as he laughs.

“The Holmes Chapel lot did promise Hometown Hero over there a birthday shot.” he slurs and Harry begrudgingly pulls away from you to twist towards the doors, pulling your back into his chest as you both face Johnny, his hands resting on your shoulders. “And we’ve been waiting bloody ages –”

“So bloody dramatic,” you huff and Harry laughs, pressing a kiss to the back of your head.

“We’ll be right in,” he says watching as Johnny rolls his eyes, holding up a hand to indicate “you’ve got one minute”, as he turns back inside and closes the door behind him.

“Suppose we better go in,” you say, turning to look at him over your shoulder and he all but swells with pride at the look of you, the swollen lips and slightly messy hair. He tilts your chin a bit more towards him and kisses you once more, squeezing your shoulder before taking a step back. You shrug out of his jacket despite his groan, handing it back to him as you bring your hands up to attempt to smooth down your hair.

“Let’s go, old man.” you say and he squawks, sliding the jacket back on before giving you a cheeky smack on your bum, which you try in vain to dodge before reaching for his hand, interlacing your fingers and heading back into the fray.

The night spirals from there in the best possible way and while he may not remember every conversation he had, every song he danced to, every shot he took, he’ll always remember the way that room made him feel, the love radiating towards him, overwhelming him, inspiring him, fortifying him. He’ll always remember the feeling of your hand in his, the way your body felt against his own, and later, the taste of you on his tongue. Feeling like he could do anything with you by his side, your love making him feel like the greatest version of himself. Like the best is still yet to come, if that's even possible.

Proper birthday.

---

a/n: the way i literally had 3/4 of this written on february 1st and then could not get myself to finish it. but here we areeeee baby. hope people are still interested. i really like it and couldnt let it go. let me know what u think love u mean it

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#something old #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles birthday #friends to lovers #hbd 2.5 months late i guess #sorry to all the angels in my inbox who requested a lot of other things and definitely not this #ur girl couldnt give this one up #lmk what you think plssss oh pls

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sungbeam · 1 year

Text

𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬

model!choi chanhee x fem!assistant!reader

you were just supposed to be his assistant, but at some point, you'd come to mean a lot more to him.

6.4k words (WHOOPS my hand slipped), technically s2l, fluff, angst if u squint, slight pining?, kissing, model stuff and first world problems 😔✨, like one curse word, barely proofread

a/n: istg it wasn't supposed to be like this ;-; it would have been longer but i got impatient </3

Choi Chanhee once made a girl cry because she had forgotten his phone in the car. In his defense, he hadn't gotten much shuteye the night prior, but Kevin liked to always remind him of that instance.

They said that was the first, true moment the tabloids began painting him in a new light.

'Choi Chanhee, Model-zilla, Hits the Streets of Paris for Fashion Week Once Again'. 'Choi Chanhee's Ex-assistants Come Forward with Shocking Experiences'. 'Satin or Silk: the Truth Behind New's Refusal to Wear Alexander McQueen'.

The last one didn't even make sense; Alexander McQueen only used silk, anyway, and Chanhee had walked in one of his shows a few years ago. Chanhee simply hadn't the time to pen the designer into his schedule since.

The one about assistants? Well, they were all entitled to free speech, but that didn't mean that he would spare them any mercy if they decided to blatantly lie about him. He could always trust Lee Sangyeon, his personal attorney, to take care of business, if and when any of his ex-employees decided that a good payout was comparable to spewing filth.

Then there was you.

Chanhee hadn't needed a new assistant in a little over half a year since you came along. Fresh out of university with a bachelor's in communication and punctuality, you waltzed into his life, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. You'd sat across from him, no-nonsense; he hired you right there. (He had not regretted it since. This was the last time he would let anyone but himself do the interview process.)

The best part about you was not that you always had his schedule memorized before he did, or that you appeared at his apartment before the car picked you both up with his favorite coffee order, or that you actually had decent taste in perfume—not… that he paid attention to what perfume you wore—but it was the fact that you could look him in the eye when he spoke to you, and you to him.

"—and you have a fitting with Chanel at five o'clock this evening right after that meeting with Maison Margiela about the perfume line. We'll have just enough time to—"

Wow, your eyes were pretty in this lighting, he thought. The two of you sat before the massive, floor-to-ceiling window in his penthouse apartment. The entire city laid sprawling at your feet while you sat across from each other at his breakfast table, eating blueberry muffins and drinking lattes.

And for some reason, all he could think about was how nice your hair looked again today, how brilliantly the shine in your eyes was from the sunlight, how impeccable your fashion sense was—even if it wasn't perfect, but that could easily be remedied. Chanhee would have to remind you to remind him to—

"Chanhee. Chanhee, are you listening to me?"

He snapped out with a flutter of his long eyelashes. He reached for his cup of coffee, delicately bringing it to his lips. "Hm? Of course, Maison and then Chanel. Did Changmin cancel our dinner or are we still on?"

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips when he saw how your expression lightened knowing that he was paying attention. You idly stirred your latte around with a little silver spoon. "He says he's still good to go for tonight. Same place, same time."

A nod. "Good."

He nudged up the Prada sunglasses on his nose as he turned his head slightly to gaze out the open window. It was an awfully beautiful day out today. The sunlight was gentle, the skies were an azure wave of silk, sewn with clouds of white. "Yn, dearest, are we clear until the Maison meeting?"

You blinked. "Yes," you answered, checking your watch for the hour, "it's 10:32 right now."

"Mm, that gives us about five hours to refresh your wardrobe."

Your lips parted, and he smiled in amusement. There was something so adorable about your flustered state. "Excuse me?"

"Call it a little token of my appreciation," he sang, standing up from the table to deposit his empty plate and cup into the kitchen sink. "Could you call the driver to round the front?"

"Oh, uh, sure—"

"Thanks, love. I'll be back in a few," he called to you just as he disappeared into his bedroom to freshen up. You were left at the breakfast table, dumbfounded. You'd only ever gone shopping with Chanhee for him or for someone else. Not you. You were always on the clock when you were with him, and you figured he would probably take everything you bought today out of your paycheck, but…

You couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in your chest like the wings of a butterfly. This could either be the best thing that happened to you… or a complete shitshow.

There was something odd about walking into one of Chanhee's go-to leisure shopping stores—Dior—with the mindset that you were supposed to be shopping for yourself. Chanhee had asked the driver to pull up to the Dior storefront even as the regular paparazzi camped outside.

Your eyes gazed longingly at the Macy's across the mall.

Chanhee followed your gaze with a little scrunch of his nose. "Absolutely not," he clicked his tongue, dragging you out of the vehicle and to the sidewalk.

The press already dubbed you a "miracle" for being in his employ for longer than a day. But when they got shots of him literally hauling you into the Dior… you could imagine what they would all claim now. This was going to be a whole lot of cleanup, but you had learned after months of working with Chanhee that he was way tougher than he looked. He also didn't mind biting back.

When the two of you were safely stowed away within the guarded interior of Dior, you breathed easier.

Straightening, you greeted the staff members with a shallow bow, who did the same to both you and your boss.

Chanhee wiggled his fingers in silent greeting, then beelined for a white, quilted blazer on a mannequin. A worker scrambled after him to talk about the piece while another stuck by your side to make small conversation.

"How was your morning?" They asked you pleasantly.

"Oh, it was quite nice! How was yours?"

"Pretty quiet," they smiled. They were about to say something else when both of you were interrupted with Chanhee calling your name.

His eyes were pinned to you from over the rim of his sunglasses. Draped over his arm was a tapered coat of some sort, a dress, and… oh, god no. "Yn, come here."

You could already hear your wallet crying. "Chanhee, I literally cannot afford a single thing in here—"

He pressed a palm between your shoulder blades and steered you in the direction of the dressing rooms. "That's besides the point because I can afford them; that's what matters."

Surprise made your footing falter. "Huh?"

"Silly Yn-ie," he teased, "did you think I was gonna bring you all the way out here to not treat you?" Before you could say anything else, he was shoving the items into your arms, and your body into the grandiose space of the Dior dressing room. He winked over his glasses. "Now hurry and put them on. I wanna see!"

He ripped the curtain closed, and you stood there for a moment.

In your hands were the jacket, the dress, and a pair of shoes that probably cost you more than your entire bank account combined. You blew out a puff of air, just as you heard a staff member offer him a glass of champagne on the other side of the curtain.

"No getting out of this, Yn," you muttered to yourself, then began hanging everything up."

Chanhee was no stranger to the effect he had on people. In fact, he wielded it like a dagger. It was how he had gotten so far in this industry in the first place other than his immaculate good looks, of course. The face of an angel and an attitude of the devil—at least, that was what one article had said about him. He quite liked it, actually.

There was something wholly different about his effect on you as you stood beneath his scrutinizing, heated gaze, as you tried on piece upon piece. He loved being able to unabashedly stare at you, to take in your flustered expression as you did little spins for him in the outfit of choice. For once, you couldn't look him in the eye, and when you had done so once, it had been when his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

It wasn't just the champagne he was tasting.

It was the next morning when you appeared in his home at 7 o'clock sharp, as usual, but with a new accessory hanging off your arm. It was one of the more low-key purses he had bought you yesterday—and to be honest, it was actually one of his personal favorites. It was a Chanel one, of course, and it complimented your pant suit quite nicely.

"Morning," you chirped, handing him his cup of coffee as he stumbled out of his room in a silk robe and with a yawn widening his mouth.

Chanhee smiled at the sight of you, graciously accepting the coffee from you. He leaned against the countertop next to you. "Good morning," he murmured lowly, peering at you over the rim of the cup, taking a languid sip.

He sighed as the caffeine began working its magic. "How are you this morning, dearest? Have a good night?"

You had set your purse down on the island, then moved away from him only to go check his refrigerator to see if he needed anything restocked. Always so attentive. "I had a good night. How was dinner with Changmin?"

"Lovely," he said fondly. "I see you are putting my gifts to use." His fingers danced along the gold chain draped along one end of the quilted leather.

He swore your cheeks flushed, but then again, his eyes had never tricked him for a second. "Ah, yes. Thank you so much for yesterday, by the way." The fridge closed softly, and you grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter to wash and munch on. "I really don't know how I can repay you—"

Chanhee dismissed you immediately, his wrist flicking outward. "Pfft, none of that. I told you it was all a token of my affection," he grinned, propping his chin onto his palm across the island counter from you. "And gratitude," he added. "I don't say this to just anyone, Yn, and I don't buy just anyone all that stuff—but I did it because I appreciate you."

Your chewing slowed and you swallowed. "Oh."

He said it so easily. God, was he lucky to have met you.

Knowing he had successfully rendered you speechless once more, he laughed lightly, deciding to change the subject. "What's today's schedule like?"

You immediately straightened; this was something you knew like the back of your hand. It was much more up your alley.

As you ran him through his activities today, you failed to notice the difference in his posture, the softer smile on his face, and the way his eyes could not leave you for a moment, not even to drink his coffee.

Grueling was an understatement. Today had been one of the worst days of your working existence under Chanhee's employ. You'd endured rough days and nights before, but today, it seemed to have been hassle after hassle after hassle. You probably got around thirty-thousand steps by how much you ran around trying to find emergency kits and emergency outfits and running to the emergency dry cleaner's.

As much as the fashion world enthralled you, sometimes you wondered how anyone could survive it.

Chanhee was just as maxed out as you were by the end. It was maybe three in the morning by the time the two of you collapsed into the backseat of his driver's car. Streets were barren at this time in the ungodly hours of morning, and your joints ached every time you breathed.

Chanhee was quiet as well as he leaned his head back against the headrest to allow his body some rest. He just barely managed to get through that last shoot—clearly the directors had no clue what they were doing, he thought with a dead look in his eyes. That was how he felt—dead. If it hadn't been for you swooping in with a creative direction…

You were brilliant; that much he was certain of. Without you, that shoot might have dragged on for another couple of hours, or Chanhee would have just walked out. Usually, he had a good sense and eye for things, but with everything that happened today, for once, he didn't have the energy to yell or direct.

He needed to treat you to brunch tomorrow, if he was even able to wake up in time—

His inner thoughts halted when he felt a sudden weight fall upon his left shoulder. He froze up.

Your head had slumped onto his shoulder, eyes closed and no doubt deep asleep. Your bangs had fallen out from the bounds of your ponytail and draped across your face as you slept. He could smell the Miss Dior on you with this proximity.

Chanhee smiled to himself, taking his other hand and brushing the hair from your face and gently caressing your cheek. "Cute," he murmured.

By the time the car rolled to a stop in front of his complex, Chanhee had made a couple of executive decisions.

He lightly roused you from your sleep, cooing into your ear, "Come on, Yn-ie. Let's get you to bed, hm?"

You hummed, lifting your head from his shoulder with a yawn. You rubbed your eye with no care for the makeup smudging. "Chanhee? Why're you still here?"

Normally, the driver would drop Chanhee off first and then you, especially when it came to late nights like this. But… what… was happening?

Chanhee helped you out of the car, thanking the driver while mustering up a kind smile for him. "You're too tired, love. I'm taking you upstairs to my place."

"Wait, I can't—" but you weren't physically protesting; your body ached and ached and ached. But this was your boss, your employer. This wasn't professional.

"Yn, you're exhausted," he countered, buzzing into the building and helping you inside.

You couldn't argue with him anymore. You just wanted your face to hit a pillow and be out for the night. "Okay," you mumbled, letting him press your face into his shoulder on the ride up the elevator.

"Good girl," he sighed. He tilted his head back against the elevator wall, one arm wrapped around your middle and the other cradling the back of your head. Just a little longer, then the both of you could finally get some well-deserved rest.

You would argue you had seen Choi Chanhee at some of his best and worst moments. He was one of the most beautiful human beings on this planet, and yet, none of the prior moments could even compare to when you stumbled out of his bedroom to the sight of his back to you as he fried eggs and ladled waffle batter into the maker in the kitchen. He had a big T-shirt hanging from his lean frame, as well as a pair of loose pajama pants on, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for everything to cook.

Even at ten in the morning, the light pink waves of his hair looked immaculately styled. You almost forgot he hadn't gotten a perm in awhile.

The panic of waking up in his sheets instead of yours had faded when you recalled your conversation with him just seven hours prior. He had managed to wrestle you into an extra set of sleepwear he just had lying around (Gucci, nonetheless), before he deposited you onto his bed, then promptly curled up outside on the living room couch.

You swallowed. Now what?

It was then that Chanhee turned around with an innocent look on his face. You watched as it melted into something softer at the sight of you. "Good morning, dearest," he beamed, "sleep well?"

Drowsiness lingered at the corners of your eyes, but you somehow managed a nod. "Yeah, how about you?" You asked him quietly. Actually, that had been some of the best sleep you'd ever had. Something about his sheets with high thread count and the smell of Chanhee lingering on everything. But you weren't just about to say that to him.

"Well enough," he replied. He waved you over. "Come sit; breakfast is almost ready."

Your eyes widened a smidge. That was for you? Now you really needed to go home. "Ah, I appreciate it, but I've practically overstayed my welcome—"

He sent you a look. "Yn, come have breakfast with me."

You caved. Because at this point, you'd already screwed yourself over. And breakfast really did smell nice; what was the difference between Chanhee making you breakfast and you bringing him breakfast from the café down the street?

(You didn't even want to go home, as much as your logical brain was trying to urge you towards.)

So the two of you breakfasted, and for a moment, you could forget, for once, that you were just supposed to be his assistant.

Some things changed after that morning, and Chanhee found himself getting you to stay over more and more often. Even if he had to come up with something stupid like "You haven't watched the 2001 New York Fashion Week rerun?" For some reason, you bought into all his excuses, and even though he knew it was probably because you were always attentive to his needs, a part of him liked to fantasize that you felt it, too.

The pull.

Something had shifted after that morning when he made you breakfast and the two of you ate together at the breakfast table. Sleep had lingered in your eyes, and your hair was a mess, but it was soft and beautiful and… he'd never been so in awe at someone's "I woke up like this" look.

His heart had leapt at the sight of you in those pajamas with that subtle pout to your lips.

God, he thought he might sweep you into his arms and kiss y—

"New. Chanhee. Choi Chanhee—"

He blinked, lifting his eyes from his menu to meet Changmin's. "Hm?"

Changmin wrinkled his nose at him, adjusting the sunglasses seated atop his head to hang from the collar of his dress shirt. (How it managed to hang with two buttons popped open, Chanhee chalked it up to fashion magic.) "You're awfully quiet today. What, tabloids finally shut you up?" He joked.

Chanhee rolled his eyes. "One of these days, I swear, they will render me speechless with their ridiculous delusions," he muttered airily, half-heartedly skimming the menu again.

He and Changmin were seated at their usual booth in their usual restaurant at their usual time. It was their weekly dinner together, something they had kept up since their university days in order to keep themselves grounded. They, of course, touched base with all of their university friends often, but the two of them were two peas in a pod. They even refused to let Sunwoo in on these weekly dinners specifically (something the younger friend was undoubtedly salty about).

Changmin could figure out when Chanhee was occupied with something other than the present. Usually, he was all up and out of his seat dealing out gossip or what torture he and you had been… oh.

Changmin cocked his head to the side, nostrils flaring slightly as he tried and failed to suppress a sly smile. "How's Yn these days?" He asked nonchalantly, lowering his eyes to the menu in front of him even though he always got the same thing every time.

To his credit, Chanhee didn't even react. "She's lovely as always. Why do you ask?"

"I dunno," Changmin drawled, "you haven't gushed about her like you usually do. I feel like you hang out with her more than me."

Chanhee raised a brow at his friend. "She's my assistant; of course I'm going to spend more time with her."

"Yeah, but—"

"And she's a lot more agreeable most of the time."

"Hey!"

Chanhee grinned in impish delight. "You asked."

Changmin sent him a stink eye, huffing as he raised his hand up to summon a waiter. "Yeah, whatever. Okay, but you literally refused to go out with me the other night, and when I texted Yn if you had a schedule, she said that you two were at home!"

That got his attention. Chanhee pursed his lips together, sheepishness peering through his smile. "In my defense, she hadn't seen New York Fashion Week in 2001."

"You hated that year, Chanhee."

"Exactly."

Changmin sighed to himself, and just as he was about to add on, a waiter came by to take their order. Once that was done, Changmin laced his fingers over the table and leveled his friend with a pointed look.

"Just admit that you like her."

Oh, Changmin. If only you could hear the rapid palpitations of his heart when you called him out like that. Chanhee blinked innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he swallowed.

It wasn't even two days later that Chanhee had you staying a little later at his place, once again. There was something jazzy and vibey playing in the background, while Chanhee finished up plating dinner and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. You were over at the small table by the window pouring wine into twin glasses, your hair pulled haphazardly out of your face (for the most part) with a pearl-studded claw clip from Chanhee's personal PR box.

(You blatantly refused, but he then reminded you that he couldn't even use the clip himself.)

Chanhee didn't often think about sharing his life with someone, but it was moments like these—moments when he heard you hum under your breath, moments when the two of you could laugh about the day over dinner, moments when you weren't just his assistant but someone closer—that he could indulge himself. He wasn't a very domestic person; since childhood, he dreamed of places far away from home, seeing sights and experiencing cultures… but if he could come home to you? And experience this every time?

Suddenly dinner was over, and you were collecting dirty dishware and glasses to bring to the sink to wash.

"Yn-ie, hey, I can wash those—"

"No, no! You made dinner; I am washing dishes," you asserted, pushing him away from the sink when he tried to come up to you.

Chanhee broke into a laugh, coming up behind you to set his hands on your shoulders and rub the upper parts of your arms. "Okay, okay. Thanks, love," he said. He didn't even think before he pressed a kiss to your cheek and walked off to go to the bathroom.

Your cheek tingled where his lips had been, and you turned the faucet on to drown out the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears. What was happening?

You felt like you were floating on air as you hummed to the music and washed the dishes, with the ghost of Chanhee's lips left lingering on your cheek. It served as a reminder of your growing affections for him. This was dangerous, dangerous territory, and yet… it was thrilling. It was new, bold, and delectable. It was Chanhee, for goodness sake.

He was the man you saw crying drunkenly over a cat video on TikTok, the man who lended you Gucci pajamas and his bed for the night. He was on the face of every magazine cover, always excited when you could read his mind about a certain piece of clothing. Everyone in the world wanted to be him or be with him. He was so out of reach, yet right in front of you.

Maybe it was the wine making your head buzz with this wave of unmitigated sentimentality.

You finished up with the dishes, drying off your hands with the towel hanging on the oven door. Chanhee sang your name out from somewhere deep inside his bedroom, and you followed his voice to his location.

He was seated on the rug in the middle of his walk-in closet, the white LEDs washing you with light. It was a far cry from the darkness of his bedroom and the warmth from the kitchen. Chanhee patted the spot next to him on the carpet, where he had a smattering of PR gifts littering the floor around him.

Curious, you lowered yourself next to him. "Are we sorting through PR stuff?" You asked, already making a mental catalog of all the things he'd probably want to keep and the things he'd want to donate.

Chanhee hummed his dissent, rising onto his knees and shuffling over to you. Your eyes widened as he stopped close to you and you held your breath. He raised a pair of twin diamond drop earrings from Tiffany and Co to your earlobes, eyes narrowed in consideration.

"No," he muttered, dumping the earrings into their box, then digging out another.

You scrambled to delicately put the earrings back into their proper holdings. "Chanhee, what are we doing?"

"You—" Chanhee returned with a pair of sapphire earrings this time, performing the same ritual as before, but this time smiling, "—are going to sit still and look pretty for me. I am going through the PR stuff for anything nice."

"Anything nice?" You parroted in disbelief. It wasn't like he just threw a pair of diamond earrings into a box like it wasn't nice, or anything.

"I've never seen you in pearls before," he said offhandedly. From a black velvet bag, he withdrew a string of pearls clasped at the end in gold. His mouth parted in awe, and you suddenly thought of how cute he looked. Chanhee, oftentimes, was attractive and elegant and spellbinding—but this Chanhee was adorable.

He eyeballed it around your neck, then moved to clasp the collar onto you. He brushed the stray strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, gently grazing the pads of his fingers along the warm skin there. The action sent a shudder down your spine, and you were reminded of the cheek kiss from earlier.

"There," he murmured, coming back around to inspect you from the front. "Looks much better on you than it would on me."

You scoffed, reaching up to touch the cool pearls seated on your collarbone. "I disagree wholeheartedly."

He had turned around to go digging again, but the grin he threw over his shoulder at you was a certified heart stopper. "Then we'll just have to go get me a matching one."

"This is the last time I'm letting a company get me lunch," Chanhee grimaced as both you and he feverishly dabbed at the sauce splattered on his cream silk blouse.

One of the interns working on today's interview and shoot had come to deliver him his lunch when you noticed that the sauce lid on top was a dark red and not the usual light mayo Chanhee always requested beforehand. That, as well as the fact that the lid wasn't fastened all the way. Suffice to say that when you were about to point it out, said intern became flustered at Chanhee's side profile and spilled his lunch onto him.

You made sure to send the intern away before Chanhee could react.

"This was the Burberry one Haknyeonie got me," he whimpered in devastation as he took in the mess of dark brownish-red on his chest.

"Hey, it's okay. The cleaner I usually go to can fix it up," you said, biting your lip and assessing the situation. You gave a sigh, straightening, then swiping at the dampness on your forehead. "For now, you'll have to change into something else."

Chanhee pouted. "I promised I would wear this one for the interview…" He glanced back over at the clothing rack in the far corner of the dressing room at the dozens of options he had, as well as the backups you had brought, when all he wanted was to wear the shirt Haknyeon had given to him.

You wondered how long you had until the interview. You wondered how fast you could run to the dry cleaners and how fast they could fix this, if only to make that pout on Chanhee's face go away.

He pursed his lips. "I'll change into the YSL one," he resolved, standing from his vanity chair to go grab the YSL blouse from its garment bag. "Y'know," he said to you as he disappeared behind the changing divider, "we'll probably see something about this in the tabloids sometime tomorrow, depending on how bored the press people are."

You leaned back against the vanity counter, mentally noting the time. Hair and makeup would be here soon since the interview was set for half past noon. Chanhee would have to wait until afterwards before he could eat lunch. You frowned, "It wasn't your fault, Chanhee."

"I know." You saw him drape the dirtied Burberry blouse over the top of the divider and you walked over to take it down and inspect the damage yourself. "But it doesn't have to be my fault."

Unfortunately, he was right. The press would do anything for a juicy story, even if that meant twisting the facts just a little. You abhorred those stories; you always saw Chanhee's eyes glaze over like a shield at the "model-zilla" headlines, when in fact, it had little to do with Chanhee's "attitude". You wondered if someone would blow up his reaction to this out of proportion—he hadn't said anything to the intern before they ran out of the room in tears, but you supposed if you had spilled coffee on someone with as much name power as Chanhee, then you would also freak out.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly, leaning slightly against the divider. A weight sank into the pit of your gut; you felt pathetic. These were one of the few things you couldn't just fix for him.

You thought you felt him lean back against the divider on the other side. "Nothing to be sorry for, dearest. It's just a shirt."

It wasn't just a shirt. It wasn't just the tabloids.

Chanhee, being the professional he was, carried on through the interview and subsequent photoshoot with elegance and grace. He wasn't in a bad mood, save for the slight melancholy in his smile when the intern's superior came by to apologize profusely and offer to have the blouse dry-cleaned for him. Chanhee politely declined—he only trusted one person with his items.

When you and Chanhee finally made it back to his penthouse suite, the sun had disappeared into the seams of the horizon, hoisting a bejeweled night into the sky. Chanhee collapsed onto the couch face-first while you dropped everything on the floor by the door and made a beeline for the refrigerator.

"I'm making tea," you declared.

Chanhee raised his head slightly. "Me too please."

You got the electric kettle started and brought out two porcelain mugs. While you waited for the water to finish boiling, you fished your phone out of your pocket to check your messages to see if the dry cleaners had alerted you yet as to the status of the blouse. On the way back, you had swung by to get the shirt to the dry cleaners. Hopefully it would be done by tomorrow morning so you could go pick it up.

Chanhee shifted and adjusted his positioning on the couch. He sat upright, leaning his cheek against his fist. "Yn-ie."

"Hm?"

"I'm lonely over here."

You huffed air out of your nostrils in a silent chuckle, but obliged him and went over to the couch. He raised his arms up toward you, making grabby hands and pouting. "You're lonely?" You repeated in amusement, slotting yourself next to him and allowing him to curl into your side.

"Well, not anymore," he said into your shoulder.

The apartment filled with the sound of water bubbling on the stove and the muffled sounds of the city outside the window.

With nothing said, you could imagine for a second that this was not your job, but your life instead.

You felt him move a little, his arms wrapping around your stomach. "Thank you," he murmured, "for everything."

Your chest tightened. "Of course," you replied simply. Because doing all of this for him was as easy as breathing air now. Taking care of him had become as easy as breathing air. It was just that simple.

He was quiet again, fingers fidgeting with the cuffs of your blazer. Something lingered in his mind.

"Yn…" He slowly brought himself to sit up straight, one hand braced on the cushion space between your bodies and the other on the back of the couch. His face was so close—you could see the baby pink hairs falling in his eyes, the bits of glitter on his eyelids, the length of his lashes brushing his cheeks. But there was something wobbling, shimmering in his irises like the ripples in a pool of water. "I think we need to talk."

Your voice was trapped in your throat. He was going to fire you. He was going to tell you that all of it had been a lie. He was going to—stop. Stop freaking out. You knew him. You knew him better than what the people on the outside only claimed to know about him. You gulped. "Okay."

Chanhee brought his hand up toward your face, but instead stopped short, his hand dropping. He wet his lip, head ducking for a second before meeting your eyes again. "You know how much I appreciate everything you do for me, right?"

Oh no.

You nodded shallowly, hands clasped in your lap. "Mhm."

"And you know that I would rather hurt myself before ever hurting you?"

You didn't like where this was going. "Chanhee—"

His eyes shuddered. "Just—just listen for a second. I promise I'll let you speak, just… I just need to get this out."

"I can't really think straight," you croaked. His cologne—god his cologne. You would die suffocating in his cologne, but he was so close and yet so out of reach.

You thought you saw hurt flash across his face. "Oh. Uh, I'm sorry—" He was leaning back now, and you were internally hitting yourself. You'd never heard Choi Chanhee stutter before.

You resisted the urge to say "come back". Come back, where you could pretend that he was yours. Shit, this had gone too far. "Chanhee, I think I have to quit."

Alarm shot his eyes wide open. "What?"

"I can't keep working for you because I have feelings for you," you blurted, staring him straight in the eyes. "I have to quit because the feelings—the want—I have for you are so strong and precariously unprofessional. And I'm sorry, because this was the best job I could've ever gotten, but—"

Chanhee grabbed your face and crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. Shock had you freezing, but it wasn't long before you held him close and let him wholly devour you.

When he pulled away, his forehead was pressed against yours, the space between your lips near nonexistent. His hands were still cupping the sides of your face and his breathing was slightly labored; all either of you could feel, hear, smell, taste were each other.

"I love you," he whispered, almost inaudibly you thought you'd imagined it. But then he said it again, "I love you", and everything…

Everything settled.

"How could you?" After all, you were just… you. It seemed impossible that someone as high as he was could love someone like you.

His reply was simple, paired with a sweet return to your lips. "How could I not?"

You stood outside the massive, sky-piercing high-rise of Vogue headquarters, your heart pounding in your ears and your fingers drumming nervously against the seam of your dress pants. In about twenty minutes, you would be in the topmost office of the building interviewing for a chance to become CEO Anna Wintour's newest personal assistant.

"Well?"

You glanced over to your left where Chanhee stepped beside you, asking the driver to make a loop around the building and meet him back here in a few minutes. His hair, freshly dyed a silken midnight black, had grown slightly to mullet-length; and this morning, he was clad in a pristine white suit set in a classy contrast. A pearl collar sat on his defined collarbones like it was a throne. Beautiful, as always.

There were reporters lurking around here somewhere. That definitely didn't make any of this better for you.

You released a breath. "I've got this, right?"

He passed you a gentle, yet teasing grin. "Hey, you survived me. How much worse can she be?"

That made you crack a smile.

The two of you stood side by side staring up at the building for a moment longer. After you had quit being his assistant to instead be accepted as his partner, you and Chanhee worked to find you a new gig. You received about a hundred dozen job offers from lesser brands and big names when they all heard you were leaving Chanhee's employ on good terms. Anyone who survived Chanhee, and left with a stellar recommendation letter, was a hot commodity.

Chanhee reached for your hand, squeezing your fingers slightly. "Breathe, darling. You'll be in and out and hired before you know it."

He turned you around so you faced him. His tongue stuck out between his lips as he adjusted the pearl necklace around your throat, then the lapels of your jacket. "Wow," he breathed out.

"Huh?" You hummed with a smile in your eyes.

"You still take my breath away."

A nervous laugh fell from your lips, and Chanhee swooped in to taste it—that, your laugh.

"I love you," he murmured against your mouth. Nevermind all the press and paparazzi, or Anna Wintour, or anyone. This was just you and him, even for a little. You could imagine the headlines, but that was the last thing on your mind right now.

Your tongue swiped over his bottom lip to catch the last bits of him. "I love you, too."

There was a cunning glint in his eyes, offset by the soft smile on his face. "Okay, this is it. Call me if you need anything."

You began walking toward the entrance backwards. "What if I need you?"

His smile widened. "I said call me, didn't I? Anytime, anywhere." I'm yours.

tbz m.list

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aestheticsarereal · 2 years

Text

The Pleasure Principle - e.m.

a/n: Lord have mercy. This is just straight porn. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing! As always requests are always open!

Summary: Eddie finds himself at a strip club one night and sees a familiar face on stage. How could he not request a dance?

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Graphic description, rough sex, Dom!Eddie,choking, swearing, being a stripper? Alcohol consumption, pet names: kitten, doll, etc. sexual tension, creampie, unprotected sex, Wrap it before you tap!

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader stripper

Wc: 4.3k

Photo credit: N/A

Do not post my work anywhere!

Friday nights were always the busiest of your week. It was payday and everyone wanted a stress reliever for a hard week’s work. You had claimed your residency at the club a little over 7 months ago. It was pretty hard to miss the neon signs that illuminated the front of the building. A giant yellow and pink flashing neon sign etched ‘PANTHER PLAYGROUND’ with a bright pink cat that switched to a girl arching her back. On the front of the building were other neon signs in hues of blues, purples and pinks ‘Girls Girls Girls’, ‘All Nude’, ‘Live Girls’. The strip club had been located 15 minutes south of Hawkins, where you and most of the girls lived.

Plenty of graduated seniors and business men made their way there every week it seemed. Most of your shifts, much like this one, started at 10 p.m. and ended near 2 a.m. You had 5 half hour floor sets and the rest of the time was spent in the private rooms where regulars, out of towners or newbies wanted a one on one dance. While you might have been fairly new to the playground, you were the hottest ticket in town.

You had graduated over a year ago and had been the youngest girl there at a whooping nineteen. That drove everyone up the wall. It earned you the nickname ‘Babydoll’. You played on this by wearing bright and playful colors. Your signature was pink. Baby pink lipgloss, lingerie, heels, makeup, and pink glitter. The more innocent you looked the more bills you collected at the end of the night. Frills, lace, shimmer, you name it.

It had already been 12:15 a.m. and it was time for your third set of the night, except now you were on the main stage. The reflective tiles littered across were in the shape of a giant ‘T’. It seemed like a catwalk with the pole right in the middle of the stage’s junction. That was your favorite place to dance. You could easily get lost as the spotlight followed you down the aisle. Your friends often asked if you still had stage fright but it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t wait to strut out onto the stage and captivate the lively bodies in the room.

The club’s walls were bouncing from the bass and reverberation of each of the songs that played one after another. Each girl had a mix that played when they were on the main stage. Through all of the glitter and innocence, your mix consisted of rock and metal. The juxtaposition alone made the room go wild. Scanning the crowd, you knew tonight was going to be a good one. Weekends in the summer always were. “Next up, you know her, you love her. She's the Panther's girl next door. Give it up for…Babydoll!” The DJ’s voice mixed with the cheers and whistles that echoed in your ears.

You pranced up the stairs and smiled and waved at some of the familiar faces you spotted in the crowd. Twirling to get some of the tables more loud and playing with your hair that was curled and teased up. Before you planted yourself on the pole, you turned to a random table of guys you're recognized from a few years ago at Hawkins High. It was your way to start a set by blowing a glossed kiss at a new table every night.

You raised your right hand above your head and gripped the pole tight. Squeezing your thighs and arching your back so your ass was clearly pushed against the cold steel. That’s when ‘Girls Girls Girls’ by Motley Crue blasted throughout the club. Mixtures of 1’s. 5’s, and 20’s were starting to get thrown at you. Intricately swinging and grinding on the pole. Running your hands up and down your body. Bending over and arching to place yourself in positions that leave little to the imagination.

Right as you worked your way to the chorus you decided to pay the folks at the end of the catwalk some attention. Crawling on all fours, sensually, you heard praises and clapping from either side of you. But that was drowned out. Everything was drowned out as you looked up right at the front doors. The doors had opened to reveal someone who would have never expected to waltz right in.

Back in your senior year, you had shared a few classes with him. He failed almost all of them. Not because he wasn’t smart but because he struggled but no one gave a shit. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. The reason you two got along was maybe for your love of metal and rock or the fact that you actually helped him in class or the few times you bought a quarter off of him occasionally. He always called you a freak but you liked it. Liked that if you two shared things in common then you would gladly wear the name on your sleeves.

The odd thing was you had never seen him in here before, so now you were intrigued as to why he had been here. But as Vince Neil’s voice reverberated off of the walls, his eyes seemed to catch yours and a wave of shock ran through his eyes but a prominent smirk was etched on his face. This translated into a newfound confidence for you. This dance isn't for everyone anymore. It hadn’t even been for yourself, it was for him. Your eyes followed him as you picked a table not too far from the stage. Just the perfect view to catch you prancing around like a doe.

Song after song played as he still cradled his amber colored drink. Watching you dance. His eyes raking over your body, every crevice and curve. Watching the way your body moved sensually. It was now 12:45 a.m. by the time you had walked off of the main stage. Collecting any and all bills that belonged to you and stuffing them in your pink fluffy duffle bag that you use strictly for your money. Once you knew your money had been safely put away, you headed out to the floor in search of the man of the hour.

However, to your disappointment he had disappeared along with his amber colored drink. Just as you headed towards the bar in hopes if the bartender had seen him anywhere, one of the managers turned you around. “Hey babydoll, there is a private dance waiting in room 1. He also paid for extra time.” “Oh okay, how long did they want?” “Guy said he wanted an hour. Paid upfront in cash too.” The disbelief that took over your face. “Phil, you know I can’t do that.” “Sorry sweetheart, but he already paid. Plus he’s new.”

The sour taste this new guy put in your mouth could just about ruin your night. You practically have to dance for this guy until you close. Of course Phil would allow you to miss your two other stage sets for this fucking dance. You couldn’t help but be a little put off by this guy that you never even met. Who can pay for a full hour dance in cash upfront? As you approached the first door to the private rooms, you took a deep breath in to prepare yourself for the long hour you were about to endure.

There had been a switch next to the handle. It lets dancers know which room is in use and it allows the customer inside to know that you are about to come in. It works because it is too loud to hear any knocking. Your perfect manicured finger flipped the switch on and you put on your most innocent face. Slowly opening the door and slipping inside you made sure to close the door firmly to make sure the new guy could see and hear that you were ready.

You had your back to the guy, mainly so you could give yourself as much time to mentally prepare yourself. But as soon as you turned around, the most audible gasp escaped your lips. It was Eddie. He was standing there in all of his glory. Except now he had ditched the Hellfire shirt for a plain navy blue button up. Still adorning those white Reeboks. His hair was still curly and long and tamed this time. His tattoos are more prominent than ever. Especially his chest. However, his rings caught your attention. They still looked heavy on his hand as it draped over his thigh that was spreading wide open. He looked like sex on that chair.

Your mouth was wide open but no words dared to come out. This made his lips turn up into a giant smile and chuckle at your current state. “Hi babydoll, or can I call you Y/N?” You must have looked stupid. Standing there in 7 inch holographic heels. A pink metallic string bikini adorned your tits and barely covered your ass. Your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water. All you could mutter was a quiet, “Eddie.” “That’s my name sweetheart.”

Then it dawned on you, he wanted an hour’s worth of a dance. “Why are you here?” He mockingly put a hand over his heart like it had genuinely hurt his feelings. “I can’t come in and see the best dancer in all of Hawkins?” You shook your head and rephrased your question. “No I mean why are you getting a dance from me?” “Again Y/N, I wanted to see the best dancer in Hawkins.” This time he stood from the chair and you were practically at his height. No mistake, he towered over you without your heels.

“Are you sure that’s the real reason why you’re here?” He dryly laughed at your question. “I had known for a while that you worked down here. So what I saved a bit to come and get some one on one time with the “Panther’s very own girl next door, Babydoll.”’ This confession made something stir in your lower stomach. “Don’t play with me Munson.” “But that would be nice to do.” That smirk never left his face. “You always did intrigue me Y/N.” He had now been circling you, like a hungry shark. “You were a ‘freak’ like me. Quite the opposite of being a ‘girl next door’. But I can see why they like your little innocent act you put on.” You could feel his stare even when he stopped behind you.

His voice was sending you into a trance. “I always appreciated you for helping me out in class. That reflected when you would come buy from me. But you and I know both why I let you walk away with more than what you were buying.” You shook your head in fear your voice would give you away. Slowly brushing past you, he finally made his way in front of you. “Tsk, tsk sweetheart. I know you’re smarter than that.”

“What if I’m not?” This intrigued him to continue. “Then come show me how dumb you are. Maybe I can teach you a few lessons.” He finally went to sit back down in the black cushioned chair that was set up in the middle of the room. It was a very spacious chair with plenty of room to fit two people in it. His finger lightly petted his thigh, practically making your mouth water. You stood still in the place you found yourself about two minutes ago. “I guess I should get started on your dance then, wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

It was almost in sync, the way you dropped to your knees and through the small enclosed room, Panama by Van Halen eased its way into both of your ears. You could see Eddie shift in his seat. The sight of you on your knees, crawling toward him like some puppy. Your ass was sticking out in the air, practically swaying back and forth as you worked your way to the chair. You internally thanked him for always manspreading because it gave you more access.

Your hands slowly slid up his legs and firmly grasped onto his thighs. Your hands were on top of his. You used this as leverage to stand up but to bend over in his face. His eyes darted from yours, to your lips, then finally to your tits that were spilling out of your sparkly pink bikini top. It didn’t help that your nipples were hard and he wished he could just reach out and suck them into his mouth. He could see your lips were moving but he didn’t hear the words that came out. “What’s the matter Eddie,” you pouted, “cat got your tongue?” You giggled and turned around switching hands to balance yourself on the arms of the chair.

You bent forward, folding in half. Your arms graced down your legs holding onto the back of your calves. He had the perfect view of your ass that was barely covered by the sorry excuse you called ‘bottoms’. He knew he could reach out and just grope you to his heart’s content, but where was the fun in that? You couldn’t believe that Eddie wanted you. Well at the very least, wanted a dance from you.

You spread your legs and grazed your thighs with your fingers and pulled at them. You could hear a low groan come from the older guy from behind you. You couldn’t help the smile that etched itself on your face. The thing about big heels was being able to work more on the balls of your feet. You spun around to face his front and could see the strained erection that had been growing by the second in his tight black jeans.

His eyes followed your every body roll and arch. Teasing was the purpose of your job and teasing was what you would do to this man. Pushing yourself back and onto the floor, you found yourself in the position you first started in. You put your left hand behind you to support yourself, while you sucked on your right thumb. A ‘pop’ rang through the room as it flowed through Eddie’s ears like music. You drug your fingertips down your neck and in between the valley of your breasts. His stare lingered lower to your navel and your clothed cunt.

Your hair flipped as you rolled away and farther from him to play with yourself. You gripped your tits as your back arched from the black tiles. His groans and growls were enough to convince you to give him some attention. He was clearly aching and you wanted to help him. You climbed into his lap and made yourself right at home on his lap. There was a change in his eyes. It was dark. It was lust. His hands gripped your hips tight as you ground your hips down at an agonizingly slow pace.

“So what does a man like you do to have enough cash for an hour dance with Hawkins babydoll?” Your fake lashes bat at him and you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout that showed the small golden flakes in your pink lip gloss. His hands were rough and you could feel the calluses on each of his fingers. “Well, I played guitar for a while, but those calluses you feel are from all the cars I work on sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide and all you could was grind down harder at this new information.

“You like sweetheart? Like that I work a real man’s job. That I earn money so I can come here and see your pretty body dance for me?” This man knew exactly how to make you feel like putty in his hands. You could feel his erection as you were grinding over him and it took everything in you to not whimper at the friction that you were feeling on your clit. But he wasn’t wrong and that was what made you wet. He could read you easily.

Your hands made their purchase in your hair as you swivel your hips on him and bounce. His hands were working their way from your hips to right under your breasts. He couldn’t take it anymore. You were in his lap, practically naked, just begging.

He worked his way to your back where the strings of your top were resting. In one fell motion, your top had fallen down. “Eddie!” “I’m sorry doll, I couldn’t help myself. You’re fucking grinding that cunt on my cock and you look fuckin’ incredible.” “You could have asked,” was all you could reply with. “Don’t tell me that.” His hand reached up to your left tit and squeezed hard. Finally you made your first sound of the night. “That’s it baby, mewl for me. Pur for me like a good kitten.” Out of nowhere you felt his harsh smack to your other tit. A whine filled his ears and this only caused him to do it again.

“You dirty girl, you like it when I slap those tits of yours.” All you could do was nod and gasp as his hot breath caused your nipple to harden even more. His teeth grazed the sensitive bud as you arched your back into him. Your body was begging him for more. He obliged and engulfed your nipple into his mouth. He sucked and pulled it his teeth causing you to moan and buck your hips into his. “Eddie–please.” Nothing was said except that slap that was given to your ass. “You’ll take what I give you, right baby? Because you’re good and good girls wait.”

You nodded and sighed as he switched to the other nipple and rolled the left one in between his fingers. Your hands shakily lowered as you undid the sides of your bottoms and threw them across the room. Here you were in Eddie Munson’s lap, naked and grinding down on his cock like a cat in heat. “Look at you all needy and ready for me, yea?” “Yes Eddie!” His hand wrapped your throat as he sat back to watch you. “Look at you, come one show me how bad you want it.”

You pouted at him but picked up the pace as you rocked back and forth in his lap. The direct contact of the denim and your bare clit made you gasp and whine.

Hisses came from his throat the more your soaking cunt swept over his hard cock. “Just like that Y/N, feel good on me.” “Fuck me Eddie. Please, I need you.” He shushed you and his left hand made its way to your hips to stop you. “Get up,” he commanded. You did as you were told and rubbed your thighs together to generate some sort of friction. He was making work on his jeans. Your eyes were glued on his hands as they slid his zipper down and you couldn’t help but note the mess you made on the dark denim. “Would you look at that? You made quite the mess on my jeans.”

He slid them down along with his boxers. They sat at the mid of his thigh. Your lips parted in sight of his throbbing cock. It bobbed up and hit his stomach. The tip was an angry red and a prominent vein that traveled down all the way to where his balls hung heavy. Little balck curls adorned his base. Well trimmed but still enough to turn you on. There were a few times in the past you caught sight of his happy trail but nothing like this.

His head was already leaking precum and what you wouldn’t give to taste him. But right here and now in this moment you were too needy. You need his cock in you and to fuck you like you were his. You wasted no time in slotting yourself back onto his lap. You took your right hand and ran your fingers through your slick folds, collecting your arousal on your fingers. Pumping his cock in your hand, you made sure to get him nice and wet to take all of you.

“Jesus H. Christ Y/N.” His eyes remained on your hand pumping his cock that was covered in your slick. You leaned in close to his ear, raising your hips right above his tip. “Is this okay with you,” you asked as you licked his earlobe and sank down on him at the same time. A loud ‘yes’ was your answer as you took all of him. You felt so full and so fucking good. The way his cock felt in you, felt like it could have been in your stomach.

“Feel that Eddie? Feel you so deep in me, feel so fucking good.” Your words were coming out in slurs as you slowly raised your hips and brought them back down, feeling every vein and curve. It was as if you were made to take him, all of him. The way his hard cock rubbed against your spongy walls and he was able to hit that spot deep within you. You continued to fuck him slowly as your clit rubbed against the base of his shaft.

He had both of his hands on the side of your torso to guide you up and down on him with ease. The pain of his fingers translated into pleasure as you kept going. Taking a break from riding him you rocked back and forth in his lap. Grinding like before but this time he felt every move of your hips. “Yea baby, work those fuckin’ hips just like the little slut you are.” “M’not a slut,” you huffed out. “No? If you’re not a slut, then why are you fucking me like one? Fucking one of your customers?” You shook your head and continued to grind on his cock. “Hey look at me when I’m talking to you,” he grabbed your face, causing your lips to form into a pout. “I said I'm not a slut.”

He wasn’t having any of it and his hands immediately went down to your ass. You took your hips and raised them as he started fucking up into you. The force and the angle at which he was fucking up caused you to scream out. His balls were slapping up into your ass causing the sound of skin slapping to mix in with the music and your moans. “You’re not a slut huh, guess I need to fuck you like one then.” He was driving up into your cunt, repeatedly hitting that spot that made your legs go weak.

Your hands made purchase on his shoulders as you tried to meet his thrusts. “See you say your not a slut, yet try to fuck me back.” Whines and moans were escaping your lips as you bounced up and down on his shaft. “Feels s’good Eddie.” “I know it does.” Your right hand slipped in between the both of you and started to rub tight circles on your clit.

He noticed and started fucking up into you harder to get you there. “C’mon baby, I want you to cum. Cum all over this cock.” His voice, smooth as velvet. His hands were rough. His cock was fucking you so good. It was all becoming too much and you couldn’t hang on anymore. “I know you can do it Y/N, give me your cum.” His voice pleading you sent you over the edge as your orgasm came crashing over you. “Fuck Eddie!” Hot tears spilled down your face and mixed with your glitter.

You could tell he was close in the way his pace was starting to become erratic. He took you and slammed you down onto his cock as his cum shot up into you. “That’s it, take my cum like the good girl I know you are.” Causing you to gasp at how much he was coming. He kept you there tight until his load was completely emptied in you.

Neither of you dared to move from your position as the both of you panted and tried to catch your breaths. “I think that was an hour’s worth of a private dance.” You looked up and searched his eyes. It was the same old Eddie that had to make you laugh. You chuckled and leaned your forehead against his. “You’re kinda sweaty.” “So are you,” he retorted. He checked his watch and it had already been 1:12 a.m.

“Why do you get dressed, go do whatever you need to do to clock out and you can come back to my place and smoke. You know for old time’s sake?” You smiled and nodded at the idea he proposed. “Wait!” Before he could ask you what was wrong, his lips were enclosed in yours. ‘Mmm’. You captured his top lip in your bottom lip as you leaned into him. Pulling back you looked him in the eyes, “I couldn’t help myself, I’ve been wanting to do that since senior year.” He just smiled and gave you pecks all over your face.

You tried your hardest to get off of his lap without making a complete mess of him or yourself. While he situated himself back in his jeans, you tied your suit back together as neatly as possible. Trying to make it look like you didn’t just get your brains fucked out by the town freak. “Alrighty, I’m going to be right back. Collect my things, pay out the club and I’ll be out front!” He smiled at your cuteness and petted your cheek. “Sounds good Y/N, I’ll be at the bar waiting.” You turned to head out at the door and you could feel his stare on your ass, “I’ll be the short one in pink.”

All Eddie could think was that some things never change.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie the freak munson #joseph quinn smut #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you

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katieraven · 2 years

Text

insomnia

idol!chan x producer!reader, afab!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: tiiiiny bit of angst, fluff, smut - minors dni please!

warnings: sleep issues, (work-)friends to lovers, a teensy bit of anxiety I guess, dom!chan, brat!(?)reader - idk how to describe it tbh there's no reeeal dynamic of that kind, oral sex (f. receiving), choking, piv, he calls her babygirl once, darling and baby used very sparingly, basically they've both been into each other and didn't quite realise that until now -- did I miss smth?

summary: chan helps you with a work issue and it turns into something different

a/n: hii so it has finally happened, my first skz fanfic has arrived! I already have wayy too many ideas for future ones and I'm like not a hundred percent satisfied with this one but it's the first thing I've written in a year (?) so go easy on me please. I just needed to get my chan feelings out in some way or form and this happened ANYWAYS enjoy byyye - katie

also hi @chvnnie this is the fic I was talking about - you've been a huge inspiration btw I would almost go so far as to call you the main reason I wrote this at all whoops

this is a work of fiction and does not represent stray kids.

You’re in your head. It’s not an unusual thing, in fact it’s how you spend most late-night hours in your tiny studio. You almost live here, it’s basically your second home. If not your first, your actual flat being your second. While a lot of people stay late to work on their various projects, only very few stay quite as late as you do.

It’s one of the few moments you are not troubled by the weight on your shoulders. Three a.m. in the morning, absentmindedly reaching for a cup of now cold coffee, drinking it without noticing its staleness, too deeply immersed in whatever you’re working on to care. Your fingers are flying over the keyboard, eyes flitting over the different tracks in the audio program before you, feverishly changing, moving, improving.

Only today something goes wrong. You don’t know what you did, but within seconds, everything is gone. You blink. The audio program is empty. Not a single track lies before you. The progress you’ve amassed over the last hours, days rather, vanishes right before your eyes. You try a couple of short-keys and combinations but not one single track returns.

“Ugh, fuck me”, you sigh, wiping your face.

“Well, if you insist …”

It startles you, but once you recognise the voice, you relax. Chan is standing in the doorway of your studio – you had left the door open to let some air in, after a particularly hot afternoon. The building was empty enough for there not to be anyone walking past. Well, almost.

Chan smirks at you, one dimple appearing in the corner of his mouth. While usually his comment would have made you laugh, chuckle at least, you can only huff out a lightly amused breath, before turning your head back to your monitor. Still empty lines where tracks used to be half a minute ago. Chan’s smirk turns into a frown.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His concerned voice touches something inside you and you feel tears well up in the corner of your eyes. No. You’re not going to cry.

“I, uh, it’s nothing, really.”

“Sure”, he scoffs. “Cause I’m gonna believe that.”

He appears to the left of you and looks over your shoulder. After a couple more short-keys and opening three folders, you give up and lean back in your chair with a sigh. You’re not going to cry. It’s okay. It’s fine.

“Will you tell me what is going on or do I have to magically divine it from the fact that you are sitting in front of an empty audio program?” Of course, he got it immediately.

“I was working on something, and it vanished.”

He hums and his eyes focus on the monitor in front of you.

“It’s not important, really, I can do it again.”

His left eyebrow raises, then he leans over your keyboard and starts working on getting your tracks back. You feel guiltier the longer he takes, it’s just your own, self-indulgent stuff after all.

“Really, you don’t have to … it’s nothing important.”

“Tell that to the artists you’re working with. Or the hours you probably spent on this.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s-“

The tracks reappear. All of them. Like magic. You can only stare at the screen, dumbfounded. He stands back up, a proud smile on his face. Then he hits the spacebar, and the beat starts filling the tiny studio. You startle and jump forwards to stop him, but he grabs your shoulder and presses the spacebar himself.

“Why don’t you want me to listen to it?” He asks, a slight frown on his face.

You wipe your face. “It’s … personal.”

Chan crouches down next to you so that he’s roughly on eyelevel with you. “Hey. It’s just me.”

You turn the chair towards him, and he grabs the armrests. You look at him for a beat, then it hits you that you just almost lost everything you’ve been working on for a while. This is different than your usual work. This is personal. It’s a song that you’ve been producing only for yourself, not JYPE, not any other artist. This is your baby. You just almost lost it, and he brought it back. The tears come back, and this time they’re stronger. You just let it roll over you.

As soon as the first tear falls, Chan’s expression drops. “Oh no, no, what’s wrong?”

His hands fly from the armrests to your knees, then your thighs, rubbing soothing patterns up and down. Your sobs turn into hick-ups, and you hate it, hate that he sees you this vulnerable. No one ever does, you wear armour at work. It’s what you remind yourself of now. You reach for the shield you put up around your heart with both hands and pull, until it’s up again and your sobs die down. That’s the reason, yes. Not the fact that Chan is still kneeling in front of you and hasn’t stopped rubbing your thighs.

You breathe out shakily. In again, and out. Then you finally dare to look at him. “Thank you, for saving it.” You gesture towards the screen.

His look is still probing, searching for what you just broke down for, but a smile curls up the corners of his mouth. “Of course. It wasn’t that far gone, honestly. I barely did anything.”

You roll your eyes and weakly slap his arm. “Stop always understating everything you do.”

He chuckles. “I apologise profusely.” The formal tone makes you smile a bit.

“Now. Will you let me listen to this absolutely not important personal stuff you made?”

You hesitate and look at the open door.

“Let me rephrase. If I close the door, will you let me listen?”

This, and the adorable face he’s pulling, finally makes you laugh and cave. “I guess, yeah.”

Your eyes follow him as he gets up and walks to the door, closes it, and locks it.

“For good measure”, he winks.

It’s one of those moments that make you realise that in all the time you’ve been at JYPE, you’ve made a lot of acquaintances and a couple friends, but none as wonderful as him. You often think he’s too good for this world – the rest of his friends do, too. Although the rest of his friends probably don’t get all warm and fuzzy inside when he smiles at them. Or find it hard to concentrate when he wears muscle shirts. Or watches his performances, more than necessary, and then blames it on just wanting to be a good friend. Supporting him, and such. God you’re down bad.

He walks back to his spot next to your chair. His finger hovers over the space bar and he looks at you, the unspoken question in his eyes. You steel yourself and nod.

Then the beat fills the studio again. It’s the first time you have heard this aloud yourself, so far, you’d only ever listened to it on your headphones. You’re almost scared to look over to see his expression, terrified of his opinion. This is like a tiny piece of your soul, and you just handed it to him, hoping he would not drop it. Of course, he doesn’t. When you finally do, he stands there, eyes wide, looking over at you. His intense stare makes you squirm.

“It’s nothing special, and it’s not done yet, you know how it is with these things, they take ages to be finished and this is just very rough, I-“

“This is amazing”, he interrupts you. Now it’s your turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. “What?”, you blurt out.

He turns the music down a tad, then he turns back to you.

“I really like it. And it’s different from the stuff you make for other artists.”

Somehow, you’re still anxious.

“What I mean by that is that I always hear pieces of you in other people’s music and I’ve always been a bit sad that you don’t get to make stuff that’s entirely your own. This – “, he gestures over to the screen, “is really you. All of this. Like, I can hear some of your inspiration in this, but the entire thing just screams you.”

Which is the exact moment your singing starts, and you want to vanish into the ground. Because his mouth falls open, and he turns the music up again. Moments go by of him just standing there, completely taken by the music. His expression has softened and there is a slight smile dancing around his features. You lean over to turn the music off again, there’s only so much time that you can take listening to your own voice right now.

When Chan turns back to look at you, head slightly angled down, you’ve never seen a warmer smile from him than right now. It overwhelms you, the sheer affection for this wonderful man in front of you, and you shoot to your feet and throw your arms around him. He is startled for just a second, before he hugs you back so tightly that you feel like he put something inside you back together. It makes you cry again.

“Shh. It’s okay, darling. It’s okay.” He rubs circles along your back, and you breathe in slowly, engulfed by his scent that is so distinctly him.

“Thank you”, you mumble into his shoulder, and he chuckles, before pulling away. “What did you say?”

You huff, and lightly punch his arm. “I said thank you.”

“No, thank you for trusting me enough to show this to me.”

You try to hide in the crook of his neck, but he keeps you half an arm’s length from him. Somehow, you end up staring right into his eyes. The honesty and affection you find there send goosebumps up your arms, up until where his hands are still wrapped around them. Suddenly you realise how terribly close you are to each other, and how he’s just a friend and this shouldn’t make you as tingly as it does. You shake off his hands and clear your throat. He just sees you as a friend. Right?

Because the way his eyes burn with something you’ve never noticed before makes you question your own sanity. You try and look anywhere but into them.

“Hey, we should probably unlock the door again, you know, unless people start to wonder.”

He blinks. “Yeah.”

None of you moves.

“But it’s also 3 a.m. and we’re the only people in the building.”

There’s nervous laughter bubbling in your throat and you rub your arm only to keep your hands occupied. Then you make the mistake of looking at him again. It’s involuntary, really, your eyes get caught on his black sweatpants and travel up his body almost automatically. There’s not much you can do about it. And when your eyes hit his, you’re done for. He looks at you with such intensity that you simply cannot turn away. A shaky breath leaves your lungs when he blinks slowly, only to look at you again, the same fire in his eyes, pupils blown wide.

You open your mouth, “Chan, I – “

He moves closer, as if you saying his name had shaken him out of a stupor. He reaches for the hand that you wrapped around your arm and gently pries it away. When it falls to your side, he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“What are you doing?”, you whisper, unable to speak any louder, scared that it would make this real. Make this have consequences.

Chan’s thumb is drawing patterns on your hand, and it covers you in goosebumps again.

“I kinda really wanna kiss you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes still locked onto his. They’re burning into you, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. He lifts his other hand up to your face and lightly touches your cheekbone. You have to actively keep your eyes from fluttering shut, body still covered in goosebumps. Your cheeks heat up under his gaze.

“Would that be okay?”

You breathe out a shaky “yes”, and he’s on you in seconds. He lets go of your hand and instead grabs both sides of your face, tilting it so that you’re looking up at him, before sealing your lips with his.

Everything is happening too fast. For a second, your arms hang limply at your sides, but then he starts moving against you and you can’t help but grasp the hem of his shirt and pull him closer. He hums against you, and you open your mouth almost on instinct. A tiny noise escapes you and he catches it, drinking it in hungrily. You push and he walks backwards until the back of his knees hit your chair. He clumsily sits down, and you move until you’re straddling him.

Only then do you break the kiss, both heavily panting as you stare at each other. You lift your hand from his shirt and start tracing his lips, his cheekbone, until your palm lies flat against his cheek. He nuzzles into it and closes his eyes, hands falling to your waist. God, you think, he’s so pretty. You watch his chest rise and fall rapidly and feel his thighs move under yours, and that’s when you realise what exactly is happening right now.

“Channie”, you whisper, and his eyes fly open, fingers playing with the hem of your t-shirt.

“Hm?”

“What are we doing?”

His fingers start pulling your shirt up just enough to be touching the delicate skin of your waist and you shiver, biting your lip to stop a sound that would have been decidedly too desperate.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m doing something I’ve been wanting to do for way too long.”

Your hand slips to his neck and his eyelids flutter, but there is a concerned look in his eyes. He sees your hesitation.

“Should we be doing this? Are you even allowed to?”, you ask.

His fingers stop and he lifts his hands to your face, searching for something in your eyes. “I could not care less about what we should or shouldn’t do. The only thing I care about right now, is if you want this. But if you don’t, then that’s okay.”

You melt at the honesty in his expression, shiver at the way his fingertips are toying with the hair on the nape of your neck.

“What exactly does this mean?”, you whisper. It feels impossible to move right now. Like you’re being held in place by his intense eyes.

“Well.” His thumb brushes over your cheekbone and you sigh.

“First of all, I want to kiss those pretty lips of yours. And then”, his fingers travel from your neck down your arms, “I’d like to make you come so hard the only thing you remember is my name.”

A moan tumbles from your lips, and almost on instinct you roll your hips against his crotch. He hisses and grabs your waist. “But I need to know you want that, too.”

You nod, a bit too quick for your liking, but you don’t find it in yourself to care anymore. His hands gently rock you against him and your eyelids flutter, gaze locked onto his. “Use your words, babygirl. I need to hear you.” The condescension shakes you out of your haze.

“Don’t be so fucking patronising.”

A smirk curls around the corners of his lips. “Still need to hear ya, though.”

You lean down as if to kiss him and sink your teeth into his lip, just enough for it to sting, pull, and let go again. He watches you with the intensity of a predator watching his prey and something inside you relishes in it.

“Yes, I want that”, you finally give in, “I want you.”

He pounces with a low sound that comes from deep inside his throat, a growl, almost, and latches onto your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in, kisses open mouthed and messy. His hands keep holding you against him. You roll your hips, both of you moaning in unison, your hands are in his hair, and you pull on his curls until he moans into your mouth, making you smile into the kiss.

He feels it against his lips and pulls away. “Oh, you’re a mean one, hm?”

The smile you give him in return would be angelic, if not for the vicious glint in your eyes. It makes him chuckle lowly, before suddenly standing, pulling you up with him and picking you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around him, and he walks over to the sofa in the corner of the room, lowering you down until your back touches the cushions.

He's kneeling between your legs, propped up with one hand next to you, the other on your cheek again. You tip your head back, baring your throat, and you can see understanding flash in his eyes. His hand slowly moves down until his fingers wrap around you and you feel the slight pressure on your pulse point. Your breath quickens.

It makes you want to rub your thighs against each other, but his legs are in the way, leaving you to squirm under him as he just watches you intently. His other hand travels up your body and pushes your shirt up with it, until he finds your sports bra. His thumb glides over your hard nipple poking through the fabric and it sends a spark of electricity right to your core.

“You wanna play mean? I can do that.”

His fingers close further around your throat and the increasing pressure ever so slowly clouds your mind, until your mouth falls open and you whisper his name.

“Hm?”

You try and move your core against his thighs but you’re too far away, his hand keeping you in place.

“Do something”, you hiss as he just keeps watching you, an amused smile on his face.

“Did you forget your manners, baby?”

You roll your eyes but decide to play along. “Please, do something.”

“But you look so pretty like this.”

Your hands fly up to his arms and you groan, but he just chuckles. “I told you, I can be mean. But I’m starting to get impatient too, don’t worry.”

His hand leaves your throat. All the blood comes shooting back, an intense clarity that leaves you gasping. You only notice that he has taken his shirt off when he leans back down towards you, reaching for the hem of your own t-shirt. He looks up at you, a question in his eyes, that you answer with a quick nod. Then he finally pulls your shirt up, making sure that his fingertips travel over your skin along with it, showering you in goosebumps.

He pulls the fabric off of you and you reach for him, fingers connecting to the smooth skin of his chest. You let your hands run down his stomach when he leans down to kiss you, trailing along the waistband of his sweatpants. His breath hitches when your fingers dip into his boxers, but he reaches down to stop you.

“Nu-uh. You first.”

He sits back on his heels and pulls on your leggings, throwing the piece of clothing behind him absentmindedly. You’re in front of him only in your underwear now, nipples clearly visible through the thin fabric of your sports bra.

“You’re fucking hot, you know that?”, he mumbles, and you feel your cheeks heat up before he grabs the hem of your panties and pulls. Cool air hits your core, and only then do you realise how embarrassingly wet you are already. He looks down at you and curses under his breath.

“Fuck, look at you. Already soaked, and just for me?”

You nod, “only you”, breath hitching as he lazily moves two fingers all the way up your entrance until they are pressing into your clit. You start moving against him on instinct, eyes rolling back as you finally get some relief. He lets you, for a few seconds, before pinning your hips down to the sofa. Your eyes snap open, a desperate whine leaving your lips.

“Hush, baby. I’m gonna take care of you”, he mumbles, before leaning down and licking a broad stripe along the way his fingers just did.

It makes you absolutely lose your mind. Your hips buck up and you moan loudly, hands flying into his hair, just to grab onto something, anything, to keep you grounded. The tip of his tongue dips into your entrance and your head tips back with a groan. His left hand holds you steady, before he dives in again, nose brushing past your clit with every movement. Your thighs tremble, you’re already way too close even though he barely started yet. You feel yourself clench around nothing.

“Channie, please …”, you sigh, and he looks up at you, tongue not leaving your body.

“Hm?”

The sound reverberates against your sensitive skin, and you shudder, looking down at him. Fuck, he looks good. Lower part of his face covered in your slick, curls sticking to his forehead, he laps at you like a starved man.

“Can you – fuck, Channie, fingers, please – “, is all you manage to choke out, but he has mercy on you.

You feel the tip of his finger tease your entrance and you clench in anticipation, before he pushes in and you close your eyes again, a desperate moan leaving your lips. He curls his finger upwards, and you know he’s close, so, so close to where you need him, but he isn’t quite there yet. You can feel the high approaching, can almost reach for it.

“More, please”, you press out, brows furrowed, and he adds a second fingers, curls up, and hits the spot. You swear you see stars for a second. Your mouth falls open, a string of incoherent words tumbling over your lips, and you feel him smile against you. It almost sends you over the edge on its own.

“Found it, hm?”, he mumbles, and you hum, every muscle in your body tensed.

“Look at me”, he whispers.

You somehow manage to lift your head, moaning at the sight before you. He dives down again, holding eye contact and your fingers pull on his hair, coaxing the sweetest moans from him. He curls his fingers up once, twice, and you snap. Your high washes over you with an intensity you’ve never felt before and he flattens his tongue against you, helping you ride out your orgasm with long strokes. Once you finally stop clenching around his fingers, he slowly removes them, making sure not to hurt you. You still wince at the sudden emptiness. Finally, you untangle your fingers from his hair.

He climbs up until he is face to face with you and you blink until he’s in focus again. He smirks at your blissful expression. “D’you have fun?”

You decide to tease him. “Eh.” You shrug. “Was fine, I guess.”

“Fine?” He stares at you in disbelief. “Clenched around me like you were holding on for dear life, but you say it was fine?” You chuckle, but the determination in his face sends shivers down your spine.

“Okay. You know what, I’ve had enough of your attitude.”

He sits up on his heels, before getting up and taking off his sweatpants, pulling his boxers off right with them. He reaches down for his pocket and pulls out a condom, ripping it open with his teeth, and rolling it over his cock, before he kneels back down, slowly pumping himself.

“Let’s see what you say after I’m done with you.”

His lips crash into yours and at the same time, you feel his fingers on your clit. You hiss at the slight overstimulation, but pull him closer by the neck, moaning into his mouth. You can still taste yourself on his tongue and it makes your stomach flutter. Then you feel his tip push against your entrance. He pulls away to check in with you, but you pull him back in.

“Please, Chan, need you”, you pant against his lips, and he groans, before pushing into you.

It's an entirely different sensation from his fingers and both of you moan at the same time, before he bottoms out and stills, fighting for his composure. He begins moving ever so slowly and you appreciate that he wants to be careful, but something inside you wants him to lose control. You lean up and drag your teeth across the shell of his ear, drag your fingernails across his back. He shivers, his arms buckling and his forehead falling onto your shoulder. His pace picks up and you kiss him on his pulse point, before whispering into his ear, “fuck me like you mean it.”

He stills. You let yourself fall back down grab one of his hands, leading him towards your throat. “Please.”

A smirk curls up the corners of his mouth. “I knew you could use your words.”

He pulls out almost completely before he bottoms out again and closes his fingers around your throat. Everything around him becomes hazy, he’s the only thing in your mind, the only thing you see. His hips snap against yours at a relentless pace and you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, instinctively lifting one of your legs. He grabs it and pushes it up against your chest, changing the angle, and finally hits that spot again. Your eyes roll back, moans tumbling from your open mouth as he keeps slamming into you, before slightly adjusting his position. His hand leaves your throat, and your mind refocuses, his thumb pressing against your lips which you open oh so willingly, sucking his thumb into your mouth.

“Fuckin hell”, he groans, rhythm turning sloppy as he watches your lips wrap around his finger. “Such a good fucking girl, hm?”

He pulls his thumb out with a pop and you whine, but he hushes you. “Impatient”, he tsks, before rolling the pad of his thumb over your clit. Fuck, you’re still so goddamn sensitive. His hips snap against yours again and then he hits the spot inside you.

“’M close”, you moan, and he nods.

“Come on, let go for me, baby”, he answers, breathless, and it pushes you over the edge. When you thought your first orgasm was intense, it was nothing against this one. You feel so fucking full of him, he feels so right against you, and then his finger leaves your clit, and he falls towards you, hands on each side of your body, riding out his own high. His arms are shaking from the strain, and you push up to press your lips against his. He moves inside you and you shiver before he gives you one last peck and carefully pulls out.

You fall back against the cushion. He removes the condom, before crawling back up and snuggling against you, propped up on his elbows on each side of your face. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

It makes you blush, and you turn your head to the side, suddenly confronted with what just happened. With whom it just happened. He sees the change in your expression immediately.

“Hey, look at me.”

You obey him and see the softest smile on his face, before he leans down and gently presses a kiss to your lips.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?”

His fingers are playing with your hair, eyes intently fixed on you. You sigh.

“I – don’t know what this means. To you.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, “but you know what it means to you?”

Your heart lurches in your chest and resumes beating at a much quicker pace because yes, you do, and you hate having to admit it. You don’t know if you should admit it.

He kisses you again, longer this time. When your lips separate, there’s this softness in his eyes again. “Tell me what it means to you. Please.”

This is the truly dangerous part. Anyone can have meaningless sex, but it wasn’t meaningless, at least not to you. This is where the consequences come in. This is where you have to admit that you just ruined a perfectly fine friendship. You take a deep breath. You trust him. If anyone would be able to uphold a friendship after this, it would be Chan. So you steel yourself, and look into his eyes again.

“I like you a bit more than I originally planned to”, you whisper, not daring to speak up.

You’re close enough that you can feel his heartbeat. It quickens after he processed what you said, but where you expect him to tense up and leave, he leans down to kiss you again. You’re completely dumbfounded.

He holds your face and you close your eyes, simply enjoying the gentle pressure of his lips against yours. When he breaks the kiss, you steel yourself again. Your breath hitches when you open your eyes, his own swimming with emotion.

“I’m so glad you said that”, he whispers, thumb brushing against your cheek. “Because I do, too. And I was so scared this would be a one-time thing for you. I don’t think I could have lived with that.”

There are tears pricking in the corner of your eyes for the third time tonight, only this time you allow them. He leans his forehead against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck and then you stay like this, just breathing each other in. And you feel like your sleepless nights might have just become a bit easier to bear.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #bang chan #stray kids #skz smut #chan smut #bang chan fluff #chan fluff

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munsonssub · 2 years

Text

Well shit- Joseph Quinn x fem!reader

Prompt: you mistake joe for friend of a friend on a night out. Luckily it leads to a meet-cute

A/n: okay this is the first fic I have written in 7 years! Plus it’s my first ever reader insert so I apologize if it sucks but THERES LIKE NO JOE FICS SO I HAD TO WRITE MY OWN. Also I wrote this on my phone so idk how to edit italics to post if someone could help me. I also don’t know how to add a read more on mobile either so that’s fun. Help me pls

My husband proof read it so if there’s mistakes blame him.

Warnings: smoking, drinking, idk if there’s anything else.

Word count: 1,975. (Whoops)

A normal Saturday night. That’s what your friends promised you when they showed up at your flat three hours ago with two bottles of wine and a glint in their eyes. You should’ve known, should’ve picked up on the fact they showed up ready to go out. Maybe it was blind optimism, thinking they wouldn’t force you out of your cocoon of misery.

Listen, you know they want what’s best for you, with things at work piling up and your stupid now ex boyfriend always texting you, you know you need this. One night off, one night of freedom, one night to say fuck you and just party. But fuck man you just wanted to be back on your couch, watching shitty reality tv, probably snacking on too many sweets to be healthy. Instead you are sitting at a new bar that your friend swore up and down would be chill vibes.

Liar.

People were everywhere. You had lost half of the group when you got here, Already a bottle and a half of wine in.

So here you are, waiting to grab a couple shots while your friend Chloe stands beside you flirting with anyone who will give her a moment because the best drinks are free drinks. Which she isn’t wrong, but you’d just gotten out of a four year relationship, flirting is a foreign language now and you weren’t about to embarrass yourself like that.

When the bartender finally came over to you, you quickly ordered four shots, if you were here to have fun you were having fun, quickly sliding your cash to the bartender you nudged Chloe so she’d take her two shots while you took yours. Honestly you wouldn’t hate this so much if it was just you and her and the friends she showed up at your house with, but as you were getting in your cab to come to the bar she informed you that they were meeting up with other people there. It was quick when you met up barely getting glances of some of the people, as you struggled to light a cigarette. It was fine though as long as Chloe was with you, you knew you could make it through the night.

Finally letting the burning of the alcohol subside you grab Chloe’s hand to go to the dance floor, the next hour passes in a flash of bodies and drinks. Stumbling, very gracefully, you yelled to your other friend, Shelly, that you were going outside, needing a smoke and a break from the music. Pushing through the bodies you made your way to the door, mumbling apologies as you went.

Finally you could breathe once you were outside, mind numb and limps tired you started searching for your smoke pack, you know you put it in your pocket after the one you had when you arrived. Quietly mumbling to yourself you finally gripped it your back pocket. Pulling it out you let out a breath of relaxation only to groan when you flipped the top and realized it was empty.

“Mother fucker, I knew I was forgetting something. Stupid wine.” You sighed leaning against the wall.

Then you saw him. Standing a couple metres away, smoking a cigarette, you recognized the outfit, white button up with loose light wash jeans. You swear he was with your group, or at least a part of the half you met up with. So with the energy you could muster you pushed yourself off the wall, wrapping your arms around yourself and silently hyping yourself up.

Not fully paying attention to what he was taking about you wandered over. you patted his shoulder like a friend who hasn’t seen him in a while would. Smiling as he cut his sentence short, turning to look at you, smoke half way up to his mouth, big brown eyes staring at you as you smiled back.

“Hello good sir,” You mock bow, slightly stumbling towards the wall.

Fuck I swear I’m smoother than this. You thought to yourself.

You look back up at him and smile again as he subtly checks you out, probably wondering why a random drunk girl had wandered up to him.

“So funny thing. Chloe and Shelly made me come out tonight because work is fucked and max non stop texting me is fucked so they decided that I needed to come out and have a good time but my smart self forgot to get smokes before,” you flash him the empty pack with a pout. “And I was wondering because you know them apparently if I could steal a smoke off you.” You ramble, barely noticing his empty hand coming to steady you at your waist as you looked back up at him.

He had a smirk and for a second you wondered if he was apart of the group because you swear you would’ve remembered him, with his beautiful eyes, curly hair, and slight facial hair. Must’ve been one of the guys at the back.

“Uh yeah yeah, sure love, here yah go.” He handed you the lit half smoked cigarette for you to take a drag off of.

Jumping with excitement to finally have a sweet hit of nicotine you grabbed it from his fingers, your warm skin slightly rubbing against his cold fingers. You mock bowed again then took a long drag before blowing it up between the three of you.

“Fuck I’m so rude, I’m Y/N, Chloe didn’t introduce us. Not surprised that girl knows everyone.” You slurred, sticking your hand out for him and his friend to shake.

A moment of realization hit him and his friend, looking at each other as you took another drag before offering it back to him.

You thought they were someone else.

“Nice to meet you love, I’m Jamie and this is Joseph,” his friend gestured to himself then to the man at your side.

Joseph.

You quickly looked over his friend as Joseph grabbed the smoke from your hands. Longish blonde hair, sharp features, beautiful blue eyes. Damn you gotta give Chloe more credit, she sure knows how to get pretty people to be her friends.

“How’s your night been going?” Joseph asks you, turning more towards you as you lean on the wall, his hand slowly leaving your waist. Quickly grabbing his cigarette pack and offering you a full one as you fish for your lighter in your other pocket. Thanking him you took it and quickly lit it up, taking a full pull before exhaling.

“You’re a fucking lifesaver,” you flick the smoke. “It’s going, my feet hurt, and I have done enough shots to probably kill a small horse, but hey, at least I still remember my name. But you Joseph I’m curious about, how’s your night?”

“Could say the same, though I’m nowhere near as drunk as I want to be, this sap here,” he pointed to Jamie, you followed his hand looking at the sole ring on his finger before looking at Jamie. “Wanted to call his girlfriend to check in on her.”

“Oh that’s so cute, fuck I wish my boyfriend did that. All he did was cheat on me during night outs,” You rambled, not noticing how the two men slightly winced at the harshness of your voice, taking a puff and continuing. “Anyways, that’s why I’m out tonight because fuck that guy, you guys wanna do a shot with me?” You spoke quickly before losing your confidence.

“I would, but speaking of my girlfriend she’s almost here to get me but you can steal this man for the night I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Jamie winks at you. You giggle slightly, turning more towards Joseph and putting your hand on his chest.

“What do ya say josi? Wanna do a shot? Join me on my level?” You flirt, well you hope you’re flirting, if Chloe knows these guys you know they are used to good flirting.

Joseph laughs to himself, rubbing his thumb on his lip before dropping his cigarette and squishing it out.

“Finish that up and I’m all yours.” He winked at you while pointing at your now half a cigarette.

“Hell yeah, hope you are ready to party.” You drunkenly finish the smoke as Joseph says goodbye to Jamie.

Waving at Jamie as he walks down the street to meet his girlfriend, Joseph pushes himself off the wall to stand in front of you. You giggle slightly before dropping your cigarette and stamping out as he did before. Wiggling your eyebrows you stand to your full height, still a few inches shorter than him.

“You ready for the night of your life?”

“Do you worst darling.” He sticks his hand out for you to start leading him inside.

Another hour passes, filled with Joseph catching up with shots as you tried to keep your buzz at the same level. You had filled the time with talking and getting to know him, he told you about his week that was full of work, never really telling you what he did for work though. You told him about you too, about your job that honestly at this you point you just wanted to quit just so you didn’t have to see your bosses face anymore. Giggling and smiling at each other as you slowly inched closer around the table you were sitting at as you talked. Honestly you were a little peeved Chloe kept this man hidden for so long with how well you were getting along.

Suddenly you felt a weight on your back and the smell of Chloe’s sweet perfume.

“Y/N! There you are. Shelly said you went for a smoke and then you never came back! I thought you died!” She slurred into your ear, hanging off you.

“I’m good clo, met one of your friends outside.” You gestured to Joseph, who looked a little panicked as he sipped on the water bottle he grabbed for the both of you.

Chloe looked over at him, sizing him up for second before turning to you.

“Y/N babe, I don’t know who this is,” Chloe giggled. “though you do have the same style as our friend Scott.” She directed at him.

Joseph paled as you shook your head stopping for a second.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck OH FUCK

That’s why he looked familiar, Chloe’s friend Scott, Scott who wore almost the exact same outfit. Scott who you had only met once. Your eyes widened before you full on started laughing.

“Oh my god. I am so stupid,” you got up and leaned over Joseph, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as his hand came to sit at where they crossed. Leaning down you kissed the side of his head. “You are such a sweetheart, letting me have a cigarette when you don’t even know me.”

“Oh thank god I thought you were going to be mad, I’m sorry love. Didn’t know how to tell you I didn’t know your friend here when you told me about her dragging you out.” He breathlessly said into your ear and you leaned on him. You looked a Chloe and gave her a quick look of ‘get out of here ma’am’ before leaning back up and patting Joseph’s shoulder.

“Well charmer, we can either pretend this didn’t happen, or we can go back out for a smoke and see where the night takes us.” You say to him as he turns in his chair.

“How about this. We go for a smoke,” he hands you his pack as he stands. “And, I take you out on a date next week to apologize for not telling you I don’t know you.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal josi.”

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #Joseph Quinn x you #eddie munson #eddie Munson x reader

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idontplaytrack · 14 days

Text

Redeeming Win

AJ Campos x fem!reader

Warnings: coarse language, attempted assault, violence, hospitalisation. Reader discretion is advised.

In which reader tries to beat her own timing lately for the run, Coach Murray lets her & Paige wasn’t too happy about it- and anything else.

Part 2 to Watch You Sleep

“Okay, team. Gabi you go first, AJ goes next, then Evans, and y/l/n, you’ll be taking the last stretch.” Coach Murray decided. Great, even in track, Paige was coming in between you and AJ.

“y/n, focus.” Coach reminded you, “You were still two seconds behind.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath, nodding.

“Don’t just tell me. Prove it- let our team place this time.”

AJ squinted at the guy, coming closer to you to give your shoulders a squeeze. “You got this okay? Just do your best- don’t think about anything, and run.”

“Yup, okay.” You answered, warming up as did Paige and AJ.

“Okay, ladies. We have five minutes to go.” Coach announces.

Paige groans, distracting you from your little moment of meditation. You whipped your head around to look at her talking to Dylan while looking at you. “Babe? Look at me. Ignore her.”

“Believe me, honey. I’m trying.” You huffed, stretching your arms.

Before you two could say anything else, Coach asks the three of you to go get ready on the track. The rest of the team gathered on the bleachers and by the sides of the track to watch. The starter pistol goes off, Gabi began to run. She hands the baton to AJ, then she was off too.

“That’s Miller High’s co-captain, AJ Campos. Currently well ahead of Rivers High. Looks like they’ll place again this year.” The commentator said. “Now, she’s passing it over to Paige Evans, newcomer who is…keeping up. Go Miller High. Oh- she’s nearly tripped.”

“Oof- that can’t be good.” Commentator number two chimed in. “Last stretch- y/n y/l/n who won Miller High their first place two years ago at this very place.”

Now you had to go the fastest you’ve ever had.

“Will she manage to do it again after her performance last year?” Commentator number one mentioned.

What a jerk. The anger you felt made you run even faster.

“It’s very close Rivers High is nearly catching up. Oh! y/l/n is speeding by. Okay here we go- last few feet to go. And y/l/n has redeemed herself. Miller High! First place!”

The commotion that the team made, cheering and whooping when they heard the announcement. AJ was the first one to hug you, damn near spinning you around and making you more dizzy than ever. “Congrats, y/n. That was freaking impressive- I was clearly wrong about you-” Coach walked up to you and stuck out his hand so you shook it quickly. “Fuck.” You muttered, facing away from him, “Oh, my God- I’m gonna p-” You pushed her away and made a mad dash for the bathroom and you barely made it.

“It’s alright, you’ll be okay.” AJ was apparently right behind you and rubbing your back, “Oh my gosh- why did you push yourself so much?”

“I don’t know, I saw Paige nearly trip then the crap that the commentators said about me? I just- channeled my anger and energy to sprinting, I guess.” You stood up straight again, AJ hands you a tissue paper. Once she pushed the bathroom door open, you were met with a bunch of confused and concerned faces. “I’m fine.” You said dismissively.

“That sounded vile.”

“No shit.” AJ rolled her eyes. “I’ve had enough of you being a little shit you’ve been, Evans. Keep your negativity to yourself. y/n and I have been dating for more than half a year. It’s not my fault or hers that you can’t be mature and deal with a loss like this.”

Gabi handed you a bottle of Gatorade which you gratefully accepted and immediately drank some of. “Thanks.” You told her and she smiles.

“You knew?” Stacey asks.

“Yeah, so?” Gabi shrugs, “How is it any of my business who my sister’s seeing if there’s no reason for me to be concerned about her safety and whatnot?”

“I didn’t.” Stacey chuckles, “I just thought you two were besties.”

“Well, we were.” You answered.

“Cute.” Stacey grins. “Do you still feel-”

You cut her off, “A little. Um- I’m gonna go back to the room first?”

“Sure, we’ll order in some pizza later. Stacey’s room. Say, 7?” Dylan suggests.

“Yeah, sounds good. I’m gonna go with just in case.” AJ nods.

“Go straight ahead behind you two, cut through the garden. It’s way faster than going across the whole track.” Stacey told them.

“Okay, thanks. Come on, baby.” AJ puts her arm around you and walked back to the hotel with you.

“We’ll bring your bags to your room for you. Just head back to the hotel and rest.” Dylan called after the both of you.

“Alright.” AJ answers, “Do you want anything?”

“To sleep. Finally redeemed myself and won the school the first place trophy after I failed last year.”

“Because you fell and fractured your ankle.”

“And I still could’ve pushed through.”

“Babe, please- it’s not worth it to talk about that now. If you’d hurt yourself more seriously by finishing the race, you wouldn’t be running today- trust me.”

“Why the hell did he have to remind me of it.” You exhaled harshly.

“We cannot change the past, but we’re in charge of our own future. You did amazing today, okay? Be proud of that. And everything else you’ve ever set your heart to because you did your best.” AJ pecks your lips softly, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Do you think she actually almost tripped?”

“Who knows? That girl is fucking clumsy. Coach made me train her so she wouldn’t tank our ranking. He only accepted her because he needed extra people on the team.” AJ laughs.

————

“I’m running us a bath, then once we’re not sweaty as heck, we can take a nap till it’s time to go eat with our friends.” AJ decided. You were looking around anxiously even after the door was shut. “What’s the matter, babe?”

“I just feel like- someone’s following me. Following us.”

“What?” Being a bit of a distance away from you, she couldn’t hear you that clearly. Just then, someone knocks on the door before you could repeat yourself. You looked through the peephole. “Paige.” You gasped, running away from the door and joining AJ in the bathroom. The door swings open, Paige barges in, “I hate you.”

“So? I hate you too, but you don’t see me going around being a bitch to you. I’ve had enough of being nice to you-”

“What the fuck- Evans, get the hell away from her.” AJ rushed out.

Paige grabs your shoulders and tried to kiss you. On reflex, you swung and hit her jaw. “That is assault.” Paige spat, a hand on her cheek.

“Self-defence. You assaulted me.” You shoved her away. “Fuck you! What the hell’s the matter with you? Life’s not fair- deal with it. You don’t go around doing whatever the fuck you please just ‘cause you can’t get what you want.”

“My Mom didn’t raise a quitter.” She got up, “Burn in hell.”

“You’re not helping your case here.” AJ stood in between you and her. You hear running coming from down the hall. “What on Earth is going on-”

Before you could register what was happening, AJ was shoved out of the way and a fist was slammed into your eye. No one saw that coming. No one caught you so you fell and hit your head on the corner of the bed frame. “Oh, my God!” Everyone screeched in horror. “I’m calling 911.” Coach Murray hurriedly fished out his phone. Within seconds, your vision blurred, the searing pain jabbed through your head, “Is she bleeding?”

“Oh, no. No, no. Stay awake, baby. Please. Stay with me.” AJ pleaded, falling to your side.

“AJ, don’t- don’t move her.” Coach stops her. “Yeah, no she’s- okay she just went unconscious. Thanks. 5 minutes. Everyone, step away.”

————

“Are you happy now? You just hurt someone that hasn’t done anything to you.” Gabi scoffs, “I don’t care what problems you have, don’t you dare do anything like that ever again to my friends and my sister. And thank fucking God, because you just made her hate you forever. And that girl’s a saint.”

“Gabs, come on.” Stacey put a hand on her shoulder and took her away from Paige.

“Evans. You’re off the team, expect a letter of suspension when we’re back at school. This is unacceptable behaviour.” Murray walked up to her. She didn’t respond- she just stood there as Coach continued walking around the hallway.

“I wasn’t able to contact either of her parents- any idea where they are?”

“They’re in Bali to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary.” Gabi answers, rubbing AJ’s back in the meantime.

“That explains it. The time difference.” Murray sighs. “I’ll try again later. Once the doctor’s out here, I’m gonna have to head back to the hotel to make sure the rest of team isn’t wrecking havoc.”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine here together.” Dylan told him.

“Call me if you guys need anything. Gabi has my number.”

Later, the doctor informs Coach and the team that you had a fracture in your cheekbone, a concussion and a superficial tear in your skin that resulted in the bleed. “She’ll be okay but she really has to take it easy throughout the healing process for the concussion. We stitched up the wound on her head and did some tests to make sure her brain’s not swelling and that she’s alert. But as with any other head injury, no strenuous activities, no activities that require a lot focus, and plenty of rest- day and night. She also seems to be extra sensitive to noises and lights, is nauseous and has thrown up once. That’s all expected but could persist while she heals. Her eye and vision are both fine, so no worries about that.”

“Can we go in to see her?”

“Preferably in pairs. She seems to remember what happened leading up to her injury but still, it’s best not to overwhelm her.”

“Very well, thanks doc.”

“No problem.” With that, the doctor leaves. Coach took Paige with him and left as well. “Okay, Gabs, AJ you two go in first.” Stacey decided, “Me and Dylan can wait.”

AJ quietly opened the door and she walks in. It felt a little strange not to knock because she always had the habit, but remembering what the doctor said, she didn’t. “I’m alive, don’t worry.” You joked. “Good to see you smiling.” Gab revealed, nudging AJ to go ahead while she herself sat down. “That was the scariest moment of my life.” AJ said in disbelief. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right?” You sighed, “I’m in pain, but I’m okay. I will be - the doctors made sure of it. I just need to take it very slow for the next I don’t know, couple months maybe?”

AJ caresses your (uninjured) cheek as she gave you a teary smile, “I know, baby. I just got so scared but I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“I thought you two oughta know that she-who-shall-not-be-named has been kicked of the team, awaiting suspension.” Gabi announced.

“That’s nothing. I would’ve got her expelled.” Evidently, AJ was still fuming. “I get it, but with this on her record, it’s bye-bye CalArts for her.” Gabi reminded, “I reckon that punishment should suffice, for now. Karma’ll get her.”

#auli’i cravalho #aj campos #crush hulu #wlw #queer #lgbtqia #queer fic #fluff #angst #drama #love triangle #hurt/comfort #reader insert #x reader #female reader

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